bakerstreet | intimate & sexual curiosity meme

intimate & sexual curiosity meme

They say curiosity killed the cat. Good thing you're not a cat...probably. No offense to any cats out there, literal or metaphorical. But you are curious, though, curious about intimacy and sex, whether it be in general or with this specific person. If it's the former, perhaps you've never had sex before and want to know what it's like, at least once. Perhaps you're interested from a scientific view, and someone's agreed to show you. Maybe you want to test yourself, your control, or any new abilities that may throw a spanner in the works. Or, you know, you could just want sex. If you're curious about this particular person, it may be because of their abilities, their history, or their body - maybe even their species' anatomy, if they're of a different origin than you.

Whatever the case, this is a learning experience, and you're testing the waters. That means, in this meme, there will be a lot of exploration, a good deal of foreplay...and maybe some emotions, too. Take it slow; remember, you want to know every nook and cranny of their body and everything that makes them tick. This means you may not get to the actual sex. There's a chance you may not even want that, depending on who you are and your situation. And that's fine. You're learning things and feelings things, and they say knowledge is the pathway to freedom.

Actually, they say a lot, don't they?

how to play

Comment with your character, their canon, and your preferences.
Specify if you want to actually play out smut, fade to black, or have characters stop short of full-on sex. All options are fine. This isn't specifically a smut meme.
Reply to others and thread.

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Gilbert's usual prideful gait through the streets of Berlin was accompanied by a stumble that night. Not the drunken sort - there wasn't enough money for good beer. It was the shaking step of hunger.

He wouldn't find any food wandering like this in the dead of night. Gilbert knew better than to make that any sort of priority. The tedious work that consumed his days did well enough to distract from the emptiness of his stomach, but nights weren't so easy.

It didn't take long for Gilbert to give up trying to sleep. He didn't have the energy for it. The Prussian didn't think that was possible but hey, even he could be wrong (apparently). All he had energy for was mindless work. Or perhaps mindless play.

Gilbert knew about all of the dirty, dank and debauched nightclubs that had sprung up. No one had told him anything good about them, but he'd never heard a complaint about them either. At the time, any conversation on the subject wasn't worth his consideration, but it'd stuck in the back of his mind.

So here he was, turning into one of the smaller, more aggressively lit establishments.

Maybe there was enough money in his pocket for a shitty beer.

The establishment was warm, buzzing, brightly lit - deceptively welcoming, given the reputation of such places as late.

A rush of cold air accompanied the latecomer and all attention (and a spotlight, for good measure) snapped to the door just long enough to give the haggard... gentleman... a proper intro, a jaunty riff from the orchestra, a justified amount of undue attention for daring to come in between acts, daring to interrupt one just about to start.

Oh, but he was interesting, all white hair, red eyes, strange, unusual.

He would surely be having an interesting night one way or another.

The warm lighting and lively crowd almost fooled him into feeling comfortable. The atmosphere was certainly 'hot', and Gilbert wasn't sure how comfortable he was with that. Still, there was something about the rampant stench of sex that got under his skin. Excited him.

When the spotlight hit Gilbert's face he squinted, smirking more out of annoyance than anything else. The heat from the beam was decidedly uncomfortable, and Gilbert reflexively reached up to undo a button or two.

His eyes darted around the room to the beat of the snare - frantic. His focus was too sporadic and the light was too bright to register much of anything. Gilbert only managed to locate the stage and stumble towards it. Not out of hunger - that sensation was already sinking to the back of his mind - out of fucking blindness. Thanks, lighting guy. If Gilbert found him he would be coercing him into buying a blind man a drink.

The first open seat was claimed in the name of the awesome Prussia. He set his eyes on the stage, music and 'dancing' immediately capturing his attention. It was lewd, it was damn near disgusting how the men and women were dressed. They moved and Gilbert swore each motion was calculated to make a man uncomfortable. The girls were beautiful? The girls were something - and the boys were right there with them.

Of course, a master of ceremonies presided. That man was a show in and of himself. Each curl of a finger or thrust of the hips seemed directed solely at the Prussian. He enjoyed that. He enjoyed that quite a lot.

The entire show was a portrait of debauchery, a dance of foreplay. Gilbert's smirk grew and he leaned forward. There was a twisting sensation in his stomach, but it wasn't from hunger. He was stimulated and he wanted more. As the act ended Gilbert clapped and cheered with a laugh. The atmosphere was quickly enveloping him, and if the Prussian noticed, he certainly didn't mind.

