bakerstreet | The BDSM Lifestyle Meme

The BDSM Lifestyle Meme

The BDSM Lifestyle Meme

BDSM isn't all about the sex. Sure, handcuffs, whips and chains, toys, power and control-play can be fun, but sometimes it's about the other stuff too. The little stuff. The ways you and your partner give yourselves to each other every day.

So this is a meme to play out safe, sane, consensual and maybe even non-sexual BDSM.

If you want more information, check out:

The Ten Golden Rules of BDSM Negotiation
Sexuality.Org's BDSM Index
The Keys to A Relationship
Extreme Restraints

Be warned: Threads and prompts below may contain triggers, and will contain sexual content.

THE EVERYDAY:
1. feeding: using him as a plate? having her kneel and accept hand-feeding? maybe someone's been very good and should have a tasty reward.
2. bathing: after all, you have to take care of your partner. it's nice to have someone to get lotion in those hard-to-reach places.
3. talking/therapy: how are you going to work out this relationship? what obstacles do you have to overcome?
4. massage: some intimate relaxation.
5. dates: it's good to go out every once in a while.
6. negotiation: to work out what kinks are and are not okay.
7. nonsexual bondage: gags, bridles, chastity belts. some people just like the security of bondage in everyday life.
8. humiliation/in public: take your pet out to show her off; bend him over a bench and spank him for bad behavior.
9. animal play: pony play, pet play.
10. punishment/discipline: someone's been bad. maybe it's time for a time-out. or maybe someone has to clean the bathroom with a toothbrush.
11. other

THE SEXUAL:
1. the light stuff: some handcuffs, some ropes. nothing too extreme. maybe one partner or the other is afraid; maybe it's just time to take a break from the trappings and have some love-making.
2. bondage: chains, or elaborately knotted ropes, or full-body bindings. maybe even suspension in midair.
3. caning/whipping/spanking: for punishment and for enjoyment of the pain.
4. shaving: you like them with smooth skin. no beards, no lovetrail, no hairy legs.
5. piercing/tattooing: a permanent mark of devotion.
6. sensory deprivation: gags, blindfolds, earplugs, to shut out the rest of the world.
7. as therapy: exploring a past trauma or fear.
8. first time: one partner or another is experiencing the kink lifestyle for the first time.
9. kink parties: for casual play. mind the rules; drugs and alcohol are rarely tolerated, and all play must be consensual. or else the host or hostess might get angry.
10. orgasm denial/forced orgasm: until they beg for it, or beg you to stop.
11. ageplay: perhaps someone wants to be treated like a child. maybe a little daddy or mommy kink to go along with it.
12. role-play: taking on roles. master-slave, teacher-student, dragon prince and slave-dancer -- your imagination's the limit.
13. genital torture: pain where you're the most sensitive.
14. electricity: to give things a spark.
15. medical fetish: sounding, stirrups, speculums -- oh, doctor.
16. fucking machines: it'll keep in the same rhythm, no matter how much you beg.
17. other

Please do NOT leave your comment blank! (Blank comments will not be deleted, but we highly recommend that you post something.) Either write a note on desired kinks/undesired kinks or create a scenario or fill out the textarea below:

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[ it's probably worth asking if stiles has taken his meds, because he's jittery the whole drive back from the airport. not quiet — they chat: about the flight; about how ms martin has invited the stilinski men around to dinner and they aren't allowed let her mom flirt with his dad, like, at all; about their gpa and when his graduation is. but it's the first time in a long time that they've had a chance to see each other, and he's nervous as fuck. ]

[ when they pull up to the hotel, he's reminded of that roadtrip when he'd driven her to a bunch of college campuses across the country under the pretense of deciding, even though he'd already decided on stanford. it feels like so freaking long ago, but it's only been like, three and a half years. back then, they'd settled for motels, but for this he's not such a cheapskate. ]

[ but he's still carrying all the bags. some things never change. ]

[ the room is nice. the bed looks big. most importantly, it's not under the same roof as anybody related to either of them, and scott isn't likely to come through the window while he's in the middle of spanking lydia until she comes. stiles drops the bags and sits on the edge of the neatly-made bed, trying to get a grip, come to terms with the fact that they're really gonna do this. ]

Do you wanna shower first?

