The Meme Maid (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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bakerstreet2016-06-26 12:06 am
meme_maid) wrote in bakerstreet2016-06-26 12:06 am
Get in, losers. We're going Sunday Smut Picture Prompting.
SIMILAR TO THE PICTURE PROMPT MEME ONLY FOR NSFW/SMUT PROMPTS INSTEAD
i. COMMENT WITH CHARACTER
ii. OTHERS LEAVE A PICTURE (OR TWO OR THREE....)
iii. REPLY TO THEM WITH A SETTING BASED ON THE IMAGES.
Link to an image: | Embed an image in your reply: | Image height and width: |
no subject
one, two, three. ]
no subject
[ Evelyn isn't a detective inspector.
She isn't a constable, or a private investigator, or a professional-for-hire one finds on those seedy pages in the Classifieds. Without a background in law enforcement she was therefore unqualified for the procedural end of things when a short string of murders were committed in the downtown area; in spite of this tremendous lack of experience in the aforementioned career choices she does enjoy a good puzzle, linguistic or tangible, and has a habit of filtering through the sort of minutiae that others find monotonous.
For these reasons she was brought on as a brief consultant, meant to assist only in the humdrum translating of long-dead languages that the murderer left in breadcrumbs, scattered over his work. (This is unconventional work for a curator, and largely thankless, but one assists when one can.)
Less expected was cocktails with the inspecting officer of the case in the inspecting officer's hotel room, particularly when they had only met a handful of times and Evelyn was certain her contact information was unscrupulously pilfered from the small details file they had of her for the record. Of course, a single drink was enough to loosen her tongue, a lubricant for loquaciousness as her work poured from her as freely as wine did from the bottle on the table.
Stockinged toes propped up on the edge, chin in hand, Evelyn breaks from her ebullient ramble to glance over her glass, not yet in her proverbial cups. ]
Surely I must be boring you, no one likes to listen to Mesopotamian burial practises unless they're an academic or a masochist.
did you want a tl;dr because you got a tl;dr
Needless to say, Stella's impressed, though as time has gone by that's begun to turn into another sort of interest entirely. Evelyn is not the sort of person to have read Stella's invitation as anything more than an offer for an evening with a bottle of pinot noir, which is charming in its own way, although Stella is hoping she hasn't misstepped. She doesn't think she has, but it wouldn't be the first time she's made this sort of mistake.
She's not quite so much listening to what Evelyn's talking about as watching her talk in between sips from her wineglass. When she eventually slows down, Stella smiles, just a little, setting her glass down on the table. ]
It's all right. You love what you do. Not everyone has so much enthusiasm for their work.
[ Stella leans back slightly in her chair, regarding the woman across from her, already considerably more interested in her than in the wine. (The fall of her dark hair and the way it frames her face, for example, is really very striking.) ]
I have a degree in anthropology — though I can't say ancient cultures specifically were ever my strong suit.
[ A small personal tidbit, of the sort she only doles out in bits and pieces when it suits her. ]
yes perfect this is exactly what I wanted!!!!!!!
Procedural police work is not generally within Evelyn's wheelhouse but from an outsider's perspective, the process has been a fascinating - if hierarchical - experience. Pinpointing precisely who answered to whom shouldn't be difficult within a ranked system, but there were less than subtle hints from constables around the work station about Gibson's reputation, even if some of the office gossip was a little unsavoury. (Naturally predisposed to curiosity and all the poking and prodding that accompanies such a pastime, Evelyn was inclined to size up the bullpen's investigative heavyweight, which is one of several reasons for joining Stella in a drink, or several.)
That Stella has an anthropological bent to her method is unsurprising, but another little fragment of information to file away with all the others. The mystique she manages to cultivate is enviable. ]
Well, it's never been a study firmly rooted in the past - as seductive as nostalgia is in history, I mean. Anthropology is...
