bakerstreet | Otherwordly meme

[The rumble is a wonderful thrum through his bones and the rain paints his skin with each cold splash, life and feeling and sensation in so many places its almost overwhelming. And - he loves it. Thrives in it. Soaks it up and the wilder the storm is the better.

But he's not unaware of the woman in his arms or the way she turns into him and clings tight and so he leans down too, curling his body a bit more around and over her smaller one. But still - she's not backing down. She's not leaving. And so he stays as well and lets the wind down to hollow out his bones and clean him. Her face...

her face isn't frightened when she turns it up to him. There's life and emotion snapping through her eyes, sparking like the lighting that jumps clouds outside but its not fear. And that draws the little smile out of him, has him leaning down into her, head lowering to hear her better. She's surprising him again and - that's a relief too. He raises his voice to be heard over the way the wind howls as it pushes into the castle and down the hallway.]

Why?

[ The fingers at his back tighten their grip, and she gazes deeply into his eyes like she's searching for her answer to his question in them. And Hana--

she thinks she might be crying again, but it's hard to tell when it's literally raining on her face. She remembers this same feeling distinctly from her last moments of consciousness at Busan, not being able to tell if she was crying or if it was just rain on her face when she could see Mercy coming for her, Jack and Tracer and Lúcio not far behind.

Her voice comes out a little choked, but still there, and she manages to raise it just enough to hope that he can hear her, leaning down as he is. And her words almost come out frantic, like she's starting to remember the little details of those moments as she talks. ]

It started raining after we beat the omnic.

I blew up my last MEKA and I don't know, everything was exploding and I didn't know where I was after, just that I couldn't feel anything except... the rain. I could feel the rain on my face. It-- that was the only thing I could feel, Shiro. But that's how I knew I was still alive.

And I thought of you.

[He hears the change in her voice, even with the wind pulling at both of them as it pushes past, the thunder a chain of rolling rumbles in the background and it pulls his eyebrows down, has him raising his human hand to cup her cheek even as he leans down enough to all but rest his forehead against hers. Watching her face closely even in the rain as her words pour almost desperately out of her. And her words have him tugging her tighter into him, as if, somehow, he can keep her there with him. And -

ah. Yes. He'd told her that, hadn't he? Why he loved the rain, loved to be out in storms. He - almost wished she didn't understand. Because she'd learned it in pain and fear and he would never want that for her. Tender his hand stroked wet hair back from her face.

She'd thought of him. She'd laid there, broken, and it had rained and she'd thought of him. Because rain on your skin meant you were still alive to feel it.

He had a response for that. He was sure he had an appropriate and well thought out response, something soothing and wise and encouraging. Because she needed it and that was what he did.

But instead he found himself leaning that last bit down and taking her mouth with his and if it was soft, heat still ticked behind his lips, hot against the cold of the rain on her skin.]

[ Maybe--

Maybe, more than she needs his encouragement and wisdom, Hana just needs him. Because the rain make her feel alive, now, and she wants to feel that with Shiro.

She wants to feel alive with him.

And so she kisses him back soundly, lips pressing and brushing and moving with his as her eyes close, letting her focus on the sensations of cold raindrops falling on and streaming down her skin, the wind pulling at her-- and the warmth of Shiro's body and lips pressed against hers. Her own kiss is almost pleading, as though asking for some sort of fulfillment from him. ]

[He's told himself he's going to be gentle with her. She's been through so much and she's still shaken inside. As tough as she is he knows there are parts inside her that have been turned into glass. She'll heal, she'll grow stronger but he's her protector as much as her lover and there is nothing in him that would ever want to harm her because he wasn't thinking of her first, putting her first. He's been afraid to touch her too strongly, adverse to the idea of damaging what was only just healing to the point of complete aversion.

But the storm is in his blood and his bones are hollow with barren ice wind and thunder rolls through his muscles. And she's clinging to him, mouth pleading under his. There's still no aggression in him, no demand, but his head tips and his mouth slants hot and wet over hers, human fingers slipping back to knot in the slick hair at the back of her head, tongue dragging across the seam of her lips and the thunder rolls to match the rumble of sound in his chest.]

