bakerstreet | cuddle up

cuddle up

CUDDLE MEME

what to do:
☆ post a comment with your character's name and fandom or preferences, if you have them.
★ use the magic RNG 1-12 to pick the cuddly scenario. or not.
☆ then cuddle it out!

cuddle choices:
① Sweet dreams It's been a long day and all you want to do is sleep or just rest your eyes for a bit. Hopefully whoever is close by doesn't mind if you use them as a blanket.
② Stormy weather The heavy rain, thunder and lightning won't be letting up anytime soon. Luckily, it's the perfect weather to stay indoors and snuggle up close and keep warm.
③ Lazy dancer It's the end of a party, or maybe it's only the two of you, but the tempo is slow and the lights are low. Let your dance partner take the weight and just sway.
④ Surprise attack Time to invade someone's personal space. Are they working too much and need a distraction? Maybe you just wanted to brighten their day. Either way, they won't see it coming.
⑤ Movie night It can be on the sofa or in a darkened theater, but you've got your popcorn and someone to settle against during your favorite movie.
⑥ I love you, man It's totally platonic, really. You're just very good friends, no matter what people like to think. But you just love your friend so much you want to hug them, whether they like it or not.
⑦ Jeepers creepers Welp. You were just frightened. Was it a spider in the washroom, a ghost in the attic, a bad dream? Either way, you're looking for someone to cling to right now, and who better than that person right there?
⑧ Hurt and comfort Whether you're sick in bed, just been dumped or suffered a traumatic event, you need someone to wrap their arms around you and make everything go away.
⑨ Sunday morning Maybe you just had a wild night. Maybe there’s just not enough space at your place and you need to share your bed. Or maybe you just got really tired and someone else happened to be there. Doesn't matter because now the person with you looks way more comfortable than any blanket or pillow. Drape to your heart’s content.
⑩ Moment after You just had incredible, vigorous sex (playing out is totally optional) and if you weren't a cuddler before, you are now. You're probably too exhausted to do anything else anyway. Just enjoy the moment.
⑪ Ménage à trois Or four, or five. Get a group and cuddle away.
⑫ Player's choice Pick one or make up your own!

coding taken from

erotiquely

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

Not God. [ Erik smiles like a wolf, sharp and mischievous against the base of his spine, his tongue warm and wet before he attempts the second finger. It's delightful, getting Charles nice and pliant and begging for more. His body is reactive, and Erik loves the way Charles clenches around his fingers -- no matter how many times he's fucked him this way, Charles is still tight, stunningly so. ]

Erik.

[ Call his name if you must, Charles -- Erik would very much rather that than a deity he has long abandoned. To drive the point home properly, he pushes an oil-slick second finger deep inside him with little warning. He's already nicely prepared, but not quite stretched to accommodate Erik.

Not yet.

He's barely touching against Charles' prostate, the bundle of sensitive nerves that he knows drives the man wild, and he deliberately shies from doing it, kissing the inside of his lover's thighs and watching the way Charles' tight hole so greedily sucks him inside. A grunt: ]

We could find out now.

[ Again and again he thrusts his fingers in and out of him, generously coating his insides -- Charles would need a lot of preparation to take Erik in, and Erik is so aroused it almost hurts, having to hold himself back from giving Charles the good, thorough fucking they both crave. I know. I know, Charles. ]

Any louder, and you'll wake the others.

No they won't. [You can practically hear the smile in his voice.]

Trust me. We can scream this house down tonight and nobody is going to be wiser.

[It's a slight abuse of his abilities but - well. He feels hot and aching, and right now the only thing that matters is Erik's touch and the fact that his cock isn't inside him. But there are two fingers inside him now, and oh, it feels good. Charles closes his eyes and lets himself relax into those fingers.]

Oh, Erik.

[The brush against his prostrate is maddening, both tantalizing and not enough. His head drops onto the counter once again as he presses his moans into the wood underneath his cheek.]

Erik, Erik...

[He keeps repeating his name until it forms a chant that's barely whispered.]