[ Searching for the right descriptor Evelyn chews her lip for a moment, before settling on: ]
...fluid.
excellent 8)
Stella would typically prefer not to indulge them, most of the time. She has enough to deal with without adding sorting out the grapevine to her list, futile as that would most likely end up being, and truth be told, she doesn't have the time or the inclination to care about what people say — so long as it doesn't affect her work.
Evelyn's particular choice of word makes her arch her brows slightly. ]
I imagine it wouldn't be nearly so interesting if it weren't. Human beings are an intriguing sort no matter what the time frame.
[ It's quite a statement from someone who sees the worst of humanity more or less on a daily basis — but as repulsive as some people can be, they're as much a part of the fabric of human culture as anyone else.
Stella's eyes move to Evelyn's glass, then the half-empty bottle of wine, then back to the other woman's face. ]
More wine?
[ She's truly not trying to get Evelyn drunk; that would be in poor taste, and probably also interfere with some other thoughts she's been having about what to do with their evening. On the other hand, the bottle was expensive, and perhaps they shouldn't waste it. ]
no subject
It's oddly satisfying, then, to metaphorically break bread with a like mind, whose stubbornness is sure to give her own a run for its money. Beneficial on its own that incredibly strong personalities are the bread and butter to her daily routine. ]
I shouldn't.
[ She laughs, short and amused at the idea but no, no, it has never been wise for her to have more than two glasses for fear of a.) embarrassing herself, b.) embarrassing everyone else, or c.) sacrificing her dignity for the inevitable hangover that just isn't worth it. In spite of the deliciously soft warmth of drink it is more than evident that a thin string of tension runs between them, and she is suddenly aware that they might have been having multiple conversations. Stella abandoned her glass.
Evelyn fiddles with the stem of her own somewhat noncommittally, gaze slanting across the table when she elucidates. ]
I make for a very poor drunk, and I'm rather curious as to why you invited me over in the first place.
no subject
[ Stella doesn't press the issue with the wine, not being especially interested in drinking more herself; she's had a glass and a half, enough to feel pleasant without quite crossing the line into tipsy. There are some things she really prefers to be more or less sober for.
She has not exactly been avoiding the subject of why she actually invited Evelyn to her hotel room, but as yet there hasn't been a good point to bring it up without potentially creating a great deal of awkwardness she'd prefer not to deal with if she can help it. Being asked, on the other hand, is something else entirely. Stella pauses, just a moment, then stands up, picking up the glasses and the wine bottle and going to put them aside, addressing Evelyn as she does so. ]
I was curious, when we first met. It's always pleasant to meet a woman who refuses to let the men intimidate her. I wanted to get to know you a little.
[ Stella isn't one to give compliments lightly, and getting to know someone is more than she does most of the time in this situation, but in this case she thinks both the compliments and the extra time taken are deserved. She crosses back over to the table, coming to a stop just close enough to Evelyn to be in her personal space without feeling stifling. There's nothing overtly seductive about her manner — usually there's not — but there is something just a little too personal in the way she reaches over to brush a loose curl of hair off of Evelyn's face, the touch lingering for only a second before she draws her hand back. ]
You're beautiful, intelligent, resourceful. I find that very attractive.
[ It may or may not take Evelyn a moment to make the leap from that to I find you attractive and from there to I'd like to have sex with you; and it's not the most straightforward proposition Stella's ever made, but it is one regardless. She has a feeling being too straightforward would not be the best approach here.
She's not nervous; she has, after all, been turned down before. She'd get over it, probably rather quickly by most people's standards. But all the same, a rejection at this point would be... well, it would be disappointing. ]
B) B) B)
This sort of rendezvous is the exception to the rule, something Evelyn recognises in the way she wants to impress, her posture adamantine as warm fingertips push a curl away from her cheek. Drawn up by the motion she lifts her chin obligingly and perhaps takes too much pleasure in the compliments, susceptible to sincere flattery and weighted with an insufferable ache for more.
The implications are as subtle as a gun - even someone who professes to be as frequently oblivious as Evelyn would be remiss not to comprehend with Stella standing so close, so abrasively blunt. This is a hotel room, after all, if she expected platonic conversation they would have been in a bar. It might slightly unfair to put on coquettish airs to what is effectively a proposition, but Evelyn smiles and parts her lips to stretch the moment to her satisfaction.