[ It hasn't escaped Hana, for all of the time she's spent with him since she woke up from the pod, that Shiro has been treating her like she's made of glass. And-- she understands. Some days she still doesn't feel all the way here. The pod and, before that, Mercy had done anything and everything to heal the broken body of Hana's but neither could heal the injuries she sustained inside-- the ones her heart and soul took.

But right now, in the swirling storm and held tightly in Shiro's arms, for the first time in a long while she's beginning to feel whole.

Her lips part readily for him and she moves her own mouth to let him in, letting her tongue slide against his as they deepen the kiss and she whimpers, realizing that she's needed this so badly. Needed him so badly. And not so much in the same way that she'd felt the night before he left, when the both of them decided they needed to lose control for just one night before they parted ways-- this is different, in a way she can't quite describe. She needs him in the way a fire needs tinder to start, she needs him to just let her life through her veins and through every inch of her body. ]

[The sound in his throat in response to her whimper is a low, thrumming growl of sound, instinctive response to the sound of his lover, his mate, and her need. His teeth catch her tongue, brief, a light drag with no pressure and then he sucks, dragging his own tongue down hers as he traps hers in his mouth for the pull. His metal arm slips down around her more, catches tight around her waist and lifts her up and into him, dragging her body a few short inches over his until she's on her toes. Storms do wild things to his blood.

Being reminded he's alive and the overwhelming sensations of that do wild things to his blood.

And he would never want to do anything to rush her, to harm her, to frighten her - but desperation feeds him and its her desperation this time. There's nothing in him that can't answer that. But he tries. He tries to keep it soft still and his fingers curled on her don't dig so much as cradle and there's no violence in his kiss. He's been - a very very long time without her and his body hasn't forgotten the last night they spent together on earth and how tight and hot and needy she can be. But they're not there and this isn't then and he won't let himself -

but God. He can kiss her. He can kiss her until he loses his mind if she'll let him.]

[ His fervor, his strength as he pulls her in and drags her body against his are rewarded with something that comes dangerously to a moan; and she shivers, a combination of her body beginning to react to the cold even after a short while and desire focusing her on the feeling of her body pressed into the shelter of Shiro's body and the muscle that comes with it. Hana doesn't know that anyone has ever kissed her as passionately as Shiro does but like with all else in her life, she tries her hardest, taking cues from him, letting her tongue drag along his and his lips and her teeth doing the same.

Hana has a feeling she's going to get into trouble in some form or fashion.

But the longer they keep on, the less Hana is able to keep herself on her toes, even with Shiro's arm supporting her. Soon she begins to feel her legs giving beneath her, like turning into jelly, and she suspects it's not only because of standing on the tips of her toes for so long and partly because Shiro has literally made her weak in the knees. She has to pull away just then, but his name passes from her lips as she does, lips just barely brushing against his, her breath hot even when her body still feels cold from the rain, voice soft and feverish-- ]

Takashi...

[He could blame it on the storm and what those always do to him.

He could blame it on how damn long he's been without her and how much longer he might have been if things had turned out just the littlest bit differently.

He could blame it on her.

But he feels the fire, the flare, the storm tossed energy inside of him and when her lips slip away from his and his eyes lid open the slightest bit for the satisfaction of seeing her flushed face, he knows there's no one to blame but himself.

Leaning down, he scoops her up in his arms, bundled in his soaked jacket and he elbows the panel that shuts the door, trapping the storm safely outside - though Coran might have a thing or two to say about how much of it they already let in. There's an observation room right off the hall, an almost entirely class alcove and he knows he could take her there, press her down, find her lips again while the storm raged around them -

but her skin's cold. He can feel it under his hands. And he's sworn himself to protecting her, guarding her, taking care of her just as surely as he's sworn himself to his lion or saving the universe. And she needs warmth now. He turns and heads for his room.]