[ as though they haven't talked and talked and texted and talked about what she wants. ]

Or, we could get dinner? Or just have an early night, I mean, it's nearly ten on the East Coast, you're probably jetlagged.

[ he runs his fingers back and forth over the floral-pattern bedspread, looking up at her and trying not to choke on his tongue at the sheer gorgeous sight of her. lydia martin has been everything he wants in the universe since he was eight, and he's pretty much okay with doing anything she asks of him. ]

[ lydia martin flew well. she never panicked, never got nauseated, never puked or fainted or got puked on; she'd never had a problem eating before, during, or after a flight, never missed a flight, and never left packing to the last night. she had gotten used to it all - had needed to the second she decided to move to the other side of the country but attempt to maintain a level of normality that required visiting home frequently - and the hustle and bustle of the airport had become soothing. the pressurized cabin made for great naps if she plugged in headphones, cranked up the volume over the engines and a baby didn't start to cry, too. sure, the seats were uncomfortably upright on american airlines, but she still usually managed to doze. ]

[ but...just usually. because the past five hours had been a bit of an anomaly, as she'd been forced to watch the stupid in-flight movie to keep from fidgeting and walking to the bathroom just because it would give her something to do. instead she bounced her knees and watches john travolta, amanda bynes and zac efron dancing around with greased hair and poodle skirts, and when the plane touches down, she is the first to yank her carryon from the overhead compartment and zip off the boarding tunnel with quick, deliberate steps. ]

[ a part of her expected them to have some sort of dramatic, romantic reunion with running and hugging and kissing, but lydia reminds herself that he is not her boyfriend (phone sex? that doesn't mean they're dating. practically dating cross-country? that's not dating.) so she slows her pace and carefully gathers both her suitcases and seeks out the hastily scrawled sign of her name, and the face that - not dating, but still missed. they don't hug, they don't really touch, but he carries her bags to the car and they chat while she dwells on how she'd expected this ride to go. ]

[ there had been a lot more uncomfortable fumbling, a great deal of complaining about how tiny his back seat was, and the eventual sloppy and rushed blowjob. but they ultimately make it to the hotel unscathed, and shallowly immersed in each others lives. she knows when he graduates, and he knows that she was subjected to hairspray on the flight. but there's something unspoken (or perhaps spoken often, and loudly, and primarily over the phone which makes it that much harder to bring it up now that they're face to face) between them. ]

Do you want me to take a shower? [ she rebuffs, unbuttoning her coat and tugging her hat off, draping both of them over the back of one of the little chairs in the little hotel kitchenette area. but that's not really a question (a bit of an allusion to how things may or may not be supposed to be going down here, perhaps?) so she shakes it off. ]

Actually, no. [ dinner? ] No. [ sleep? ] No. [ jet-lagged? and now she's just ticking off how many times she can say 'no' in varying tones of dismissive. ] No.

[ she takes her shoes off, too, and leans on the back of her chair, eyebrows knitting and tongue clicking against the roof of her mouth before the corners quirk up in a suspicious little smile. ]

Are you trying to get out of this?

[ now it's his turn to say no, his denial instant and fervent. ]

Wh-what? No! No no no. No, Lydia, how can you even— think that.

[ he shakes his head, staring down at his own knees. ]

I just want to make sure you're okay with it.

[ because for all their talk, they've never actually done more than fuck, and stiles is... he's not that good with rejection. he doesn't want to start something and feel her pull away, even if it's with the flimsy excuse of needing to go to the bathroom. ]

And that you're comfortable, and, you know.

[ stiles ducks his head, licks his lips. ]

Good to go.

