agent north dakota. ([personal profile] noscope) wrote2013-11-15 06:14 am
Entry tags:


this here is an open post for badasses.

give me everything and i'll give it all back!
goddamngrenades: (tired york is tired)

[personal profile] goddamngrenades 2013-11-15 12:56 pm (UTC)(link)
The nights where he doesn't dream are the kindest. Dreams are supposed to be the mind's way of preparing a body for the worst, but he's already been through the worst he could possibly stand and then some, stretched past the point of endurance, pinned down, and punted further still due to the goddamn program and his inability to mind his own business.

If they were the same thing every time, every night, he'd get used to it. Phase them out like anything else. Ignore the background noise and focus on his objective- namely sleep. Sweet, sweet sleep.

Tonight wasn't a kind night, though. It was blood and bullets and no gravity again, cliffs and the void of space and every calculation of Delta's that spelled his death. It was bleeding out on that goddamn tower and spending decades old, useless, and alone. He jerks away from the hands no his face at first, body locking up out of habit, braced for an attack that won't come. "Hn- fuck."

A beat.

goddamngrenades: (Who me?)

[personal profile] goddamngrenades 2013-11-15 01:08 pm (UTC)(link)
"Hey me." He parrots just to be a shit. Because it's expected, because it's a pattern he knows how to follow, something he can say and do to buy himself time until he can put the mangled pieces of his mind back together. It doesn't take as long as he used to now that he and North are...something. Look don't put a label on it, alright? They defy definition in all it's forms.

Always have, always will.

His breath comes easy and slow, a calming tactic he'd learned before everything went to hell. Reaching out to snag North's hand is easy. Rolling off into innuendo? Easier still. "Not yet. Wouldn't mind if you changed that for me."
goddamngrenades: (Don't make me splain the thing)

[personal profile] goddamngrenades 2013-11-15 01:32 pm (UTC)(link)
See, things are good. Things are fine. He's cracking wise and angling for something better than too gentle hands on his face reminding him of how easy it is for a man to break.

How much he, himself, is broken.

He paints on a smile and slides forward, tangling his legs in Norths' rather than the sheets. Dips his head down to mouth at the heel of Norths' hand and nip at the skin over his wrist because that is infinity more interesting than whatever he'd been dreaming and whatever might be causing the nightmares.

It's not up for discussion. This, though? This is. "Is that a threat or a promise? Because I'm not really feeling threatened- but I am more than willing to be on my best behavior if it's a promise- well. Good behavior. Decent. ish. I'll put my clothes in the hamper instead of the floor?"
goddamngrenades: (Hey how you doing?)

[personal profile] goddamngrenades 2013-11-15 02:06 pm (UTC)(link)
Broken is broken, in cracks or cloven segments fractured off the greater whole- He's pasted together now with bravado and bullheadedness. How he's kept himself whole this long he's not sure.

Being able to let North pick up the pieces is as much a relief as it is a frustration. Admitting he's broken, letting anyone see him that useless and weak and off center invites abandonment- from anyone save North. He's the only one that hadn't left because of some stupid shit York pulled or said or didn't do. That stability's reassuring.

The closeness of their bodies and familiar rumble against his neck? Enticing.

"Hey, I can be good." He'd pout if North could see it. But he can't, so he settles for going with the roll, free hand sliding up to curl in North's hair and give it a playful tug. He's held down without much leverage, but he can roll his hips up just so to make his point. "I remember you saying on more than one occasion how very good I've been for you, Ev."

Usually mid orgasm. Or post. Or pre. Somewhere in there. After awhile it didn't matter.
goddamngrenades: (Delta splain the thing)

[personal profile] goddamngrenades 2013-11-15 02:40 pm (UTC)(link)
"I always want something." He quips, taking that point before North can make it for him. He'd sound a little more self satisfied and smug were it not for the lips on his neck, the teeth on his lip and shit he never should've taught North that trick. Dammit, Ev, you are not allowed to be better at this than he is. Get your own shtick. He retaliates by leaning up and licking at North's mouth, tongue tip trailing along familiar and sweet lips. "Usually I want you. usually."

