Morning after meme

[memeliscious]

the morning after

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ a meme

→ COMMENT WITH YOUR CHARACTER'S NAME, FANDOM, AND PREFERENCE.
→ PICK A CHARACTER YOU WANT TO TAG AND HIT UP RNG (01-10), OR CHOOSE A SCENE OF YOUR OWN.
→ PLAY NICE; NO WANK, FLAMES, OR GENERAL HUMBUGGERY.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ the scenarios
① BREAKFAST IN BED: YOUR PARTNER'S UP AND ABOUT -- MAYBE DRESSED, MAYBE NOT -- AND IN THE KITCHEN. WHAT ARE THEY MAKING YOU? COULD IT BE... GRILLED CHEESE?
② HIT ME BABY: THEY'RE SUCH A PEACEFUL SLEEPER. A PEACEFUL, SEXY SLEEPER. ACTUALLY THERE'S TOO MUCH OF THAT SLEEPING HAPPENING. WHY DON'T YOU WAKE THEM UP, WORLD'S KINDEST ALARM?
③ ESCAPE FROM AZKABED: YOU WAKE UP TO FIND THEY'RE RUMMAGING ABOUT FOR THEIR CLOTHES, ABOUT TO LEAVE. WHY THE RUSH, AND CAN YOU CONVINCE THEM TO STAY?
④ THE AFTERNOON AFTER: AND THE EVENING, MAYBE EVEN THE MORNING AFTER AFTER... HOURS HAVE PASSED BUT YOU JUST CAN'T LEAVE EACH OTHER! OR MAYBE ONE OF YOU JUST WON'T...
⑤ HANGOVER FROM HELL: THERE'S A TIGER IN THE CLOSET, A BABY IN THE BATHROOM, AND A TOTAL STRANGER CURLED UP BESIDE YOU. WHO IS THIS PERSON BESIDE YOU SMELLING OF TEQUILA AND REGRET? DO THEY KNOW ANY MORE ABOUT WHAT, OR WHO, WENT DOWN THAN YOU DO?
⑥ WET AND WILD: DON'T FEEL TOO LONELY WAKING UP BY YOURSELF -- THE SHOWER'S ON AND THE SOUND OF WATER FALLING IS MIGHTY INVITING. WHY DON'T YOU GET CLEANED UP -- OR DOWN AND DIRTY ALL OVER AGAIN?
⑦ I'LL SLEEP WHEN I DIE: SLEEP? WHAT IS THIS SLEEP THING YOU SPEAK OF? DAWN'S BREAKING AND NEITHER OF YOU HAVE GOTTEN A WINK, OR WANT ONE. WHO'S READY FOR ROUND asjldkjl?
⑧ A BITTER PILL: TURNS OUT THE REASON YOU SCORED WASN'T YOUR SPARKLING WIT AND MAGNETIC CONFIDENCE. YOUR PARTNER HAD AN ULTERIOR MOTIVE -- THEY ALREADY KNEW IT, AND YOU'RE ABOUT TO. RECON? REVENGE? REBOUND? TAG AND FIND OUT, IF YOU CAN HANDLE THE TRUTH!
⑨ THIS ISN'T MINE: THAT SLEEPY PERSON IN YOUR LIVING ROOM HAD A GREAT NIGHT -- WITH YOUR ROOMMATE. WELL, MIGHT AS WELL GET TO KNOW EACH OTHER WHILE YOU'RE BOTH THERE, RIGHT? ... RIGHT?
⑩ WILD CARD: ROLL MORE THAN ONCE AND COMBINE SCENARIOS, CHOOSE YOUR FAVOURITE, OR MAKE UP YOUR OWN!

Stolen from here.

Comments

[clueingforlooks]

[Her wickedness was what he liked about her, but it wasn’t the only thing.

He liked this too, how she brought him against her hard with those long legs (stealing a sound from him that was a small victory in itself), liked how she refused to give up her grasp of control over the situation. She never did let down her guard, not even last night, not even in the middle of it all, the mad scrabble for the bed with their clothes falling down around them. He wanted to know why, but he had a sense that he knew why she couldn’t let go, that it was the same reason that he kept his distance.