[ It's a plea that he enjoys, words that become a prayer that urges him on, sinking two fingers again and again deep inside of him. Erik watches Charles with lust, with amusement -- knowing far too well that even if one of them were to enter right now, there is nothing they would see save for an empty, quiet kitchen.

Charles is powerful, terrifyingly so, with no limit to the potential he can achieve, and Erik supposes that it is the gift, and the clarity that comes with it that allows Charles to assume the role of a leader, especially so to the fledglings who were still new to this world, who can never hope to understand the depth of human cruelty.

He pulls out his fingers, only to add a third just briefly -- it's a tight fit, but he's slippery enough that there's no friction, no abrasion, and finally he straightens up fully before drawing them out completely, guiding his own thick cock, slick with oil so that the head pressed against his eager, willing hole. Another push, and Erik quietly murmurs Charles' name, the sensation that closes around just the head of his cock enough to make him tense with anticipation, with a surge of incredible pleasure that takes his breath away.

It's a slightly tighter fit than Erik's anticipated, but good enough, as he grips hold of Charles' hips -- bruising but not overly so. ]

Charles, damn it --

[The feel of it makes him inhale sharply; his spine tenses. There's a drawn out silence before Charles shudders and emits a loud groan. It hurts, but only slightly, and he braces both arms against the counter as he waits for his body relax. The sting eases. And when that's passed:]

More.

[He pushes himself back so that he takes in the tiniest bit more. It's a taunt, and not much else. He wouldn't really deny Erik the satisfaction of thrusting into him when he's waited this long.]

Please, Erik. Give me more.

[ Charles' response spurs him on, the way he needs it and the way it affects him. A part of him is tempted to clamp his hand over his mouth to stop anyone from waking up, because Charles is a wonderfully loud lover, but a larger part of him prefers to skirt that dangerous line, all the while still knowing that no one will wake while they're here like this.

Hand curving over his hip, intimately close, Erik leans in for a brief kiss before he pulls out slowly, so much so that only the head is left in him before he thrusts in sharply, introducing the edge of roughness to their lovemaking that he knows Charles savors. ]

Patience.

[It makes Charles buck against the counter and he lets out a purposefully loud moan. He gasps out:]

If you want me to be quiet, you'll have to make me.

[And he sends Erik images of hand at his throat, then clamped over his mouth while he moans against the flat of his palm. Or even a thumb under his chin while he's made to suck on fore and middle finger. More than that - he kindles the memory of his mouth hot and wet against Erik's skin. It's deliberate, and it's taunting, and he's determined to rile him up and test his control.]

Make me, Erik.

[ And Erik does, thrilled by the images that Charles sends him, the noise he makes while writhing beneath. He's too good at this, Erik decides, when Charles manipulates and plays with him to stir the pot, to bait him and rile him up in ways that he delights in fiercely.

He pushes two fingers into his lover's mouth, then -- pressing lightly against the tongue as his thumb rubs his chin. It's a silent command for him to suck, to occupy him so that he didn't cause any more mischief. He thrusts up deeply inside him again, with a lewd slap of flesh of flesh that is never unexpected with their lovemaking. Charles is tight, hot and willing as Erik buries himself inside him, gripping his hip bruisingly before he fucks him in short, shallow thrusts. ]

Shameless.

[ Ragged, but fond, and Erik just barely brushes the head of his cock over that sensitive bundle of nerves inside him, holding back and clearly intending to drag out the moment. Pretend you're sucking on my cock. ]

[That's hardly big enough, Charles teases, but he does as he's told. Soon he's sucking and making fluttering motions with his tongue like he had earlier. And it's a good thing, too. He can't help but make short, quick moans after every thrust, and the fingers do an excellent job of muffling the noise.

Shameless, yes. Charles leans back a little until he's resting on Erik's frame, head tilted so that he might see that talented mouth at work. Look at what you've reduced me to. I need you, Erik. I need you to make me come and I'll beg and beg, do anything you want to me, please, Erik, please--

He loops an arm up and around, until his hand is resting on the back of Erik's neck. His palm smooths and kneads against the skin, urging and soothing and needing.]

[ I see you.

