bakerstreet | over a drink

[The show starts very well with the way she leans back and lets him admire, which he of course does. She deserves no less. And then she ups the ante, sliding the rest off and Emmrich only notices that the lingerie matches to wonder very briefly if she'd had intentions this evening all along before he chooses to dwell in the very enticing now.

Whether or not she'd had plans upon setting out matters little when it's clear she has one now, especially when it's a plan he's very much on board with.]

I see,

[he confirms roughly as her warm weight settles back in place, unable to tear his eyes from her in the mirror. Oh, does he see. Emmrich returns his hands to her. For the joke of it he starts as 'instructed,' but then he traces over her belly and lower, fingers of one hand so-lightly brushing over her vulva.]

My assumption had been that I'd be only wearing you, since you so clearly require no adornment.

[With his other hand he pushes some of her vast amount of hair away enough that he can nip lightly at her jawline. She is a being of mischief and impulse and flitting from one matter to the next, and Emmrich is incredibly interested in seeing how she responds to something a little slower. Or he's interested to see it for as long as his willpower lasts -- her confidence and body are a heady combination that already are testing his love for making things last.]

( athénaïs holds his gaze in the mirror as she tilts her chin up for his teeth, the lean muscles of her abdomen jumping beneath his hand as he slides it lower and lower still, )

Texture contrast, ( she says, wisely, instead of imagine if you hadn’t taken your rings off, which— probably would’ve also meant having to clean his rings, and all things and their schedules considered, he definitely made the right call. (only imagine.) ) And I know how much you like adornment, Emmrich.

( what could sound dismissive or teasing — so does everyone who has ever looked at this man in his life, for a one — instead sounds heavy with heated interest, like simply everything she knows about him she has at some point factored into how badly she wants to fuck him right now. this is probably true.

she winds her ankles around his calves, holding herself open and in place with her feet locked behind his legs, a slow, warm slide, which is incidentally also what her hips are doing in his lap, pressing back against his groin in a way that is, inevitably if not immediately, going to absolutely soak the fabric he hasn’t managed to undress out of. )

[She moves with the same fluid grace as ever. He wishes he could continue watching her in the mirror while tasting her neck, but alas. He's only human so a choice must be made. Emmrich starts to work on a spot lower on her neck to make a mark, something that can be covered but he'll know is there. Progress is slightly slowed by the low chuckle he makes at her remark. She's far from the first one to comment on his accessories, but he can hear the heat there.

And then he can feel the heat of her, rubbing against him slowly but insistently. Intensely. His body responds and he briefly closes his eyes to simply enjoy the sensation for a moment.

Just for a moment, though. He reopens them, looking back in the mirror and meeting her gaze as he finds her clit with two fingers and rubs it at the same pace she's moving.]

You are the perfect adornment,

[he whispers roughly. Perhaps it's verging on the too-vulnerable, when he wants so much more than one night with her, but he thinks he can play it off if need be later. He can say it's just talk, that it's just desire in the heat of the moment.]

I gladly choose to wear you.

[Emmrich nips her earlobe before trying to reach between them to at least get his pants open enough for his erection to be free of them. The last garment can be moved after he manages that.]

( the upper hand, such as it is, is something of an ongoing conversation: athénaïs halfway between reigning monarch on a throne and expertly played instrument, reaching to grip the back of his neck as he mouths at her skin, arching in a way that has more to do with his hand than her teasing promises. she holds his gaze until her eyes shut without her say so, fingernails leaving white half-moons in his skin, all the tension carrying from feet to thighs to hips.

that she allows him gap enough to work behind her is almost unintentional. sweat and cosmetics and the tilt of her head back against his shoulder and she leaves faint, glimmering purple marks where her cheekbone slides against his shirt— )

Maker, I love an anatomist’s hands, ( comes out very fervently, the hand she isn’t gripping his neck with dropping to his wrist to guide his motion more deliberately,

this angle, here, like that and her toes curl against his ankle. )

[It's hard to say whether the bite of her nails or the sight of her arching up is the greatest reason for his appreciative groan, but it hardly matters. What matters is following her guidance and learning precisely how to touch her. His gaze goes intent, mind focused; he's learning the foundational text of her and if it's up to him he will be the expert.

