Red vs Blue pt 2

[agnominal]

Anything goes. Leave prompts, pictures, songs, or starters. Cross-canon, AUs, and everything else is a go.

Comments

[goddamngrenades]

"I have no idea if that'd be safe-" Just considering how much or little time they've got left till don and how much energy he feels like he's got left but- Locus is teasing and that's a little bit of a comfort. Just as much as the nails in his hair, the warm burr of his voice.

"What've you got in mind?" Vampire magic? His presence and contact?

[agnominal]

"...come lie down with me."

Some combination of the two, actually. Close proximity and touch couldn't hurt, as far as bridging that connection with warm, soothing thoughts. At least until one of them fell asleep.

Dropping his hand, Locus moved towards the bed. Still hadn't retrieved a shirt, either.

[goddamngrenades]

That is not as restful as locus thinks it is, but Taylor follows all the same. Curls up on his side facing his...whatever, his sire? Partner. He knows locus has no need for delta and that makes sleeping while facing him easier. "Now what?"

[agnominal]

Once settled, Locus reaches across to take up his previous hair-stroking. While those pale eyes stare at York, he focuses across that calm, lethargic feeling, letting it wash through their connection.

All the while watching to see what would come of it.

[goddamngrenades]

Maybe this is why he couldn't ever sleep- no one to help him wind down. Every stroke had him going more and more boneless, melting into the pillows as that langour sets in. Warm down to his bones he shuffles closer on instinct. He might not end up tucked against Locus' side again but he'll be close enough.

[agnominal]

The important thing is that he finds rest. No need to let that anxiety ball up inside of him again. He deserved rest, some measure of assured safety and security, and the soothing wash continued through their bond like a softly hummed lullaby.

Be at ease, York. He's here. He's not going anywhere.

[goddamngrenades]

Having this- that borrowed warmth radiating off locus, the pipeline to lazy, sleepy contentment in his mind silencing his usual anxieties, the band in his hair? All roll together in an overwhelming need for rest he usually can't find on his own. Safe.

He's safe here. He doesn't need to worry so much, it'll be okay. He slips forward that last little bit, forehead pressing against Locus' throat, lost in the sensation of security and comfort provided. His end of the bond fills with sleepy affection and gratitude.