Almost always, if the first few stirrings of interest below the waist are anything to go by. But then he is pinned, is all but caged in and held down by the one person he trusts to have him in this position. York waits patiently. ish. Sort of. Patient for him as North makes up his mind to let go of his hand, fingers wiggling idly. Freed his hands slide from crown to spine, down North's hair and shoulders to the curve of his ass.

North's got him by the hips, he's got North by the ass. He thinks he's got the better deal, and then North just keeps talking like it's nothing and that shouldn't make him shiver a little, make his legs tip apart to cradle him properly. "Trying to use sex to condition me like a pet is cheating, Babe."
goddamngrenades: (Don't make me splain the thing)

[personal profile] goddamngrenades 2013-11-15 03:26 pm (UTC)(link)
"If I say I always want you it'll give you a big head. The only one allowed to have an ego in this bed is me, remember? You need to be the sensible one." That's what they were. The locksmith and the sniper, the egoist and the anchor. The fool and the straightman. He'd fuss and fight more if the attentions he earns weren't so goddamn pleasing.

Just another layer of reality over the mess in his head. Another reminder that this is what's real. Not the void. Not the hollow space in his mind where Delta used to be that's been plugged up with doubt.

This. North's hands and mouth and voice in his ear, holding him down so he doesn't fly apart. He groans in the back of his throat at that suck, leaning up and squeezing that lovely hanndfull he's grabbed. Tries to start up a circular grind, to kick start to the fun part. He likes the fun part.

Breath hitched in a gasp he nips at North's tongue when it's given, forehead pressed to his cheek. "Yes it is still cheating."
goddamngrenades: (Who me?)

[personal profile] goddamngrenades 2013-11-15 04:12 pm (UTC)(link)
"The sky is blue, the grass is green, and Evan is a sensible bastard. Rules of the universe, Babe." At least rules of his universe. Things he can count on to always be real and true no matter if he's lost in some kind of hell of his mind's making or whatever he's left to muddle his way through. He's not alone. He's here, he's got North-

The mess in his head can wait. For, like, ever as far as he cares he's got a very warm and very interested man bearing down on him. He'll check back with his neuroses after this is over. If it's over.

Protip: It won't ever be over.

York tips his knees apart obligingly, not a lick of shame in him in the slightest. He wants, North is giving, so move. He doesn't think about anything but that mouth on his skin, those hands in his hair, returning the touches and kisses as best he can from his angle. It doesn't always work and that damn teasing bruise makes his hips twitch up hard. "So fucking sorry, Ev, better start apologizing before I think you don't like me much."
goddamngrenades: (Serious face)

[personal profile] goddamngrenades 2013-11-15 05:06 pm (UTC)(link)
Any retort he might have had is lost in between one beat of his heart and the next. Talking through nuzzling and petting and bases one through three, that's easy enough. The one upside to his night terrors is how tense and hyper aware he is for hours afterward, the slightest sound or touch registering with ten times the intensity. Having that racketing through his veins while North has a hand on him, around him, is nothing sort of torment.

North wants squirming? Wants some kind of reaction? He gets it.

The breath punches out of York with a ow whoosh, wrapped around some vague, vulgar mumble along the likes of 'sonovabitch', low and curling and needy. He's a greedy bastard, he'll be the first to admit it, but North never tails to make him that greedy by showing just how much there is to have- on North's terms.

"Jesusfuck Evan-" His hips roll up against that tight, teasing grip, a helpless undulation, all clenching muscle and twitching skin. "Don't tease, jackass."

He hates being strung out and made to beg. Except for the part where he really doesn't hate it at all. That overwhelming wave of sensation after being stretched out in a thin thread from toe to tip and just waiting for the trigger. Like the catch of a tumbler in a lock, the slide of a bullet in the chamber.