[ he visibly pulls himself together — man up, stilinski — and his jaw shifts as he mentally winds himself up. he wants this, she wants this, they're both adults (or at least, legally able to drink in every state, stiles has never felt like an adult in his life) and he's gonna go over there and make the most of their short time back in beacon hills. determined, he gets to his feet, reaches out for her hands. ]

[ she watches him, eyes roving over the hunch of his shoulders and the line of his mouth, the jitter of his knees and the jerk of his head from side to side. no, he insists, and lydia finds herself wishing she'd taken classes in body language to better discern the difference between nerves and reluctance. that was supposed to be something people knew, something they could tell about each other when they were intimate, but several thousand miles between them seems to have put a damper on her ability to pick up physical cues. ]

[ in the end, lydia decides to assume; assume he's nervous - the ferver, the licking of his lips - and just in need of some subtle encouragement, which she could indulge him in. ]

[ she shrugs, green eyes fixed on his face as he stands to approach her. ]

Well, I'm okay with it.

[ they tip-toe around "it", just like he tip-toed around saying fuck for the longest time, along with other expletives. it's somehow a lot easier to say "it" than "fulfilling all those lust addled promises whispered into phone receivers" and a lot easier to say "fulfilling all those lust addled promises whispered into phone receivers" than it is to say "spanked and fucked until i scream". ]

I'm fine to go.

[ "go" meaning "be bent over your knee and have my skirt hiked up". ]

[ and while she doesn't lift her hands to his, she lets him take her palm, lift it, and in turn runs her hands up the curve of his arms before shifting over to his chest and running her fingers down his front. ]

And I want to.

Cool. Yeah.

[ stiles' pupils blow, and he nods like he's still working himself up. but there's a part of him that once told her get off that cute little ass and come dance with me, and that's the kind of attitude he seems to have now, determined and direct. ]

[ he grabs her by the hips, pulls her right up close, so that he can feel the press of her breasts against his chest. he moves his hands, sliding them back around and over the ass in question. ]

When you were a kid, did you ever get that feeling like you didn't want to open your Christmas presents right away? That you just wanted to hold off the moment before-hand, like, as long as possible?

[ that's about all the explanation he can give for why he's being so weird about this. it's anticipation. it's putting off something you've hoped for in case it doesn't meet your expectations when you get it. and yeah, it's nerves. ]

[ he's going a little myopic trying to look at her now that his face is right up close to hers, head tilted just so, in that way that means he's gonna kiss her. ]

And — I think I forgot how beautiful you actually are. Pictures don't really capture the experience. It's a little intimidating.

[ there, that's three different explanations, and none of them involve reluctance. but he's still taking his sweet time. ]

[ she half expects him to start spanking her right then and there, tenses accordingly, but he just touches. touches and runs his hands over the material of her skirt, the curve of her ass, and the panties between the two. ]

[ (she'd chosen them carefully; done her laundry especially so as to have them clean, laid them out the night before and oh so carefully slid them up her thighs this morning. they were some of her favorites, lacy green boyshorts - the same one's she'd worn to kick off the conversation that would span months and months of teasing and planning. i'm wearing the perfect panties to be spanked in right now has become i'm wearing the perfect panties for you to rip off with your teeth right now over that span of time, however.) ]

[ but he doesn't. and in time, lydia relaxes into his arms, craning her neck to stare at his face. the anticipation rolls off him in waves, and she's beginning to feel it as well - that energetic need to do something, to act on their whims now instead of waiting to get reacquainted, and the slow pace is just intensifying it - equal parts turning her on and pissing her off. ]

[ and if he doesn't hurry up and at least kiss her, she's going to get aggravated. ]

You can stare at me all you want. In the morning.

[ or while they fuck. or on his phone, which she caught a glimpse of as is pretty sure she is the background of. just not right now (because lydia always tore open her christmas presents), and not on the car ride to beacon hills tomorrow (because he needed to keep his eyes on the road). the hands on his front shift as she tries to press closer, arms extending to twine around his shoulders and fingers linking behind his neck. ]

We can go slower if you'd like. Make out for a while if you're too intimidated - ease into it. I don't want you losing your nerve.

