bakerstreet | Wedding Night

Wedding Night

The Wedding Night Meme
a smut/shipping meme

The wedding bells have rung - or the correct sacrifices have been made, depending on your culture. Whatever the case may be, you're married now, and the night is yours. However, there is one expectation on you: it's time to consummate the marriage.

Whether you're in love, in this marriage because it was arranged, or absolutely in hate with your new spouse, you're with them now. Have you two been intimate before this, or is your first time...with them or first time period? Do you know what you want and are you full of lust, or do you have no clue what's going on? Maybe you even have to seduce your partner who wants nothing to do with this!

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Thread out wedding night smut and shipping.

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[Just a heads-up - I'll be going out of town for about a week or so, so my next reply might take a little while. Sorry!]

Even though they'd reached this point - intimacy, a removal of clothing, a clear amount of trust built up between them - Bruce was still wary of overstepping some boundary. It wasn't that he was afraid of women or worried about her not liking him; no, she seemed to like him well enough by now that that particular fear had been laid to rest. He was more concerned with pushing too far.

She seemed capable of telling him so, though, and he trusted her not to lie, especially about her own comfort and happiness. So, with all those emotions settled inside of him, he leaned forward to capture her lips once more, one hand reaching forward to cup her cheek. He was a little less chaste this time, spurred on by the sight of her, trying to find out where the boundary between them was.

It was for scientific purposes, really. Things would work better between them when they figured out exactly what the other wanted, needed, and expected. Then they could compromise. Then they could make this marriage work. Until they found that line, though - well, he was going to allow himself to kiss her the way she deserved to be kissed: not by a shy, awkward man, but by her husband, full of awe and respect and devotion.

((no problem! I'll come back to this whenever you can!))

It might seem reasonable to just talk about things. Or it would, if Jemma had any idea what her level of comfort with all of this was. She was in completely uncharted territory. It was going to take some experimentation to find what they both wanted from whatever relationship this was. Talking could come later.

For the moment, Jemma was content to let herself sink into the kiss, returning it with youthful eagerness. His hand on her cheek warm, the same not quite rough patches from too many hours in the lab as her own hands had contrast against her smooth skin. Her own hand lifted, hesitating a moment before coming to rest on his bare chest, hoping desperately that it wasn't a step too far, too soon, hoping he wouldn't mind her forwardness.

There must be a line they couldn't cross, and she worried about being the one to find it. Feared being the one to push too much, not think enough, and frighten him away from her. They'd developed a good rapport and a tentative friendship over the short time they'd spent together before the wedding. Jemma couldn't bear the thought of being the one to damage that. It must be hard for Bruce, she imagined, to develop real connections. If they were lucky, and if she was careful, she could be that to him.

They way Jemma returned the kiss, eager and perhaps a little inexperienced, brought two very clear thoughts to the forefront of Bruce's mind. The first was how glad he was that she was enjoying this, that he was making her feel good rather than frightening her away or disgusting her. The second was less innocent; he was reminded of her youth, of the years between them, and it made him want to teach her about intimacy. He had no idea what her past relationships had been like, nor how many or few there had been. Nonetheless, he liked the idea of taking the lead on this particular matter.

The press of her hand against his skin made him shiver pleasantly, his lips tugging upwards into a soft smile as he continued to kiss her. He pressed his palm over the back of her hand to reassure her that yes, this was good, before he allowed his hand to slide slowly up the length of her arm, mapping out the smooth skin there before coming to rest lightly against her shoulder. His thumb played idly with the strap of her camisole, not removing it but hinting that such an action could be undertaken if she so desired.

He only pulled away when the need for a break became evident, and even then he did so reluctantly. There was a slight flush on his cheeks, the colour caused equally by excitement and shyness. He opened his mouth to speak, but then realized he wasn't sure of what to say. As he sat there, his face still close to hers, he felt a stirring in his chest, that same need to protect and take care of her that he'd felt earlier, only stronger.

"Jemma," he managed at last, his voice quiet and earnest. "If you want anything - " he gestured to the both of them before continuing, "Here, or anywhere, please tell me. I won't do anything unless you want me to."

The immediate reaction of yes, of course she wanted something, she wanted everything he was willing to offer, was quickly shut down for a moment of rational thought. She'd hate to make a rash decision, caught up in a moment, that she'd regret later and wind up hurting him. She knew she needed to be sure. Completely sure.

