bakerstreet | THE KISSING BOOTH MEME

[His breath comes out shaky, shivery, as her nails graze across his neck. It's a little embarrassing. She hasn't even done anything really; it's just that he knows she's going to. That's what has him on edge.]

[She could make reading the mail filthy if she wanted, of course. He can't quite keep himself from angling into the kiss, teeth grazing briefly across her lip before he pulls back just a bit and looks up at her. That look, it's somewhere between worshipful and possessive.]

Five.

[That's the best look. Right there, caught between adoration and domination; that's what she loves. Jeanne leans in, bumping their foreheads together, her nails still dragging against his skin.]

Keep going, or finish the rest of your kisses in private? Your choice.

[It's a warning, really: from here on out, she's going to do her best to tease him.]

[That . . . isn't really a fair choice. Not for him, because no matter what, his responsible instincts lose out. If he lets her keep going, it'll be indecent; if he stops her, he'll have to abandon the booth.]

[The booth he didn't really even want to man anyway. Right.]

[He tugs her closer, pulls her tight against him with a hand at the small of her back. He can feel every inch of her, which is a better answer than words, really, but:]

Oh, look at that. My shift is over.

[It'd been a toss-up, honestly. There have been occasions where she'd tried to lure him away from work, only to be told firmly and politely that she would simply have to wait. Abdul can be remarkably strong-willed when he's got a mind to be, and his sense of responsibility is far too high. But this isn't something he'd wanted to do in the first place, and it's not as if they'll cheat the charity out of money if he leaves early; she's more than paid for his time.

There's a joke here about reasonably priced affections, but she's not going to make it. Not when he's holding her so firmly.]

You have to let me go if you want to go somewhere private, chéri.

I don't want to.

[There, now isn't that honest. He doesn't. He'd rather never stop touching her if he could. And yet he lifts his hands after a moment, surrendering, relinquishing, and nudges her a little.]

There. You got what you wanted. I let go.

I'm so proud.

[She stands a little too quickly, her ears gone a traitorous red. He's far too good at getting to her. I don't want to, and something low in her stomach had jerked, nerves standing on end.]

Come on. That wasn't the only thing I wanted, darling.

[She offers him a hand.]

Of course it wasn't.

[He takes her hand. He'd be an idiot not to. But once he's standing, he lets it go, wraps his arm around her waist and leans in to breathe in the smell of her hair.]

All right, albi. Where are you taking me?

[She tips her head back, closing her eyes for just a moment.]

Mm. Outside.

[Which sounds vague, but isn't really. Jeanne leads them forward, leaning against Abdul, one particular destination in mind.

There's a little space behind the auditorium Abdul had been in, you see. Sandwiched between two buildings, a dead-end alley that no one ever really uses because it doesn't lead anywhere. There's risk of being caught, of course, but it's two in the afternoon; she doubts anyone is going to be wandering down here right now.

She doesn't push him against the wall. She wants to, but she doesn't; she just smiles up at him, like they're heading into an ice cream parlor instead of a dirty little alley.]

Better?

[Better is in the eye of the beholder. Objectively speaking, this alley is pretty horrifying. Abdul is a pretty fastidious person; he likes to be in clean places, of which this is not one.]

[On the other hand, he's looking at Jeanne more than the alley itself. So he cocks his head at her and shrugs.]

It's all right. Come here.

[And he grabs her by the hips, tugs her back with him until his back's to the wall and she's fit snugly up against him. Then he smiles.]

There. Better.

[It most certainly is. Jeanne pulls back just far enough to appreciate the view. It isn't as if they do this often; this might be the last time for months she ever gets to see Abdul pressed up against a brick wall. Best to enjoy it while she can.

He's got her lipstick smeared over his mouth. Not obscenely, just a little. It's a good look for him, she thinks, and reaches up to rub her thumb against his mouth.]

None of those people got this, either. [She hums softly, her thumb pressing forward.] Your mouth's gone red, you know.

Your fault.

[He takes the pad of her thumb between his teeth and bites down, just a little. He's looking at her, like he usually is. Her mouth, her lipstick, which is a little smudged, and her smile.]

Looks better on you, I think.

You could pull it off.

[She's not focused on her words, though. There's something eye-catching about Abdul's mouth against her finger, never mind that hint of teeth.]

I like it when you look like this. A little bit of a mess. You stumble outside like this, everyone knows you're claimed.

Anybody with eyes would know as long as I'm standing next to you. I don't think I can focus on anyone but you, really.

[He looks down at her, his fingers gripping down a little tighter on her hips. Then, with utmost delicacy, he kisses the pad of her thumb, then the open middle of her palm.]

You were jealous.

[Of course she was. Not in any way that might affect their relationship or lower her opinion of him, but still. The fact remains: there have been people kissing her Abdul today, and that inspires something awfully possessive in her.

Her instinct is to deny it. But he grips her tightly and kisses her so sweetly, and how can she lie when she's caught between the two?]

You're mine.

[Murmured, and she keeps her hand steady, open to whatever affection Abdul wants to give.]

[He hums softly, closing his eyes for a moment as he brushes his lips against her lifeline. Of course; who would think to argue with that?]

I'm yours. Only yours.

I'm sorry I upset you, Jeanne.

[He flicks his tongue against the center of her palm and sighs, opening his eyes to look at her.]

Really. Can I make it up to you?

You didn't--

[It isn't something he's obligated to make up for. He wasn't running around cheating on her, and she doesn't want him to think so. Jeanne frowns.]

You didn't upset me, and you don't have to make it up to me.

[That needs to be established. She was jealous, of course, but just because she was doesn't mean he was in the wrong. Jeanne lets that linger between them, her hand still caught against his mouth, her blue eyes determined. A few seconds pass, and then, her tone lighter:]

But if you really want to turn me on, I can think of a few things.