Just
long enough
to inhale thoughtfully
while her gaze tracks up Stella's arm to her face, expectant.
It's been a while, something she might admit only to a close confidante, pulled in every direction by work and her own drive. Ambition more often curtails pleasure than entertains it, in her experience. Still, it won't keep Evelyn from a cheeky: ]
I would perjure myself most disgracefully if I said that the feeling wasn't mutual.
c: c: c: also I hope you know I was at work when I got this and had to not laugh at my desk
Evelyn's particular response to the admittedly fairly unsubtle overture, though, catches Stella slightly off guard. She had not really expected her to say no, but this — the way she tilts her head up in answer to the brush of Stella's fingers, the straightening of her posture — speaks to a desire to impress her, more genuine than the sorts of people who usually fall all over themselves to catch her eye. Evelyn's already impressed her and doesn't really need to do more, but that doesn't prevent Stella from enjoying her reaction.
The coquettish flirtation is actually entirely unnecessary, but it does make Stella smile, briefly, the same slight curve of her lips as before but with perhaps just a little more amused warmth around the edges. Assured that the direction the evening is going in has been fairly well established, she takes a step back, then two, without taking her eyes off of Evelyn's, just enough to give the other woman room to stand up. ]
Come here.
[ Stella may not say please — has she ever? — but that's still a request, not a demand. Perhaps she didn't need to say anything at all. She certainly doesn't think it needs to be said that either of them can end this at any point, and that she won't pull on Evelyn like a dog on a leash.
She usually finds men need to be told what to do, at least a little. It's... different, with women. Especially with women like Evelyn, who, Stella is fairly sure, is approximately as stubborn and strong-willed as she is herself and wouldn't take to being told. And, quite honestly, that's refreshing. ]
lkgfmlskgnf I'm...........(not) sorry???? :3
A finger drags the edge of the chair's arm as she stands, and having abandoned her heels somewhere in the room around a half-hour ago Evelyn takes her time wandering closer in her stocking feet. Hardly one to play coy beyond flirtatious comments - particularly when she finds herself very much in favour of whatever power structure seems to have manifested itself - she stops just short of touching. The hook that Stella deftly caught in her lungs still pulls, but only just.
(Apparent to Evelyn now is the fact that Stella, who does have a decade on her, is likely to have considerably more experience. Even with her pride involved Evelyn is smart enough to defer to a professional.)
In spite of an inherent need to please by waiting for a prompt she hazards the lightest graze to Stella's blouse at her waist, resisting the urge to grab a handful of fabric. ]
I haven't in a while, [she admits quietly, inhaling Stella's perfume.]
never ever be sorry, this thread is fabulous
Though Stella probably wouldn't have minded, Evelyn doesn't assume she can just touch her however she likes — she doesn't push, which is probably what leads Stella to take her hand and draw it to her hip, completing the contact for her, her fingers lingering over Evelyn's a moment before ghosting up her arm to settle on her shoulder. It's casual intimacy born of self-confidence and, yes, a lot of experience. ]
Long enough, then.
[ Her voice is pitched a little lower and softer than before; she's quickly losing interest in anything that involves much in the way of talking. Stella doesn't do what's probably the expected thing and lean in to kiss Evelyn right away; she does step in just that much closer, close enough that they're breathing one another's air and she can allow herself to focus on the other woman, her nearness and her body heat and the scent of her, perfectly physically aware of her in a way that, quite frankly, Stella doesn't often allow herself to be.
She leans forward, her hand on Evelyn's shoulder sliding over and up to tip her chin a little. The kiss is only a brush of lips at first, maintaining that increasingly fragile thread of tension that still lingers between them — but almost immediately it's not quite enough, and Stella has to move to kiss her more fully, tilting her head slightly for a better angle, her free hand moving to Evelyn's waist for balance. ]
I REGRET NOTHING
Better to be safe than sorry when with a new partner, and Evelyn is loathe to disappoint. Her fingers curl around Stella's waist and brush a silent apology through her shirt with a thumb, consolation for whatever rust she may still shake off. HIstorically Evelyn has functioned at two sexual speeds: snapping buttons free at Mach 5, and meticulously undressing and folding every article of clothing to prolong the inevitable, which does leave her at a loss in this precise instant.
