bakerstreet | kiss my lips

(*bats eyelashes*)

[m/f ok, f strongly preferred, dominant ladies are the gr8est]

[ height discrepancies be damned, Alex, even as Alexa, has no problem yanking Connor down and crushing lips against lips, tongue curling against his as 'she' smiles against his mouth. Alex had prefaced this encounter with a 'want to study?' and a time and place, but Alex had never said what it was they'd be studying.

currently it was studying Connor squirm under the grip of someone nearly a foot shorter than him with the strength of probably ten of him. in this body, Alex is too short to have Connor's arms above his head so they yank Connor's hands to his sides, pinning them there by the palms, one knee between his legs, keeping them apart. ]

[He didn't even bother to bring books, that's how predictable these encounters have become.

Alex tastes vile, but Connor's used to that. Their hold is a little too tight and the bones in his hands ache, but he's used to that, too. He struggles because they both like it when he does and bares his teeth against Alex's mouth. Sometimes it just feels that good to fight back when it's this hopeless.]

[ teeth click and Alex pants against Connor's mouth, savouring the mild aftertaste of oranges and coffee. he fights back and Alex feels a growl climbing up his throat, swallowed back only so the virus can sink its teeth down into Connor's bottom lip. fingers drop from their tangle and curl around Connor's throat, lips parting from lips so Alex can sink bloodied teeth into the jut of collarbone. he doesn't want romance; he wants a reaction. ]

[Connor makes a soft, pained sound and tastes blood. It's not the first time Alex has drawn blood. It won't be the last. Won't even be the last today from the way this study session is going. Fingers curve around his neck and instinct brings his hand up to grab Alex's wrist; there's no pressure yet, but the threat is there, right at the edges of his awareness, more distant than the sharp pain of the second bite. He hisses and nothing more, because sure, he'll roll over for Alex, has done it before, but it doesn't mean he won't make Alex work for it sometimes.]

[ there's pressure closing around what's supposed to be Alex's wrist and the virus flicks its glance to Connor's fingers pressed into the skin.

cute.

Alex's fingers bore down on Connor's neck and curve into the muscle, strangling off air and noises alike as teeth attack skin over and over and over again, bruising and biting at the flesh until his collar's decorated in scars of Alex's possessiveness. the flesh between forefinger and thumb morphs and reforms into something sharp and his grip becomes insistent, using the edge of his hand to cut into the skin just below Connor's voice box.

and then as soon as it started, it stops. and Alex is tearing away, yanking Connor forward by an arm with more force than is needed, so the other hand can tangle in the assassin's hair and drag him down to eye level with the girl-virus standing in front of him. ]

Get on the bed. On your back.

[oh

Connor chokes and struggles for air, open-mouthed and increasingly desperate; he digs his fingers into Alex's wrist and pulls even though it's a futile effort and he knows it. The blade-bone-whatever, cuts into his skin and--

he can breathe again. He keeps his balance thanks only to years of practice and Alex's hand in his hair and sucks oxygen back into his lungs.]

You have to let go first.

[cheeky.]

[ at the retort, Alex's eyes narrow, and the virus' head falls to the side.

okay. if that's how he wants to play it. ]

Do I?

[ and just like that, she's dragging him over to the bed by his hair, releasing her grip only at the very last moment to yank him by the wrist down onto the bed. Alex doesn't give him a moment to catch his breath; the virus is on him in a moment, straddling his hips, one hand curled and twined in his hair, wrenching his head back to expose his neck. ]

You should do as you're told.

[yep, that's how he wants to play it. He feels like being difficult today. Pushy even.

His neck aches from the awkward angle he's at and he banged his knee when Alex dragged him to the bed. All his struggles for nothing, but now he can settle his hands on her hips and grin at her with bloody teeth.]

Yes, mother.

Mother?

[ a brow quirk. though s/he's amused by that, and he's rewarded with the slow, powerful grind of Alex's hips down against his own. clothing melts away in a flurry of black tendrils, and it's just all lean limbs and the jut of ribs and hipbones on top of him, breasts swaying with each and every movement. ]

Does your mother usually try to fuck you? [ lips press to his neck and chase a straining muscle, brushing against his ear to sink a particularly sharp canine down against the shell of his ear. hope you wanted a helix piercing, Connor. ]

[ He didn't, actually, and the pained yelp that escapes him should prove that.]

I thought we agreed no holes!

Edited 2013-12-25 05:55 (UTC)

[ooc: tag? :3 *shyly toes ground*]

[ It seems he's always running. Twisting, turning, lost. And regardless of those circumstances, regardless of anything, he's found himself pulled in an unknown direction. He doesn't know why, and especially now, he doesn't question it. Castiel is floundering in his own lack of faith, confused as he looks about and keeps on moving. If he stops too long, others might find him. They might take him and do whatever it is they wish without any regard to his well-being. So, he has to keep going.