"You. you aren't sorry at all you sick fucker oh jesuschristquitit-" And by quit he means fucking GET TO THE REAL ISSUE, his hands tangling in North's hair and tugging with great insistence lower, and thank fuck his boxers are gone and he's bare but he's still. Not. Sucking. Dammit.

"Quit dicking around and I'll think about it-"
goddamngrenades: (Serious face)

[personal profile] goddamngrenades 2013-11-16 08:46 am (UTC)(link)
He should have known the first goddamn night this would be a shit idea. The worst goddamn idea ever. No idea he comes up with while half outside his mind on booze, adrenaline, or terror ever comes to anything good. It'll be fun for a short while, yeah, but usually it ends in tears or blood. Both tend to be his. Every little trick and tease he might have laid out, everything he'd picked up knocking around clubs as a younger man before the project changed everything didn't do a damn thing other than encourage North- or teach him something new.

It's the teaching bit that has him regretting clinging to him after a particularly harsh night terror and kissing him at the moment. That had been a poorly planned move. Not something he would've done if he had D to tell him that it'd turn out like this. Not that it would've stopped him and not that he regrets this at all, but it's hard to remember how good everything is when Evan is being a jackass and not. Fucking. Touching him.

"I do not whimper!" He curls his fingers tight in Evan's hair, mussing up the fine blond strands as his nails catch and drag. A little retaliation for all the teasing. He's been good, come on, he hasn't pissed you off once today, play nice. He's playing nice, come on.

Tylor opens his mouth to say something else that was probably unkind when he gets that first brush of contact, all he can say then is "ohfuckme-"

Later, maybe. If he's lucky. Right now his world narrows down to Evan's lazy tongue and the obscene grip of his mouth, the too tight grip on his hips that keep him from rocking up and has him whining, hands sliding greedy for contact along Evan's hair and neck and shoulders. He'd sit up to touch further if he didn't know it'd just get him shoved back down again. Then.

Then the fucking biting.

"Dammit Ev!" He flinches, he always flinches, twitching away even as his thighs splay apart, begging for more as the pain fades into something far sweeter. "Oh fuck you if you stop I swear to god I'm gonna go out, naked, and find someone else to finish what you started-"
goddamngrenades: (Delta splain the thing)

[personal profile] goddamngrenades 2013-11-17 11:51 pm (UTC)(link)
"Do not, do not, do fucking not you fucking asshole-" cut off with a choke because he is not going to whimper for Evan when he's being this much of a possessive asshole. If he weren't smiling so much and clinging so hard to North's shoulders someone might think he's actually upset. Well. He is, just a little, because Evan is cheating. He's not supposed to be able to do this to him, no one is, what the hell happened to his control?

Gone forever, gone for good wherever Evan is concerned, probably because he's missed him. The transmissions he'd sent while out and about weren't the same as kicking back in the mess or sleepless nights spent sharing coffee. Sure as hell wasn't the same as clubbing and drinking and getting into trouble with him- he'd missed North like he misses his left eye.

This is probably why Evan tries do goddamn hard to drive him crazy- in the space between one breath and the next it's so easy for him to remember everything that went wrong, remember all the blood and pain and living alone. Remember dying, knowing he'd failed in his objective and that North would never get that fucking stupid joke he had thought up just for the sniper. Dying was bad enough. Leaving someone alone that seemed to need him was beyond anything he would have been able to bear.

Not whimpering, not sobbing but just. Rolling up into that mouth and back against his hands, head tipped forward and eyes squeezed shut to force those images back and away and just enjoy this as much as he can. Because he has this. That mouth on his skin, around his cock, that voice in his ear demanding his attention.

Ignore the wetness beading on his lashes as he cracks a laugh that shutters into a moan. "Will. Will so. If you don't fucking oh dear god Ev please-"
goddamngrenades: (tired york is tired)

[personal profile] goddamngrenades 2013-12-03 05:10 pm (UTC)(link)
He'd never thought himself particularly easy before. Well. He wasn't exactly always playing hard to get either but he'd never been so high strung and eager for a firm, dickish hand to force him into place and let him ride out sensations at their leisure. Normally he's all about the give and take, the tricks of clever fingers and tongues and that's why he strayed on the side of women the past few years. They liked his mouth, liked his hands, didn't ask too many questions and were slightly less likely to put him in a position he didn't want to be in.