Better to test the waters, as per the usual, or wait for subtler encouragement? For a hair-trigger second Evelyn feels grotesquely outclassed, wading into a warm pool of delicious proximity and hoping there isn't a shark under the water. Both hands pressed to Stella's hips she feels her lungs contract shallowly, inebriated by closeness and too intent for a another drink to be careful.
She lingers on the edge of concern until she feels a mouth on hers, then drawn in to sink beneath the waves with eager reciprocation. Like being granted permission the vestiges of doubt peel away, fingertips holding her chin in place while Stella tastes and she returns the favour. With little prompting Evelyn parts her lips, taking a light sample with the quickest dart of her tongue and quickly gaining traction with teeth. Gently, gently she tugs, clutching handfuls of Stella's blouse and melting against her. ]
no subject
Her hand on Evelyn's waist slides around to the small of her back, the other beginning to trail down the soft skin of her throat, fingertips grazing the line of her pulse and slipping beneath the collar of her shirt to skate over her clavicle, casually exploratory. The kiss deepens naturally, and then there are Evelyn's teeth on her lip and oh, that's nice; Stella makes a soft noise in the back of her throat, low and pleased, and the fingers of her hand on Evelyn's back tighten, almost imperceptibly, in the fabric of her shirt.
The clothes will have to come off at some point, and Stella is already thinking of places they can do this that are not, for once, the bed — at least not to start with — but she is of a mind to take her time, and once Stella Gibson has her mind set on something it's very, very difficult to dissuade her.
What she does begin to do, eventually, is to undo the buttons on Evelyn's blouse — slowly, one at a time, one-handed, without needing so much as to spare a glance for what she's doing. ]
AUGH sorry brutal work week + holiday
Unconsciously tugging Stella's blouse out of her skirt Evelyn murmurs in approbation, a steadying hand at her back and another taking an adventurous slide over her throat - the action alone makes her want to bare more, display more, for the sake of gaining trust. Pleased with Stella's response in turn Evelyn finds herself disappointed she occasionally has to breathe when breaking away, thumbs rubbing over the edges of her hips, tentatively grazing skin under fabric.
In some ways the mirroring feels like the most honest reciprocation, as the rest of her grows hot under Stella's fingers and Evelyn bumps noses briefly to grin against her mouth. I want you to fuck me is in the blade of her smile when she slips her tongue into Stella's mouth, shifting closer to offer an easier reach while the buttons of her shirt are picked free, one by one.
To return the favour she drags her nails lightly, the barest promise, against the small of Stella's back.]
no worries!
This does not, however, mean that she doesn't react to being touched; Evelyn is warm where Stella is cool, but the breath still catches in her throat slightly when they break apart for air, and the taste of Evelyn's mouth when the kiss resumes is enough to draw a shiver of heat down her spine to settle as familiar tension below her navel. The drag of her nails, however light, elicits a brief, sharp inhalation as Stella pulls back slightly, breathing faster than before, eyes dark in the low light of the room.
She doesn't say anything, but then again, she doesn't think she really needs to; they've communicated well enough by body language and by touch thus far. She's gotten Evelyn's blouse open, and without much preamble slips the garment off her shoulders, leaning in to drag her lips down the line of her throat, lips and just the barest edges of her teeth — she doesn't quite bite, because she doesn't want to leave a mark where other people can see, that wouldn't be quite fair, but there's certainly intent there.
Abruptly, Stella changes her mind: bed first, then perhaps they can get a bit more creative. (It's been a long time since she's fucked someone in the bath, and that sounds unusually appealing right now, but — later. The night is still young.) She nudges Evelyn back toward the bed with one hand on her shoulder, directing without pushing. ]