Charles is incredible when he's begging, when Erik reduces him to this and there is a warm pleasure in Erik's chest -- distinctly Charles-shaped in ways he would not admit. Charles, so lovely when he's eager, dirty lewd thoughts tumbling from his mind for Erik to see. He's chuckling quietly at that glib remark before he responds to that plea, allowing him to see, to feel his mouth against his ear, his cheek, his throat, nipping and licking and kissing, unable to have enough of Charles and the taste of his skin.

He's supporting Charles, intimately and willingly, tightening his grip around him as he continues to move, harsh and fast but thorough, sinking deep into him as he continues to fondle Charles' cock, so hot and heavy and swollen between his lovely legs. Jerking him off at the very same time, he pulls his fingers from Charles' mouth, making a clear but slick trail down his stomach.

He gives when Charles asks without words, sinking into him in a rhythm that's quickly becoming wilder and wilder, thumbing the sensitive slit of his cock with measured strokes that just barely skirt the line between intense pleasure and pain. Beg. Let me hear you. I want to hear you begging for my cock. Begging to be filled with my come until it's dripping from your lovely little hole. Tell me how you want me to fuck you. ]

[A hoarse sounding moan escape Charles as soon as the fingers are pulled out of his mouth. Everything --the way Erik fucks him, jerks him, but especially the way he tells him beg-- it's all too much and he can feel the pressure building inside him with every thrust and touch.]

Fuck me, Erik--

[He clings tighter, his other arm going around to the small of Erik's back, eyes closing as he mouths wordlessly at the air, trying to catch his breath.]

--oh, please, harder. You feel so big and --and I need you, please, I--

[It's definitely all too much.]

Erik, I can't--

[He breaks off into a loud, impatient cry, very close but not quite there yet. And while his vocal range is tested, his mind becomes a constant stream of: fuck me yes Erik please fuck me coming hard go harder yes yes Erik yes Erik yes Erik Erik Erik.]

[ Erik is gratified by that noise, but his hand moves to cover Charles' mouth; despite his faith in Charles' abilities, he's still not looking forward to Charles being distracted in any sense of the word by anyone who decided to come down to check out that noise. Quietly thrilled by the litany of words that seem to stumble over each other like a prayer -- a prayer to him, and Charles does ever more complicated things to him in this way -- Erik gives him what he needs, what he's searching for.

Charles is his, in every sense of the word, and it's with this thought in mind that he brands the telepath with his body, with his touch and the biting kisses he leaves on the lovely skin of his bare shoulder. Erik cannot have enough, he can never have enough of Charles and his warmth, the sharp sweetness of his being, and he lets all his longing and desire be known, that Erik needs him, wants him the way he wants no one else.

And so he fucks him, hard and thorough, rubbing up inside of him so very intimately as he seeks out his mouth, quiet pants and gasps evident in the silence of the room, punctuated only by the slick, lewd sounds of their fucking. Charles -- damn it, Charles --

The things you do to him, really. ]

[He breaks away from Erik's mouth with a whimper, pressing his lips to that sharp jawline and trying to hold back the litany of cries that threaten to escape him because he's coming, and coming, and --]

Erik.

[-- the rest of him dissolves into sharp inhalations, until his lungs feel like they can't take any more air, until all he can do is make shuddering, gasping sounds. His nails scrape away from Erik's body and clutch onto the counter in front of him. Every pounding motion is amplified by the pleasure. And with one long, last moan, he half-collapses onto the counter.

Everything is sore and sweet and his mind reaches out to tangle into Erik's thoughts. Body penetrating body, mind penetrating mind. Everything about this is right and he feels whole.]

[ It's the whimper that he treasures, the split second before Charles' body tightens so deliciously around him, wracked with an intense, incredible orgasm that Erik could feel when warm fluids splatter on his fingers, on the smooth wood beneath the telepath's frame. He gasps when the heat of Charles' body around him becomes overwhelming, when it's all Erik can think of as he thrusts into him the last few times, wild and given in to the way Charles reaches for him, pressing into his thoughts --

-- he welcomes it when pleasure sparks white hot behind his eyes and he grips Charles' hips bruisingly tight, holding on to him while he rides out his own orgasm; they didn't use protection this time, too caught up with each other, and the primal satisfaction floods through him. It feels right, it feels perfect when he finally slumps against him, lips against the curve of his shoulder.