It's on a particularly close day that he stumbles upon her, fear a very real emotion as he pauses and assesses the situation. Perhaps it makes his judgment sloppy, a bit careless. But he approaches her quickly, hand on her arm as he guides her back into the shadows of a building to hide them from whomever has found him. ]

I'm sorry. [ Barely a whisper, and it's not even a proper apology as he presses his mouth to hers. ]

[Castiel wasn't the only target of pursuit; Elizabeth could hardly remember a time she wasn't running. Each door she opened brought her somewhere new; worlds without The City and The Light House and The Man, worlds which constants and variables were far beyond what she had ever seen before.

And this was just one of many doors through which she attempted to escape. It had been raining and the street lights made pools of yellow in the dark.

The only thing that saved Castiel from some kind of vicious backlash was the gentleness of his guidance; Comstock's men would have come with weapons, at least.]

Who are y--

[The kiss interrupted. Elizabeth's sky colored eyes widened, her body stiff in shock. It isn't... unpleasant. But it certainly was surprising. Her fists hang in the hesitance before striking.]

Mm...

[The distorted echo of footsteps on concrete have her suddenly shrinking a little under his coat; obviously, she'd rather remain inconspicuous as well.]

Edited (HTML fail) 2013-12-25 00:55 (UTC)

[ Many things register to him at once: the softness of her lips, the scent of the rain and how it's somehow in her hair, the tension of her limbs when he kisses her. These are what Castiel notices, and even when the contact of their mouths is broken, breath light as he listens, he doesn't move. The noise retreats quickly enough, leaving them with only the backdrop of the city as their song. He should be surprised, but he isn't; demons are rarely as thorough.

Castiel tips his head back, listening and wondering if it would be safe enough to leave there. Flight might draw unwanted attention, but his options are very limited. So, he turns his attention back to the woman he's still pressed up against. ]

Thank you for assisting me. [ It's hushed and soft, voice oddly deep. ] My name is Castiel.

[ He lifts a hand to touch the dampness of her face, gentle as he brushes some of her hair away. He'd seen that before, somewhere. Probably observing humans or in a movie. Whether or not it's pertinent to mention seems irrelevant right now. ]

[She watches his stillness inside her own. His eyes are striking, though she can't quite place if it's shade or expression that makes them unique. The feel of his rough stubble ringed around the warm press of his mouth lingers strongly in the fore-front of her thoughts for several preceding moments.]

...You're welcome, I suppose. [Some proper manner remained in her thus far, at the vary least. Something Comstock would likely be grateful for, she thought with a bitter jab of cold hatred-- but those were thoughts for a later time.]

Castiel... I'm Elizabeth

[Such a gesture towards a creature in desperate retreat might not have been advisable-- but Elizabeth had been at the hands of cruel men, and something in the way Castiel touched her was... not just as so.

His gesture brought a long disregarded fondness to mind; her Keeper, her Friend, her Warden... that massive winged creature who always held her with such gentle reverence.

Why this Castiel should remind her of Songbird was beyond her, but it was so, and it confounded and just how long had she been starring exactly?]

Excuse me [She averted her eyes, leaning into the unyielding chill of the wall and then (with the tiniest of winces) retreated back towards the warmth of his chest.]

It seems to me like we might both benefit from somewhere we could... disappear for a while.

[Speaking in reference to the fact that they were both under pursuit, of course. Only the slight flush of her pale cheeks was there to hint otherwise.]

I'm... new in town-- new to this country, actually. [New to this plane of reality to be precise, but she wasn't sure Castiel would comprehend that.]

So I'm really hoping that you'll return the favor, and help me find somewhere safe. [Her brow quirked up slightly, her mouth curved into a small dry attempt at a smile (that she obviously didn't have the energy for).]

That was my first kiss after all.

[Sex against's a wall an oldie, a goody, and convenient. Walls are solid-- they're made to take a man's weight and then some. Cast aside the worries of an old motel room bedframe squeaking the whole establishment awake. No mattress coils can work their way out through fraying cushioning to poke you in the spine. With someone like Cas-- with someone like Dean-- the plaster might crack and the ceiling might stutter, but no one's gonna get hurt in a way they don't like.

That's the plan, anyway.

Right now it's Mr. Winchester's back to the wall, but it's his mouth traveling Cas' jaw, getting scraped by Cas' almost-beard. Dean's jacket on the floor, but Cas' shirt joining it. There's no ownership of the room and the four walls they've taken various liberties with, but it's not about possessing. More like possession and if he could exorcise these feelings and urges, he would. But there's not enough Latin in the world.

Merry Christmas. The rum-shot eggnog was a nice touch, and Sam not being anywhere near hearing distance? Even better.]

[ He breathes out slow, drunk on the very presence of the man pressed up firmly against him. Castiel can't seem to get enough, arching their bodies together and tilting his head back to give Dean as much room as he needs. It's always been about giving Dean just that, taking apart the enemy and coming back time and time again only to satisfy his every want. He likes to think it's because he'd been born for this, but he's grown selfish through the years spent on earth.

