bakerstreet | Our tiniest steps

Our tiniest steps

little steps

No matter how much they care for the other person and want to be with them, some people simply can't dive head first into relationships. Little things that form intimacy and romance, little acts we take for granted - being close, holding hands, kissing, showing affection in public - they won't or can't do...at least not right off the bat. Something in their past, their experiences, their trauma, or even their personality holds them back. For both them and the person they're "dating," as it were, this can lead to a frustrating experience.

Still, steps can be taken towards letting the walls fall down. Little, tiny steps, but those can mean the world all the same.

The People
One With the help of a partner, one person warms up.
Two Both sides of this couple are learning how to be in a relationship and to be open.

The Actions
Talking → A relationship can't exist if there's not some communication, so either learn to use your words or become so close you can speak without them.
Spending Time → Even such mundane occurrences as watching TV or cooking together is new ground.
Touching → You might just find you enjoy reaching out and touching them.
Kissing → Another kind of touch, when you think about it.
Cuddling → ...at least they're warm and, hopefully, soft.
Sleeping → You're at your absolute weakest when you're asleep. It shows trust to doze off around this person.
Public Display → It's one thing to be in love in private, but showing you care in public is a different story.
Kind Words → Three little words (more or less) are all it takes. Why, then, are they so hard to get out?
Sex The ultimate stumbling block to some. To be laid blissfully bare is to truly let your guard down.

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"Pancakes?" Pancakes are serious business. She would never joke about pancakes.

Her knees clamp together around his hand, and he can feel her vibrating with want.

"Oh fuck, Tony? Would you please unzip me and put me out of my misery?"

"Pancakes." He repeats back to her, leaning up just enough to watch her with a grin as she makes her demands and slowly he shifts his hand away from where he'd gathered her dress and up over her hip and toward the top of the zip.

"Like this?" He whispers softly, pausing when he gets only a quarter of the way down. "Wait-- this is all I need to do to sate you?"

God, he knows how to push all her buttons. She groans, chuckles, quietly pleading with him to have mercy. Her head falls back and she swears under her breath, something colorful that might have been about his questionable lineage.

"Do you want me to beg? Is that what you want? Because I'll do it, but pay back's a bitch, mister."

He does it on purpose. Likes to watch her squirm, likes to hear the expletives. Likes to know that he's really doing something good for her. Not that he could ever doubt his abilities.

"I want you to, but I won't make you." His lips stay quirked, and eventually he leans in closer to her, fingers abandoning the zipper of her dress in favour of pressing flat against her back as he presses a kiss to her cheek.

She exhales, wraps her arms around his neck, her hands cradling his head, her breath feathering against his ear.

"Please," she whispers. "Please take my clothes off and make love to me, Tony. Please."

There's no guile in her plea. No threat of retribution. No mockery. It is pure and raw and heartfelt, and it resonates in every bone in her body. She wants him. Needs him. In ways that mere words cannot express.

His eyes fall gently closed as soon as her breath passes his ear, and he sucks in a breath that he seems to forget how to let go as she whispers back to him. Another soft huff of breath and he reaches for that zip once again, tugging it down all the way as he tips his head against hers, pushing her into a kiss.

The notion of making love is not one he wants to think too deeply about, but he does want her - in a way he hasn't wanted anyone but Karen. As soon as the zip catches at the bottom of the dress he acts, working to slip her dress off. It's not easy, rushed and desperate instead.

She has to shift away from him to slip her arms out of it, but she keeps kissing him, like her very life depended on it. And to be honest, it feels like it does, here and now.

She's caught in the swift current, drawn along by the heat of his touch, and the weight of his regard. That laser like focus, she craves that the most out of all of the things he has to offer her. She shimmies out of the bodice, and pushes the dress down over her hips, careless of where it lands. Beneath, her best black lace bra and silken knickers, and of course, her garters, unmoored and unnecessary.

He follows her for kisses - whether it's up toward him where she needs to moves her arms or down with her as she shimmies her dress off. Of course, as soon as it's off, he needs to lean back and take a look. Unlike the last times, tonight she had time to prepare.

There's a great reward in the view, and as leans back he breaks into a smile - gaze flicking back and forth across her body and he can't help but lean down and press a kiss to the middle of her stomach, looking up at her from this angle - knowing.

"These look-- well thought out." He adds, leaning up just enough to drop his own hands, away from her and to his own pants instead. Really, he's wearing far too much for his liking.