She was quiet for a second, leaning her forehead against his. She enjoyed kissing him, certainly, and his touch did make her pulse rush, make her skin feel electrified. She could feel the heat spreading through her and knew what it all meant. More than just attraction, desire. It would be only too easy to let herself succumb to it. It should be easy. Bruce was kind, and gentle, had chased away all concerns about spending time with him. He'd certainly endeared himself to her, and sexual attraction, well, that had been there from the very start. She wasn't blind to how handsome he was.

It could be easy, Jemma decided quickly, and smiled, tilting her face to brush her lips against his again, quickly. "And if I want for you to do whatever you'd like?" Boldly, her hand traced down his chest, across his abdomen and around his side as she watched his eyes. "You have my word that I'll stop you if I'm uncomfortable. If you'll promise me the same."

Perhaps, since their entire relationship had been built backwards anyhow, they could develop something through being physical.

He was slightly surprised when she pressed her forehead against his own, but in a good way. The touch was gentle and intimate, and that protectiveness swelled within him again, that need to keep her close, safe from the dangers of the world. He wasn't a fool, of course; he knew that they both lead dangerous lives, that it would be impossible - and, moreover, wrong - to protect her from everything. Still, he couldn't fight off that particular instinct.

Her boldness surprised him as well, and he found his eyes widening as she looked up at him with those eyes of hers - those courageous, vulnerable eyes. Her touch left him shivering, and the anticipation he'd been holding back finally fought its way past its repression. He licked his lips quickly, trying to think, but he was lost in the physicality of her, in the way she was looking at him.

She wants you, his mind realized. Not because he forced it or because of their situation or anything else. She genuinely wanted him.

"I promise," he murmured, nodding faintly. The possibilities that lay before them made him feel dizzy with excitement. He didn't want to get ahead of himself, but the future seemed so open, suddenly, so full of potential - the two of them together would be a force to be reckoned with.

He shifted slightly, then leaned forward to kiss her again, his shyness quickly disappearing as her hand warmed his skin. His palm came up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing over her smooth skin affectionately, before sliding into her hair. His other hand, still on her shoulder, finally made good on its silent promise and gently tugged at the strap of her camisole, slipping it off of her shoulder only to replace it with his fingers, which played along her collarbone curiously.

He wanted her. He wasn't ashamed of it any longer; it wasn't wrong. As long as she allowed him to, he would show her that.

Maybe she'd expected him to hesitate more, though why she couldn't say. Maybe she hadn't really believed he wanted her the same way she was ready to want him. Regardless, Jemma was very glad that he didn't, a smile trying to pull her lips away from his when he did kiss her again and she realized she ought to be surprised more by how much she wanted to be doing it, how much she enjoyed it. Under normal circumstances, she wasn't the sort of woman who gave in to her instincts like that, who was ready to give herself to a man she hardly knew anything about that hadn't been printed in a file.

These were far from normal circumstances, and it should have been startling how much she'd come to care for Bruce in such a short time, how quickly his gentleness had soothed away all her reservations and fears about what this, whatever this, was.

She sighed softly, leaning into the kiss, returning it eagerly, coaxing him in closer. Jemma wasn't particularly assertive, but she did know what she wanted and had no problems making that clear. Her hands slid gently over his torso, tracing muscle and scars with the tips of her fingers, slowly working her arm around him.

Cautious, though, not to push for too much too soon, she made sure to take her time of it, hyper-aware of his fingers against her collarbone. Anticipation built inside her, her body responding to the simple touch, but her mind insisting that she couldn't simply force his hand down her chest where she wanted it to go.

It seemed this was out of character of the both of them, but Bruce was beginning to believe that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. He could imagine them working together, so why should it be difficult to imagine them touching one another? They were natural complements, though they were both somewhat passive at times. Jemma had a spark inside of her that drew Bruce out of his shell, that made him want to do incredible things and encourage her to do the same.

They were human, after all. These sorts of desires were completely normal. His fears - being too old, not handsome enough, not good enough - were wiped away as he felt her lips moving against his own. She was eager for this, he could feel it in the way she leaned towards him, in the way her palms smoothed over his skin. Her touches gave him confidence, and after a moment the hand he'd placed on her collarbone slid downwards to cup her breast, the silk of her camisole smooth against his fingertips. It was a ghost of a touch, light and shy, ready to move away should she want him to, but within himself he felt the urge to squeeze, to feel her.

He deepened their kiss, his lips parting to allow his tongue to press forward, seeking admittance. A hunger was building inside of him and he knew that, if they continued, he wouldn't be able to hold himself back for very long. He wanted to press himself against her, to devote his body to hers in a way that no one else ever had.

Jemma met every action eagerly, answering his hand on her breast with a pleased and encouraging hum, opening herself up to his pressing tongue the moment it was there. She'd decided that she wanted this, however strange a decision that might be for her, and she was intent on having it. On having him. Everything else between them may have been arranged, but that moment, the two of them learning to embrace one another, that was them. And Jemma was glad for the opportunity.

