Sabbatical

Good Vibrations

Their childish dash through L-Base's halls was -- somehow -- completed without detection. Or at least anyone who did spot either of the bulky rebels peeking around corners while giggling and tiptoeing past doorways couldn't find it in themselves to say anything about it.

Still counted as stealth as far as York was concerned.

As they traipsed along the catwalk that led to the boiler rooms, York managed to coax a bit more out of Samael about his recent experiences with Andee. It might have sounded like gossip, but York was proud of what he was able to draw out. Samael had that damnable ability to feel like Sirca's most open book...except no one realized it was a damn guest book full of the stories and signatures of every visitor in Samael's life (not to mention in Samael himself), with nary a detail about the guy's personal affairs. York knew getting Samael to talk about Andee was a feat to be celebrated.

"So you really weren't joking about the ladder?"

Samael grinned toothily over his shoulder, and York couldn't help but notice the shock of bright white at the base of his friend's spine. Even Wash's ruff had a twinge of yellow in it -- it was almost eerie that Samael's had virtually no hue. But then again, Samael was a master of breaking expectations, whether intentional or otherwise. Probably safe to blame it on his inbreeding again, at least.

"Aw hell no! Since when do I ever joke 'bout sex, anyway?!" Samael exclaimed, his azure gaze pulsing with delight and fire alike. "Naw, I'm tellin' you, hon, what you seent at them hot springs was jus' a taste of my crazy li'l bat-bastard..."

"I did a lot more than seent it," York mumbled, rubbing at his throat self-consciously. "That crazy tentpole had his bat-dong lodged somewhere in my stomach, I'm pretty sure. Think it went beyond just a taste."

Samael guffawed as they both turned their heads and approached the entrance to North's old room. "Yeah, guess you right 'bout that -- even if you only got you a sampler, Andee ain't one to skimp on the servin' size!" Samael announced cheerfully, his tail piercing chiming loud enough to be crystal-clear over the rumble of the boilers.

York gave his own rumble, still unashamed by how much that damn sound riled his nerves. Better to be excited than scared, he supposed. Relaxed muscles made this whole thing more comfortable...right? "Heh, you and Andee got some screwed up ideas of portion control," York replied, even as he grinned and nudged his friend with his hip. "Not that I'm complaining. For a couple of midgets, you two make for a pretty filling meal!"

Samael returned the grin with a hungry flash of his eyes, suddenly stepping close to York as a hand materialized on his broad chest and pushed him back against the wall. York's eyes widened and he stared down as Samael licked his muzzle and drew his claws sluggishly through York's fur to outline his impressive musculature. "You ain't bite-sized yerself...'cept I'm already up fer a second course," he purred, grinding into York's thighs and drawing a breathless squeak from the massive chupa. "Lawd, 's hot down here..."

"Y-you got that right," York stammered in response before swallowing thickly as Samael's fingers hooked into his waistband. A little scary that he thought he'd seen Samael at his most needy before. Even the drunken meltdown after Lamtha had been less charged than this. His eyes bulged even further when Samael's fingers deftly undid his belt buckle, his head shooting from side to side as both panic and exhilaration pulsed through him. "S-Sammy!"

"Only need a sec, hon, ain't no one else down here," Samael muttered, yanking York's shorts down with such swiftness that York felt the tongue against his hide before the warm, muggy air surrounding them could make contact.

"Ooooh shit," York mumbled as he doubled over, clutching the back of Samael's head while the other hand slapped against the concrete wall. "S-Sammy, w-wait, we should--nngh!" His eyes shot wide at the sensation of Samael's exploratory tongue, a gasp overriding whatever protest he'd attempted.

Samael pressed closer and the laden pack upon his shoulders gave a muffled tinkle. The sound made him pause in his onslaught and he hesitated before tipping his head up to look at his friend.

York could already see the embarrassment mounting and he smiled through his burgeoning arousal, exhaling slowly while shifting his hand to grasp lightly under Samael's muzzle to guide him carefully away from his crotch. "It's all good, pal. I, uh. I think I'm starting to see why you're a little, erm. Nervous about your cycle."

They both faced a visible struggle to ignore York's physical reaction to his buddy's attack, Samael clearing his throat and blindly doing up York's shorts with uncanny ease. "Heh, yer right. 'Sides, not everyone's a dirty public show-off whore like me," he mumbled.

York chuckled and squeezed an arm around Samael's shoulders, doing his best not to walk bowlegged thanks to the uncomfortable pressure against his shorts. "Hey, don't start with that shit, pal. We're both whores...and who says you're the only exhibitionist, eh?"

He watched as Samael fought with himself, but eventually smiled back up at him while they made their way the last few steps to North's quarters. "Haw, mebbe. But jus' 'cause you know them purdy words 'n use 'em so good don't make you no bad boy like me -- but you go 'head 'n call me next time you 'n Miz Wash do anythin' even half as bad as what me 'n Andee did last time." The smile grew a bit more as Samael's pride pushed through his sheepishness.

It was the Samael York loved most.

York offered a toothy grin in return. "God, I wish I coulda seen the looks from across the street. Those neighbors better have been jealous, not horrified, I've seen for myself what a show you two crazy bastards put on..."

"You ain't seen shit yet," Samael mumbled, though he was still smiling as York eased the door open and they both poked their heads in.

North's quarters were still mostly untouched from the last time they'd spent time in the cozy room. The posters and trophies were still in place, though York noticed the flecks of dust settling onto some of them. He'd need to make a point to come down more often and keep things a bit tidier. South certainly wasn't doing it, after all -- she'd taken what she wanted from his personal belongings and left the rest to open claim.

York wouldn't soon forget her rage or her sorrow. Not even he had dared to interrupt her as she tore through his quarters to sweep up all she had deemed worthy of keeping for herself. And after the storm had passed, the room was left open to the mercy of L-Base...but luckily North had won the hearts of most of her occupants, and his space remained unclaimed and respectfully vacant, no matter how often the rebels complained about wanting more private bunks.

"Damn..." Samael's voice drew York's eyes to him as the redneck closed his eyes and dropped into a genuflect. "Still ain't been long enough, big man. Hope you found yer way to a better place, 'cause we gonna need us a guide to get through them waters ahead." Samael bowed his head and placed a palm upon his chest as he recited a string of prayers under his breath.

York sometimes forgot about Samael's intense spirituality. The redneck wasn't much for proselytizing, but he wasn't shy about showing his beliefs, either. He just hadn't been given a reason to often put them on display. Before North's demise, the most York observed were blessings over meals and the occasional praise for fortune and safety following a particularly harrowing job.