There's nothing momentous about this; this is purely greed. ]

Dean —

[ Castiel hums softly in appreciation, a low noise in the back of his throat to encase just how much he desires. It's a strong, blatant force, and his hands are hardly idle, stroking the length of Dean's ribs and lightly gripping at his hips. He feels too much, doesn't know what to do with himself. So, he continues to push and rocks closer, closer, closer as he breathes in. Eventually, it's not enough, and he has to nudge him to bite at his lips, kiss him until he tastes the eggnog and everything underneath. ]

[He doesn't want to hear his name. Not even in that low growl, so he snaps at Cas like a junkyard dog, incisors digging rough into that weak space right beneath the angel's ear. When he was younger, he might've liked the reminder, but now he's a old hand at the intimacy game. He doesn't need Cas confirming and affirming who they are, it's something he'd rather face in the morning. A post-Christmas miracle-- the mere possibility that he could escape this with some dignity in tact.

Heh, dignity. What's that?]

You're not the Eight-Hundred Year Old Virgin anymore, right? Cashed that card in?

[Not that anyone could really escape Cas' 'confession' about it. The situation was too unstable, with everything else going on, for Dean to cycle through every phase of shock and awe. They'd never even had the chance to sit down, share a beer, swap Dean's multiple archives for Cas' single story.

But he'd heard him, and it stops his hands from shaking when he grapples the button on Cas' pants through its threaded hole.]

[ It's not meant to be a reminder. If anything, it's a prayer. It's a quiet plea for him to touch Castiel and impose his own mark upon him, rewrite the very core of his programming to something oddly specific. Something more than a wayward angel who looks to a hunter for comfort. His entire body jerks at the bite, groan muffled by the press of his tongue to the solid line of Dean's jaw. ]

Yes, I... [ A shudder, and he thinks it's meant to be an attempt at shaking his head. ] Stop talking. I don't want to talk about that.

[ Castiel almost thinks to correct him about his age though. Yet, that's before there are hands on his pants. There are hands dangerously close to the part of him that aches, and he leans into it, leans into him before slipping a hand up his back. His fingers curl into that short hair, yanking and tugging and dragging his lips right against his for an impossibly hard kiss.

If any more words are exchanged, he will lose focus. Because Dean is always about such intensity, about the drive, and Castiel refuses to be left behind, meeting that challenge head-on and sucking at the tip of his tongue. ]

[This had started innocently enough. It was supposed to be just some beers shared between two friends as they caught up with each other. For fuck's sake, he was his sister's boyfriend. That hadn't stopped neither of them though and now here they were.

He had Brian pressed against the wall, his mouth pressed hungrily and demanding against his as his hands tugged at his shirt. In the back of his mind, Dom knew that this was wrong but he couldn't give a damn at the moment. Not when Brian felt so good pressed against him. Instead he found himself wanting more, he wanted to hear more of those sounds, taste more of the blue-eyed man.

This was fucked up and crazy...but that didn't stop him...]

[ Wrong was one word for it, especially considering that Brian was only supposed to be getting information, finding out whether or not the team was behind the heists, but Mia had complicated things.

And this, this just made it worse. He needed to push Dom away, needed some space to think about more than how it felt being trapped between Dom and the wall. He finally broke the kiss, blue eyes gone dark before he lifted his hands, trying to get some space.

"Letty's going to kill me." It was the first thing that he could think of to say.

[Dark eyes slid along Brian's face and Dom found himself smirking.]

It might be a little too late to think about that.

[He shouldn't be amused but somehow this whole situation was ridiculous. Neither of them could deny this though...

His gaze dropped to Brian's mouth before he met his eyes. He pressed his knee between Brian's legs, pushing them apart as he continued to watch him.]

So you only talk big O'Connor?

[Raiden narrowed his eyes, as he stepped into the room and spotted the other man. He had an overwhelming urge to thrust him up against the wall and fuck him there and then. It had happened before but not in a very long time. Raiden chose his partners carefully.]

Hanbei. Fancy seeing you here.

Raiden.

[ Hanbei bowed his head as he moved closer. It'd been quite a while. He was not used to being at gatherings like this, dressed up formally in a white suit. It was a stuffy gathering for mingling and dancing - and Hanbei wanted to go somewhere else. ]

You don't seem the type to come to something like this.

I'm not. Yet, sometimes duty calls for me to mingle amongst others during missions. I saw you and decided to come over. At least you are one friendly face tonight. [He offered the man a smile and let his eyes drink in his handsome features.]

How about we go somewhere quiet? Away from all the commotion.

Very true.

I'd love to go somewhere with you.

[ Hanbei smirked, moving to touch his arm and start leading the way to a separate room. He shut the door after them and locked it, stepping closer to Raiden. ]

[Raiden looked down at the touch and smiled softly. He walked into the room with Hanbei then turned to face him.]

So, what now?

Mmn, I think you know.

[ Hanbei murmured, coming closer. He pressed against Raiden, guiding him to the wall, trapping a leg between his. He leaned in close to seize a kiss, leaning up and against him. ]

[Raiden knew alright. He was just testing Hanbei to see if he felt the same way as the cyborg. He groaned, as he felt Hanbei's leg between his own. The kiss was welcome and he leaned into it, wrapping strong arms around the other man.]