The strange latecomer wasn't driven away by his warm welcome, didn't even really seem to have the decency to be sufficiently humiliated by it! No, instead there he was making his way towards the stage to-- promptly take an empty table.

Disappointing.

He was close enough, attentive enough, to draw him into the show with just the right amount of returned attention, lingering eye contact.

The act ended, the next announced, and as he hadn't been rung, nor had he been joined, nor had he seen fit to move to someone else's table, demand their attention, get a drink.

It was all too easy to saunter off the stage and occupy the empty chair, the empty space at the table, sitting a little too close, leaning with convincingly false (though, perhaps not entirely, for now), rapt attention, a coy smile tugging at painted lips.

"Welcome, my friend. You like what you see." A statement, not a question.

Gilbert would not be humiliated by a place like this. That he could say with absolute confidence. Had he been asked an hour prior - before he'd stepped into the spotlight - that wouldn't have been the case. He would have waved the talk of rampant sexual depravity off as if he was a nightly participant, of course. And then immediately change the subject.

As enthralling as the act had been, Gilbert glanced to the bar when the next was announced. There was no experience that alcohol couldn't improve. He whipped his head back around to the stage, ready to make his way to a beer if the act wasn't amazing. Instead of stage, Gilbert got a face full of emcee.

He jerked back, startled, but it didn't last. Gilbert quickly resumed his eagerly attentive lean forward. The man's coy smile was echoed in kind. He wasn't copying - no no, that expression was entirely natural. Or at least it felt that way.

"Yes, I like it..." Gilbert's words dragged. The man's outfit was entirely distracting. Gilbert let his eyes wander, linger where they pleased. "...but! I'd like it better with a beer!" Right. That's what he'd been doing.

If Gilbert had proclaimed his usual involvement to any of the current performers, he would have been laughed out of the establishment, surely. He didn't hold himself like one accustomed to any of this, much less was a frequent participant. But then, part of the fun was spotting those in attendance who were out of place by any stretch of the imagination, and newcomers tended to stick out like a sore thumb.

As though Gilbert needed any assistance with that one.

His startled reaction got an outright laugh, though. Really, it was as though he hadn't expected someone to join him. How silly. Naive, even. Though, to be fair, he probably didn't expect this guest. He was quick to recover, though, and for that he got a grin and a returned wandering, lingering of eyes, taken one step further with a flick of tongue over lips, the sort of stare that could make a man feel as though he was sitting naked there before him.

Which quickly shifted to one of mild annoyance for only a few seconds when he mentioned leaving, and leaving for the cheap, shit beer they were daring to overcharge for at the bar. "You are very forward with your rather Polish interests."

Implication being the beer might as well have been piss, right there.

Edited 2014-08-19 04:17 (UTC)

Gilbert would have liked to think he blended in just fine. His eyes were so dark he'd been recently told he looked like he was about to jump someone. It was the look on everyone's face here. Each and every dancer and guest looked like they were just waiting for someone to devour. Gilbert was just waiting for some food - but the predatory gaze was the same.

The laugh was met with a furrow of his brow, almost offended, but everything was happening so fast that any embarrassment couldn't last.

It damn well tried, though.

Gilbert could feel his cheeks flush, just a bit, when the host's tongue dragged over his lips. He felt more than naked - he felt as if he'd be soon guided along this man's every whim. Without resistance. He could have been swept away in that moment.

But he'd wanted a beer.

Past tense.

Gilbert would have spit everywhere if he'd been drinking. Fuck that guy on principle! Not as though his beer was drinkable even if he wasn't awful. Forget the beer. Literally. He would occupy himself with absolutely anything else. Being forced on stage to perform would have been better. (But please don't.) More realistically, the host had come to his table for a reason. Gilbert suddenly cared a lot more to find out what that reason was.

"You have other interests." A statement. Gilbert was simply following the other man's cadence, but it delivered an air of confidence he certainly didn't mind.

Gilbert would have blended in just fine with a hat and a more thorough lid on his recurring embarrassment. One couldn't well blend in if they were embarrassed, and the ones that were who weren't new? Well, they typically enjoyed it enough that the negative attention didn't seem to bother them, and everyone won.