[ if her goal was to provoke him, then she's managing an extraordinary job of it. but then, lydia's always been able to just get to him. ]

Hey. I'll stare at you whenever I like.

[ his voice has dropped a little, and he turns them abruptly, pushing her towards the bed. he's in charge here, even if this is mostly her idea, and as much as he worships her he's not gonna have her implying he can't step up and get this done. ]

Put your hands on the bed.

[ and maybe, when he flips up her skirt, she's thinking she's finally about to get what she wants. it's not over his knee, but bending her over and caressing her round little behind is obviously a prelude to the spanking, right? but stiles has other ideas. he tugs down those green panties, squatting so he can draw them down her shapely legs, helping her step out of them and then pocketing them (she's not getting those back, sorry). ]

[ from here, he has a pretty great view, and he uses his knuckles at her ankle to encourage her legs apart a little further so that he can enjoy it, smirking through the v of her legs at her upside-down face. he runs his hands up her calves and over the back of his thighs, face close enough that he could breathe in the scent of her when he tugs her a little more open. ]

[ in stocking feet, she keeps her balance just fine with his gentle shove, backing up in easy steps and trying not to smirk too broadly. she's trying not to laugh, but it's a bit of a losing battle. lydia bites her lip to surpress a giggle, bends at the waist, and smooths her palms across the bedspread. ]

[ blood rushes to her head when she relaxes her neck and peers through her thighs, but the little she can see of his face intrigues her much more than the floral comforter and beige wall or the fruitbowl painting that hung on it. in their time apart, she'd forgotten the line of his lips more completely than she had in the first two years of college. for how much he spoken about going down on her, she wanted to touch them for a while - draw the pads of her fingers across his cupid's bow before insisting he return the favor by brushing his lips against her labia. ]

[ and hey, if he's not going to spank her in this position, he could at least do that. lydia spreads her legs when bid unspoken, hair falling away from her neck and shoulders to billow on the mattress when she leans forward to grin at him more visibly. ]

Enjoying the view?

[ she's a little uncomfortable, but at least the rush of blood to the head masks the blush that goes hand in hand with that question. ]

[ is he ever. stiles is a bit overwhelmed by it. ]

You're so damn beautiful.

[ it's not as though he hasn't told her before, but it bears repeating. he's not sure he'll ever get over just how gorgeous she is. every bit of her. but for all that he's enjoying the view of her bare ass in the air and the peeking peach of her pussy, he's still stringing out the sex, the anticipation of pleasure. ]

[ he squeezes her ass one last time and gets to his feet. apparently taking a moment to look has boosted his confidence or something, because he comes and sits on the bed, takes her chin in hand and gives her a quick kiss. ]

Okay. Get over my knee.

[ stiles has no intention of undressing either of them more than he already has; there's something titillating about her lack of panties being the most indecent thing in the room, though it becomes obvious how hard he already is as he arranges her over his lap. ]

[ it's more a demand than a request, but she's all too happy to aquiesce. she presses her kissed lips into a thin line to smother the utterly childish giggle that threatens to mix with her excitement and bubble over. she wants to take off her skirt, and really it'd take just a second, but he's his hands on her and so long as the hem is flipped up they won't make that much of a mess. ]

[ even if they did, this hotel had laundry. she'd checked. ]

[ lydia settles in his lap, sprawled across his thighs as daintily as possible. the jut of her hips settle in the line of his legs, forearms supporting her weight on one side of the mattress and knees doing the job on the other. if she arches her back, she can raise her ass in the air and give the most enticing of little wiggles, tossing her hair over her shoulder so as to peer back and try to watch his face as best she can from this strained position. ]

[ stiles lets her settle, running his fingers soothingly over her back; ostensibly to calm her, but the truth is it helps him too, lets him focus. he doesn't really want her complacent: this is, in a lot of ways, her show, but making all her fantasies come true means knowing when to indulge her and when to take a firm hand. ]

No.