But York had been treated to a far more intimate display of Samael's religion since North's fateful mission to Highguard. York wasn't much for the stuff, himself; in fact, most of his peers had never been big on it, even in the thick of Freelancer. Everyone accepted that they were a part of the Holy War, that the structure of the House was supreme over all of Sirca. But no one really believed they were an instrument of Omega...well, almost no one. But York supposed becoming a Left Hand was likely reserved for only the most devout of Omega's children.

Coming face-to-face with Samael's beliefs had been a bit jarring...but what was unique about Samael was the fact that he was one of the most free-spirited individuals York had ever met, inside and out of the resistance. He did what he wanted with little regard for any of society's rules or expectations, his soul burning with the purest kind of rebellion, like a living embodiment of the biggest middle finger to every shackle that Omega and his followers had locked around Sirca. And despite all that, Samael maintained a deep devotion to the ways of his Sampian pack, following enough threads of his religion that he very well could have been one of its ministers had he so chosen.

York rested a hand on Samael's shoulder as his strange friend finished the prayer and stood. He was no expert on the traditions of Sampi's self-contained tribes, but he knew enough to recognize they held a high regard for the spirits that roamed Sirca, both those that were a natural part of the ring but also those that had once been mortal. It was similar to the closely-guarded beliefs of the bats, which York supposed was perhaps just a coincidence of being cave-dwellers that had the benefit of their own isolation to allow a belief system untainted by Omega's sweeping influence.

"I don't know how big North was on religion, but I know he appreciates being included in your weird little redneck prayers," York murmured as Samael slid an arm around his waist. Samael gazed up at him with a small smile before they strode into the room together.

"Heh, I don't think the big man were all that against the idea," Samael replied while their eyes traversed the quiet quarters. "Good ol' farm boy he was, had a closer connection to Sirca than most." He squeezed into York's hip while closing his eyes for a moment. "Still feel 'im here. He left roots all over the place."

York chuckled as he glanced at the picture hanging on the wall between two sports banners -- South hadn't felt the need to snatch it up, perhaps because it had contained several subjects besides North himself. It was a shot of a grinning group of young Specials recruits who looked ready to take on the whole ring...god, how many of them were buried within it, now? "I know what you mean, Sammy. Though..." He let a hesitant smile drift over his features while Samael's gaze lifted to him again. "Not sure if he's gonna want to stick around to watch what goes down here today, eh?"

Samael couldn't help grinning back, tipping his head playfully to one side and then patting York's broad chest. "C'mon, now, Northy maybe wasn't into dicks like we was, but he still loved him a good time."

"Didn't stop you from getting a piece of his," York fired back teasingly with a wink. "Your redneck dong magic is unparalleled, pal."

"An' boy, did he have hisself a mighty-fine piece," Samael cooed as they came to a halt in the middle of the room. York couldn't help but marvel that few could make a comment about a dead friend's dick sound so genuinely respectful. "His lady was already blessed just havin' the love of a man like that. Wish I coulda been there with you to help break the news to the poor thing..."

York smiled a bit as the bittersweet memories of meeting Evelyn rolled through him. North had talked about her at length near the end of his time on Sirca since he'd been ready to bring her into the Movement at the same time he was planning to leave Freelancer. Meeting her was supposed to have been a joyous occasion, not the tear-filled bereavement it had become.

But she had been everything North had described -- strong, capable, beautiful. Steely. York wasn't ashamed to admit he'd started to cry before she had as he'd explained the reason for his visit. It had been a terrible introduction to the woman who had tamed one of the proudest hearts on Sirca.

"I wish you coulda been there, too," York replied quietly while taking in a deep breath. "You'd like her." He found another smile forming as he flexed his arm around Samael's shoulders. "She wanted to hear all about his friends, about his life, about who he was. Not what he did."

"'Cause I bet he ain't had no doubts 'bout tellin' her the truth of what he did," Samael responded with a faint smile of his own. "Way he talked 'bout her, I don't think he kept many secrets." He clutched into one of the straps of his backpack. "Would still love to meet'er one day."

"I'm sure she'd like that, too," York reassured as he nodded and then shifted his attention to the card table that had been folded up and placed against the wall. "Heh. Now talk about a night that still feels like a dream..."

Samael immediately knew what he meant, considering the way his expression lit up as his tail gave a delighted jingle. "Hot damn, you ain't lyin', hon. I still ain't sure how we pulled that off without no one gettin' stabbed!"

"I think we came pretty close," York chortled, at last releasing his friend's shoulders to stride over and grab the table so he could open it and set it up with a smirk. "I'm almost afraid to see everything you brought -- guessing it's gonna put even the treats from our poker night to shame."

The coy grin Samael returned to him danced the line of enticing and terrifying. "I promised you a good time."

"Yeah you did, you just forgot to mention the price of admission was learning what a damn Sampi ruff entails," York retorted.

His friend's features fell a bit as he shrugged off the pack. "Aw, York...you know you still ain't--" His eyes widened in shock when York moved with the same impossible liquid smoothness as Samael himself, pressing against Samael's front with a hand grasped securely into his tight shorts.

Samael's speechless expression was more satisfying than York liked to admit as he grinned and let his fingers clench appreciatively into the bulging shape barely kept restrained by his companion's snug cut-offs. "I'm not backing down now, you crazy redneck," he rumbled, ignoring the twinge of nervousness in favor of the rush that always accompanied any deployment of his swagger.

Samael wasn't the only one who knew how to make knees weak.

The smaller chupa all but melted against York with a breathy giggle, the nervousness morphing quickly into excitement as they matched grins. "Well fuck me fer doubtin' my best friend," he uttered as a hand slid over York's side in appreciation.

"I absolutely will," York fired back tauntingly before taking a step back and releasing Samael's crotch to gesture at the table with a wink. "But come on, let's see all this crazy shit you brought before we sully Northy's linens."

There was shameless adoration for the way Samael's eyes flooded with anticipation. "A'right, a'right, yer like a li'l kid at his first candy shop," Samael teased while dragging the pack over and opening the top.

"Hey, last I checked, Sampi was still trying to catch up on inventing running water -- have you even ever been in a real candy shop, you weird redneck?" York retorted. "Those places are magical!"

Samael laughed as he squatted next to the backpack to begin pulling out its contents. "A'right, ya may got me there." He smiled up at York. "You should take me sometime. I know Mama Nelson sure ain't never gonna."

"Probably because she's rightfully afraid of what an insane midget sex-beast would be like on a sugar rush," York noted bemusedly.