[ Hanbei groaned into the kiss himself, sliding his tongue inside and keeping flush against him. He ground his hips, feeling a rush of excitement in doing this at the gathering. The ache was building and he kept his hands touching all over him. He kissed harder, pressing harder, showing how much he was aching. ]

[Raiden pulled Habei closer, as the kiss deepened. He could feel his heart rate speed up and his arousal harden within the confines of his trousers. He had worn clothes over his exoskeleton to avoid unwanted eyes staring at him. He allowed his mouth to wander down over Hanbei's exposed neck.]

[ He pressed up against him, his own arousal hardening and pressing against Raiden's. Hanbei touched him more, starting to undo his suit and humming. He breathed out, tilting his head and pressing further against him. ]

I want you. Don't hold back.

[Raiden appreciated Hanbei undoing his suit for him. It always felt so stuffy wearing clothes over his exoskeleton. He had gotten used to just walking around in that and only wearing clothes when he had to. Right now, his cock was throbbing with need and his hands were delving into Hanbei's clothes. He began to unbutton his shirt and touch the warm chest underneath.]

[ Hanbei kissed at him, breathing in as he felt his hands on him. His own went to toy with Raiden's cock, touching and grasping in a teasing manner. He pumped him slowly, pressing against him. ]

You're excited, huh...

[Raiden gasped then moaned at the touching. He wanted more.]

Shut up. [The cyborg hissed at Hanbei and shot him a sly smirk. He slammed Hanbei face against the wall and rubbed his own crotch against his ass.]

[ Hanbei gasped in return, pressing up against the wall. He pressed back, grinding against Raiden's cock with want. He tugged on his own pants, glancing over to him. ]

Hurry up...

[Raiden didn't need persuading anymore, as he ripped off the remainder of his clothes and left them in a messy heap on the floor. He focused on removing the rest of Hanbei's clothes. Soon, they were both naked and Raiden pushed his aching cock up against his lover's ass.]

I want to fuck you hard, Hanbei. Against this wall..

Go ahead. Fuck me hard.

[ Hanbei pressed right against him, grinding hard against his cock. He wanted it just as badly, his hands on the wall as he supported himself. ]

Don't hold back. I want to leave this room limping.

[Raiden groaned at the mental image of Hanbei being fucked so hard he could barely walk. Oh, the cyborg would give the other man a good fuck tonight.]

As you wish. [Raiden slicked two fingers in his mouth then pressed them at his lover's asshole. He slid them both in at once, feeling the puckered hole draw them in tight.]

[ Hanbei kept himself spread so he could slide those fingers in with ease, humming and clenching around him in response. His walls gripped onto both digits, Hanbei wanting him deep inside, trying to pull him in. He breathed out a moan, keeping still and looking back at him. ]

Hurry... I want you inside.

[Raiden thrust in and out with his fingers a few times, before pulling them out. He knew that Hanbei was ready to be fucked. They were both wanting it desperately. Raiden pushed the head of his cock at the puckered entrance, then thrust in one go. His cock disappearing into the tight chasm.]

Fuck! Yes...[The cyborg cursed, as he felt a spark of pleasure coarse along his cock.]

Edited 2013-12-31 22:55 (UTC)

[ Finally. Hanbei breathed in sharply, grasping at the wall as he pressed further against it. He clenched around his cock, rocking down against him, reaching back to touch him, pull him closer. ]

That's it... fill me up. Come closer.

[Raiden groaned, as he pulled his turgid flesh from the tight chasm then pushed all the way back in to the hilt. He hissed with pleasure and then bit down on Hanbei's shoulder. He used his tongue to lick at the red flesh. He wanted to drive the other man over the edge. The cyborg began to fuck his lover against the wall mercilessly. His cock hammering into Hanbei, as his breath was being ripped from his body.]

[ Hanbei gasped, feeling a spark of pleasure shoot through his body. He arched back, rocking his hips and pressing further against the wall. He clenched around him, fighting off a whine from the sting of the bite and the quick pace that followed. A moan tore through him and he moved with him, reaching down to pump his cock in time to Raiden's thrusts. ]

Fuck, Raiden-!

[Raiden bit Hanbei's shoulder once more, as he slid his cock in and out of the slick hole. He looked down to see his own turgid flesh pump into his lover. It was an erotic sight. He moaned louder, as he grunted with effort and lust. He couldn't hold on much longer, as his hand sped up on Henbei's cock.]

Yes.....ohh...

[ Rocking back against him, he ground his hips and focused on riding his cock just about, wanting to coax him close as he felt his own orgasm approaching. Hanbei moaned out, then rocking into his hand, just about pounding the wall with a hand. He sped up, his cock pulsing as his orgasm approached. His hole was tight, clenching around Raiden's dick more, wanting to milk him for all he had. ]

Come for me - come on...