[ She sinks into his grasp easily, and one hand finds the fabric of his shirt on his chest and grabs hold as she pressed her face to him as though doing so would hide just how hot her cheeks feel.

She's cold, but it doesn't matter as long as she's with Shiro. She knows that he won't let her feel too cold-- he promised, after all, that he would always warm her up. It doesn't even matter to her in what capacity that is as long as it's him. Takashi Shirogane. Her Takashi.

When she feels him take a turn, her fingers tighten against him, and she mumbles against his chest a question that she thinks she already knows the answer to: ]

Where are we going?

['Nearest supply closet' is what he's half tempted to say because between her and the storm, his blood is a steady taiko beat and she's almost irresistible when she's pliable and clinging and more than willing. But her cold skin where her face is pressed against his chest, felt even through the thin fabric of his skirt is more than enough reminder to keep him on course. She needs to get warm. And that means:]

Shower. [His voice is gravel and velvet and he can't even pretend its not.] Time to get you warmed up again, sweetheart.

[ Oh.

She already figured, but-- still, oh. Because if Hana hadn't been sure that she was going to stay out of trouble tonight, now she's certain, and she has a feeling that Shiro is too with the way his voice sounds for her. Just her. And, damn it, what a voice. There's nothing for her to do other than nod against him. ]

Good. That sounds good.

[The sound he makes deep in his chest is rumbling but it's also debatable on whether he thinks it sounds like a good idea or not. 'Good idea' would probably be handing her over to Allura to - no, probably not. Allura is a good woman and a great teammate and leader but... she's not exactly gentle. Pidge would be a better choice then. Except - he really doesn't think he could force his body to let go of Hana even if he wanted to and - he most definitely doesn't want to. So instead he lets his legs take long strides and gets to his room in shorter order than usual, elbowing the panel to open the door and then again to close it once he's inside. The bathroom light is already on because he always leaves a light on somewhere and he steps in, aware, only then that he's trailing wet foot prints behind him where his sneakers have left them. Belated, he toes them of and then steps into the bathroom

and right on into the shower, arms still full of her. One of the most amazing things about this entire castle, to Shiro, is that you don't have to wait for the water to warm up and he steps them both to the side and hits the panel to turn on the shower. Then he eases her shoes off her feet and tosses them out into the other room before stepping, with Hana still cradled in his arms, still wearing his jacket, into the spray, careful to let it hit her legs first, her head safely out of it for the moment as he lets the heat start to soak into her legs and feet instead.]

[ She stays quiet in his arms as he moves, rather quickly she notices, to his room and there's a bit of amusement in a soft huff against him but more than that it's relief, it's thank god. Hana fully expects that he'll let her down once they get into the room and that they would, probably, discard item after item of clothing en route to the shower but-- Shiro goes straight for it and almost forgets to take his own shoes off, and it actually pulls her lips into a smile, something a bit devious. She wants to point out then and a few more time after that as he takes her shoes off for her that he can let go and put her down then

when the hot water hits her legs, soaking through the fabric of her leggings and her bare feet and an audible breath passes through her lips, one of alleviation, relief that she can feel her toes again (she had, tragically, neglected to wear her Fuzzy Socks that day) and her eyes slip shut as she lets herself enjoy the warmth for a moment before she opens them slightly once more to look up at Shiro through half-lidded eyes. ]

You can put me down, Shiro...

[He hums a sound at her direction but first his human hand slips down to press a thumb down the sole of first one foot and then the other, both a short massage and testing her body temperature. Satisfied, he shifts, slowly unspools her so that she can find her feet without slipping out of his arms, moving his own body so that his back blocks most of the spray, letting enough through to hit her legs and side but still keeping her from getting a face full of it. One arm stays around her while the other reaches up to gently tug his jacket off of her. He's doing his best but his throat is still a throaty purr.]

Don't think you need this any more.

[ Hana doesn't mind the way his voice sounds, not in the least, and if in fact his only goal is to increase her body temperature then sounding like that works just as well as letting hot water run over her.