He watched as Samael first produced a few jars whose contents York could easily recognize; his famous moonshine was a staple of all three bases at this point. A few six-packs of beer, too, sure; they needed something to counteract all the other intoxicants, most of which were probably either illegal or simply unsafe for general consumption.

His eyes widened despite himself at the slender bottle of glistening, viscous fluid that was calmly placed next to the moonshine. Considering the particular consistency of the stuff -- and the fact the container was labeled only with a sketch of a grinning bat -- York had a pretty good idea of what it contained. A gulp felt like the only appropriate reaction.

The trepidation gave way to intrigue, however, when Samael next pulled out a few small containers of...brownies? York blinked and took a step closer as Samael glanced up and then grinned. "They ain't Andee's...but somethin' tells me they'll still be a nice start to our li'l journey." He nodded toward one of the sealed containers. "Go on, hon, have you a taste. Those ones ain't gonna knock yer ass flat yet."

"My ass is never flat, thank-you-very-much," York huffed as he reached over to pry one of the lids open. "Besides, we weren't choir boys in Freelancer, ya know!" he added with a puff of his chest.

Samael chuckled and laid out a few smaller cartons that York squinted at. Dried herbs...oh, maybe mushrooms? He'd heard some tales from Xulod. "Yeah, yeah, CT told me the same thing," Samael reassured before he flicked his tail against York's thigh, both the firm contact and resultant jangle making him twitch. "I'm purdy sure y'all ain't got yer hands on half'a what I brought, though. But don't worry." His toothy grin sparked both encouragement and wariness. "I been told I give purdy good tours."

"Yeah, tours of your...ass," York taunted lamely before scowling and holding one of the pastries up to his eyes to study it. "I know my way around party favors!"

"Good," Samael purred as he at last set down a few vials of something that glowed in hues of almost neon. York blinked and stared at them for a few seconds. He was almost afraid to ask what they were.

Samael pounced on his apprehension with a low chortle. "Don't you worry none 'bout them -- we ain't gonna touch 'em until you survive the shrooms," he declared while slapping down one final item. York cocked his head at the sight of a small plastic bag under Samael's fingers. Looked like it held some kind of colorful powder, like crushed-up quartz. He peered at Samael while taking a slow bite of the brownie, and his friend winked. "An' you definitely don't worry 'bout these. They's for big boys only."

"Sez the guy who can't even go on most rides that have a height limit," York mocked as he chewed and closed his eyes for a moment. The pastry wasn't too sweet, which was just the way he liked it, and he could already taste the potent blend of herbs and snatchgrass within. "Mmm..."

"Heh, I ain't had no problem ridin' you," Samael shot back, popping open a beer to chug from before offering it to York as he reached for a jar of moonshine as well.

"That's because I don't have standards," York replied impishly, launching a wink back to Samael and accepting the bottle with a grunt. Samael grinned again and snagged another beer and one of the baskets of brownies to go with the hard liquor. York was quick to grab a different jar of moonshine and the two sauntered over to North's oversized bed to flop down against one another.

Before they could completely relax, however, York widened his eyes and raised a finger while choking out around the brownie to send a spray of crumbs over his friend. "Oooh, wait, wait! We neeg guh righ' muthick!"

Samael laughed as he propped his head up with an elbow and snatched up a pastry to chomp into. "Goddamn, sweetie, yer lucky all my redneck speakin' makes me 'bout a universal translator -- you go on, then, put us a good record on."

York beamed and hopped back off the bed, finishing the brownie and scooping up another to start on as he meandered over to North's record player. "Hell yeah..."

A gentle fuzz was already sinking into his consciousness and he savored the pleasant hum while thumbing quickly through the albums until he found one that felt right. He blew the dust off and then set the vinyl disc carefully onto the turntable before placing the needle with a soft crackle.

The speakers popped a few times before a stream of jazzy horns flowed through the room. He smiled as his tail gave a pleased swing, turning around and finding an approving expression on his companion's features. "That's better," he announced, shoving the second brownie into his maw a moment later with a muffled sound of ecstasy. "Dang, theeth are goog..."

"Yeah they are!" Samael replied enthusiastically, popping a brownie into his jaws as well and taking a long swig of moonshine. York smiled warmly and returned to drop onto the bed with his friend, their muzzles practically touching as they curled up across from each other like kids at a sleepover.

They often took for granted just how much they had in common since they'd never had to work for it. Their instant magnetism -- and York's ensuing sexual self-realization -- aside, they'd found similarities in each other mere hours after their introduction. Their friendship had pretty much fallen into place around them and it had always been a comfortable shelter into which they could retreat, without reservation or clarification. Their bond simply was.

They enjoyed several pastries and accompanying guzzles of booze without trading more than a few words, smoothly guiding themselves to the start of a comfortable inebriation. They eventually rolled onto their backs, a jar of moonshine and the nearly-empty plate of infused brownies between them as their heads rested together.

"Heh...man, this really do feel like that poker game..."

York grinned at the ceiling as he bumped his muzzle against Samael's. "Which one, huh? The one that ended up with you on the bed and North's dick in your hands...or Andee's?"

Samael giggled and nudged York back while looping his tail affectionately around his friend's. "Whoa, whoa! Believe it or not, me 'n the li'l fruit-bat ain't had even one wet bone on this here bed! Li'l guy was way too toasted fer none'a that! Nawwww, we slept real good on these sheets, real peaceful." York could feel his smile riding on the waves of their growing buzz. "Much as I enjoyed that time with Northy...can't deny how good it felt gettin' our fellas to spend a few good hours together."

York's smile warmed him to his core. "Hell yeah, even if I thought your mouthy li'l bat was gonna get himself stabbed!"

Samael laughed and fumbled for the moonshine, slurping from it and then passing it blindly to York, who found it as easily as he always did. "All things considered, it coulda gone a lot worse. An'...I know our fellers ain't 'zackly best pals now or nothin', but...shit, son." He bounced his muzzle lightly off York's again. "'S a step forward, innit? Andee's barely said nothin' angry 'bout it. Hell, I ain't sure he'da been as sweet as he was at them hot springs if it weren't fer how that card game went..."

York snorted after his gulp of the potent liquor, savoring the smooth but powerful liquid gliding over the warm static of the pastries. "God, if that was him being sweet...you two are more messed up than I thought."

"Yeaaaah, been told that before," Samael admitted. One of his legs curled into York's as he twisted their tails more snugly together. "But lawd, other'n that one moment, Wash 'n Andee almost got along, sorta!"

York knew exactly which moment that had been. He grimaced and held the jar of moonshine with both hands down against his chest as he locked his leg around Samael's. "Ugh, Andee really latched onto that. Your little bat is evil, y'know?" Samael's wistful chuckle wasn't a denial. "Wash never wanted anyone to know about him and Tex." He paused as the most delicate wrinkle formed across his muzzle. "I mean. He. He still doesn't want anyone to know."

