goddamngrenades | RP Open Post

That drags a a low keening cry from Wash, his entire body jerking as Taylor grinds down against him. "Fuck... oh god..." He can't fucking breathe, too lost in the heat and sensation. He starts to rock upwards, trying to match Taylor's movements with his own.

The more David tries to speed things up, the more Taylor growls and slows right back down. They're doing this at his pace, damn it, and his pace is SLOW. It gets to the point where he leans forward and scrabbles for David's hands, grabbing them and pinning them to the bed. Squeezes them to make a point as he gives another slow, oh so slow grind.

There's a snort at the mention of hipster - like this style of jacket didn't count? "Not your makeup artist, not my place to comment." Still, the fluffing up of his hair gets an amused look, before she motions for him to walk on past her, to exit the bus. "Find someone to employ to handle your wardrobe if needed next tour."

Once they're out, the door is closed and locked behind them, an exchange of nods with the guard there given. Then she steps on forwards, leading the way. Taking point. "How long a set are you planning?"

"You told me what you ate, so I brought it here to you. It exists now." Theft, conjuration - something is always exchanged for something, but she has power enough that giving some for this is hardly a hazard to either of their health.

"Hah." That little declaration earns genuine amusement. "And who was your former favourite?"

"The cat." Which says a lot about his social life. Or lack thereof. All his friends in his squad died in the ambush that fucked up his eye and gave him his ptsd and made him all angry, etc, etc, oldest damn story. He doesn't wanna get into it.

The cat doesn't judge him though, so. Favorite.

He snags a beer and an apple and saunters on out, checking his notes and the book he'd used to summon her in the first place again. Food will make this make sense. "You made it appear so- if you're hungry you can grab whatever. My house is your house."

"You're no fun." He snorts a laugh all the same and swaggers out, waving to security, all the former bravado back in place like he'd never been terrified at all. Okay, set list.

"Hour, hour fifteen counting the encore. It's the last tour so it usually runs a little long." And with the delay, jesus, his fans are gonna get home late. He feels a little guilty for that.

His eyes fly open when his hands are grabbed, his own hands tightening on Taylor's hips, just for a moment before he relaxes again. And then it feels kind of good, having his arms pinned and Taylor rocking slowly against him. Maddening but good. "Pushy," he says breathlessly, grinning up at him.

Taylor rolls his eyes- he can't talk but he can manage that much- and resumes his slow, steady grinds for a little while longer. Once he's used to it, when the burn is gone and everything just feels good and hot and slick and amazing- he starts posting again, guiding himself up with his thighs and letting Gravity drop him back down onto David's hips.

Wash gives a helpless, panting sort of laugh at that, which trails off quickly when Taylor starts moving again. Feels too good and all he can do is lie there and let him do what he wants. There's a kind of freedom in that that he enjoys more than he'd thought he would. He's a little in love with the way that the muscles in Taylor's thighs move when he raises himself up. Not that he gets much time to admire it when he lowers himself the next minute, wrenching a moan from him.

[ He can't see the way her eyebrow arches at the name. Has to be assumed - or a surname. No one would use it casually like that, even as a civvy, otherwise. ]

Blue.

[ She'll wait until he's armored up before motioning to follow. There's a path here, one that will take them immediately above the facility. She secured the route this morning, a follow-up on a follow-up, but she'll be able to relay what he needs to know while they're on the go. Starting with: ]

I have a partner, remote. He's keeping tabs on the airwaves. He'll be sending me any updates on changes in patrols, but they've been running like clockwork for a while now. So long as there's no missteps, we shouldn't see any trouble.

This place hasn't been used for research purposes for some time. Mostly doubles as a holding facility for cargo. Have you dealt with anything like that before?

Up and down with the odd grind, holding David down and holding him in, riding him and owning him as much as he possibly could through every shudder, every twist, and every clench of his body. He wants to keep it slow. Needs to keep it slow but soon the heated need in the pit of his stomach starts to take over and he works harder, short, shallow little lifts and falls that have him rocking in place more than anything else, trying to get more, harder, deeper-

[ The lady blue, a partner on the airwaves, and a washed up locksmith that doesn't do field work actually suiting up and doing field work. How nice. He's got his hair tied back in a loose tail to keep it from getting in the way in the offered helmet, careful to keep his face turned away when he ditches the glasses and slides it on. The HUD pings to life and it is and isn't what he's used to. The comforting ping of Delta is missing entirely, his left side's utterly blank.

It takes a moment to move the data over to his right eye, to double back on trackers on his left so he'll know if anything is coming. He's learned to adapt. The vest is easier, goes on right over the jacket he's wearing. Light, maneuverable, shit goes down? He's hiding. He is not getting paid enough to die for Blue. ]

In my glory days such things were my bread and butter. [ God he feels pretentious using this cadence, but it's part of the role, part of the job, and he's gotten good at lying. Besides. It's kind of true. ] Lead on, Lady Blue, and I'll get you in.

"Please, Taylor-" He's barely coherent now, words slurred and full of desperate need. Each movement is maddening, drives him higher and higher and he's so close, so fucking close.

"Not part of the job description." And if Delta had tried to hire her on as a party girl...well, Delta would never. But someone else might have lived to regret it.