She's sure to watch her step as he lets her back down, and then shrugs his jacket off of her shoulders readily, carefully pulling her arms out of the long, long sleeves of it so that it essentially falls off of her and Shiro can discard it however he likes. Its removal just reminds the both of them of how Hana never bothered to close or zip the jacket back up in the first place, and the way the shirt she wears is similarly wet and clinging to her skin is the proof. ]

Nope. Definitely don't need it.

[ Although-- standing as they are Hana has to notice that Shiro's shirt is much worse. It's clinging completely to him and follows every curve and contour of his body and muscles with how drenched they got and while she certainly can't complain about the sight, it can't be very comfortable. ] Don't think you need your shirt either.

[His eyes move down her body slow and there's no doubt at all that's he's noticed the way her shirt clings to her and is almost translucent in places. He swallows and his eyes half lid but he forces himself to focus, to remember, and so he tosses his jacket out in the direction of the sink. Her comment though has him debating. Its not comfortable but he's been through so much worse that a mild discomfort of clinging fabric when he moves isn't worth noticing. Taking it off would be nice - but it would be nice because that would mean Hana's hands could be on his skin and the steady rumble through his blood tells him just how good that would feel. His memory tells him just how good that would feel.

Except that's not taking care of her. That's - taking care of his own needs. His voice holds rust at its edges as he reaches for the hem of her shirt.]

It's safer to keep it on.

[ Her brow furrows at his response-- he's holding back and she's not really sure why. There was no longer any question, in Hana's mind at least, of what she wanted out of this situation and she's not sure what safer means unless he really does mean to literally only raise her body temperature and nothing else except now he's reaching for her and--

Wait. A hand snaps up and rests on his wrist just as she feels his fingers brush against her waist, where the hem of her shirt is. ]

Wait, Shiro.

[ She says it cautiously, consciously, and her eyes meet his as she wonders what he's going to think when he eventually sees her bare for the first time since she nearly died. She knows he's the last person in the universe to complain about scars, but-- she doesn't want the new ones that cross over the planes of her stomach and her back to take him by surprise. ]

Just... I look kind of different now. I don't want you to freak out.

[ Her hand on his wrist moves over his hand and she guides it the rest of the way to her waist, as though to say go ahead. ]

[Shiro really does meant to only raise her body temperature and nothing else. Yes, his blood is thrumming through his veins and the thunder rumble is steady in his chest on each inhale and exhale but - she's still recovering. Body and her heart. She needs soft and gentle and tender. Not - devouring. He has every intention of putting her needs first and being careful with her is part of that.

So his clothes stay on for this. And he keeps parts of his body to himself despite what they'd rather.

His hands do stop at her touch though and his eyes move back to her face, worried. Listening. And what she says makes his stomach drop right into his toes and the rest of his body forgets its feeling anything else for a moment.

He hasn't seen her naked yet. Not since their last night together at least. The pod takes care of so much physical damage but it can't repair things that were already starting. She must have scars. Scars or indentations where pieces of her are missing. And no, he's the last person in the universe that would ever complain about scars, even more so to Hana that, even before she loved him, accepted his own. But he understands that she knows that too and so she's warning him -

She's warning him.

He hasn't forgotten his last panic attack or what set it off even if he hasn't talked to her about that.

So instead of moving his hands right away he steps closer. Lowers his head and presses his lips, lingering, against to top of her head. Lowers it a bit more and presses his lips to her forehead and then her cheek. And, only then, do his hands slip under the hem of her shirt, metal and flesh and slow, he lets his fingers paint the picture of what's been done to her to him first, gentle and steady and unhesitating even if they move slowly over her body.]