She, hungry as she is for anything like a read on how he really felt, can’t help but notice how and where his eyes linger when he looks at her. Her hair is splayed around her head like a dark halo. He wouldn’t admit to it, but he likes her best like this, makeup slept-in (though they hadn’t slept much) and hair undone. She looked less severe and more human, and Sherlock of all people shouldn’t prefer that.

She shifts, arching, pressing against his chest, and she’s not fighting hard enough. If she wanted to, he knew she could get away from this. Which meant this was where she wanted to be, and that was interesting because it meant she wanted him to take the control, at least some of it, at least for the moment. It was all he needed to know.]

Probably, [Maybe it’s a promise, maybe it’s his admittance that he doesn’t know what he’s doing any more than she does.

What he does know is that this is, for better or worse, exactly where he wants to be, too. Later, he would deal with the consequences, but right now? Now he was going to try and make her regret her words, because the alternative was far too dangerous.

He ghosts over her neck with his lips and catches that place on her skin that craves it, gives it a glancing bite and moves to her collar bone, the barest hint of stubble grazing her soft skin.]

Do you trust me?

[The question is softly spoken as he reaches back, pushing her legs free from around him, and he’s letting her wrists free at the same time. Pinning her down was never the point, because there’s more than one way to take control, and judging by the look in his eyes as he spoke, the question absolutely has one correct answer.

No, he’s not to be trusted, and it doesn’t matter what she says in response. It’s a question for his own purposes, gauging her response to it the same as he gauges the response of her body, the racing of her pulse or the dilation of her pupils. He’s waiting to see if she hesitates, to hear the tone of her voice, as much as he wants to know what she will say.

He’s looking up at her expectantly as he moves, teasing his way down the landscape of her body, laying kisses like he intends to lay claim, paying attention to her body where he knows it will earn him a reward; nipples, breasts and the valley between them.]

[herrin]

[ he was staring.

if she hadn't been so focused at the moment, she might have actually felt a touch of insecurity - did he dislike the way her hair curled when it wasn't carefully pinned up? did she have mascara smeared from her eyes to her chin? was she not what he liked; and if she wasn't, what did he like? for a moment, her breath visibly caught and she stared in return, not with interest, not with aim to please, but .. .vulnerably.

and then the moment is past and his lips are on her neck, tugging and nipping and for a moment she forgets not to fight him and does in earnest, demanding to be able to press her hands into his hair, to run one down his back and drag her nails across his skin in encouragement. ]

Do I--?

[ she lets him push her away, her hands still resting on the mattress. that was unexpected; out of anyone else, she might have thought it a tactic, to get her riled up and then ask her questions to see if her guard will fall. no, she's thinking, but for once she's unable to come up with a reason to dissemble.

trusting him was seductive. the idea of being able to trust him with her secrets, her past, her life .. irene wasn't completely comfortable with it, but it felt easy. it felt as though she could open her heart and just share things with him, things she'd never told anyone else before. the idea of having someone like that ...

she's hesitated long enough, which at least told him she was thinking about the question in earnest. once his lips close around one perked nipple, her breath hitches and she's forced to reply, forced to say something to smother the moan that threatened to give her away. ]

No.. And yes. [ she breathes, finally winding her hands in his hair, touching him in an attempt to distract him from what she knew her body must be telling him. pulse, elevated; pupils almost fully dilated, despite the early morning light. ]

I would explain but .. you're making it very difficult to think.

[clueingforlooks]

[Did Sherlock really want her trust? Possibly, but if he did, he wasn’t admitting it to himself. He just wanted to see if she would give it, and her hesitation, more than her words, said that if she didn’t, she wanted to.

There’s a low, seductive hum of his voice in lieu of a nod that he’d heard her, and his eyes cast up along the length of her body.

He doesn’t want her trust. He doesn’t want her close, doesn’t want inside the shell she’d erected around herself to stay safe. He’ll just bring that all crashing down, or she will around him. That’s the danger in proximity; when two houses are very near each other and one begins to fall, it may not bring the second down with it, but it almost certainly does damage to the foundation. And Sherlock’s foundation is cracked to begin with; he can’t afford the risk.

But still, he’d wanted to know. Selfish. Heartless. He hardly cares. She’d asked him to prove to her just how not sentimental he was, and here he is, mouth laving a trail down her body with a clear destination.