[ he draws her skirt higher, and: ]

Not like that.

[ his hand catches the back of her thigh, urges her leg out, forward, so she has to drop it awkwardly to the floor to keep her balance. he shifts his own leg to trap it there, and presses up so that she's straddling his knee. she'll probably ruin his jeans rubbing off on them, but for what better cause? stiles can't think of a single goddamn one. ]

Like that.

[ and then he brings his hand down sharp, the first sound of flesh smacking on flesh startling him out of his cold-bastard persona he'd been so carefully cultivating. he rubs a circle where he'd just hit her, palm warming much as the skin beneath his fingers, breath coming hard. ]

Is that okay? Did it hurt?

[ she shrieks; makes a bit of a yipping sound when her throat constricts with surprise, and lydia lurches forward at the impact. it really shouldn't be shocking, she'd been expecting it - off balanced and adjusting to her new position, but expecting it. expecting the sting, but maybe not the clap that resonated half a second after the initial contact, and she'd claim it's that which causes her to jump. ]

[ lydia has a moment to grapple with the sensation of being plied and spanked, for there's a rush of indignity that comes with the blow and the urge to fix this and come out on top again - she'd dominated him in intellectual conversation since they were little, and when it came time to exchange words instead of verbal blows, she'd often governed that too so this is strange. but ultimately that settles and she lets her head drop, hair rolling and preparing to be smacked again. ]

[ her skin tingles, but it dulls with he rubs the spot he just struck and she groans. ]

Stiles.

[ and it's a ready mix of needy and reproachful. stiles, don't be such a baby, i'm not that fragile. ]

[ stiles don't stop -...or i'm walking out of here. ]

[ stiles hit me again - or we may have to switch rolls. ]

[ but she doesn't plead or drawl, simply arches her back to toss her head, glance over her shoulder and fix him with a pointed look before wriggling. ]

[ the wriggle is an insolence and an answer, and both mean he has to spank her again, the other cheek, this time. it's still a little hesitant, as he tests his strength, how hard his palm will connect. the next time is more confident. ]

You're so dirty.

[ he murmurs it, trying not to let on how much he likes that. and he starts to spank her properly, a few slaps to one side, a few to the other, watching the skin flush pink under his tingling palm. he tries to keep a steady rhythm, nice and slow to give her time to feel each one. ]

I know.

[ but that's all she gets out before lurching forward again and staying there. she curls her hands in the bedsheets and presses her forehead into the mattress, that way every time she whimpers, she can muffle it in fabric and down feathers. but eventually that doesn't do anything for her. ]

[ every smack is loud, and every groan that follows louder than the last. by the time the sting of the slaps settles into a hypersensitive tingling, both her ass cheeks are adorned in decorative handprint blotches and she's writhing because she's wet and his jeans are such a wonderful source of friction she could practically cry. ]

[ as arousing as this is, lydia and her limits are not well acquainted friends. there is a fine level between pleasure and pain, and the longer he hits her the less sure of the line she is. it's nothing bad, they haven't crossed it, but she's already rutting against him like a dog and chanting his name with the same sense of rhythm with which he spanks her. ]

[ a deluge of his name and various swears fall from her lips, culminating in a choked; ]

Stiles, come on - I want you to fuck me.

[ he pauses and just rubs his hand back gently over the cheeks of her ass, burning hot under his fingers. his palm hurts — he can only imagine how she feels. and then that same hand dips down between her legs where she's filthy-slick for him. ]

God, Lydia.

[ it's shaky, strained, because he wants to but at the same time he wants more of this, wants her taken apart and begging for him. she's so ready that it takes very little to press two fingers into her, pressing back and forth. at first it's just a slow rub, feeling out the strange texture of her inner walls, the rest of his hand getting equally slick. then he starts to punch into her, short little jabs that press against the soft place inside her that he's read up on. stiles has every intention of fulfilling his promises to her. ]

You're so beautiful. Can you feel that? I'm gonna make you come so hard.