[Hm. He regards her quietly for a few moments, before his lips curve into a soft, mischievous smile.]

Just a few?

[There's usually a list, all right. But he lets it go at that much teasing for now, nips at the swell of muscle beneath her thumb and raising his eyebrows.]

Go on, then

[She pauses. It's not that she's shy-- god, no, that's never been a problem. But there's a difference between telling Abdul what she wants in private, safe in the warm darkness of one of their bedrooms, and telling him when they're in semi-public.]

I want--

[Mm. She refuses to glance away from him to check to see if they're alone; that would be losing. There's only a moment's hesitation, and then:]

--you to fuck me. Here, like this. Against the wall.

[Oh.]

Oh, [he manages, very quietly; he can feel his whole body tense up, arousal whipping through him like a gale force wind. That's what she wants, and it's not even that surprising, but hearing her say it does things to him he might never recover from.]

[His voice is low and rough next time he speaks, after a breathless pause, his eyes dark and heavy with the desire to crowd her against the wall already. He doesn't look to see if someone else is here. Frankly, he doesn't care.]

Here, like this? Or . . .

[He doesn't shove her. Just turns them, quick but not rough, so it's her back to the wall, him hemming her in, one hand under her thigh and the other pressed to the wall by her side. He's so close to kissing her, but he isn't quite, just staring at her mouth instead.]

More like this?

Yeah.

[She lifts her leg, moving with Abdul's grip, her skirt hiking up indecently high on her thigh. There'd been a reason she'd dressed like this; that hadn't been an impulsive request just now. Jeanne's wanted this for a while. She drags her hands over his chest, against his sides, sliding down to his hips. She'll undress him in a moment, but not just yet.]

Just like this.

[Six, she thinks, and tips her head up, kissing him hungrily. Open-mouthed, her hips rolling forward, her hands under his shirt-- it's not particularly indecent, not compared to all that squirming, and yet she has to bite back a whine.]

[There she is. Which is to say: she's been here the whole time, of course, but this is really the distillation of his Jeanne, demanding and overwhelming and needy. Somehow she always manages to be everywhere at once, to him, her mouth and hands and hips claiming all of his attention and more.]

[She might not make a sound, but he does. He grunts against her lips, tilts his head and meets her halfway and then some, his lips parted, kissing commanding and filthy. His hand slides up her thigh, pushing her skirt up all the way; his fingers drift up the back of her thigh, deliberately too light and teasing, as he traces the hem of her underwear.]

Did you set me up, Jeanne?

[It's barely audible. His voice goes nearly subsonic when he needs her badly, more felt than heard. He meets every roll of her hips with his own, maybe a little rougher than he needs to be, but he doesn't think she'll mind. His other hand slides under her shirt, along her stomach and up her side. He'd bite marks on her if there wasn't such urgency to this.]

Did you plan this, hm?

How could I? You're the one who agreed to do the stupid booth.

[Which isn't actually a no, and she knows he'll realize that. Her back arches, hips working minutely as his fingers graze against her. It's not enough, and she whines openly, giving him the satisfaction of knowing how much she wants this. She won't tease, not today; not when she wants him as so dizzyingly badly.

Opening his trousers, she pushes them low on his hips.]

You think I'm that desperate to have you fuck me in an alley?

[She murmurs the words, voice thick, as she wraps her fingers around him. He's already a little stiff, and Jeanne bites back a moan as she works him. This is the worst part; she hates waiting. She wants him to hoist her up and fuck her now.]

[He doesn't freeze when she starts working his cock. Another day, another time, he might — might need time to recover from the simple fact that she's touching him at all, which always seems a little miraculous. He's past that today, though. It's still miraculous, because Jeanne is always miraculous, but it's also a delicious inevitability. She's touching him; he's going to fuck her, right here and right now, in this alley. Because that's what she wants.]

[So he surges forward instead, digging his fingers into the curve of her ass and smirking against her mouth as he kisses her. He'd take a hell of a lot more working up if it weren't for the fact that she wants this so badly. There's not a lot that turns him on quicker than that.]

I think you're incredibly desperate. But you're saying you're not?

[His fingers dig in tight, bruising, as he lifts her a little. He doesn't have to look, so he busies himself biting at her jaw, bracing her back against the wall with the line of his body. One hand at her hip, the other slips back to her thigh as his fingers creep past the hem of her underwear. He doesn't have anything to prove, but if he did, he'd have it in the bag immediately: she's so wet that his fingers would slide into her right away if he didn't deliberately hold back, two fingers just grazing her entrance.]

Are you sure?

Edited 2016-08-23 00:34 (UTC)

[Are you sure, he says, and just like that she has something to prove. They're both too competitive for their own good, and it gets even worse in times like these. She'd been perfectly content before to let him know how much she wanted him, but not now. Now she twists her hand, listening intently for the catch in his breath. If she's desperate, he'll be as well. Her hips jerk forward, pushing pointedly against his fingers. Almost, and it's so hard not to just beg him for it.]

Don't tease.

[She drops her head back, eyes closing. She doesn't have to control her expression, not right now, and so doesn't bother.]

[Her grip shifts, her hand moving roughly, and his breath catches, enough so that he has to break off the kiss and lean his forehead against hers. She's got that look on her face like she's got to beat him now, and he can never cope with that terribly well.]

[He licks his lips, exhales.]

Mm. All right.

[So, maybe he won't. He leans in to kiss her again at the same time he slides two fingers inside her, quick enough that there's less than a breath between his initial movement and his fingers crooking. His cock jumps a little in her grip, feeling her even at this remove. Even like this, she's something else.]

THE KISSING BOOTH MEME

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

i love these icons with their slightly different crops we're doing great

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)