[Raiden came suddenly at the pressure surrounding his swollen cock. The tight ring of muscle coaxing his cock to release it's sticky load. The cyborg threw his head back and cursed, whilst moaning deeply. He whimpered, as his cock spurted hot cum deep inside of his lover. His hips snapping up at their own accord.]

Fuck! Hanbei.....yess....[He bit his lower lip until he felt warm blood trickle down his neck.]

[ Hanbei moaned, pressing further into the wall, his hips arching. He grasped at anything he could, feeling the cum fill him up. He snapped his hips back, gripping tighter as he came shortly after, spilling his seed against the hand around his cock. He whined lowly, slowing down and still rolling his hips. He looked over his shoulder, panting and continuing to make a mess, his cock dripping just a bit more before he was spent. ]

Raiden...

[Raiden rode out what was left of his impressive orgasm and moaned softly. He whimpered at the pleasure coursing through his cybernetic body. Sex had never felt so good before and he loved this man.]

Hanbei...

Mmn- God...

[ Sex was so different with Raiden. He never came so hard and so much with anyone else. He never had the connection he had with Raiden. Hanbei pressed back against him, breathing out and holding on. He knew they had been loud enough to have been heard. He didn't care. In fact, he was proud. ]

Amazing.

I'm glad you enjoyed it. I certainly did. [Raiden sighed and had a relaxed smile on his face. He was sated. For now.]

We should do this more often, you know.

Mmhm. We really should.

[ Hanbei moved to give him a kiss, kissing him gently before letting go. ]

I wonder how many people heard us, though. Hopefully all of them. [ He chuckled. ]

[Raiden pressed a kiss to Hanbei's nose playfully and allowed a better look at his lover in his after-sex glow. Raiden felt the glow too throughout his cyber body.]

Do you think people heard us? I guess we were kind of loud. [He smirked and then rolled on top of Hanbei lazily.]

[ He chuckled, nodding and kissing him again. Hanbei held onto him, not wanting to let go. He loved the closeness. He wanted this more often. To make it a habit. ]

Mm. I have a bad habit of getting loud. Well, let's be proud about it...

Mm...I enjoy hearing your voice, love. [He pressed a few soft kisses down his lover's neck.]

Hmm. I enjoy hearing yours, too. [ He smiled, giving him another kiss. ] Let's go back out. We can come back to this later.

Alright. [Raiden released Hanbei and put a hand through his spiked hair. He tried to make him look at least respectable, as a cyborg could.]

Cute. You look fine.

[ Giving him a kiss on the cheek, he headed out, running a hand through curly white hair. He looked damn proud of himself, refreshed and shining. Judging by the looks - they were totally obvious. But oh well. ]

So do you.

[Yeah, they did look like two men who had just engaged in hot, passionate sex against a wall. But, so what? They had enjoyed it.]

Flatterer.

[ Smirking, Hanbei kept by his side the rest of the night. He didn't mind the strange looks at all, instead enjoying Raiden's company as he engaged in conversations with other coworkers. He held his hand and walked out with him, heading home to enjoy his company further. ]

[ fwiw this started over Rebecca being wrong. so any other day really. actually, it started over Encyclopedia Dramatica (no, seriously!) and the real reason behind its domain change. clearly Shaun was a bit more in the know about internet happenstance because he wasn't perpetually stuck in the early 2000s, signing his name with numbers in it.

actually, Shaun really didn't have a right to be insulting Rebecca right now. not with Rebecca's back to the wall, her fingers curled in his jumper, there lips tangled up in more complications than Mark Zuckerberg had with Facebook. he has to admit, the gesture originally took him by surprise, and he spent the first few seconds trying to finish his sentence regarded girlvinyl. but Rebecca had a persuasive way about her, (ie she grabbed his arse and he shut up pretty damned quickly), and within half a minute, his lips were sliding against hers, eyes dropping closed as he nipped at her bottom lip.

some arguments were best left unfinished anyway. ]

[ "wrong" and "clearly" hardly had the weight they typically did when it was Shaun thinking them -- not when between the two of them, at least, not according to Rebecca. there were some constants, and the often barbed edge to many of their conversations was one, as was the fact that there was no one in the world Rebecca trusted more and the fact that her being against the wall in this scenario was more surprising than she was trying to let on.

not that it meant Shaun was necessarily in control; she'd pulled him to her, after all, and she knew just how sensitive he could be and put it to use. he'd always been responsive; whether it was to jump on an off-handed comment seeped in inaccuracy or to jump up the first time Rebecca had felt their relationship was strong enough to randomly slap him on the ass, Shaun never failed to reply. and he was replying now, with a hint of teeth on her lips that made her nip back in delight, kneading her hands through his back pockets. she already has several contingency plans for any protests; no one was going to interrupt them, they really didn't have anything better to be doing than checking over things for the fiftieth time, and they both needed to blow off some steam were chief among them. still, Rebecca rather hopes she won't actually have to use them.

she locks her leg around his, just to be sure. ]

[ well, this was most unprofessional of him. one hand cupping the edge of her jaw, the other pressed palm-flat to the right of her head, lips meeting the edge of her lips, and of all the places they could possibly do this, they'd chosen the library.

oh yes.