The flush was cute, small but bright on Gilbert's pale face and it made the Emcee want to see just how dark he could turn it before his next cue, and Gilbert would be strung along on his every whim.

He just had to attach the strings, first.

Another thorough once-over came at the statement even as he leaned further over the table, moving to rest his hand on the Prussian's knee as a knowing little smirk curled his lips. "I have other interests."

He didn't enjoy the embarrassment. What he did enjoy was the disgusting, liberating freedom with which everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Gilbert wanted that. He wanted it very much. The Prussian was quickly resolving to throw himself at such a festive distraction.

Gilbert didn't realize how visible his blush had been, and he certainly didn't register when they flushed deeper red. The hand on his knee was startlingly enticing. It was almost as if he could feel it rubbing up his thigh. He certainly let his imagination go with that, at least.

He was quickly becoming entangled in this place. In this man.

A smirk was attempted, but it faltered as Gilbert's eyes locked on the other man's. They descended to his lips, then to his collar bone so teasingly peeking from under the heavy coat. "Which you pursue..." Gilbert stretched his leg into the touch as if testing the water. "...with vicious determination."

Overpronounciation littered his words as he attempted to mimic the Emcee's speech - and failed - but only for the lace of enthrallment in his voice.

Throwing oneself at festive distractions was the name of the game, here, so once Gilbert got the hang of that, he'd fit right in just fine.

He'd have to stop blushing at such chaste touches first, though, because the Emcee's hand wasn't going to stay on his knee for long. Gilbert's imagination wouldn't have to work very hard on wondering how it would feel to have that hand sliding all too easily up the inside of his thigh, that much was certain.

"Which I pursue with vicious determination." He purred right back, a hint of a growl lacing his words as his eyebrows twitched upwards and as he took that as a hint to be a little more forward, a little more quick with his advances.

And so he leaned closer, over the table, slid his hand up higher, faster, until it was lingering tantalizingly close - enough that his thumb could move to run over Gilbert's hip, though he was too careful to not be especially untoward with his touches.

That would just be inappropriate.

It wasn't the contact making him blush - not entirely. Gilbert was swept up in the man's tone. In the way every word was complete with deep, unsated desire. All the Emcee was doing was repeating Gilbert and it was like he was talking circles around him.

Gilbert shifted, his hips rounding his chair. First towards the touch, and then away. Then ever so tentatively towards it again. He wanted it. He wanted to see where this would go even though he knew the answer was obvious. Gilbert wanted to feel the inevitable progression.

His back straightened when the man came closer, all ready to lean away on instinct but he did no such thing. Gilbert continued to mirror their host, leaning forward, close enough to feel his breath.

"And when you've got them in your hands...?" It was finally a question, finally surrendering to wanting to be led. He needed this to continue. Gilbert would have enjoyed continuing the echoing, but there was only so much he could do with his hands sitting awkwardly on the table, tense with nails digging into the wood.

It felt like he was talking circles around him because he was talking circles around him, with no effort of his own at all. Gilbert was walking himself into this little trap of sorts, and there wasn't anything he could do about it but shift and fidget and try to come to terms with how very interested he was.

He seemed, looked, acted shy, by all accounts, of all things, the way he moved into, away, and back into touch, as though he were afraid of where it would lead.

Perhaps he should have been afraid.

"Do you really want to find out what happens then?" Because he didn't look like he did, not entirely. He looked intrigued, yes, but still fresh, wary, repressed, at the very least.

Gilbert flattened his hands on the table in an effort to stop the remainder of his nerves from manifesting. He was anxious, impatient for the progression of this exchange. But he was not nervous, despite how his body wanted to act. It wanted to shy away from the new sensation, from the unknown and from what it wasn't sure it could handle. Perhaps some of those concerns - he wasn't exactly well nourished for such a physically taxing activity - were valid, but how could he deny such an attentive host. He would experience the freedom that everyone else in this club was consumed by. Comfort be damned.

Wasn't that sort of the point?

"I really..." He rolled his hips in a very blatant attempt to grind himself against the emcee's hand. "really want to find out." It had been a bold move, but Gilbert was determined. His eyes were heavy set on the emcee, almost pleading him to accept the expression of desire. Clearly the man was interested, but Gilbert was not in control and he couldn't help but feel like any one mistake could rob him of this chance.

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intimate & sexual curiosity meme

Emcee | Cabaret

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