[ his own mouth is loose with awe as he watches, senses inundated by the sex of her. ]

[ she's so ready that she practically keens for him; a high, grossly desperate and needy sound that she regrets letting past her lips but at the same time can't really move herself to care because he thinks everything she does is perfect, which is -

yes.

yes.

fucking damn - shit, yes.

this is so perfect she could cry. scream and cry and smother herself in the sheets and ultimately die happily because for once - for the first time in a very, very long time - everything is just as satisfying in real life as it is on her head. his hands are larger than hers, his fingers longer and with the better angle for a rapid fire jackhammer attack against her g-spot. the only problem here is, with her thigh trapped between his, she can't spread her legs as wantonly apart as she would like.

but that doesn't seem to be the hindering any of their progress, because its been less than a minute and lydia already feels dangerously close to coming. he's asking questions and she means to moan those yeses out loud, but all that makes it through is one sustained yeeeee sound, occasionally jumbled and made halting - ye-ye-ye - by his ministrations. and she begins to squirm, to inch away and wiggle in hopes of staving off her orgasm because, no, she is not ready to come yet and just won't let that happen until she's soaked up every aspect of this scenario and is good and ready to. ]

Stiles - [ she breathes. his name is the easiest thing to draw from her lips, especially as the obscenely wet noises of him fingerfucking her reaches her ears and a whole new wave of lewd arousal rolls over her. ugh, this was - fuck. ] Stiles, you need to -... You're going to make me -...

[ hazy green eyes slide closed and lydia allows herself one more dip into pure sensation before she plans to beg him to stave off, to make it last longer, and it's while actually listening to her body when she becomes aware that it may not just be the pressure of a pent up orgasm amounting in the pit of her stomach.

and then she starts to panic. ] S - stop, you're going to make me pee. Stiles - fuck. [ panic and, for a moment this game is forgotten as she squirms with renewed desperation and a primal need to maintain some scraps of dignity here. ]

[ when she first tries to get away, stiles smacks her ass again lightly and plants a hand at the small of her back to keep her there, his arm still flexing. lydia may think she can get away, can hold it off, but stiles plans to work her until his arm is sore and then keep on going, and he wants her to come, wants her to come and come and come until she actually can't anymore. ]

[ she's making these gorgeous useless whimpering noises, words and sounds he never in a lifetime expected to be allowed to hear from the mouth of lydia martin, and he uses his fingers to press in time with his rapid pulse, the throb of his cock, trapped in his jeans. god, he's so hard. ]

[ but then she says pee and stiles pauses, tries to decide if he thinks that's hot or not, decides from the desperate way she's moving that yep, he actually does. ]

Do it, then.

[ besides, he'd done a lot of reading about this, like, a lot, and he thinks that's how it works; if he keeps pounding her, thumbing over her clit all rough-slick occasionally, everything's gonna get wet, and it won't be pee, not really. it will be messy, sure, but that's what hotel rooms are for. ]

Come on, Lydia, I've got you, you don't have to hold back. Just let go, okay? It'll feel so good.

[ his hand slides up her back, slow and steady and pushing down firmly, and then tangles in her beautiful strawberry-blonde locks to hold her there. ]

[ she lets him push her down, push her face into the bed with the firm hand tangled in the hair at the back of her neck. but lydia still shakes her head infinitesimally and whines. they're limits are clashing, she thinks, and they hadn't even discussed how to call this whole thing off if they needed too; lydia is already vaulting the hurdle that sprung up the second she surrendered all the control to him - it felt so strange not being in charge, not coming out on top, and liking it - and can't quite handle the second one coming in the form of watersports. ]

I don't want to - [ she pants, twisting weakly and in vain. she's desperate and pleading, but tries to make it commanding. ] Stiles, I am so fucking serious, if you don't s - s -...