Her tongue moving against his, she shifted on the bed, pulling herself closer to him in a burst of bravery fuelled by the spark of arousal. The motion pressing her breast more firmly into his hand, a silent assurance that yes, it was alright, he could do much more than that if he wanted, she wanted much more than that. There was no reason to be shy about it now. It seemed clear that they both wanted this. She'd never dreamed of being there, like that, with him, but in the moment there was nowhere else to be.

Hands continued moving across his skin, slow and deliberate, her hands not as delicate as they looked. They were an extension of everything she was right then, determined and curious and gentle, inching forward as she sought the line, searched for the furthest point she could get without pushing too far. She didn't want to wait, but after everything Bruce had been through over the last several years it felt like it might be too fast to simply dive in at her own pace.

Somehow, in the midst of the chaos that was their lives, this thing between them had become a sort of rock to hold on to. Bruce was beginning to realize that the intimacy they were sharing was something special, something important. They didn't have to do this, after all. There was no need to truly consummate this marriage; as long as they behaved like a married couple in public, they would be alright.

But being able to choose this meant they had some measure of control over what had happened to the both of them. Choosing to touch, to explore, to accept the other without conditions or restrictions - it was important. Thinking about it made Bruce shift closer, made him grow more confident, more eager than ever before.

He continued to kiss her for a long moment before finally breaking away to breathe. He kept their faces close, though, and his lips found themselves kissing at her cheek, along the line of her jaw, down her neck, claiming the skin for himself. "Jemma," he murmured, saying the name more possessively now, as though by speaking it aloud he could bind her to him in a way no one else could.

The hand on her breast hesitated no longer; he squeezed at her flesh enthusiastically, hoping to draw some sort of response from her. His free hand wound itself around the back of her neck and up into her hair, fingers carding through the brown strands, gripping gently before letting go.

He shifted against her touch, wanting more, wanting her to know that he was ready for whatever she wanted to do. He didn't care about waiting anymore; he wanted this now, wanted to claim this as their own, as the one thing that belonged only to them.

In that moment, the insanity of everything that had led them to being here, led them to being able to do this, was forgotten. Every thought about it silenced by the anticipation of what was to come and by the pleasure his lips on her skin, his hand on her breast, gave her. Jemma forgot all about the rest of the world, zeroing in on him and then. It felt right, and good, natural like they'd known each other much longer than they had, had feelings much deeper than she was sure they did. It was the wedding night she'd always imagined she would have.

Her head tilted slightly as his lips moved down against her neck, offering more to him, a soft gasp escaping her as his fingers grasped her hair. Not a sound meant to push him away in the least, but rather one that expressed pleasure and appreciation, both of that and his newly discovered enthusiasm in fondling her. Her camisole felt even tighter than it had to begin with, and her nipple stood hard against his palm.

Arousal made her bold, sent her into actions she wouldn't have otherwise even considered. She didn't want to wait, it seemed clear enough that neither did he, and so Jemma was determined to give them both what they wanted. She wriggled a little to adjust her position, and quickly just moved so she could straddle his lap, pulling their bodies closer together, pressing against him with the same eagerness she'd approached everything else so far. There was no trace of hesitation, or anything more than affection and lust, as she dragged her hands across his skin, unable to stop touching and unable to settle them in any one place.

Whatever Bruce had expected of her, it wasn't this. The press of her body, slim and warm and perfect, against his own made him gasp softly, his eyes widening with startled pleasure. A grin crossed his lips and he leaned in to kiss her eagerly, no longer holding back out of fear or worry. His hand squeezed at her chest before slipping away, palm brushing against her nipple, then smoothing itself over her side and around her back, then down to her waist and along her thigh.

Her own hands made his skin burn wherever she touched him, no doubt a side effect of not having done this in far too long. He felt himself grow harder beneath her and he knew it was obvious to her just how much he was enjoying the intimacy. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, the words coming out in a rush between kisses, his voice low and rough with desire. How a woman like Jemma had somehow ended up here, wanting him, wanting this, he would never truly understand - but he wasn't going to squander this chance now that it had finally been given to him.

His hands slipped around her waist again, squeezing almost possessively, before slipping up beneath the fabric of her camisole. As they moved they gathered the material, before finally tugging it up and over her head and tossing it aside. As soon as her skin was revealed Bruce's face dove towards her chest, where he pressed kiss after kiss to the top of her chest and along her collarbone, completely entranced by her. His palms returned to her breasts, squeezing and rubbing them with a mixture of eagerness and affection, and a happy sort of growl left his throat, unbidden.