The edge of the kitchen counter is a mess of dripping semen, as is his hand, and Erik glances at the slick on his fingers before he deliberately, lazily licks it off his forefinger, tasting Charles while his own seed trickles down Charles' lovely thighs, from where they're still joined so intimately. ]

...Not bad.

Not bad?

[Charles is still breathing ragged, but he turns to look over his shoulder.]

If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to bait me for more.

[He moves so that Erik slides out of him, because what Charles wants now is to face his lover, press small kisses to his jawline in eager thank you, not caring that he tastes traces of his own cum when he presses his lips to Erik's. Or that he can feel the wet patch on the counter when he leans back, or what's trickling down his leg. He looks and feels disheveled; his blue eyes are anything but tired. In fact, there's a feverish sort of eagerness about him.]

It's working. And besides, you promised.

[ Erik's answering grin is rakish, wicked -- Charles is well on his way to wearing him out, with the way he's so incredibly insatiable when it comes to these things. He loves when Charles gets greedy, when he demands more of what Erik gives, and he tugs him closer, his chest pressing against the telepath's back with an easy intimacy that they've always shared.

Erik kisses him back just as eagerly, passionate and wanting so much more of him that it overwhelms almost all measure of common sense. Charles has never been more exquisite than right now, and he's a drug in his veins, warm and lovely and far too addictive for his own good, and he stifles a groan when he's out of Charles' heated, tight body, his own cock softened and slick.

His knuckles brush over Charles' cheek, a rare, tender gesture. ]

Shall we go up and continue in our bed, then? Or shall I fuck you again on the kitchen floor?

[Either the kitchen has gotten more chilly or both of those ideas appeal to Charles. He bites at his lower lip, as he twists from side to side in consideration.]

Hmm. [And he gives Erik the seeming once-over, before his fingers make little steps from chest, to collarbone, to shoulder, so that Erik will know he's teasing when he says:]

I don't know. Do you think you could manage? I mean, I'd be there on all fours, as you imagined me. Splayed open and ready for you. Begging you for more. Please, Erik, harder, Erik.

Do you think you could tug my head back and whisper in my ear? Push my face down and pin my arms behind my back? Or grab my sides with both hands while I brace myself?

[His voice is a hushed whisper in contrast to the moans of earlier, because he knows the effect he has on Erik, and it's equally intoxicating. The only thing that exists in the world right now is this kitchen or their bed, and the two of them -- nothing else. And to be so endlessly wrapped up in one person feels perfect.

He trails off from his last question with pressed lips and does his best to look doubtful (even if his eyes are sparkling.)]

Do you really?

[ Erik will take that second option, thank you very much. He's momentarily distracted when Charles bites at his lower lip in that way, so wonderfully kiss-swollen by this time that it's an unspeakably erotic gesture on its own. He knows this game that they play together, Charles' mischievously playful, baiting nature -- it's almost as if sex merely spurs him on, energizes him in the worst of ways to tease and tantalize, to keep all of Erik's attentions focused solely, intensely on him.

He sometimes feels he would drown in what he feels for Charles, the affections he smothers and doesn't acknowledge; but he's dealing with a telepath, here, and they both already know that denial is as pointless an endeavor as they come. Still, the words sink in, punctuated with delicate touches that do far too much to rev up his libido in record time, leaving him similarly intoxicated by the sheer weight of their mutual attraction. The images he introduces are absolutely incredible, explicitly filthy, and he simply smiles, all predatory instinct and wordless lust.