[ The soft, lingering kisses he leaves on her give her cause for a satisfied hum, even if she's not entirely sure how he's received her warning. She can only guess it's not a bad reaction otherwise he wouldn't have stepped in closer and started kissing her. And when she feels his hands slip under the hem of her shirt she lets go, her hands finding purchase over his chest, and she turns her head to the side, away from the spray of water, rests it against his chest and lets her hair slip down over her shoulders; wet strands cling to her shoulder and chest and follow the curves of her body and brush against Shiro's arm as she closes her eyes and focuses on his touch. Feeling his fingers trail along scars both old and new, although the larger ones are certainly newer, one crossing over her side at her waist and to the front of her stomach from debris hitting her while she had been waiting for a fresh MEKA unit to drop and another across her back from a shoulder blade and crossing over her spine, almost a strange mirror image of the one that goes to her front.

An audible breath passes through her lips at his slow exploration. His touch leaves a soothing sensation on her skin. She wants more, she realizes, not even necessarily ina sexual way if she were to think hard on it but just in the way of needing Shiro's intimacy and affection. Her voice comes out pleading: ]

Takashi...

[The scars are horrifying across her small body, too large for someone so small. He knows touch amplifies them, makes them seem bigger than they are but even then he still knows they're far too big for her slender body to bear. And it hurts. It hurts him so deeply inside that it feels as if they're searing themselves across the core of him too. Because of the pain of them, the violence of them, forever seared onto her and, soldier or no, of course he would never want anything like that for her. She's only twenty. She's not supposed to be wearing an entire war on her skin at twenty. And yet - that's not the only reason he hurts. He hurts because he's so damned proud of her he doesn't know who he's supposed to contain it all. Because she took these wounds, these attacks, and she spit and snarled and she lived. The enemy threw the very worse it had at her, tried its hardest to destroy her - and his Hana, lion-hearted, took it all and still came out unconquered. She lived. She was still living. And she hadn't, wouldn't, give up.

She took his breath away.

And then her voice was slipping out, weak and needy, and he had absolutely nothing in him that knew how to refuse her when she sounded like that, when she said his name like that. His eyes, that had been half-lidded while his hands explored her skin, opened. And one hand slipped out of her clothing to come up and cup her cheek, tilt her face for his kiss. And his kiss was hot and hungry for her and his tongue dragged inside her mouth, searing and claiming her. His Hana, his rabbit warrior, his fierce determined lion-hearted lover. And then he shifted them both, so her back was to the shower now and he went down on his knees in front of her. Used both hands to slowly start lifting her shirt. And his mouth found the scars, each and every one of them, slow as he worked, leaving his kiss, dragging his tongue, claiming each one with liquid fire and desire and need, a low, deep rumbling sound in his throat.

Outside the thunder rumbled against the walls of the castle and, somewhere deep in its depths, covered in shadows in its bay, a large black lion rumbled long and long back.]

[ She's helpless against his kiss, so completely taken by the emotion she feels him pouring into it as she tries to match the heat and the movements of his tongue with hers, and she whines into the kiss as though she's begging-- for what, exactly, escapes her but all she knows is that she needs him. She's helpless against his pull, too, and her body nearly goes limp at the sensation of hot water now pouring down her head, flowing through her hair, coursing down her back and further down her legs and--

Her eyes go wide when she sees him on his knees in front of her and tries very hard not to think about how goddamn hot it is to see him like that for her when she still isn't sure what's going on except that he's driving her crazy, a feeling that almost feels foreign now after so long and after a near-death experience.

And then he's lifting her shirt and kissing and dragging his tongue across her imperfections and she is so, so helpless. Her hands scramble to hold onto something, anything, and one finds its way into his hair while the other practically slams into the wall of the shower, fingers splayed across the surface as she moans at the feeling of his tongue on her, looks down a just watches him. Helplessly. ]

[Shiro has a lot of traits and sometimes some of them serve him better than others. Right now however, his attention to detail and his utter thoroughness are riding him hard. There's not an inch of her he intends to leave untouched, not a single square of her skin that he doesn't intend to worship and claim again, back from the cold that's held her so long, back from the half-life she's been dreamwalking through. She's his Hana and, damn it, he knows she's needed time to recover, hasn't resented that but he hates seeing the lack of spark and life in her beautiful eyes. If his touch now brings it back, if anything he's doing at all in these moments brings the heat back to her skin and the life back to her eyes, than he's not going to stop until her entire body is flush with it and she's herself again, even if only for a little while.