[ but it is really - really really really - difficult to properly formulate threats when so much energy was being sacrificed to keep rigid and stave off any sort of release, especially under such poignant stimulation as this. her head is spinning, confliction fighting with the immediate revulsion, and eventually the internal argument is settled with the consice reasoning: he thinks i'm perfect and would still think i'm perfect if i wet on him. ]

[ lydia relaxes; allows what is to come to come, and though apprehension gnaws at the edges of her consciousness, she allows her jaw to slacken and mouths against the sheets for something to bite while the pleasure amounts and amounts and eventually overflows. ]

[ when she comes, she doesn't squirt, but neither does she wet herself, so it's really an all around victory. the uncomfortable pressure on her bladder makes jarring reappearances with every jab of his fingers, but when her body convulses it ceases to matter. he's still got his hand in her hair, anchoring her to the bed, which is probably a good thing as the world seems intent on jerking everything out from under her in this moment. robbed of the ability to jerk back her head and gasp at the ceiling, lydia gasps at the bedspread and writhes; her hands find his thigh and the mattress and attempt to push up, but only succeed in shaking visably and giving out when the strongest waves of her climax die down, and lydia is left shivering, hair askew, lipgloss smeared, and insides - from her heart right down to the walls of her pussy - pounding. ]

[ stiles has never actually seen a girl — do that. the last time they'd gotten off together it had been awkward, and he'd come to fast, and she'd shown him how to touch her but the end result was more her hard work than his. this is different — so different that it blows his mind. ]

[ he keeps doing what he's doing, even when she looks like she's trying to claw herself off the bed and away from him. even when she's collapsed, panting and shaking, he keeps his fingers easing back and forth. and maybe she hadn't squirted but his fingers are still slick with her, the walls of her cunt a hot and rhythmic wet clench around him. he imagines what it would be like to fuck her through it and groans softly, and lifts his hips to rub the throb of his erection against her. ]

That was so beautiful, Lydia.

[ He strokes her hair, draws out of her just to cup her mound in his hand, working back and forth over her clit with slick fingers. ]

We're not done yet. I wanna fuck you. Let me fuck you now, yeah? Would you like that?

[ lydia's exhausted, shaking and twitching, and - no, she doesn't really want him inside of her now, doesn't really want him touching her. she can barely handle the way he's touching her right now and alternates between grinding back and jerking away from the drag of his fingertips. she's exhausted and would really settle for rolling over and cuddling until she fell asleep, but that was selfish and lydia martin had a hard time being a selfish lover when she was still coming down from a remarkable orgasm. ]

[ still, she sighs, grumbles something about blowjobs and tired against the mattress before letting out a proper moan. ]

Yes. [ she breathes because that's the only thing she trusts herself to say right now. anything more, she might start babbling like he does from time to time, and it would not do for their roles to be reversed so entirely. ] Yes, I - yes.

[ fuck, shit... please. but she'll have to let body language speak where she doubted her mouth, and let the lazy but determine way she tries to sit up and straddle him. or something. ]

[ she's climbing into his lap, and stiles laughs because he knows her so well, knows she's wobbly and oversensitive and doesn't wanna fuck anymore but doesn't want to be anything other than the best, and he knows that she's going to pretend that she wants to be on top because lydia martin is always on top, but he doesn't really expect a lot of resistance when he just rolls her back down onto the bed, hauls her up the mattress. ]

[ he mightn't have werewolf strength, but she's tiny and he does, actually, work out. ]

[ occasionally. ]

You think we're done, beautiful? We're not done.

[ it's kind of a taunt, as he pushes her down, and at least he's stopped playing with her pussy in order to get some more of their clothes off. he tugs down her skirt with a full body motion and kisses his way back up her ankle, her calf, pushing her thighs apart and mouthing at her there, as well. nothing too crazy, just tasting her around the outside of her lips, then pressing a soft, wet tongue over her clit before he continues climbing her again. ]

Jesus, I could eat you out forever, but I really need to be in you. Like, you don't even know, my dick could crowbar open a door right now.