Even when he'd been with guys it'd been more about the quick rough and tumble than the manhandling and the utter possessive dominance that Evan preferred. They didn't sleep together so much as he was totally owned and frankly? It was kind of a relief. He didn't have to joke, didn't have to tease, didn't have to be quick or clever or even terribly kind.

He just had to be.

Just say or do whatever Evan wanted him to do and in return he got comfort, contact, fucking awesome orgasms and something more he really doesn't wanna put a name to. For a little while it fills up that fragmented bit of him that came with Delta being ripped away. He feels more like the man he'd been before Project Freelancer. Before North, before Carolina, before any of them. Just a little punk ass kid with too much hope and not enough ambition.

He shudders through the next pass, turning his head to kiss Evan's palm as his hips roll up, as all that teasing melts into something gentle and he can just sigh through it. With his eyes shut tight he can pretend they both work. With his heart beating so hard he can pretend he never died. With Evan so large and holding him down, holding him together, he can pretend he's not broken. Things he'll never say that he murmurs soundlessly into Evan's palm like something secret and precious because they are. All his gratitude. All his affection.
goddamngrenades: (Who me?)

[personal profile] goddamngrenades 2013-12-29 11:52 am (UTC)(link)
Evan's kind tonight despite all of his bitching and for that Taylor is grateful. Normally when he pushes or speaks out or trips over some kind of verbal insubordination he's strung out on sensation for hours before they get to this point. Maybe it was the nightmare. Maybe they're closer to actually putting words to what they are. Maybe it was how he was clinging and as desperate as he's ever been for some confirmation that this is real. It's not Detla in his ear, it's not the suit holding his skin in place while it patches him up, it's not his tools in his hand or the HUD covering his blind spot.

It's not the private war they'd been thrust into by a madman or breaking into storefronts for petty cash and food after- not screwing around on military bases beforehand. Whatever this is- it's after. It's direction. Stability. Purpose. Order.

Orders had only ever led him into pain up until they got him killed. Evan's orders always ended well. Evan never expected the impossible from him, never condemned him for not making it on the first go, never made him feel less of a man for not being good enough. He never made Taylor feel anything but worthwhile. Be it direction in bed or in the field he can and will always trust this man to guide him safely. Through the cracks of his own mind and the madness of this place, the firm hand on his hip and on his jaw helps him find his way home day after day and that's something he can't ever thank him enough for. Doesn't have the words for it, doesn't have the frame of reference for it- so he just. Acts out. Clings.

Sobs and pants into Evan's palm as he grinds up as much as he can and he knows- Evan knows and gets it he's always gotten it, they've always been on the same wavelength and he needs more than this right now. The first audible thing from him since Evan swallowed him whole and it's low and broken.

"Please." Please more. Please come up. A tense hand slides through Evan's hair and tugs him up, legs spread wide because he needs- more. Needs to be held down and claimed in the way only Evan can offer him. Needs to be told how to move and how to breathe and what to think right now just so the world will make a little more sense. "Please- sir."

Their strange little shorthand that'll tell Evan what he needs without him having to try too hard.

Evan's always doing things to make life easy on him.
goddamngrenades: (Hey how you doing?)

[personal profile] goddamngrenades 2013-11-15 01:01 pm (UTC)(link)
[Shame? Embarrassmanent? These are things for other people. York is kick'n it old school, dancing without giving any fucks whatsoever because it's fun. It's really goddamn fun to just let loose and be active in a way that doesn't involve the suits or the project or missions. No training, no tests, no objectives.

Just he and his buds and a club full of gorgeous women and handsome men. He's had a turn around with a few girls already- even a pretty red haired girl that reminded him of a certain Freelancer, before swinging his way back over to the bar.