Desmond was going to kill him. probably Altaïr too. and Ezio, especially after the chewing out Shaun had given him. here he was, liplocked with a girl nine years his junior, someone he'd originally started seeing to give her a few history lessons. Christ, but he should have known better. not that it mattered much, with his thumb sliding down to swipe the curve of her jaw, fingers settling on the nape of her neck as his lips closed over her bottom lip, teething lightly at her. he draws back only for an instant, breathless, and murmurs: ]

And that right there was more than poor, poor Marie Antoinette had at all with her dearest husband for the first two years of their marriage. [ he leans in again, the hand beside her head dropping to her shoulder as his lips meet hers. ]

[ it starts with dislike.

( that's not true at all; it starts with hero worship and idolosing the becket boys and gipsy danger, they're heroes and rangers and chuck wants to be just like them, but then yancy dies and raleigh leaves and chuck doesn't want to be like them, she wants to be better and she will be —

— and then she's better, her kill count speaks for itself, but raleigh becket returns and he and mako almost get everyone killed and she dislikes him, she hates him, except he more than proves himself and she can't hate him for being a wash out if he fights like that, if he's good like that. )

it starts with dislike, but it turns into respect and a sense of attraction that chuck tries to deny for as long as she can, but in the end, she's always had poor impulse control and sparring in the kwoon turns into her pressing her bo across his chest and using their momentum to push him into the wall.

( she hates that he has both weight and height on her, that he could overpower her if he put his mind to it. she's not planning on giving him the chance. )

for a moment, she looks at him, breathing hard from their spar and poised on the edge of something — the next she's leaning in and catching his mouth in a bruising kiss, hard and biting. ]

[ Raleigh knows she doesn’t like him. He knows why, too – he knows all the reasons why. She’d voiced them loud and proud and hadn’t held back, not one bit. It’s part of what he can admire about her – her fight, her passion, that fire in her eyes when she snarls at him or about him.

It’s mutual, in a lot of ways – Raleigh dislikes her blatant disrespect for anyone she deems ‘unworthy’, and it pisses him off and irritates him enough that that is funneled mostly in his direction, so much so that he says fine, what the fuck ever, let’s spar, because in the end he knows he’s got advantages, knows he can win if he wants.

And then she gets him in there and she’s practically dancing with him, it’s so fluid and he’s into it enough that the blow surprises him and his back hits the wall, a soft grunt escaping lips that are formed in a small ‘o’ of shock. Every muscle in his body is tense, he’s waiting for a blow that doesn’t come and instead their mouths are crushed together and his fist is in her hair, fingers threading in tangled ginger strands. ]

[ sparring has always made her blood sing, adrenaline and exertion leaving her awake and feeling alive in a way that only a fight can — or very good sex, for that matter, but she mostly keeps those thoughts to herself because you never know what makes its way into the drift and there are some things she just doesn't want her old man to see, thank you very much.

( chuck has standards she applies to everyone and no one so rigorously as herself and that makes it all right in her book to judge them all — it's just that her standards don't include politeness or being a good person, she judges people by how good a pilot they are or how competent at what they do — and that means she's had to change her opinion of raleigh becket, in the end. )

sparring with him is unlike the fight in the corridor, it's more fluid, more of a dance than an actual fight and it's surprising because she didn't think the two of them could work like that, but it does work — and when she kisses him, he tangles his fingers in her hair and kisses her back and that surprises chuck more than the fact that she managed to push him into the wall or that she kissed him.

she knows her own mind, but his is foreign ground and she wouldn't have expected this — but she's not really thinking so much as running on instinct and instinct has her pressing close, as though she were pressing an advantage in a fight though it's turned into something else entirely now. ]

[ Maybe it’s because they work shockingly well together that this is happening – maybe, it’s because somehow in some way they might be compatible and that’s enough to send sparks of heat and confusion shooting up Raleigh’s spine and into his goddamn brain, muddling motor functions and common sense.

Kissing Chuck, fisting a hand in her hair, crushing her to his frame, pushing his tongue into her mouth to get a taste (a glorious taste, all heat and fire and biting and so, so full of life) – all of it is a bad fucking idea, because in the end, they still don’t really like each other and this complicates the fuck out of everything, but Raleigh doesn’t really care.

He reaches between them, knocks her staff to the ground in favor of closer contact, an arm darting to wrap around her waist like a moray eel, jerking her close, fingers dragging up her back and catching in her shirt. ]

[ that they don't like each other doesn't have to complicate this, it doesn't have to be an obstacle — chuck has never been very good at emotional availability or at intimacy and kissing him like this is sexual. dislike doesn't have to make sex complicated.