Jemma did know better than to take anything said in a situation like this seriously, but the murmured compliment warmed her all the same. Whether or not anyone actually thought it of her, beautiful wasn't something she was told often. She heard cute, or pretty sometimes, and for the moment she was willing to let herself believe that Bruce really meant it, that it wasn't just words in the heat of the moment.

It was nice to pretend that they were a real couple, and that he really thought she was beautiful, and that all of this was more than what it was. More than just a choice to act on physical desires.

The moment her camisole was off her body, she slid her arms around his shoulders, stroking them, up his neck and down his arms, mindful of allowing him space to move as his lips fell to her chest and his hands returned to her breasts. The combination of attentions and the obvious hardness between them sent wave after wave of pleasure through her, and the growl that reached her ears very nearly took her breath away completely. He was enjoying this as much as she was, that was clear enough, and she answered the noise with a similarly happy and breathless giggle, wiggling encouragingly in his lap.

She'd said whatever he liked, and though she hadn't really expected him to want what she did, she was more than just pleasantly surprised that not only did he want it, he seemed very skilled at doing it.

At this point, Bruce wasn't sure of his own feelings any longer. He knew that he had a physical desire to be close to Jemma, and he definitely felt the need to protect her, but anything deeper than that seemed wrong, somehow - as though he hadn't earned the right to call it love. His words were true, though. He didn't like to lie; he'd rather say nothing, or evade the truth, than make up a falsehood.

He hoped she could believe him when he called her beautiful, because she truly was. It seemed as though she may not have been spoken of in that matter enough times, which made him want to repeat it again and again until she heard the truth in his words. Even if they had never become intimate, he would still know it to be true.

If anything, her giggle and the accompanying movement of her body pushed Bruce to continue. She seemed to be enjoying this, and he wouldn't think of stopping unless she clearly seemed to want it. Whatever the reasoning behind it, he was determined to make this good for her.

His lips pressed down along her breast, over the gentle slope of it, before he caught her nipple between his lips and tongued at it playfully. A roll of his hips drew away any doubt as to the effect she was having on him, and after a moment more of caressing her waist his hand drifted south, fingers seeking out the warmth nestled between her thighs and pressing gently against her womanhood through the cloth of her pyjamas.

As far as Jemma could imagine, there were no circumstances in which she'd want to stop this. She was enjoying it, wanted it, wanted him. More than she'd ever imagined being possible until she'd met him. His quiet charm, his brilliance, his gentle nature, all those things had drawn her to him, and at first it had been curiosity and fear and duty that had kept her close. In truth, it was those things that had kept her doing everything she'd been asked to do until they were married and the door to their room had closed behind them.

Short minutes had changed fear to trust and duty to desire.

Her hands continued to stroke his skin, pausing once as she gasped softly at the sensation of his lips on her nipple, fingers pressing into him as a shock of pleasure and anticipation jolted through her in response. Pausing again with an equally soft moan when his hand slid between her legs. Even through the thin layers of silk shorts and lacy panties beneath them, the pressure and heat of his hand had Jemma rocking her hips to seek out more. Then she couldn't resist what she wanted any longer, and worked one of her own hands between them, to slip her fingers beneath the waist of his pyjamas, just enough to tease, to make her intentions clear.

Now that they had gone this far, Bruce was allowing himself to cross the mental line between admiration and attraction. Given the way Jemma was moving against him, it was clear that she wanted this just as much as he did, and that she was enjoying the things he was doing to her. Seeing her react like this made him want to continue, to give her more, to make her feel the greatest pleasure possible.

He was so wrapped up in watching and touching her that he didn't realize what she was doing until he felt her hand slip beneath his pyjamas. The sensation made him react instantly, his length growing harder than ever and his own hips pressing up to meet hers. An impatient sound rumbled in his throat and he leaned forward to kiss her deeply.

Then, with as much care as he could muster given the distractions clouding his judgment, he maneuvered them so that Jemma was on her back and Bruce was above her. He kissed her again as his hands grasped the fabric of her pyjamas, tugging it down past her hips and along her legs. He only pulled away so that he could discard them completely, then returned, his lips seeking out the skin of her waist and belly, his hands smoothing themselves over her thighs.

In kind, his reactions made Jemma smile, made her want to work harder to draw more out of him. And not only because it benefited her. Such a kind and gentle person like Bruce, who had to be constantly warring with something less kind and far less gentle within himself, deserved whatever she could give him and she wanted to give him everything, despite the short time they'd known one another.