Every other step has a little shimmy, a little grind, a shake of the hips that should be obscene but is too goddamn energetic to be anything but entertaining. He finds a stool and slips up next to North, beaming.]

Come on, man, you're missing out on the whole point of this by sticking to the bar.
goddamngrenades: (Don't make me splain the thing)

[personal profile] goddamngrenades 2013-11-15 01:19 pm (UTC)(link)
[Attention? Fuck yes. He loves attention when he's not working. Infiltration specialists need to be quiet and quick and subtle and, ideally, unseen. That's work. He's not working right now and is reveling in having pretty girls smile and his friends from the project having as much of a good time as he is.

Even if North is being a stick in the mud. God, man, you aren't that old. Loosen up a little.]

So? [He nudges North with his elbow, settling into his chair in a haphazard splay of long legs and bulky arms.] That's the point. You go out and make an idiot of yourself and some sweet lady thinks, hey, maybe I can teach that sucker to dance.

Boom, instant chemistry.

[He drums his hands on the table once, grinning too much for his chiding to really mean anything.]

Damn right. This was the best idea I've had this week!
goddamngrenades: (Hey how you doing?)

[personal profile] goddamngrenades 2013-11-15 01:43 pm (UTC)(link)
Not yet, thanks for filling me in on that. I had absolutely no idea- without the regular reminders? I might even forget.

[He cracks out a low laugh, nudging North back yet again. You have started the poke war, sir, after telling him he's ridiculous. It is now on.

Remember, you brought this on yourself.]

What you need to do- thanks. [A wink and a grin to the bartender- a dude, but a handsome dude that isn't staring too much at his bad eye - and he slings back the drink set in front of him without checking what it is. It's a North drink. North drinks are smooth and easy and don't burn too bad. Much like the man.] is finish that drink and come out with me on the floor. I'll help you find a nice partner for the next song. If you stay here any longer Wash is gonna try to dance with your stool while you're still on it.
goddamngrenades: (Who me?)

[personal profile] goddamngrenades 2013-11-15 02:16 pm (UTC)(link)
[He sees your elbow nudge and raises you a knee bumped up against your thigh and a shoulder check. This is not a war you will win. Especially since he's riding high on three, count 'em, three phone numbers, a promise of five more dances, two shots of something fruity and glowing, and a good beer at the beginning of the night.

Nothing North can do can bring him down. Not even when he starts being a jackass right back- because when North sasses back? York has won. Really. This is winning.

He's dragged North down to his level. That's what winning is all about, man.]

Wha- why? [This is the face of innocence. Really. Utter innocence.] Come on, Susan was a lovely lady and Gary only tried to grope you twice! I think that counts as an enjoyable evening at the club.
goddamngrenades: (Hey how you doing?)

[personal profile] goddamngrenades 2013-11-15 02:43 pm (UTC)(link)
[You know what would be great now? Shots. York taps the bar and motions to a tray of those glowing purply fruity fizzy ones he'd had earlier and the Bartender obliges easily enough, setting one down in front of York and one in front of North.

Drink up, be merry, for tomorrow we die, etc etc and all that bullshit.

Fuck it and drink because tonight is good and they're alive.]

I do not pout, Ev. I gaze meaningfully and soullfuly.

[Knee bump plus ankle hook, and York is poking at North's shot, nudging it closer and closer to his hands with a cheeky little grin all his own. He could stand to hear more of those Hmms, could stand to see north smiling and acting his goddamn age for once.]
goddamngrenades: (Hey how you doing?)

[personal profile] goddamngrenades 2013-11-15 03:30 pm (UTC)(link)
Do noooot.

[Soft and singsong around the shot he takes, coming up with a soft sign of satisfaction. Whatever the hell is in these babies, it's strong. It's good. He cracks out another bright string of laughter, good eye warm and dewy with amusement- North looks like he just got slapped in the face by a fish and that's just a beautiful kind of gobsmacked, innit?]

I can say- with complete honesty and utter sincerity, [One hand to his chest, one hand held up like he's swearing an oath.] That I have no fucking idea. Not a one. But aren't they great?
goddamngrenades: (Hey how you doing?)