( there's a lie in that thought process, but it's one that she hasn't admitted to herself and might not admit anytime soon. she doesn't like raleigh becket. )

it doesn't have to be complicated, but that's chuck and things might be different for raleigh, except chuck really doesn't care about that right now. what she cares about is the way he pulls her even closer, the way their bodies meet until she's not sure any longer whether she's still pressing him into the wall or whether he's the one holding her, but that doesn't matter so much as the tongue licking into her mouth, the hand in her hair pulling her head back for better access.

she lets the staff fall from her fingers to curl one hand into his shirt and the other over his shoulder, pulling him in and pulling herself back at the same time just enough to be able to scrape teeth over his lower lip, nipping sharply.

they were sparring before, this doesn't have to be all that different. it's just a different battlefield. ]

[ Raleigh’s a funny man – he’s incredible simple sometimes – he knows what he likes, how he likes it and yet he can be so unfathomably complicated and impossible to understand. He likes substance with people and sure, okay, while maybe he’d had some questionable sex during his lifetime (on the wall, so fucking lonely and cold, spending night after night after night alone, waking up at 2 every morning, shuddering with the echoes of a ghost in his head screaming Raleigh listen to me--! it got old, so old and then that’s when he found himself sitting in a dusty, dirty motel room that reeked of stale smoke and sex, a woman with too much hair and makeup sleeping at his side) Raleigh still needs substance.

Chuck has enough substance to fill him up and then some.

The staff falls, he pushes it and she lets it go and the last barrier between them crumbles and he yanks her in tighter, crushing her up against his solid frame, kiss hungry, a little desperate but equally eager and hungry as hers.

He breaks it only to breath, to suck in a precious gasp of dry air that leaves his mouth cold and wanting more, more of her mouth of her skin of her taste. He tugs her hair, pulls her head back to expose her neck and goes in for pale, creamy skin like it’s a tasty treat, teeth dragging over tender flesh. ]

[ it's a good thing, then, that chuck isn't trying to understand raleigh — maybe once upon a time, she would have, but the days in which she thought the becket brothers hung the moon and wanted to be just like them are long gone and she hasn't idolised anyone, much less raleigh becket, since. she's not trying to understand him and she's not trying to make this into anything it's not.

( that statement would mean a lot more if she knew what this is, or what she wants it to be. )

there's no more barrier and no more distance between them and it's equal measures hunger and desperation and if chuck could press herself even closer, she would, but the only things left between them are their clothes. she gets as far as pushing a hand to his hip and pulling at the shirt he's wearing, intent on taking it off or at least at getting her hand under it, intent on feeling skin on skin — but then raleigh is using his grip in her hair to bare her neck and the scrape of teeth over her skin distracts her from her self-set mission.

instead of her hand on his naked skin, she curls it in the material of his shirt and holds on, back arching in a way that only pushes her closer to him. there's tension in every line of her body, but it is no longer hostile; her choked-off moan sounds loud in the silence of the kwoon, much like the clatter of the staff did. ]

[ Eventually -- unfortunately -- Raleigh has to pause, because he has to breathe.

He keeps his hand in her hair, keeps her head tilted and his mouth lingering on her skin, carefully dragging his tongue over and simply tasting her while he tries (it's a struggle) to regain control of his breathing (and himself).

His breath cools skin dampened by his mouth and he wonders how long she'll tolerate this, how long before she buries her fist in his gut, how long before they both realize what they're doing and break apart.

Your move, Chuck. ]

[ breathing is overrated, except if they stop breathing they die and that means no more of this, too — so maybe breathing is a necessary evil in this moment. she drags in a shuddering breath and then another, a little ragged and rough — but then he gentles things, or at least slows things down and chuck has never been good with slow ( it's intimate and it plays at emotions that aren't there — or emotions that she'll deny are there, at any rate — and it's too close ).

so she tolerates it ( enjoys it ) for a while, but soon enough grows impatient and lifts her hand to tangle in his hair, pulling hard enough that it might sting, directing his head where she wants it — which is somewhere close enough that she can fit her lips over his again, scrape her lower teeth over his lip. ]

[ He makes a noise of surprise and pain when she tugs his hair but – it’s one of his weak spots, having his hair pulled like that, and when she fits her lips over his again he’s distracted, moving away from the slow and sensual and moving towards the aggressive. Maybe it’s easier this way; this roughness, the way she drags her teeth over his bottom lip.

His hands settle at her hips again, tug and pull at her shirt, wanting more, always more – skin to skin, contact. Raleigh’s a tactile man, always has been and it’s been so fucking long since he’s had any kind of intimacy like this that he’s starving for it, wanting and needing it like he needs air. ]

[ she didn't know — but she does now, and it's the kind of knowledge chuck is all too willing to abuse, her fingers tangling in his hair. roughness is easier than the sensual; sensual implies letting someone in, letting someone close in a way that isn't merely physical.

the physical, chuck has no problem with, and so she arches against him, trying to wordlessly encourage him to just take off her fucking shirt.

he takes too long with it, though, and so she pulls back — not far, only far enough to pull her own shirt up and over her head, and then to attack his.

(she's still wearing a sports bra.) ]

[ Right here -- she wants to do this right here and the fucking door isn't even locked and Jesus --

There goes her shirt.