She beams at him, hands combing through his hair, her stomach muscles fluttering under his lips. He might remember how ticklish she is. His hands drop away and she shifts to follow, needing to touch, and yes, eager to remove anything between him and her bare skin.

"I always like to plan ahead. Just. In. Case." She punctuates each word with another kiss.

He loves seeing that smile on her face, loves seeing the way her body shifts under his duress, and is totally not thinking about how he feels about these things.

Karen earns herself a soft hum, which he unfortunately follows with a grumble because he has to move, enough to be able to start shirking off his pants. The boxers go with them, there's just no point in prolonging this - not when he wants her. Right now.

"I like it."

She's done waiting, too. She pulls him back down to the bed, one hand curling around his cock, the other catching behind his neck so she can draw him in for another kiss. Her legs tangle with his, and even with him in hand, her hips rock into him. She caresses down his length, all the way down to the root and a little farther, savoring his responses, and the soft silken heat under her palm.

"You feel amazing," she breathes. "Did you ever think I was at home, jilling off to the thought of you skinny dipping with a cocktail in hand?"

His breath huffs out of him as soon as her fingers slip around his length, but it quickly shifts into a soft laugh - he's barely able to think straight and then she's supplying him with compliments as well as the weirdest mental images.

He's still laughing even as her hand moves further than his cock, and that's when his hands drop around her, looping behind her back and unclipping her bra - it's first to go the rest will follow. Eventually.

Has she finally managed to steal his words? Wow, she didn't even know that was possible.

She's breathing quicker, sure, but this already feels -- better, somehow. She'd be hard pressed to put it into words. He goes for her bra and she dips her head to kiss the side of his throat, down to his shoulder. Her hand grips a little tighter, stroking him now, savoring the weight of him, the heat bleeding through her skin into her blood.

She's not far off. Words are rarely difficult for him, but right now they're the last thing he wants to focus on. He almost slips in his attempt to rid her of her bra, but it comes off easily and he's quick to work on panties, choosing to dip his fingers in against each side of them, sliding them down her legs - aware that they'll need to move if either one of them wants to do something about them.

His hips shift as he does, too keen to feel more of the hand around him. Words are still too far out of reach for him... right now, at least.

She pulls away enough for him to get her panties to about mid-thigh, holding eye contact with him, trying to keep the mood playful and light. It means a lot for both of them. That doesn't mean it has to be grim.

The moment he has her just unclothed enough, she grins, and rolls to face away from him. Her hand still keeps hold of him and she twists at the waist to quirk an eyebrow at him in silent questioning. Is this okay?

Tony can't help the soft breath that escapes him as Karen rolls away, baffled for a moment - and he might have said something about it were it not for the hand still hanging onto him. Instead, he's left with a grin on his face - following after her with a careful shuffle, a hand reaching out to slip over her hip pulling her back toward him.

He presses a kiss against her shoulder, nuzzling his mouth against her soon after. He's slow about how he moves his leg, pushing enough to slip her panties further off her until they're loose against the bed.

She tips her head back, baring her throat to his kisses, swearing quietly under her breath. She sighs a low, breathy moan and her hips lift to press back into him. She curls the hand that was holding him around his arm, fingertips caressing down his forearm and guiding his hand between her thighs. His touch finds her warm and wet, and she dances for him, a subtle undulation that rolls down her spine and grounds in her hips.

There's something about this whole scenario that feels far more intimate than any other time they'd built up to sex. Her moans are nothing new, and neither is the way her body moves despite just how much he loves each and every gesture.

His mouth stays close against her neck as she guides his hand. He's quick to let his fingertips slip down against her, palm expertly pressed against her to keep her pinned back against him. No matter how much he wants to shift his hips, her leg and sink inside her right now he holds back, aware of how it sounds when she begs him - how soon he imagines she'll break for it.

She's aware he's toying with her but she doesn't care. Their pace careens between languid and desperate, and she's torn between racing straight to the endgame and lingering here in his arms, feeling the strength of his broad chest against her back, the press of his hips to hers, his lips playing over the delicate skin of her throat. She tries to remember how to breathe, but he's keeping her off balance and she loves every moment of it.

There was a time when she knew she was only the latest in a long string of women, and that his prowess in the bedroom was due to many, many hours of intense practical research. But that knowledge faded to the background laying on that beach blanket in the middle of the night, with his fingertips carding through her hair. Here and now, it is utterly irrelevant. He wants her. She can feel that in his every touch, his every breath.