[personal profile] goddamngrenades 2013-11-15 04:19 pm (UTC)(link)
[Wait who's turn is it on the poke war? North's turn? No wait it's his, shit, he forgot. York adjusts by tangling his other foot in North's, pulling himself and his stool closer by dint of determination, well waxed tile, and North just weighing more than he does by a stupid amount. Damn dude being tall and built and tall.

North is clearly onto something here. Clearly. Another sounds good. York raps his knuckles on the table, leaning into and against North while he waits for the next set of shots. ]

I would do no such thing. I've got some class, Ev. Only the finest pine scented ethanol cleaner for me.

[A beat, a wink, and a sigh as another set of shots are set before them.]

To surviving!
goddamngrenades: (Who me?)

[personal profile] goddamngrenades 2013-11-15 05:09 pm (UTC)(link)
That's right motherfucker, pine sol is classy.

[And so is he, all but snuggling into Norths' side and all. He could do worse than snuggling up to North anyway, everyone seems to take their turn with the older freelancer as days get longer and missions get more tense. York doesn't question it. He just takes hte invitation as it's given, nuzzling into whatever skin he finds while waiting for the next glowing shot.

He raps the bar again. What the hell will one more set hurt? He's got North joking, blushing, and all warm and sexy next to him. Why not keep the good time rolling?]

Don't worry. i told the bartender it was all on Reggie's tab. As long as we bail before he does, w're good.
goddamngrenades: (Delta splain the thing)

[personal profile] goddamngrenades 2013-11-16 08:46 am (UTC)(link)
I am drunk.

[He responds with a grin, wide and bright and easy as anything. Life is good right now, man. He's intoxicated and in the company of friends. Hell, it's safe enough for him to be drunk and that? That is what has him so goddamn happy. That for right now they can have this. That and North's got an arm around him and apparently he's a snuggly drunk which is something he hadn't known in the slightest. Another point is that, hey, North is DRUNK.

This never happens.

Drunk York instantly sets about sorting out how to make this the most mindblowing night possible for North because, hell, those always start when you're drunk. What the fuck is step two again? He snorts out a laugh and leans into the taller man. later. He can figure out step two later. Right now he just slams back that last glowing shot and flips it over, sliding the shotglass around the surface of the bar.]

Hey, I always have a plan B. And a plan C. If Reggie leaves before we do, we can pawn it off on Wash. That kid doesn't ever spend any of his pay, he's good for it.

[Oh. Wait. Wash. THAT is step two. It's not supposed to happen tonight, though, but the equipment is all set up above the dance floor and he's drunkenly leaning, peering at the switches set at the nozzles that'd spray down fragrant, soap free foam on the dance floor.]

I bet I could make that shot.
goddamngrenades: (Hey how you doing?)

[personal profile] goddamngrenades 2013-11-17 11:31 pm (UTC)(link)
I am so damn aware, you don't even know!

[Enough that he's laughing, he's leaning, even a little more than he probably has to in order to line up the shot and start patting himself down for some kind of projectiles. He's got backup by way of North and the others, even if Reggie is off trying to pick girls up by way of mustache rides and Maine is busy bench pressing a goddamn pool table with people sitting on it and Wash is...surprisingly sober, off in a corner, chatting with someone sweet looking.

Well good on him.

York lets his head fall back against North's shoulder as he finally finds a rubber band, perfect for pitching long distance distractions, and he takes a pit of an olive. Should be more than enough.]

If I make it, you have to dance with me.
goddamngrenades: (Who me?)

[personal profile] goddamngrenades 2013-11-28 12:17 pm (UTC)(link)
Doesn't matter, I'm gonna make the shot.

[Because how could he not? It's simple enough of one from here. All he has to do is lean, adjust, let North take the bulk of his weight as he pulls the pit back and gauges the distance, the force he'll need.


Under his breath he murmurs just before he lets the pit fly.]

If I miss I gotta kiss you.

[And then it's airborne.]