Before she could act, though, she was moved, and with what that led to she found it impossible to object. She did want this, and the further things progressed the more anxious and eager to continue on she became. She almost wanted to demand that he hurry up, but that wasn't like her at all, and impatient as she might be she knew anticipation would make what was to come that much better.

The touch of his lips to her stomach brought a pleased sigh from her, one smooth leg lifting to brush against his body as hers was kissed and caressed. Her hands slipped into his hair, not to stop nor to press further, simply to maintain some sort of contact while she allowed him to do as he liked for the moment, allowed herself to simply enjoy his attention before insisting on returning it.

The intimacy they'd found with one another was quickly becoming one of Bruce's favourite things. Being able to make someone - especially someone like Jemma - feel so comfortable and good was something he hadn't been entirely sure he was capable of. The sighs and sounds coming from her were like a balm for his anxiety, reassuring him that he was doing this correctly.

It had been a long time, but he hadn't forgotten everything. The press of her hands in his hair made him grin, a warm hum growing in his throat as he slid further downwards, his lips tracking their way along her skin. It wasn't long before he found himself between her thighs, the scent of her somehow simultaneously strong and ethereal. He glanced up at her, checking one last time to make sure that this was truly alright, before leaning in to press his lips against her.

Being so close to the most intimate part of her body triggered something in him, and before he really thought about what he was doing he was parting his lips and pressing the flat of his tongue against her, licking a long stripe upwards and groaning appreciatively at her taste. He looked up at her again, making sure, but he was fairly certain that he had no reason to worry.

There was absolutely no reason for him to worry at all. Jemma not only welcomed his attention, she encouraged it.

A tremble rushed through her at the first touch of his lips, anticipation realizing and rising again only to once more be satisfied by the stroke of his tongue. Eyes fluttering closed, Jemma's fingers threaded through his hair, . A low hum of pleasure escaped her, and she did nothing to try to stop it, letting herself make the noise she would usually try to suppress, letting him hear her enjoyment. It seemed to her he might like that, that he'd appreciate knowing clearly that she was enjoying herself.

Which she was very clearly doing.

"Bruce...." she murmured, hoping it sounded as encouraging as she intended for it to be.

Giving no resistance at all, her legs parted wider, opening herself up to him with a small, slightly open-mouthed smile. Her patience already was thin, desire building in her quickly, making her want to return the attentions being given to her, but they could take their time. They had all night, all week, the rest of their lives, even. A part of her hoped it would be that long.

She was right - all of the sounds she made emboldened him, encouraging him to continue. She wasn't the only one enjoying this; Bruce found himself completely enraptured by her. He used to love doing this back before the accident happened, and he was glad that he hadn't lost too much of his technique since then.

He hummed a little against her, hoping the vibrations would travel along her skin and ignite her nerve endings. After licking his way from her opening up to her clit, he pushed the hood aside and very deliberately flicked the tip of his tongue against that small, sensitive part of her. He wished he could tell her how amazing she felt and tasted, but his mouth was otherwise occupied and he had no desire to pull away just yet.

Gently, he ran one palm down along the inside of her thigh, then traced his fingers down towards her entrance. Although he wanted to take his time with this he was beginning to realize that he'd lose patience eventually; he was already having a hard time keeping himself from grinding down against the bedspread.

He wouldn't rush this, though, so when he finally slipped a finger inside of her it was slow and careful. The groan that left him as he felt how tight and wet she'd become couldn't be held back, however.

Technique was definitely not something he lacked. Every touch of his tongue drew Jemma further away from her insistence toward immediately responding in kind, convinced her instead that he wasn't only doing it because he felt that he ought to, that he enjoyed licking her as much as she did. The sort of technique he exhibited came from experience, and experience was gained by enjoyment.

His tongue finding her clit, perfectly teasing it, drew a sharp gasp from her, her hands tightening in his hair for a moment before she consciously forced herself to relax them. As good as it felt, his mouth and his hands on her skin, his fingers tracing closer and closer to where she wanted them the most, and as much as she wanted to show him that, she wasn't sure where the line of too far was. The very last thing she wanted was to do something he wouldn't like, to drive him away. Not after they'd come this far, not before she got to make him feel as good as he did her.

She didn't know what was okay yet, was still restraining herself in a lot of ways for fear of finding something that wasn't.

A low groan echoed his when finally his finger slid into her, exactly what she wanted and yet not enough, appreciative noises, at least, she was more or less confident in, and Jemma's hips rocked toward him, pulling his finger as deeply into her as she could. Not as quietly as she would have wanted to be, she moaned: "Oh yes...."

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Wedding Night

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