What’s his plan? Keep alternating caress and conversation until she slips and lets something out that she regrets? Or push, provoke, make this feel dangerous enough that she finally takes the upper hand, really takes it…?

Last night, in truth, he’d come to silence his mind. The sex, as much a frantic mess as it had been, had quieted him for a time, but he’d come to her for a reason… he’d come to her for the services that she provided to men and women who needed something more than a tumble into the sheets.

And now that he’d had a taste for the tumbling, he wanted a great deal more from her than just the mental silence that pain at her hand provided him. He wanted her, her softness with smudged makeup and messy hair, and all the hardness and harshness of her profession stealing all the wild frenzy from his troubled mind.]

Am I…? [he’s sure he was making it hard to think. That’s his aim, anyway.

His mouth made its way down until he nuzzled at the apex of her thighs, and he breathed her in, hands skimming along the outside of her thighs as he moved lower still, tongue dragging slow and deliberate over her clit.

No, he hasn’t done much with sex in his life. He hasn’t done this, that’s for sure. He’d experimented in university, briefly, but it quickly became too much a hassle to keep up the relationships that were required to get to the experiments. But Sherlock was confident that if what he was doing wasn’t satisfactory, that she would correct him.

And oh, did he hope she would correct him.]

[herrin]

[ this was growing dangerous - not that it hadn’t been dangerous to start with. she was sharing things, secrets, and her body would tell him what was the truth. but she was long past the point of caring about danger; having a brush with death would do that to you. what was the worst he could do? threaten to have her almost killed again?

she wanted to trust that he wouldn’t hurt her, purposefully. and she needed to trust that her walls were now high enough and strong enough to never allow him the opportunity to do so again. she’d learned her lesson well the first time; she didn’t have any wish to end up where she had been all those months ago.

and the way he was looking at her, touching her, speaking to her was threatening to put her right back where she started.

if he asked later, she definitely had a snappy retort - but the moment his breath touched the inside of her thighs, she lost most coherent thought. she was still sensitive from the night before and the many rounds then; it made for a heightened sensation when his tongue finally laved over her clit. her back arched all the way off the mattress and she keened, low in her throat, biting back an even louder noise of pleasure, as her hands tightened in his hair, pulling almost a bit painfully. she wasn’t hurting him on purpose, this time; it was an unconscious reaction to pleasure. ]

You .. [ when she was finally able to manage something other than a pathetic mewling, she draped one leg over his shoulder, her voice a little more than breathless. ] Don’t be .. contrary. It doesn’t suit you.

[ but god, glancing down and seeing him in between her thighs, that definitely did. that wasn’t anything she would care to forget anytime soon. ]

[clueingforlooks]

[For a man like Sherlock, her allure isn't in her beauty.

It's in her secrets.

He's unaware of the beautiful. He's said as much before. She has surface and depth, angles and softness, she has contrast and shadow and that's where his interest lies.

Underneath and in between the layers.

He's watching her. Cataloging detail as he learns her stops and starts, informed by some combination of research and observation. He knew what ought to work and saw what did, what brought her from the bed, back arched, what drew sound from her, what caused her to try and muffle her cries. What earned him hands fisting the curls of his dark hair.

His hand follows her thigh as she drapes it over his shoulder, tugging it into place as he settles close.

He knows he's contrary, but mercifully for him, he doesn't stop to answer her. He just hums.

A low rumble of sound against her slick folds.]

[herrin]

[ the possibility of thought has quite escaped her at the moment, otherwise she might have mused more over what exactly it was that he found attractive about her and possibly come to the correct conclusion. dimly, she registers the calluses on his fingers running over the back of her thigh, but that is about it in terms of thoughts at the moment.

the hum was almost her undoing and she arched a bit more, her back protesting as she sough to shift and press herself further into his mouth, a desperate moan punctuating the air. her fingers flexed in his hair and then she forced herself to loosen her grip, lest she actually hurt him.

how was he so good at this already? damned man. ]

Taking my words to .. heart.. are we?

[ she managed in between quiet gasps, hips rocking slightly. show me how not sentimental you are. if there was a wicked one between them, it was certainly him at this exact moment. ]