bakerstreet | over a drink

[Emmrich laughs, warm and fond. Her confidence is a treasure, and one of the many things about her that draws him.]

And if I said you looked good on me?

[The revelation that she means her flirtation, that she's not just having fun, changes everything. It also makes this one of the best nights he's had in years, and it's still young.

His scalp tingles lightly where she's touching, and it reminds him of a long-held question that now he can get the answer to. Emmrich slowly slides his fingers through her hair, taking in exactly how smooth and cool the strands feel. He'd always thought they'd feel warmer, but perhaps that was his own impression of how he'd feel if he had to deal with even half as much.]

( it’s heavy, that much is immediately obvious, too; hair by the handful, spilling over her shoulders and his hands— almost improbably well kept, all things considered. then again, it can come as no surprise that she takes such pains with her appearance as her lipstick smudges across his mouth,

she smears it there with her thumb. decides she likes it: marking her territory. making a bit of a mess of him. )

I’d say how big’s the mirror in your bedroom?

( so she can check. for science. )

[He takes great care of his appearance and the smearing of what has to be lipstick on his face is a deliberate response to that, he's quite sure. It's such a very her thing.

As is the question. It wasn't like he was planning on staying in the living room for long.]

Let's let you judge.

[Confidently, Emmrich pulls her flush against him and stands. He slips arm underneath her to to make sure she doesn't slip, and then he walks them into the room. With a flick of his wrist he lights the candles to show off a room that is very homey, especially compared to the laboratory in the Lighthouse. The bed is large, as are both wardrobes, the rug is plush, and there's a full-size mirror near the bed, along with a smaller one over the dresser where his shaving kit usually goes.

Emmrich sits on the side of the bed facing the mirror and raises an eyebrow before leaning in to kiss her jawline and neck and leave lipstick marks in return. They're in the right place for her to get a good look, but he doesn't have to make it easy.]

( athénaïs nearly laughs — of course emmrich has two wardrobes — but it’s affectionate, not derisive, and maybe a touch envious. (imagine having two wardrobes!) the feel of his mouth on her throat, however, is immediately diverting; the warmth of him, when they’re now closer than they’ve certainly ever been and the distinct sensation she is beginning to feel that they are not remotely close enough.

(she’s a little impressed, too, at the ease with which he lifts and carries her, even if she is maybe the smallest person either of them know. she has a couple inches on harding, but dwarves have a certain density that elves do not.)

smudges of her grey-purple lipstick now well and truly shared between them— )

I’m beginning to judge us overdressed, ( she says, half tease and half suggestion, her ankles still locked behind him where she’d instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist as he’d stood. this is absolutely going to have to change if she wants to get her trousers (or his) off; on the other hand, it’s a very pleasant place to be. )

I can't imagine why.

[he says into the skin of her neck. He doesn't disagree. She feels fantastic against him, warm and soft, but she'd feel even better if there wasn't clothing in the way.

Emmrich traces her back through her blouse, fingers heavy along her spine. Over her shoulders he continues, making sure to graze both sides of her collarbone before he starts unbuttoning her blouse.]

You're welcome to assist with rectifying the situation.

[Being undressed by another is an unparalleled delight, and it's one he hasn't indulged in for many, too many, months.]

What a polite invitation! ( the amusement colouring her voice is stronger, now, as she leans back to give him space and to slide her hands down his body between them, ) I’d practically be rude not to take you up on it.

( now, it makes a lot of sense to start where he has. for one thing, her blouse isn’t half so tight to her body as her trousers tend to be— for another, the position that they’re in is presently, necessarily but not unpleasantly, limiting. on the other hand,

he cannot be surprised that a penchant for mischief extends to all areas of her life, nigh on unchecked, and she lifts herself up just slightly on her knees to get to the fastenings of his trousers,

taking the scenic route, naturally, along the inside of his thighs. that the way she has to angle in doing so presses her breasts further toward his hands is a bonus; he will discover another pair of hands, skeletal, in short order as the lingerie beneath the fabric is silver-violet lace worked to represent hands, cupping. )

[The laughter on his face as he's about to comment about manners is wiped off as she goes far lower than he'd expected. Her hands are so warm where he's so sensitive, and Emmrich shifts underneath her, something just short of a jerk of his hips. Despite how he knows her, he is surprised.

His own underwear is shimmery black silk, just barely on the loose side of snug, and it does not hide his growing response to her.

Emmrich pauses to cup her still-covered breasts once he's past his surprise, thumbs brushing across them slowly. It's only after that that he finishes opening up her shirt and the mischief returns.]

Ah, I see you go for instructional clothing. Unfortunate that I seem to be coming to this from the wrong angle.

[This is an image that's going to stay with him. But there's far more to see and touch and delight in, so he wastes no time reaching around her to find and expertly unfasten the clasps. The pieces are urged down her shoulders so he can obediently cup her breasts and thumb one of her nipples.]

For now, ( she agrees, faux complacent, a gleam of intention in her eyes. she’s got plans for that mirror—

but the aborted movement underneath her is more immediately pressing, even as she sucks in a breath against the feel of his thumb against her pebbled skin, registering the sensation of warm metal against her breast where he is still, for now, wearing his grave gold. her eyes (lilac, like he likes) are darker and heavy-lidded, a self-satisfied sort of smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she follows this with a kiss to his jaw and then his mouth, lingering with more urgency than they had previously. not enough alcohol on either breath to regret this, tomorrow,

her fingers swoop, teasingly, along the silk-covered length of him just as she bites his lip. it’s experimental; what happens if she presses here? )

[She is truly beautiful, and he can't deny how the way she keeps up with him verbally and intellectually makes her all the more attractive. Emmrich meets her lips eagerly, hungrily, until the twinned sensations draw a quiet moan from him.

The slow and steady build of desire turns into a sharp-edged want. After a gentle pinch of her nipple and another kiss with his lightly throbbing lip Emmrich turns his efforts to his own clothes with a new haste. His vest comes off quickly, followed by him pulling off rings and bracelets to drop them into a nearby bowl for just them. They are both still wearing far, far too much.]

So you have another angle in mind?

[he asks in a rougher voice than before, wanting to keep the verbal play going.]

( her magpie gaze follows his jewellery off into that bowl, momentarily diverted — either by the shine or the jingle or just the thought that she could have taken at least one of those off with her teeth — but the new tenor of his voice draws her back to him, drawing her hands back to settle on his knees behind her so she can lean her weight back, insouciant and lissom. her blouse has slipped somewhere off his bed, and her brassiere, too, and she takes a moment to catch her breath as she considers him from this angle, kiss-swollen and wanting.

that’s also a good look on him, she decides, sliding from his lap to stand between his knees. )

As a matter of fact, ( she says, taking the opportunity of rising to unfasten her own trousers, toeing her boots off with expert efficiency— she turns with a deliberate sway of her hips to slide the supple leather down, probably inevitably revealing a matched set of skeletal hands on her ass,

though not for long. it’s a rather confronting angle, for a moment; striptease this is not. )

I was thinking, ( she says, sweeping her hair over her shoulder, ) that we could really get to grips with looking good on you. As it were.

( a nudge to his knees, she guides him to shift along the edge of the bed until he’s sat facing the larger of the two mirrors, and she takes a moment to really appreciate the picture he makes in it. he doesn’t even have to be completely undressed— there’s something to be said for the contrast, and for the thorough mussing of a man whose self-presentation she is really into. this is probably the thought in mind when she comes back to his lap, her back against his chest and her knees falling open either side of his thighs, )

See?

[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.

over a drink

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