[ the epitome of her resistance is a groan and listlessness in her limbs as she flops onto the mattress and allows him to drag her where he wants. there's not much work for her to do here except bite her tongue and not tell him to fuck off as he kisses up her leg. of course, by the time he's licking at her pussy again, she's not complaining so much as whimpering, scrubbing a hand across her face and refusing to uncover her eyes until he's moved up her abdomen, her breasts, and is more level with her face. ]

[ and then, it's just to crack her fingers, peer through them, and pout at him. ]

That must be painful, [ she sympathizes shallowly, insincere and perhaps a little aggravated at his continual assault on her senses. there's genuine compassion underlying everything, because prolonged arousal and the mental image of jamming his junk where it shouldn't be sound incredibly nasty. ] I think we should take care of it.

Yeah, it's not great.

[ but he doesn't do it right away, kissing her with her own taste on his lips, licking into her slack mouth as he lets her feel just how hard he is for her. he wants to work her up again — girls can come twice, right? — but he's getting a little overeager, and his stamina isn't as great as it is in his imagination. ]

[ finally he breaks away to get the condom. he's been carrying it around in his pocket, because he wasn't totally certain they weren't going to have amazing reunion sex in the airport bathroom. it gives her a break from him as he squeezes his cock to make sure it's hard and rolls the prophylactic on. that, at least, should buy him a little more time. ]

[ what won't buy him time is snubbing his cockhead back and forth over her, letting it rub her clit a little as he physically organizes them both. he urges her legs up; ]

Show me how wide you can get 'em, Lydia.

[ and his voice is dark and gruff, the definition in his muscles and the way he's filled out somehow more obvious when he's like this, hunched over her and getting ready to take what he wants. ]

You drive me so crazy.

[ he half-sighs it, half grits, as he pushes inside her. ]

[ his lips taste sour and she groans because that's kind of gross, but there's a whine and a frown tugging at the corners of her mouth because he has a devious little tongue. call it the absence or the fact her loose lips have gotten sloppy in the wake of that orgasm, but he's marginally improved at kissing in the last few months. ]

[ she likes the way he's looming over her too - even if there are several predatory analogies she could make that would just serve to make her uncomfortable - and sighs when he rolls off the and bedsprings shift to announce he's situated somewhere on the edge. ]

[ in his (significantly shorter than the last) absence, however, over sensitive fades to sensitive, and his teasing breaks her brain-to-mouth filter and reduces her to begging. ]

Oh, please - god, just do it.

[ though for someone who wants it bad enough to discard her pride (something lydia martin was ridiculously attached to) and beg (which lydia martin just simply didn't do), she's really bad at following orders and makes to hitch a thigh on his hip. he's looming again, and predatory or not she likes it, likes him, reaches to slide her hands on his sides, around to his back and settling on his hips to be the pull to his push and urge him into her with more insistance. ]

[ if fingertips could say i want you they -...actually wouldn't have to because lydia is doing a pretty good job saying it herself. ]

Oh, you feel so good.

Edited (too much 'god', i did not like.) 2013-01-09 07:39 (UTC)

Me? You feel amazing, holy shit.

[ he has to bury his face in her neck, even though her red hair is everywhere and sticks to his sweaty forehead and slick lips, gets in his mouth. he doesn't care, he's too overwhelmed to focus on anything but the tight, squeezing sensation of her enveloping his cock. he's opened her right up with his fingers, left her wet, but she still feels like the best thing that's ever happened to him. ]

[ he tries to say so and just gasp-chokes instead, hips giving a stuttery little movement and yes. oh yes. that. that's a thing he wants more of. ]

Lydia.

[ he groans her name, drawing out the last a for far too long as he starts to fuck her. her hands feel like they're everywhere, and she's rocking up into him and making her own beautiful noises, and he can hear the sound of his thrusting cock, slow at first but growing rapid. ]

[ he'd planned to do other stuff, play with her tits, kiss her again, but all of his attention is in his hips, his cock, and he just moves and moves, pants and moves, moves and tries not to come after five embarrassing seconds. ]

The BDSM Lifestyle Meme

pretty sure we do! s3, s10.

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