Erik would do all that and more, would fuck him endlessly if that was what he asked, until his body couldn't take anymore and Charles begged to stop. He closes his hand around Charles' throat firmly, but not roughly, the bump of his adam's apple pressing so gently against his palm. ] You know I never let a challenge go unanswered, Charles. But I have a better idea. [ His German accent bleeds thickly into his words, thumb strokes over the elegant line of Charles' jaw; a lover's touch, sure and proprietary. He moves back and leads Charles forward, towards the bathroom just a few doors away. He lets Charles glimpse it, the flash of an image -- of Charles on Erik's lap, Erik's chest flush against his back as he sits on the toilet with a lid over it; Charles' legs shamelessly spread before the large bathroom mirror, Charles' cock hard and dark and swollen with arousal, bouncing with every thrust Erik makes into his writhing, eager body. ]

The question is, will you keep up with me, Charles? I could fuck you, again and again and again, fill you up until you can't breathe. [ A flash of Charles kneeling on the bathroom tile before Erik's parted legs, eagerly sucking on his cock, Erik's hand clenched in his hair and urging him on. ] I could make you crave for my cock all day long. I could have you on all fours anywhere, and watch you stain the floors with your cum and mine.

[Charles knows he's in for something special when Erik smiles like that. When he feels the hand go to his throat, he swallows, which only heightens the sensation of the hold against his skin. He goes limp in an instant, easily maneuvered towards the bathroom, where those images fill his mind and oh, heaven help him. He feels his cock twitch and lets out a groan.]

Yes. [It's that same breathless quality before, but this time there's no teasing.] Fuck me until I can't move without feeling you tomorrow. I want to wear your bruises and your fingermarks. I want everyone to look at me like normal while we both know I'm nothing but a slut for your cock.

[Every word is said in his careful, proper accent and it makes Charles' cheeks burn because, up until now, he's found other ways to word his desires. And that particular epithet does something to him. Probably because that's not who he is in every other aspect of his life, but here with Erik, it's different. It's something like trust. He can show him the facets of himself he'd never dared let anyone else see and know that he'll still love him.

And to show he's not kidding, the next image he projects is him, on all fours, biting into a towel as Erik holds both ends and fucks him mercilessly. At least that would be one way to keep me quiet.]

[ It's an element of dominance and pain that Erik introduces into their relationship when he holds him like this with no intent to hurt him -- he's addicted to the pain more than he lets on, sometimes, desiring sharper abuse, and perhaps the slide of a knife against his forearm, the blade splitting the numbers in half only when he allows it -- but these are thoughts that come to him in darker moments, thoughts that are far from him now, replaced by the overwhelming need to push Charles to his very limits, to ride that lovely, fine line between pain and pleasure for as long as he can. ]

You will. [ Erik snarls quietly, irreversibly aroused by the way such filthy words spill from his lips, with that particular accent, too -- crisp and strong and associated for so long with conventional primness that he cannot help but tighten his grip on him briefly. He draws him nearer, lips brushing against his briefly, a primal light in his eyes. ] You're my slut, Charles. And you will remember this when you wear all my bruises and marks -- when you beg for me so shamelessly every time your shirt chafes against them.

[ He pulls a clean white towel from the rack and doesn't waste any time pushing Charles on all fours beneath him, shutting the bathroom door to reveal the floor length mirror behind it, as well as a reflection of their profiles. On his knees before his lover, he spares a few moments with a few tissues, wiping his cock clean from their earlier activities before pressing his half-hard length against those nice, plump lips. ]

Suck.

[Charles certainly doesn't mind. There's something almost therapeutic in the way he can give himself over to Erik in these moments and follow orders that lead them both to mindless pleasure. No worrying, no ifs, no buts. It's the closest he can get to switching off. One day he wants metal around his wrists and ankles, to have Erik pin him down with a flick of his ability, push and position him however he wants. Do with him whatever he wants.

But right now he's being pushed down and being given demands he's only happy to comply with.]

Yes, sir.

[It comes out more obedient than impudent and then he's doing just as asked. His lips, his mouth, slide around Erik's cock, as he starts to suck with an unknown fervour. Erik knows exactly what that tone, what that sort of talk does to him. Yours, he communicates, eyes shining as he looks up.]

[ It's an exercise in trust more than anything; where they are equal to each other but Charles chooses to yield, to submit to him. It's intoxicating, the power that the telepath gives him, the way he so fully obeys without question or attempt to wrest the command back to himself. Erik is endlessly enticed, enraptured by his submission, and one day, one day there would be metal binding his wrists and ankles, to use him completely with his own power.