For once he has no reply to her words. Emmrich's focus is on her: the slick slide he's guided through, her body moving with pleasure, and the almost-peaceful look on her face like this.

He gets his cock free of fabric thanks to the space given but is in no haste to use it. Instead he reaches down with his now-free hand to spread her lower lips open and see all the more in the mirror.]

Beautiful, my dear. You are breath-taking.

[She's using the Maker's name, but he's the one feeling worshipful and reverent.]

Emmrich,

( is not how he has previously heard he say his name, strained and wanting— demanding, even— )

if you don’t put something inside me, ( fingers, cock, a handy candle, she barely cares, ) I am going to bite your ear—

( threaten the man with a good time, why don’t you. she is a picture of debauchery, her open thighs framing his busy, slick-gleaming hand, the increasingly insistent, impatient writhing of her body in his lap, long strands of violet hair tacked to her skin and beads of sweat rising between her breasts. her lipstick has smudged. her knuckles are white (whiter) where she’s gripping his wrist.

he could make her come just like this, without giving an inch of what she wants; he might, at this rate. )

Hardly a threat,

[he says, smirk pulling up the corner of his mouth.]

Do you imagine I don't want your teeth on me?

[Pain isn't precisely a kink of his, but a partner desperate to have him inside of them absolutely is. She's falling apart in his hands in a way he'd previously refused to allow himself to think about, and he is hardly unbothered. Emmrich's cheeks are flushed, pupils blown wide, his pants are damp beneath her and erection hard behind her back. His breathing too is altered, unsteady and heavy.

The hand held by her stays put. There's no reason to relent there.

Perhaps a little mercy for them both is in order. Emmrich urges her up so he can take hold of and position himself to enter her... but he doesn't go further. Not yet. The denial, anticipation, and her reactions are too sweet.]

Something like this?

( he is so, so close to being exactly where she wants him and athénaïs is notorious for impulsively barrelling ahead— it is probably not the most shocking thing she could possibly do, in this moment, when she swallows hard and pushes her hips down to take him inside her with a suddenness that makes her spasm. fuck being patient— )

This, ( with her heart racing in her chest and her breath knocked out of her, ) was more what I had in mind, actually,

( is sort of an impressive number of words to string together into a coherent sentence, all things considered. her grip on his neck clenches, much the way her cunt does around him, eyes blown wide and her back sagging into his chest.

great idea. ten out of ten. no regrets. )

[He can't say he's entirely surprised when she chooses to put an end to his teasing, but he also can't say he'd been completely prepared for her to do so with such haste. Emmrich groans, leaning forward even as she sags back, and the incredible pressure, wetness, and warmth around his cock means that for several seconds he's entirely forgotten how one gets air back in their lungs.

Words continue to fail him as she tightens around his cock. Finally, as a few brain cells come back to life he resumes touching her, intent on giving her a few moments to adjust at least before giving into his rapidly strengthening desire to thrust into her.]

( athénaïs takes a breath like she might have briefly forgotten she still needs to do that, making a concerted effort not to just fall pliant against him and under his hands. it’s tempting to do, wound taut already by the way he’s been touching her, needy and close, but she rather likes the sound of that groan, so close to her that she can feel the warmth of his breath in it.

she definitely wants to make him do that again.

it’s less of a rush when she moves again, bracing her feet against his calves for leverage to rise and fall in his lap, losing her breath on something that might’ve been his name in the process. his undone belt is going to leave a mark where it’s digging into the underside of her thigh when she lands, and she’s going to think of him every time she moves and feels the bruise tomorrow— )

Don’t slow down, ( not now; not after she falls over that cliff she’s rapidly approaching, either. )

[His panting gets a little voice to it as she starts to move her hips. The tension in the air practically crackles, or perhaps even does actually crackle a little, a genuine risk with mage couplings. At least he hasn't set anything on fire since he was 15.]