She writhes between the touch of his hand and the brand of his cock against her behind. Her hand moves to his hip, pulling him close. The sole of her foot caresses down his shin and she lifts her knee, angling her hips to tempt him in return. She arches her head back, nuzzling against him however she can manage.

Of course, there's a different kind of begging going on here. Perhaps it's too soon for words, and maybe he won't manage to hold fire for too much longer if she's going to employ tactics like this. The silent communication is something he'd only found rarely in someone else. She wants him, begs without saying a word and he's helpless to it.

This slow, silent coupling will be his undoing. If he weren't 100% sure whether this - the two of them was something that could be good for the both of them, he is now. Maybe it's a shallow thought - but he can't bring himself to care, especially not right now.

A gentle gasp escapes him as her knee shifts and her hips move and his lips still their movement against her neck as he shifts his body, fingers already poised to guide himself inside her. His breath shudders from him, ghosting her neck and his next sound is akin to a whine from the effort of keeping things slow and careful. They need this, not just the sex but the tenderness in it - he needs it.

His hand slips from between her legs, palming up the inside of her thigh instead, caressing all the way up to her knee and back down - where he employs his fingertips over her skin. She'll move for him, he knows, they'll move together.

She doesn't need to think here, she just has to respond. He asks and she answers, opening to him farther, keeping the sole of her foot pressed against his leg, keeping contact with him from head to toe. Every touch is telegraphed in the quiet sighs, heat calling out to heat.

The hand at his hip moves to allow him room and she arches farther, circling her hips now, aching for him. Shifting like this, she invites him to wrap his other arm around her waist. She doesn't know if he realizes, this is her at her most vulnerable. She doesn't like to give up control, but in this, she trusts him. She needs this just as much as he does.

As soon as her body shifts he acts, in the slip of his other hand underneath her body, wrapping up around her, fingertips tracing a line up the middle of her body until his palm is pressed against her chest, nestled between her breasts to hold her to him. The rest of his body seems to move of it's own accord, rocking into her with each of her undulations.

Being on the precipice of his own emotions isn't something he's familiar with. Their coming together, not just like this, naked and wanting and needy - but in the most simplest of terms is more than he'd ever allowed himself before. She's more to him than anyone that had come before her, and he's aware - in some of the small nuances of her behaviour and actions that this is just as important to her.

He needs her, for so much more than the sex.

Despite the heavy, deep breaths he manages to nuzzle into her hair, pressing kisses along the column of her neck, words almost forming before they die on his lips - it would break this reverie, and he's afraid of losing this.

The moment he slips inside her, she presses back, needing him so deep inside her. One hand curls in his hair, the other rests over the hand between her breasts, her whole body attuned to his. She hears him draw a breath as if to speak, hears him let that same breath go, exhaling his warmth into her hair.

Tell me a secret. She bites her lip, rocks with him, sweet fire pooling low in her belly, and a delicious slow burn that threatens to consume her entirely.

She whispers his name, half plea, half prayer, her hands gripping him tighter as he sinks deeper and deeper with every stroke.

It's so good. They've done this before, he's done this-- countless times before but admitting that this is different means admitting that this is special and he's still uncertain of his capabilities in the long-term. He settles for being completely washed away by her, by the moment, the way it feels like they're meant to be together. From the breathless whisper of his name, to the way her hands curl around him where he holds her.

Where his arm isn't pinned under her he moves - touching every inch of her body from knee to navel, sweeping across her stomach until his fingers catch between her legs again. His kisses stop, as if he can't manage both things at the same time any more, lips hovering behind her air as his focuses his efforts on the gentle press of two fingertips against the heat between her legs, well aware of where her clit is - as he purposely circles around it, thriving on the shift of her body on him.

The simplest touch and it wraps her up tight in a span of heartbeats. He plays her like a fine instrument, and the music they make resonates in the long muscles of her body, a fine tremor that betrays just how intense the sensations he's heaping on her are.

"Oh my god ohmygod oh -- holy fucking -- fuck"

She can barely draw enough breath to speak, and she's utterly unconscious of the words she's murmuring between the long keening sighs. He's breaking her down to her most elemental components. Breath. Touch. Sensation. Heat. Her hand gropes for his hip again, while the other pushes against the mattress, giving them an anchor to work against.

"Don't stop. Please, don't stop."

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