"Long enough. Concerts start late and overrun all the time." And fans tend to be dedicated. When they're not, well, potentially homocidal kidnappers. "I'll signal if the ending needs to be cut short," she informs him, but she doesn't foresee there being further problems.

Which is why she'll be on hand and at full alert. Just in case.

It says a great deal, earning the feline several points in its favour. Cats are wiser than they appear, for the most part. And the Egyptians kept them as temple familiars for a reason.

"You need more friends," she drawls instead. Humans weren't made to be alone, and York's aura alone indicated a sociable person. She's not sure she likes how he keeps restudying those pages, however - hadn't he mentioned destroying the book? Carolina, for one, would be more comfortable if he did so. "So you have said. Though you may some day come to regret that decision."

She wags a claw at him, before returning to her reading. She's not hungry, not just yet. Taking something from the fridge can wait.

Great war or this civil one? [Chorus has not been kind, even to veterans, even when the greater conflict is now over. ..Mostly over.]

[ The small talk will last until they're halfway there; then, she'll call for a halt, breaking out the holocube she brought with her to show the general base layout. Yellow squares appear where her finger taps the image. ]

Here's the likeliest locations for where the data we need is being held. The places we can enter from are here, here, and here. [dots in red appear] Which route do you want to take?

"Of course I don't say where I found this damn thing. Okay." He'll just make a note to keep an eye out for pissed of antique dealers. He's accidentally liberated some of their things before. It just happens sometimes- he hasn't figured it out yet. Notebook gets closed, an empty trashcan gets tugged over, book goes in. He has to pat around the sofa to find a half empty bottle of vodka but- hell, it's an accelerant.

"I need- well yeah, I probably need more friends. I have issues though and people don't exactly have Similar life experiences for us to bond over." It's unfortunate, but true. In goes the vodka.

"I'll keep an eye out." Normally he ignored shit like that but- after tonight? He's going to be attentive as FUCK to anything Carolina needs him to do. Whatever he can do to make life easier on her and Delta? Consider it done.

FOr now, though. THe show must go on. The final mic check is going on and he's bouncing on his heels, waiting for the backing track to go. Okay. He can do this. It'll be fine. It'll be fun.

Sweat slick his palms skid off of David's wrists to curl in his hands, fingers clenching at every drop and it makes him twitch, how hard, how hot, how intense this has all become and he can barely breathe past the steady stream of broken moaning, circular, cracked syllables of David's name as he leans back and tilts his hips just enough to get his cock grazing right along his prostate and-

His body locks up, his head rolls back and he shudders, spurting hot and thick on David's abdomen, coming untouched.

Bit of both, before I stepped away from field work. One too many close calls, all that.

[ True and reasonable enough as he follows her along, the vague sense of deja vu hitting him with every step. The way the armor moves is familiar but- it's just wishful thinking. Carolina's dead. This is just another self assured, competent, confidant woman doing her job. That's all.

The cube gives him time to look over the facility, to consider the path of least resistance. He reaches out a gloved hand, drawing a line from one of the red dots through the yellow squares and out again at an opposite location. More time IN the base, sure, but a straight shot would be quick and dirty instead of doubling back after they get what they need. ]

Here through here. Much as I'd like to secure an exit, as spread out as the possible locations are? Better to power through. I trust your eye in the sky can keep us abreast of any relevant changes?

He won't like it, but he can, and will.

[Her tone is easy, as if such objections were part of every day life. And they were, to some extent. Church-Epsilon worries about her, even as he holds the place of Carolina's Foremost Cheerleader.

That he's ex-military backs her suspicions. Makes his reason for wanting motive a little more plain. She knows all too well the tale of one too many close calls, of those who didn't survive them.. She won't let him die. Won't let anything happen to him, not while she's in the position and has the power to do so.]

If that's the path you want, then we'll need to make our way down here. [They only get one shot at this. She doesn't feel a need to remind him of this fact.] I'll take care of the sentries here, and here. Then signal when it's safe to get started.

Good enough for me.

[ He considers the path one more time, locking it into his memory. One shot. Cold run. No idea what kind of locks they got but it's probably not biometric. He's got his bump keys with him, his backlog of encryption crackers, and years of experience.

He's got this. No alarms are gonna get tripped. ]

After you.

He wraps his fingers around Taylor's twining them together so he's as much holding him there, as Taylor is holding him down. The air is thick, heavy between them, and all he can do is curse and moan and whine because he's so close and Taylor is so hot, so perfect. His heart is pounding, a heavy rhythm. He's sure that the entire camp will be able to hear it. Doesn't care. How can he?

"Oh Christ," Wash groans when Taylor comes, and he tightens up around Wash's cock as he does, like Wash can feel every shudder that makes its way through him.

Done. Done and gone but David's still an insistent searing heat lodged inside him- even if he's done, even if it makes his breath shear and his body twitch, he braces himself on his knees and lifts up again. Keeps working David over till he comes too- even when it's too much. When he's oversensitive and it's gone from good to too much to oh god why- he's not stopping till David's come.

It doesn't take long. Taylor is thorough at working him over, and he's so hard already. A few thrusts and he all but screams as he comes, body shuddering and jerking beneath Taylor's. His fingers tighten on the other man's, squeezing as he comes hard.

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