So her shirt is lifted higher and higher as he slowly works his way up her body, until finally its carefully tugged free over her head entirely and her bra comes next because that keeps him from some of her scars as well. From the subtle curve of her hips upward she has all of his touch and attention, teeth, lips, tongue, the suck of his mouth, the drag of his hands. He follows the wind and curve of every scar, shifts himself around to follow the ridge across her back and lets his hands drag up the front of her, stroking, fingers digging, kneading. Gets his feet under him again so that he can slowly move upward, shoulderblades, curve of her spine, nips and slow drags of his tongue and open mouthed kisses, up over her shoulder, along her neck and then back down across her collar bone, the swell of her breasts, her sides. Every inch, every trace and his hands slip down to cup the curves of her backside, lifting and holding her close, support if she needs it as his mouth finally slips back up her throat, leaves marks on her there against the cold and then slants, just as hot, just as hungry over her mouth again. And one of his hands shifts, tugs in unspoken question at the hem of her pants.]

[ She--

She doesn't know what Shiro thinks he's doing when he runs his hands all over her, leaving no part of her untouched, and when he scrapes gently with his teeth and then soothes with the press of his lips and laves hot lines along her skin. She doesn't know if he's trying to drive her crazy, which he is, or he's simply showing his affection but--

Hana has certainly not felt this fired up since she came out of the pod.

There's absolutely no hesitation on her part when he pulls her shirt over her head and then takes her bra off afterward. There's no hesitation on her part, either, as she tries to run her hands along his arms at each and every turn as she shifts and moves around her and she doesn't hold back when the sensation pulls sounds out of her. The hot water pours over her and streams down bare skin, over her shoulders and down her back and to the front over her breasts but it's Takashi Shirogane's touch that blaze trails over her skin, now going flushed in the steam of the shower and in his care, and his touch that has her lips parted because between him and the heat, she can't breathe right.

Oh, god, she needs him so badly.

She has no idea what he's doing but she needs him so badly. ]

Shiro--

[ Her voice chokes up, cuts off, because he's at her throat and then he's silencing her with his lips at least until she groans against his lips and into their kiss. And when she feels the tug of his hand at her pants she hums an affirmative noise, her own hand trailing down to find his and push it down as if to help with the process. She doesn't know what he's doing but she pulls away long enough just to plead, ]

Skin, Shiro. I need to feel yours.

[ Take off the damn shirt, Takashi Shirogane. Hana doesn't care anymore. ]

[He's still aware that losing any of his clothing is a bad idea. But his mind is full of Hana and the heat and strength and softness of her and there's no way he's going to tell her no when she's saying his name like that, when her voice is like that, when her body is like that. So his hands leave her for the briefest amount of time possible and he quickly strips off his shirt, letting it fall in the same corner of the shower that hers is already. The water feels good against his bare skin after the clinging fabric and, shortly, his skin feels even better because he's pulling her back into his arms and her chest is pressed against his as he kisses her again. Her mouth is hot and hungry and oh so sweet and its been so damned long since he kissed her in more than a brief, light, innocent kiss. There's nothing innocent about his kiss now though, or the way his hands immediately go back to the hem of her pants, hook and push them and her underwear down at the same time. Somewhere at the back of his head there's some vague idea that her clothes are wet and she needs to get out of them, that the hot water is good for her cold skin. The front of his head though tells him that she needs his touch, that he hasn't finished covering her with it yet and his hands trace down, over the curves of her hips as he kisses her, around to cup and squeeze the perfect feeling of her backside and then fingers slip down between her legs, rubbing and stroking, long and slow.

He's promised himself he'll give her heat back to her. His dragging fingers say its working.]

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aand i'm off to sleep

sleep well!

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