Not a chance,

[he growls against her neck, focusing his efforts there. At the same time he moves his hips, meeting her movements. Emmrich will not last long with this view in the mirror, the way her muscles tense and relax, the expression on her face, the curves of her body, and he intends to bring her over the edge before him.]

( at this point, it isn’t a difficult wish to grant: even if she’d backed off that edge with the shock of adjustment, she’d been close to it in the first place and it doesn’t take long, rocking determinedly in his lap, to wind that same tension back into her body. she leans forward, her hands falling to his knees to brace herself from a new angle, dragging him against exactly where she needs him to be inside her—

she tenses around him like a vice, trembling apart as her magic crackles along her skin, mercifully not destructively, electric with the rush of endorphins. the way she tosses her head, losing her breath, is more impressive in the mirror than the way her hair catches him in the face behind her in the process; that deliberate rhythm she’s maintained falls apart into urgent, uncontrolled twists, simultaneously wanting him closer and straining against overstimulation.

that’s the fun part, though. she catches one of his hands and flattens both of theirs to her stomach, gasping out his name. )

[He groans again as she moves and clenches about him, tight, warm, with the spark of magic spreading from her skin to his. The hair smacking him in the face disrupts nothing at all, not as she says his name nor as she holds him tight.

With a final thrust he stiffens and follows her into release and the noise this time is a moan as he buries his face in her hair.

Emmrich lingers there, catching his breath. He wraps his free arm around her to hold her in return; he's not quite ready to lose this intimacy.]

A far better evening than I'd considered likely,

[he says eventually in a thick voice.]

( the breathless sound she makes might’ve been a laugh, the way her stomach jumps under their clasped hands and his arm; she relaxes, bonelessly pliant, into his grip and tips her head against his, catching her breath slowly. in no rush. )

Me, too.

( for a one, getting at most mildly tipsy and going home with someone she’s been trying to get closer to for weeks is a far cry from get blackout drunk and ride a stranger, which hadn’t been totally off the table. closer to the table than it probably should’ve been. this is— better than that. and he is so warm, and she’s in no rush to pull away from him.

it’d sound more like a line if she’d said it before now, but it doesn’t not sound like a line when she says, )

Hey, do you want to get breakfast?

Breakfast?

[he echoes, trying to follow the trail of her thoughts and winding up lost. It's not even nearly the hour for--unless she means in several hours, together. It could be one of the most clever ways he's heard someone invite themselves to stay the night he's come across. If it is, the answer is easy.]

There's a lovely cafe Bellara and I found a few weeks back in Dock Town with an excellent view of the sea and a delightful bell pepper souffle. I'm also fond of Good Mourning, a few minutes outside of the Necropolis, despite the abysmal name. Its menu is extensive.

[As he speaks he gently gathers her hair to push it over one shoulder as best he can, enabling him to touch his cheek to hers. It's followed by a kiss to her shoulder, and another where shoulder meets the neck.

One of his favorite parts of sex is the aftermath, the winding down with gentle affection.]

Though neither will likely be open for several hours yet.

Great, ( she murmurs, pleasantly softened by the press of his continuing caresses, ) that sounds great.

( it won’t be comfortable to stay like this for much longer — there’s a particular ache in her thighs and hips that’s satisfying now but is going to be a problem, later — but it’s hard to convince herself she needs to move with his hand on her stomach and his breath warming her skin. then again, as much fun as giving herself an imprint of his buckle was, this would probably be nicer if he were undressed enough she could feel all of his skin,

that’s a little more motivating. hypothetically. she hasn’t actually moved, yet. )

That’s the morning sorted, then.

Mm, [he agrees. Very likely he should sort out the now, too. This is nice, but if he attends to the mess it won't get to the bed, and she'll likely be more comfortable.

Emmrich places one last kiss on her jawline before regretfully pulling back.]