For all the progress he'd made with Wash, it was hard to forget that Wash and Tex were still seeing each other.

"Most folks sleep with a gal like Tex, they want the whole ring to know, huh?" Samael noted.

York nodded with a grumble. "Sure. Especially if she considers you...worthwhile." The word tasted as dirty as it sounded. "But Wash doesn't want it public since...I dunno. I'm sure he thinks it lowers his status as a capable leader or somethin'. Probably...mostly the same reason he doesn't wanna tell people about, uh. Y'know. Us."

"Could be the whole gay thing, too," Samael supplied with a gentle nudge. "One thing to be a fruitcake rebel fightin' fer a gayer tomorrow. But it's a whole different thing when you's s'posed to be one'a the resistance's leaders. Folks judge a man harder. Ain't fair, but..."

"But that's the way it is," York agreed softly, his frown spreading a bit more. "It doesn't bother me, but..." He paused and let his tongue roll over the warm fog that continued to numb his nerves in the most pleasant way. The difficult conversation didn't feel so difficult. "Okay, scratch that, it does bother me. Bothers me that he doesn't want people to know about me 'n him, but...even...even more that he doesn't wanna talk about Tex!"

He lifted the moonshine with his emphatic gesture, spilling a bit of the stuff over them both. Samael was quick to lean over and lap most of the excess from his muzzle as York mumbled an apology, then continued. "I'm still jealous, Sammy. I hate that I am, but I know it's worse to pretend I'm not." The buzz felt good, soothed his frazzled thoughts. They weren't sharp enough to overturn the inebriation and so he plunged forward with a huff.

"He thinks that 'cause she doesn't love him that...that it's better. An' I'm sure part of him believes that! He doesn't wanna have feelings either, he just wants a way to take care of his needs and not have to be emotionally attached but. But he is attached." York's shoulders shrunk a bit as he looked down at the jar of liquor, tracing a claw around the rim. "He is attached, to her and. And to me. He doesn't know what to do about that. I think...I know he's scared of commitment, of having something that can be lost. And I'm jealous of her 'cause the next time he feels the need, the next time he's in the ruff...he's gonna pick her. Because. Because it's safer. Because it's easier."

Samael was quiet for several seconds until York felt his fingers squeezing softly around his own. "Don't be givin' up now, hon. Hell, lookit me, comin' o'er to you durin' my ruff. But I still love Andee like nothin' else, I still want nothin' more'n to be with 'im."

York smiled at the ceiling, more reassured than he deserved to be. "C'mon, Sammy. I'm not sure that's any better, because if Wash sees Tex the way you see me...I might be even more jealous."

"Fair 'nuff," Samael responded with amusement, fishing out another brownie from the container between them to nibble at. "I know you been bold. I know you ain't been shy, considerin' that 'naner lesson you told me 'bout!"

"So...so what else can I do?" York murmured. He blinked at a soft poke against his muzzle, glancing over and then smiling as he saw Samael prodding the other half of the pastry into his jaws. He leaned over to accept it with a grunt, chewing slowly and reveling in the tide of woozy sensations.

"Jus' be there, hon," Samael's drawling baritone blended perfectly with the intoxication. "I know you been doin' that...but keep bein' there. Show him yer still his best friend, the way you always been. Show 'im that you ain't somethin' to be lost, but that yer somethin' he'll always have. Somethin' Tex can't offer, 'cause she's built different. Her heart ain't the same's yours...'n li'l ol' Wash needs to see that fer himself."

"Damn," York whispered as his eyes widened a bit. The shapes in North's ceiling were beginning to dance the most spectacular waltz as the satin sheets beneath them embraced his muscular form tenderly. "Howzit you make a guy feel special and manage to not even insult the chick he's jealous of??"

"I 'unno," Samael replied with a chuckle. "Prob'ly more'a the inbreedin'..."

"I'm startin' to envy your branchless family tree...an' I don't think that's a good thing..." York shook his head before blinking unevenly and gasping loudly. "Hey...hey, wait!" He rolled onto his side, careful to clutch the moonshine to avoid spilling it in the motion. He huffed and pushed a finger into Samael's muzzle, who peered back owlishly. "You...you did that thing again!"

"Whaaaat?" Samael drew the word out with mock innocence, licking the crumbs from his fingers while batting his eyes. "Dunno what you mean, sweetie...both our pants is still on!"

"Not...not that thing," York pouted before poking Samael's snout again. "That thing where you get outta talkin' about yourself and use your gay redneck magic to make everyone else talk."

Samael tipped onto his side as well, entwining his leg with York's once more as he smiled into his friend's eyes. "Dang, 'n here I was figgerin' these li'l treats would let me sneak right on by."

God, Samael really was cute.

York giggled, clinging to the jar of moonshine with one hand and stroking the other across his companion's muzzle. His fur felt even softer than usual, and it sent the most wonderful sensations over York's arm. "Sorry, Sammy, but you're a terrible sneaker...you're all. Loud. 'N shiny. 'N jingly, too."

Samael flashed a broad grin, loosening their twisted tails just enough to make the two-piece piercing tinkle. The melodic sound bounced through York's muddled senses, instantly melting his nerves as he gave a happy moan and pushed their muzzles together. "You always did love mah jingles 'n jangles," Samael purred, sliding a hand between York's thighs to guide it toward his crotch.

York's eyes rolled into his skull for a moment, a soft whimper trickling out on the winds of his hazy intoxication. But a voice called out to him through the buzz, reminding him that he'd made a promise, a promise to be the friend Samael deserved, a promise to do what it took, even when Samael was pulling every hot, sexy trick out of his bag of hot, sexy tricks.

His eyes snapped open again with a huff and he put every bit of his willpower into ignoring the rousing fire Samael was coaxing to life between his legs. "Hey, hey," he mumbled, taking a moment to sample a bit more of the liquor before setting the jar next to them on the bed and shifting to sit up while wrapping his enormous arms around Samael to pull him into his lap. "Nope, nope, nope...you're not gonna give me a damn...amazing, snatch-y handjob, pal." Samael's eyes remained coy, though York's enhanced state of mind allowed him divine perception as he saw the twinge of self-consciousness through the bravado. "All I ever do is talk 'bout me 'n the pine cone. I wanna hear about you today...or no more yummy York-dick."