But now, he pushes his cock between those lips, pushing further, further, glancing over at the mirror at themselves - he knows that that talk does to Charles, after all, and he makes a low, pleased noise of approval. ]

Look at you. You're everything a slut should be, aren't you? You need my cock inside you, and it doesn't matter how you get it. [ He strokes his hair gently, tenderly, before he grabs it and tugs his head back, keeping him in place before he starts to fuck his mouth in earnest, thrusting deeper, deeper, down the back of his throat with little mercy. And oh, what a sight he makes in the mirror, when Erik watches them like this. ]

Is this better?

[There's a muffled noise of surprise as Charles feels Erik's cock pushing further into his mouth, to the point where he goes still and focuses on staying relaxed, because he knows what's coming next. He loves what's coming next. The tug at his hair nips at his scalp but somehow manages to feel good and the way Erik's cock fills him oh, oh.

He can't help but take a look through Erik's eyes, to see what they look like, and he lets out a surprised, pleased sounding moan. Because Erik looks nothing short of magnificent and Charles is so completely, intensely attracted to him that even here on his hands and knees, he doesn't feel like it's enough.

Oh God oh Erik give it to me, give it to me. I'll take your cock any way you want to fuck me. And he closes eyes, feeling every relentless thrust.]

[ Erik is sure not to push any farther than he ought, but he's aware, too, that Charles would let him know if he is. The telepath, while stupendously gifted at yielding to Erik and driving Erik damn near mad with the hungry, fierce instinct to completely consume him, is also very good at knowing what he wants.

None of this could happen if Charles hadn't allowed it, and the weight of Charles' regard, his trust in him is astounding. He groans, low and quiet at the way those thoughts spur on the filthiest desires of his mind, and he forces Charles to deepthroat him, his thick shaft moving in and out of his lover's mouth, hitting the back of his throat and just the faintest bit further.

He cups his chin, urges him to tighten his mouth once he sinks himself into Charles' mouth so deeply that his lover's nose is buried in the soft thatch of auburn curls. Swallow around me. Let me feel your throat around my cock. Show me how much you need me. ]

[Charles does as he's told, swallowing again and again and it is so indescribably arousing to know just exactly how good this feels for Erik. He keeps it up for as long as he can, pushing himself as far as he can go.

But eventually his throat starts to constrict against his own will and he bats at Erik's hand, letting him know I need to move. He still has a gag reflex, after all, and it's only through practice that he's learned to go against that involuntary instinct.

Once his mouth is free of Erik's cock, he slips to the floor, until he's lying against the tiles and breathing harsh. Oh, but it feels good. A nice rush of adrenaline and seratonin meeting together in his mind and he lies there, eyes closed and making small, gasping whimpers. He tries to say something, but fails. Instead, his hand takes Erik's and shows him the whirls of reds and violets in his mind. Everything is sensuous and feels blissful and from that haze comes the call need you still.]

[ Erik answers readily, releasing him before moving upwards, covering Charles' body with his own with a low, pleased sound in his throat. He's threading his fingers with Charles' own, pressing his back to the cold tile of the floor as he moves above him -- for the moment struck by how completely gorgeous he is, by how hopelessly in love Erik had become with him before he had even realized.

His cock, slick with Charles' saliva, hangs heavy between his legs as he easily parts Charles' own, getting between them to lower himself against his lover, seeking his mouth for a long, tender kiss -- the sharp, consuming lust has blunted into something more intimate, into a connection forged anew between them as Erik continues to kiss him, a hand sliding up the back of Charles' thigh to hitch his leg up, coax it around his waist.

Charles needs him, and Erik will answer; there's no way he couldn't, when he pins Charles' hand, now twined with his own, onto the tile beside his head. I love you, he wants to say; desperately, fiercely, in all the ways that Charles should be loved and in all the ways that Erik sometimes fears. It burns so strongly in his chest, their completeness, the way Charles fits around him and the way Charles moves him that he exhales and breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead against his own. I fear I will drown in you.<./i> ]

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