Let's get up and clean, shall we?

[He moves with care, slipping out of her and guiding her to relax on the bed in a way that would not get the coverlet damp as he goes to retrieve a washcloth. A flick of his long-fingered hand puts ice in the clean wash basin, and a second melts it into warm water. There are enchantments that can do similar things just as quickly, but he enjoys showing a little flair.

Once the cloth is wet he returns to her side.]

May I?

[Emmrich's touch is gentle and certain. Sometimes he likes to linger over the task of clean up but this is still too uncertain and new a thing. Once finished, he removes his pants and smalls, wipes himself off, and puts all of it in the hamper before coming back to bed.]

How is the temperature? And do you need any extra blankets?

( the flair is appreciated; he returns to her to find she’s been watching him, sleepy and soft with affection, a smile tugging the corner of her mouth. she finds, it must be said, a real joy in panache — little wonder she’d been so delighted to meet lord pavus in minrathous.

magic is a gift, whatever price they’ve all had to pay for it in their ways, through the years. gifts are meant to be enjoyed. and so are — she’s inclined to think — mages, )

You’re warm, ( she says, that thought in mind, reaching up for his hand to draw him down where she’s promptly crawled beneath his coverlet, occupying an honestly impressive amount of his bed for a person so slight. the hair is helping, but a general willingness to spread out less like a big spoon or little spoon and more like a spilled drawer of cutlery on a kitchen floor,

that’s doing a lot. )

I don’t need a blanket— come warm me.

( he is being a very good host, but she’s feeling extremely welcome and she’s inclined to make herself at home about it. )

[She doesn't have to ask twice, but he's thrilled that she does. Emmrich doesn't hesitate to follow her lead. She does, somehow, take up most of a bed that previously he'd considered rather large. Impressive, truly.

And as a plus side, it means there's every excuse in the world to indulge in more physical contact. Emmrich gets under the coverlet as well and scoots in, fitting himself to her front as well as possible and tangling their legs together.]

When the solution is so elegantly simple, why not?

[He searches her eyes even as he tries not to. Her flirting has been deliberate for some time now, which means this could be the start of something he'd scarcely dared hope for. But she's also a consummate flirt. It's fine if this had been all she wanted, or so he tells himself, knowing he'll be disappointed if that's the case.

Maybe he should save the asking for tomorrow, over breakfast. Or he could ask without asking.]

If I'm everything you need, then I'm honored.

( fair to wonder and tricky to tell — she is incorrigible, there’s been hardly a person they’ve met she hasn’t had some sly remark for that could be, in a certain light…

but it’s his bed that she’s made herself so at home in. him that she’s entangled with, presently, him looking at her soft as she so rarely is with all of her brassy edge. she draws her fingertips up the length of his arm, presses her thumb beneath his cheekbone, )

Emmrich, ( warmly, ) I can’t think of a single other thing I’d want.

( instinct, to finish that sentence right now and leave an anxious question mark over what she might want tomorrow,

but she bites it off. doesn’t. lets the statement stand, with a flourish, and leans up to press an affectionate kiss to his mouth; familiar, now, and not chaste exactly, but it isn’t heated with expectation, now or later. it’s just a kiss for the sake of how nice it is to kiss him. )

[It would have been so easy to add a disclaimer, or play it off. It would even be rather characteristic of her. And yet she does not.

It matters. He believes her.

Emmrich kisses her back, slow and certain, holding her close. The world is in chaos, and somehow in the midst of it he's found something precious. When the kiss ends he pushes her hair out of her face and smiles.]

Wake me if you need anything, my dear, anything at all.

[It may well mean she gives in to her more... mischievous tendencies. She might wake him up because there aren't enough wisps in the room, or she has a question about the number of skulls he has in here, or many other reasons he would never conceptualize. But making the offer is worth it. He wants her to know that she's welcome and need never hesitate to bother him.

Still tangled with her, Emmrich begins to relax.]

over a drink

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