Samael snorted and his eyes took on a challenging air, one that was enough to send a wary shiver down York's spine. But York's embrace was insistent, and as he curled his tail tightly around Samael's waist, the smaller chupa eventually mumbled and dropped his muzzle onto York's collarbone. "A'right, I guess. Only 'cause these tasty treats is keepin' mah boner at bay...fer now." He gave a jagged smile that York felt against his chest. His voice grew softer, though, as he curled a burly arm around York's neck. "Yer too good to me, hon."

"Two-way street, Li'l Pup, considering all you do for me," York murmured while resting his muzzle atop Samael's head as the pleasant vibrations lapped at them both. "So c'mon. Show me you trust me as much as I trust you."

They were the precious words. Samael's eyes lifted to lock with his and they automatically pushed their muzzles together before Samael nodded. He rested in the crook of York's arm, his stout frame the most pleasantly warm mass amid the chemically-induced stupor. "Yer right, Big Pup..." He stroked a finger along his friend's neck as he continued. "Promise I ain't left out too much recently, though. Me 'n Andee been on...shit. Lotta jobs lately."

York settled back against the headboard with a satisfied grumble, enjoying the dueling sensations of Samael's comfortable drawl and the effects of the laced pastries. "Me'n him runnin' gigs not jus' fer Sidewinder but Miz Sov, too."

That had York's eyes open again as he blinked a few times and then stared down with poorly hidden jealousy. "M-Miss Sov?" he wheezed. "The Miss Sov?!?"

"Vinny's momma, bet yer man-tit," Samael replied with a wink as his fingers drifted down to massage over York's collarbone. "We's gettin' purdy cozy with 'em -- my badass li'l bat's had a few meetin's with her an' it sounds like they's been real good. She's sent us on a few errands already an' we ain't heard nothin' but good words afterward!"

"Goddamn, not...not that I care or anything," York sulked, squeezing tightly around Samael as he failed to mask the pout. "That's so awesome. Andee's so cool, he's got all these connections and...and he's actually working with you, he's never done that with anyone else since we first met him!"

Samael laughed, though York detected a bit of sobriety even through the billowing euphoria. "Andee's...Andee's gotten real involved, yeah. An' I'm so happy 'bout it, lawd. I really am. 'Cept..." He licked at the end of his muzzle and York gazed down, waiting for his eyes to refocus so he could train a curious look on his friend's concerned expression. "'Cept it's made me start to feel. Kinda nervous."

York tilted his head a bit. "Because...ooh." The realization might have taken a bit to push through the fog, but it made it to the station all the same. "You're worried 'bout him getting hurt."

Samael nodded and bit his lip as he drew a claw over each metal bead of York's necklace. "I wanted nothin' more to start runnin' jobs with 'im. An' it ain't like he's green or nothin', like he can't handle some shit." His eyes lifted to York's again. "We make a real fuckin' good team, jus' like you 'n yer pine cone. Gawd, it feels good workin' side-by-side, almost like workin' with you, but..."

York watched Samael for a few seconds, then reached up to run his fingers soothingly through Samael's headfur. His lack of a mane was still as fascinating to York as York's mane must have been to Samael. "It'll take some time, Sammy. Even before I, uh. I realized how I really felt about Wash, I worried. He's my best friend, my battle buddy. So 'course you're gonna worry, but." He nodded slowly but firmly while meeting Samael's eyes as his thumb stroked along the top of his scalp. "You gotta learn to trust him, to know he's gonna be okay because the two of you are always gonna be stronger than either of you alone. That's. That's what took me a long time to realize, and it's not like I don't worry 'bout Wash when we run a dangerous job together, but. But I'm not focused on it."

Samael worried his lip again before shifting his weight a bit and showing a rare flash of lacking confidence. "It's. It's hard fer me...I do trust 'im, 'n trust that he c'n hold his own, but...but the thought of..."

York wrapped both arms around Samael again to hug him tight. "It's like what you told me, Sammy. The fear of losing him is how you know how real it is, and it's gonna be what keeps you strong. Ready to do whatever it is."

Those words made Samael twitch and York gazed at him intently again. He wasn't sure if the brownies were enhancing his senses and making it a bit easier to read the normally imperceptible tells from his friend; all he knew was he could see the unnatural trepidation through the hairline cracks in Samael's armor. He kept one arm around Samael's waist and slid the other up to massage along his spine, nudging gently at his muzzle with his own. "C'mon, pal. Don't leave me hangin'..."

He would have normally expected a sexual tease, but all he received was a wary smile. Samael looked up at him for a long time, for what might have been an eternity thanks to the snatch-and-who-knew-what-else-infused pastries. The years trickled past but York had the patience of a friend who kept his goddamn promises...and at long last, he was rewarded by Samael's eyes lowering as his fingers closed tightly around York's shoulder. "There's summin' else," he admitted, his pleasant tones barely gliding out above a whisper. "Andee, he. He's ambitious, an'...an' I like that. I like the way he wants to take on the whole ring. I'm right there with 'im, it's. It's the way he wants to do it that scares me."

York frowned and the blissful haze threatened to depart. "Whaddya mean, buddy?"

Samael's tongue spent far too long wetting his lips. "Reminds me'a Nelson. Way Andee don't mind a body count."

York softened.

"Sammy...I. I know you don't like to--"

Samael's grip grew stronger around York's shoulder as his eyes shifted up again. "The...the last mission we done...fer Nelson."

York tipped his head to the side again to mull over what he knew about it. That was the job that had gotten Samael's arm wrapped up in a sling -- not that the injury had done much to stop him from treating York to a helluva nice time on the sailboat. He grinned dazedly for a moment as the delightful memories rode on his inebriation in an attempt to drive him away from Samael's distress.

York held tight to his promise, however, clenching his jaw as a reminder while he pulled Samael closer to his broad chest. "You didn't tell me much 'bout it, pal. Just that you and Andee were taking care of somethin' for Nelson..."

"Yeah, she sent us out to. To handle somethin'. Somethin' she ain't want no one else involved in." Samael stared at York's chest, his fingers entwining with his necklace. "I knew somewheres in the back'a my mind that she ain't wanted my usual kinda business. She wanted this taken care of. Permanently."

Samael didn't need to explain the intonation.

He swallowed and then let a cracked laugh slide free. "At first I was a'right. Handled it like any other gig, had 'em wrapped 'round my fingers."

York tried a reassuring smile as he nuzzled into Samael's neck, causing his friend to arch happily into his chest. "You're damn good at that. Think you'd even give the York a run for his money in a schmooze-off..."