And his promptly after, because leaving her high and dry is hardly fair, now is it? She attacks it but he's already halfway ripping it off and over his head, tossing it in the direction of wherever hers landed (not important, not at all, doesn't matter he can get it later after they're finished with...whatever it is that they're doing, wherever this is going) before reaching for her, crushing her back against his frame.

She's hot skin against his, flesh pressing against flesh and his hands wander, skirt at her sides and dance up her ribs before sliding around to her back, pulling her close again so he can nip sharply at her ear. ]

[ she doesn't care, all right? — actually, she isn't really thinking about it, about the fact that the door isn't locked or that anyone could walk in. her focus is entirely on the skin that he's just bared, the lines of muscle there for her fingertips to smooth over, to explore.

he's startlingly attractive, and a moment later he's pulling her against him again and she goes willingly — more than that, she pushes even further than he pulls, pressing herself close, breasts against his chest and turning her head until she can capture his lips again, scrape teeth over his lower lip. ]

[ He make an entirely undignified noise at the back of his throat (it's a horribly embarrassing little whine he'll try to deny later) at the scrape of her teeth, and he's going to have to really focus to clear his head and maybe remember that they're in public and this is, in its entirety, a really bad idea.

Except he can't even manage that, not with how distracted he is. What started as a kiss turned into something else completely and with her heat pressed up against him, he's disinclined to stop. ]

Chuck-- [ He'll give it a last go, though, voice raspy and full of gravel. ] We're in public.

[ those words should, for all intents and purposes, be like a bucket of ice water — should remind her that not only are they in public, but she's also making out with raleigh becket and really into it. except, she's really into it and the noise he just made was undignified and went straight to her head, muddling her thought, to her gut, stroking the heat that's pooling there —

maybe they should stop, but she doesn't care. ] Your room, then. [ like that should be obvious, like he should have thought of that — but she wants and she can't even bring herself to care that he'll know it. ]

[ And she propositions that and any previous resolve falters and vanishes into the ether. He nods jerkily, bends to grab the clothes they managed to shed and he passes her shirt back and pulls his on over her head before making moves to leave the kwoon.

Yes, they probably should (the reasons why are fuzzy at the moment, he's hard as a rock and he's gotta adjust before he steps out into the hall) but he doesn't want to and they're not going to.

His room isn't that far, it's in the normal barracks and he's got so few things it's unlocked when they get there and he lets her in first, door wide open and promptly closed behind her.

It's pretty spartan save for the pictures pinned up on his wall. ]

[ it's a good thing, isn't it, that she's not there for the decor. instead, she's turning the moment he shuts the door bhind them, turning and pressing herself against his body again, fingers fisting in the shirt he's put on again.

( she liked him without it, liked the feeling of skin against skin and now they're back where they started, each wearing a shirt and with her pressing herself close. )

she shouldn't, but christ, she wants him. ]

[ It's a damn good thing because Raleigh has like, eight posessions in his life besides those pictures and it all fits inside a duffle bag.

They won't be wearing shirts long. The door shuts and Raleigh's got Chuck up against him again and he's tugging the hem of her shirt, pulling it up, wanting it off. Once he gets hers off he can make quick work of his own; he knows what their intentions are, it's pretty clear - he wouldn't have invited her back here and she wouldn't have come if they weren't planning on getting naked in his bed. ]

[ it doesn't have to be the bed. she wouldn't mind the bed, not at all, but — if he wants to lift her and fuck her against the wall or if they don't even make it to the bed despite how relatively small the rooms in the shatterdome are, that would be all right. she just wants their clothes off and beyond that, she cares little.

it's ridiculous, and maybe she'd think it strange if she stopped to think about it at all, how their antagonism has turned into this kind of desperate sexual energy between them. she's not stopping to think, though, far too focused on her hands under his shirt, tracing the lines of his abs, the curve of his back, fingernails scraping over his sides; too focused on finding his lips and licking her way into his mouth, kissing him long and hard. ]

Edited 2013-12-24 22:34 (UTC)

kiss my lips

oliver queen | arrow | m/f

Bela Talbot -Supernatural

john mitchell | being human

Connor | Assassin's Creed III

whattabout viruses are you open to virusesas

ew gross what r u doin here c:

c: smooch

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Randy 'Ryo' McLean | Fake | canonmates

castiel | supernatural | ota

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i hope this is okay! i'm completely canon blind.

Totally awesome ^^ I'm not up to date on SPN, but I don't mind spoilers :)

i'll try to avoid them if i can :3

Noooo worries, I don't mind at all ^_^

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Brian O'Connor | Fast and Furious series | OTA

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hanbei takenaka | sengoku basara | m/m

make it up as we go along?

sure thing!

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rebecca crane | assassin's creed

yessss i finally get to use this icon

omg. also you totally wanted feverish tags right

selina kyle | batman

elsa ❄ frozen ❄ f/m

nike crawford marine ♫ original ♫ f/m

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Raiden | Metal Gear Rising | M/M

Otacon | Metal Gear | M/M

Jack Benjamin → Kings

Thor Odinson | modern au | ota