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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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."

Perhaps it's good that she breaks the silence when she does. Her whisper of his name still fit within the remit of calm, smooth love making and this is something far more heavy duty. Her words are more than enough to have him chuckling, light and easy but no less breathless than Karen.

Dragging her higher against him gives him just enough space to turn just enough to press his knee against the bed, angling himself deeper inside her and if he weren't aware of how good the touch of his fingers against her was he'd have pulled that hand away to turn her completely into the bed. Like this, they lose the potentially shattering moment, but keep all of the intimacy.

She feels so good around him. He'd blame the length of time that he'd been without someone else in his bed, but it's her - dragging him toward the edge. The way she's been seducing him ever since they got back, he was helpless.

"Karen--"

Every press of his hips, every flicker of his fingertip, twists her tighter and tighter. Her head lolls back against his shoulder, and her eyes roll back in her head. She keeps rocking on him, working his length deep inside her, each press slow and deep, sending licks of heat up her spine and out of her mouth.

He feels the flutter around his cock, feels the echo of it in her body. She's slipping over the edge, losing herself to the storm. She clings to him like he's the only solid thing in her world.

"Yes."

It's a whisper of encouragement that she doesn't need. He knows, they've done this so often that he knows each and every sign that she's coming undone for him. His own eyes drop closed and his lips press against her neck as he keeps focused, reaping the benefits of his own touch through the tiny gestures of her body.

She's wet, hot, tight around him and he's undone before he can guarantee her release - not that he feels it matters, fingers alone he knows he can drag her over the edge, and as his hips snap tight as he keeps up his onslaught, a moan on his tongue, breathless.

She nods in answer. Her breath stills in her throat, hitches once, twice, and when he breaks, she follows, tumbling into free fall. He's with her, hot and slick and perfect, and her body grips his like a vice, hard pulses that seem to go on forever.

She feels that moan rumble through her chest and she whispers back to him,

"Yes, god yes."

He feels her topple over that edge and his fingers draw away, pressing instead against her abdomen, easing her back into him, holding her tight as he rides not only his orgasm but through the effects of hers.

It feels like forever when his body finally settles, and his hands move again, sweeping up and down her front whilst the other stays looped around her chest, holding her to him. The kisses start up soon after, lips against her shoulder, soft and careful. Yeah. This was good.

Breath ragged, still shimmering with aftershocks, she melts into him, each bit of her body giving up the tension in stages, until she's boneless in his embrace. One hand fumbles up to touch his hair, and when they part, she turns back to him, needing to taste his mouth again.

He welcomes her shift of her body, sweeping his arms free from around her until she's there in front of him again. His lips catch hers as quickly as is possible without inflicting injury - one hand sliding under her cheek, the other moving along her body, easing her in closer, dragging his fingertips light up the middle of her back until he can thread his fingers into her hair.

It's so different, even from the moments on vacation. There's a promise in each and every one of his kisses.

Eyes closed, she drinks in those kisses like a woman dying of thirst. Her hands curl around his head and she lifts one knee to drape her leg over his thigh, caressing up to his hip. This is amazing. And terrifying. When they were on the island, these are the moments when he would pull away, ask her if she wanted a drink, need to go do something that wasn't this intimate. Every moment he lingers, she clings a little tighter, until she can't stand it any longer.

She pulls back to look him in the eye, searching his face for some kind of warning sign. Something to prove her wrong and demonstrate that she really is a sucker for ever daring to play this dangerous game.

It's not until she pulls away that he feels that familiar trickle of fear along his spine, she's searching him - he knows, for something, anything that might suggest that he was going to pull the same old tricks from before.

Just when he thinks he's got his breath back his hands move again, pushing at her hips until she's on her back, following easily and catching her mouth in another kiss - knees pressed to the bed either side of her hips, barely hovering above her. He can feel each curve of her body under him, even as he leans back from the kiss - and takes another, far softer one.

Breathless, she returns that kiss with equal fire, and when he returns, equal tenderness. A giddy little laugh bubbles up from her chest, taking her by surprise. Her hands gently comb his hair back from his face. She's beaming again, her eyes wet.

Her voice is barely audible when she whispers against his lips. "Tell me a secret. Just a small one. Something no one else knows about you."

It's intimate in a way he seriously never expected. His eyes flutter slightly under her touch, one opening fully in response to that question. Again.

"Don't give up do you?" He notes, putting some more distance between them - it's uncomfortable, he's really not sure what he can give her.

She rises up, kisses him again, slow and sure, her hands caressing down to the nape of his neck again. Soothing touches.

"You want me to start?"

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