Samael giggled, the sound muffled by York's collarbone. It brought an even warmer smile to York as he felt his companion's tense muscles begin to relax again. "Ah suppose," Samael murmured. "But thing is...then them fellers said some shit that...that got to me. I lost control, started handin' out ass-whuppin's. An' when Andee saw, lawd, hon...look on his face." York leaned back far enough to glance down at the concerted expression. "He...he loved what he saw. An' I know it were what he wanted, 'cause he knew, he knew goin' in that we wasn't gonna be able to let these people leave. An' yet I cain't even be mad at 'im, 'cause..." He closed his fingers around York's shoulder again. "'Cause he went above 'n beyond. Not jus' fer the job but fer me. He came back fer me when there was bullets 'n bombs 'n shit. Put 'imself in harm's way fer me. I. I know it sounds like anythin' a partner would do, but. You know Andee, you know how he normally is and..."

York's eyes bulged in shock as he stared down at Samael. He absolutely knew how Andee normally was. He had no doubt that Samael and Andee shared a genuine bond but not even his most optimistic side would have imagined Andee putting himself at risk for Samael. Especially on a gig that hadn't sounded like it provided him any benefits or reward. "I. Wow. That still seems like a good thing, Sammy..."

"It is," Samael murmured. "I'd rather have 'im at my side than anywhere else. But what I seen in his eyes, even though he was takin' care of me as we left, even though he was there for me...I saw somethin' dark." He paused and rubbed at his muzzle before smiling faintly up to his friend. "Same somethin' I got knockin' around inside. Same one you got, too. Same most'a us have in this here rebellion 'cause...ain't a lotta unbroken souls doin' what we do. So I guess I ain't shocked or nothin', it's. It's just..."

He trailed off and nosed into York's throat as York squeezed him tightly. He knew what Samael meant. He remembered seeing it in Lina early in their time together. It hadn't bothered him because his emotions had been so overwhelming. And she hadn't been the only one.

"I remembered when I first saw it in Wash," York replied into Samael's headfur. His companion shifted his weight, the languid flick of his tail acting as a conduit for his curiosity. "It was...it was in Freelancer. We weren't partners anymore but he was still my best friend. Still my battle buddy."

He wasn't sure if the stroke of his finger along the nape of Samael's neck was for his reassurance or Samael's. "Soon...soon after he, ah. Saw me transform. The very first time, I mean." Not even the most pleasant waves of intoxication could soften the glimpse into the past. "I was talking to him about a job a period or two later and. And I saw it. I'd seen him determined before, stubborn and angry and ready to face all of Sirca. But I'd never seen that intensity before. The look in his eyes that said nothing was going to stop him from finishing what he started, to completing his objective."

He let his arms loosen enough for Samael to lean back and cast an inquisitive gaze over him. "Did. Did it scare you?"

"Sure it did," York replied, bumping his snout against Samael's. "Was the last thing I ever expected to see in my little buddy's eyes. But. But the thing is, I realized it didn't have to be all bad. Back then, it wasn't just about being at the top of the boards and earning the title of top agent. It was survival still. Any given mission could be your last, and." He hesitated a moment, feeling the key pulse against Samael's fingers. "And even if it scared me, I also knew it'd mean he'd fight that much harder to make it to the next day. And...in a way, I think...it made us..."

"Feel closer than ever," Samael concluded softly as a gentle exhale washed across York's neck. York beamed and nodded a few times, welcoming back the rolling fog that lovingly coated his concerns with a colorful candied comforter. "Gawd, tha's it, too. I ain't...I ain't never felt as tight with the li'l bastard as I did after that job. I still ain't felt good 'bout what we done, but the way we done it together...that was some pow'rful shit..."

"Not as powerful as those brownies were," York announced, unable to stifle his giggle as he lifted a finger and then placed it squarely on the end of Samael's muzzle. His friend grinned and crossed his eyes to study the digit for a moment before he winked and tilted his head while chomping playfully into the finger.

"Sheeeit, we ain't barely toasted yet, hon," Samael teased while reaching down to fumble in the container resting somewhere below their cozy embrace. "You ain't hit cloud nine 'til you party like we did in Xulod, night me 'n Andee got our latest piercin's!"

York cackled and bopped Samael's muzzle a few times with his finger. "God, don't even joke! I told you, I hear anything even close to a drill and I'll kick yer ass, Sammy!"

Samael gave a delighted laugh before producing another brownie from thin air, holding it up between them while wiggling his eyebrows. "Don't worry, hon, that ain't the kinda drillin' I'm in'erested in," he purred. York shivered but couldn't take his eyes off his friend as the pastry was lifted up between their snouts. They leaned in delicately to mash their muzzles together and chomp into their respective halves, their eyes never leaving each other as they blissfully chewed the infused dessert.

As York licked the crumbs clean from both his muzzle and Samael's, he smiled woozily and pushed a finger into his friend's chest. "I know. I know you 'n Andee both like that. That...body-art stuff. And you 'n me, we're still totally gonna get a tattoo together one day." Samael smiled back brightly at this and York laughed before headbutting his companion gently. "But...but on your dick? How could ya...like. Didn't it. Didn't it make it all...unusable?"

"It sure did!" Samael half-yowled before he curled his lips into a playful grin. "Cain't tell me it don't look real nice now, though, eh?" York nodded somberly even as he grinned back. "Damn right it do! Anyway, it weren't so bad." Samael waved a hand around. "Even if me 'n m'fruit-bat couldn't bone none -- which, lemme tell ya, that sucked, 'cause...woof." Samael wiggled his shoulders while mashing closer to York, their maws pressed tightly together as their eyes danced. "Son, I wanted him bad, we done so good on that job."

York peered at Samael as one hand roved slowly down the redneck's side. "Lord, how'd you deal?"

"Well, shit, it ain't like I still ain't had one hand!" Samael exclaimed, holding one up for emphasis, then licking his lips coyly as he slid the same hand up into York's mane. York wasn't even ashamed of the moan that slipped out as he closed his eyes and pressed his head into the fingers gliding through his well-conditioned hair. "An' Andee's friends is real cute. So I gave Mutt a fiiiiine ol' handjob. Rrrf, but that fella's built proper." York didn't need to look to see the enraptured expression on his pal's features. "Like the bat version'a you, Big Pup..."

York chuckled while cracking one eye open, Samael's fingers working such magic into his scalp that he was sure the intoxication was the only thing stopping him from exploding right through his shorts. "Mmmm...hell yeah, handjobs are so underrated," York declared, his fingers dancing across Samael's hip and then lightly clutching into one of his ample buttocks. "But they're so hot..."

Samael's low chortle made York's chest vibrate. "Oh yeah?" Samael's teeth nipped at his throat, just gracing his skin through the course fur as York uttered a soft whimper of bliss. "You think just 'cause yer givin' lessons to yer li'l pine cone that yer a pro now, huh?"

The wondrous modulation of his senses didn't detract from the trail Samael's jaws took across his neck, or did it stop him from feeling the spines lifting from the base of his companion's tail to prod into his wrist. York chose confidence, grinning again above Samael's head as he shifted to cradle him in one thick arm while maneuvering his free hand down to the front of the impossibly-short shorts. The illicit pastry hadn't dulled Samael's perception one bit as he immediately ground his hips tauntingly forward into York's fingers, forcing another hot pant from the larger chupa's maw.

"I don't think shit, ya horny midget," York rumbled as he closed his fingers around the shape of Samael through the taut denim, drawing a pleased coo from the jaws that worked into his collarbone. "Lemme show you bananas ain't the fruity treat I know how to handle..."

* ~ * ~ * NSFW Begins (Good Vibrations) * ~ * ~ *

It was admittedly a bit difficult to concentrate -- his vision wasn't blurry, but it was certainly tainted. Samael looked like the most adorable little bundle of fuzz, except for those deep blue eyes. They were bottomless pools of wonder and York had to be careful not to drown in them. But the pleasant numbness wasn't going to stop his quest to show Samael he'd come to the right place, to convince Samael to come all over the place.

Considering the burgeoning bulge he felt thrumming against his pads through Samael's shorts, he didn't think the latter would take much convincing.

York avoided shifting his head to be able to see what he was doing, instead trusting his fingers to move on their own gay instinct through the haze. Samael praised him in a tongue that had little meaning beyond the broad strokes it painted over his throat and York whined happily while his thumb managed to work apart the button of Samael's shorts. The resulting sigh of fabric twisted with the breathy exhalation across his damp fur, and York's whine rose to a feverish plea...or was that Samael's?

Things were starting to blend together in the best possible way now.

Something warm brushed against his palm and the teeth whispering through his fur clamped down lightly. York's eyes widened and he gasped, but kept his ordained concentration while hooking a finger into the waistband of Samael's shorts. "Much as I love seein' you wear these, buddy...they gotta go..." The only complaint he heard took the form of a needy mewl, which the snatchgrass translated into a plea to hurry the hell up.

That he could do.

The shorts were whisked down in a flash, Samael neatly extending one strong leg to the side so York could whip them completely off and toss them across the room. The mewl shifted to a pleased growl while the careful application of fangs into his shoulder steered his hand back to its appointed task. He closed his fingers around the rising arousal and was instantly granted a throaty moan as Samael thrust into his grip. A warm dew trickled over his pads and he whispered his own happy curse at the overbearing fervor thickening around them.

He tightened the arm around his companion's waist as the metal-and-flesh pillar of Samael's pride and joy pushed further up into his grip. It was thick, perhaps even thicker than York's own. The high told him to say something about it and he blinked while pondering his options. There were so many, a whole gallery of thoughtful compliments he could give his stumpy little friend.

"Hngh...god, Sammy...you gotta real fat cock..."

Shit, that was a good one.

Samael's delighted giggle dribbled up between the clouds like the thin streams from his stiff Sampian surprise -- and it was a surprise, wasn't it? Every time it popped out, no matter how many times he'd witnessed it before. York didn't need to see it to know about the magnificently teal flesh that never failed to make him grin, never failed to make him appreciate the weird nature of his midget brother-in-arms.

Heh, and now he was a brother-in-arms with a brother's-dick-in-hand.

York bit his lip and forced his focus through the floaty sensations, rubbing his thumb slowly over one of the smooth metal plates embedded into the bottom side of the cerulean tower. The motion brought a louder moan to Samael's jaws as he thrust harder and pushed into York's chest while curling an arm around his neck. York smiled and at last tipped his head to one side while peeling his eyes open so he could gaze down at the prizes he clutched.

One of them was a bright blue trophy, glistening with need as it thudded against York's palm with the tempo of their rising ecstasy. It reacted to every light flex, spoke eloquently of how it appreciated the devoted ministrations of such a kind friend. York shifted to a grin and squeezed lightly into it while stroking downward. The bulbous base had emerged fully and felt daunting against York's wrist, but he didn't mind. He liked challenges.

The other prize was less easily held, a squirming, whimpering mess of grey and white, its maw wide with need as soulful eyes flicked open to gaze up with unparalleled affection. Such an odd creature, one who had crashed into York's life without predication or permission, but one he wouldn't know how to live without now. A cherished friend, a coveted sibling, a soulmate and a sounding board, a counselor and a comrade. York loved him, not the way he loved Wash, no -- Samael wasn't York's partner. He wasn't York's other half. York and Samael existed in the same space, spoke the same languages, cast the same shadows, caused the same frustrations. They made life difficult for those they loved because trying to explain why they shared such a deep bond wasn't easy...or even possible sometimes. But he didn't mind.

He liked challenges.

York remembered about the oozing redneck in his grip and he murmured an apology for his distraction that went unnoticed when he drew his hand back upward and elicited a needy groan that was only partially muffled by Samael's muzzle jamming into his neck. He could still remember the awkward words from their first uncomfortable time together and he smiled at how far they'd come, leaning down to whisper against his friend's cheek. "Damn...this ruff's fresh."

Samael must have remembered, too, considering the way he bucked upward with a keening cry. York beamed and let his jaws push down into Samael's neck while he closed his fingers around him again and initiated a gentle rhythm. Samael's teeth closed around his shoulder again but they were merely a spiky embrace through the fog of intoxicants and pleasure. He heard a jingle through the mist and flicked his eyes to the side to see Samael's tail writhing against the mattress.

Yeah, he definitely knew his way around a handjob.

He continued to move his hand up and down, occasionally squeezing and flexing his fingers around the crimson bands to draw a sharper huff from Samael's trembling jaws. He could already feel the patter of thicker fluids as Samael's body lurched eagerly toward the peak. York licked his lips, delighted by his own talents as he kept mumbling encouragements and planting the occasional kiss against his neck. Samael's spines were painfully stiff against his forearm and his paws clamped into York's thighs harder with each rhythmic pass of his gargantuan fingers.

He grinned toothily and leaned back a bit to glance once more at his progress. His entire hand was covered in Samael's excitement, a near-constant river of Sampian nectar flowing from the azure timber that felt stiffer than any of Sirca's hardwoods. It looked goddamn enticing and a bit of drool ran from York's jaws as his eyes narrowed with dangerous, hungry purpose.

He could still remember a time when the thought horrified him, when he was still just getting used to the idea of accepting the mere touch of another man. But now...oh lord, now this was a treat, a delectable reward to be shared by both parties. York started to shift, easing Samael back against the pillows so he could move his head down toward his companion's awaiting arboretum, his tongue already extended to help clear the gathering snow from the turquoise branches.

But Samael suddenly wrapped both arms around his neck, reminding York of the terrifying strength in his compact but muscular form. "Mmm, naw, naw," he panted, his eyes snapping open again to splash the cool water of his desires onto York's sizzling intentions. "We got all afternoon, hon...show me what them fingers c'n do..."

It was somewhere between begging and demanding...and it nearly made York's own erection tear through his zipper. He smiled stupidly and grunted his understanding, pulling Samael's upper body tight to his torso again while shifting his muzzle back to his friend's cheek as he resumed the accelerating stroking. "Then c'mon, Sammy," he whispered into his neck. "Don't make me look like a damn virgin..."

Samael burst out with a gleeful laugh, his head rolling back as his hips began to hammer into York's fist more insistently. York's grin returned in full force and he dove into his companion's thick fur, taking his own turn to guide his teeth along Samael's collarbone while loosening his pinkie finger just enough so that the bulging knot could punch past with each firm thrust forward.

Samael's arms might have choked out a lesser man, but he was dealing with the York. York relished the flexing muscles clamped around his neck, moaning happily at the sensation of Samael's fingers driving up through his mane to cling into his skull as his motions became an aquamarine blur within York's grasp. Samael's toe-claws dug into his thighs but the pain was melding effortlessly with the ecstasy now, all of it enhanced by their shared inebriation.

Words didn't fail him as much as they couldn't properly bear the brunt of his excitement, and York settled for simply murmuring vague sounds of anticipation. Samael slammed into his fist harder and faster, his tail jangling wildly as he held York's head tightly against his chest. The bed rocked against the brick wall from the frenzied movement, barely masked by the growl of the boilers behind North's quarters.

But they couldn't hope to cover the blissful wail that rang from Samael's jaws a moment later as he arched his back and slammed into York's fist with enough power that York found himself clutching only into his friend's trembling knot. But clutch he did, squeezing it gently while keeping his other arm tight around Samael's body as the smaller chupa's climax exploded forth between them.

York felt a splatter against the bottom of his muzzle, his eyes shutting tightly at the sheer ecstasy of the intensity. "Oh-mah-gaaawd, York!" Samael cried out, jamming his arousal into his lover's stomach with each jagged thrust upward. His muzzle pressed tightly into the top of York's mane as he bucked and rocked wildly, each additional burst of joy splashing between their heaving chests with equal abandon.

York grinned happily through it all, not even bothering to move his hand as he merely massaged Samael's throbbing knot for the entirety of the powerful orgasm. He felt Samael clinging to him that much tighter for it and he savored the closeness, whispering a prayer of thanks to Sirca for his odd little friend. Samael himself would have been proud of it, were he not busy unloading a pickup-truck-sized delivery of redneck bliss across their burly forms.

Samael's hips kept pumping even after the last few thin streamers lashed out across York's chiseled stomach, the steely tip of his unique gay-wizarding staff carving trails through the messy fur for several more seconds. His thighs were trembling by the time he at last ground to a shaky halt, gasping for air as his arms loosened around York's neck so he could tumble raggedly into his lap once more.

York pretended he wasn't struggling to catch his own breath despite Samael having done most of the work in the final stretch, his eyes dancing joyfully as he looked down at his friend's elated features. He flashed his teeth when Samael opened his eyes with a dazed grin, squeezing lightly into his turgid flesh to make his fellow rebel squeal and thrust automatically against him once more. "Told you I knew what I was doin'," he teased with a wink.

* ~ * ~ * NSFW Ends * ~ * ~ *

"No fuckin' joke!" Samael managed around the labored breathing, his own gaze full of bliss. "Goddamn, yer...li'l pine cone better be...a fuckin' jerkin' master...if you trained 'im..."

York preened as he wrapped both arms around Samael again and flopped back against the pleasantly cool wall behind him. "See, you aren't the only one who knows how to give a sexy lesson or two..."

Samael winked back up at him and poked a finger into York's damp chest. "You realize the only reason yer so good at a handy is 'cause how often you must hafta give 'em to yerself...right?"

"Hey!" York laughed and squeezed Samael hard enough to pop a few of his vertebrae, the two friends giggling away together. "Screw you, pal -- I got plenty even before you busted into my life and gayed it all up with an endless supply of hot redneck tail!"

Samael chortled and patted his chest as his breathing evened out. "Awww, there ain't no shame in bein' familiar with yer own hand, sweetie -- I for one am mighty grateful how good ya are with it!"

"You better be," York huffed, not bothering to hide his grin before he glanced down between them. "Lord, you know I don't mind a mess, but I'm starting to think we shoulda hauled a bucket of water down here for the dehydration."

"Aww, I brought some beers 'long with the shine, 's close 'nuff to water," Samael drawled dismissively.

York grinned again despite himself, smashing his muzzle against Samael's before glancing around them and spotting the nearly-empty jar of moonshine that had somehow been spared the worst of Samael's frenetic motions. "I sometimes forget that Sampi builds you people different."

Samael cackled and swooped up the jar before York could, helping himself to a guzzle and then smirking as he shook it gently next to his companion's cheek. "The white lightnin' helps. Keeps us tough."

"Naw, it keeps you from being able to tell whether you're boning your cousin or not," York retorted, even as he snatched the container away from Samael with a smile and finished the last of the sharp liquor with a smack of his lips. "Hoo, lord, Sammy...whatever's in those brownies..."

"...Ain't shit compared to what's still waitin' ahead," Samael interjected with a waggle of his eyebrows.

York widened his eyes self-consciously, trying to decide if he was eager or terrified.

Probably a little bit of both.

...Then again, the thick mist of the infused pastries was settling atop his sensations once more, helping ease him out of whatever half-hearted complaints he might have forged. He let a happy smile melt into place while leaning down to lap a bit of stray mess from Samael's muzzle. "You know what, I hate to admit it, but you might be the expert with all the crazy shit you've been up to with the bats." He sniffed and raised his head while planting a hand over his heart and ignoring whatever his palm mashed into. "I place my trust in you, o great conductor of the drugs-and-sex-train..."

Samael's grin should have been more worrisome...but god, did York feel good. "Heh, don't you worry, hon. We'll take us a moment to catch our breaths 'n find us a towel 'fore we head fer the next stop." He leaned up and pushed their snouts together as his eyes gleamed. "It's gonna be one helluva trip..."

Red vs Blue © Rooster Teeth. Halo © 343 Industries. Concept by Myshu, assisted by The Department of Chupapology.