bakerstreet | Otherwordly meme

['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.]

[ Finally.

It's the only word that runs through her mind as he discards his shirt and pulls her against him, because soon after that the feeling of her chest against his, of skin against skin, his muscles moving against her, all of it sends a spark through her and it shorts out her thoughts.

It feels like autopilot from then on when their lips crash into each other once more and she kisses him back hungrily, drinks in the taste of him, and she hums against the kiss when she's finally divested of all of her clothing. Then it's her turn to run her hands all over him as best she can in their position, dragging up along his arms and across his shoulders and down to his chest and then further down over the ridges of muscle on his stomach.

She hums another pleading sort of sound at the way he squeezes her, asks without any words for him to please just go further, touch her--

and the way she pulls away from the kiss to moan as she's rewarded says that, yes, "giving her heat back to her" is working. It's working quite well. ]

[The look on her face when she pulls back to moan is intoxicating - and fulfilling. This is what he wants, what he's been longing for, aching for. That look on her face, that color over her skin. His mouth moves down, over her throat, her collarbone her breast and he goes to his knees in front of her again, mouth against her stomach. Careful, supporting and guiding, not wanting her to slip or lose her footing, he gently presses her back, guides her so that she can put her back against the wall and the water from the showerhead can pour down the front of her body and over his head and, once he's sure she's there, he finally lets his head sink lower, wet white hair dragging over her pale stomach and its new scars, kissing open-mouthed downward, lower, until he reaches her folds. His hands cup her ass, dig in just a little, lift - and he drags his tongue over the core of her, intimate and invasive, needing her taste, needing to spread his touch across her there just as completely as he has everywhere else.]

[ The first time he ever went down on her she'd screamed, even hid her face behind her hands out of embarrassment from how one little thing, one drag of his tongue drove her so absolutely crazy and--

This time isn't too different.

Because she's waiting on baited breath as he leaves a trail of kisses down her body, her face blushing a deeper and deeper pink as he gets lower and lower and as his hands are firm and pressing on her ass-- and that breath is released in another long, drawn out, shaking groan when she feels his tongue move slick along her folds. Her head angles back, hair dragging along the wall of the shower, and she slumps down a bit, nearly slipping if not for Shiro's support, and her eyes slip shut at the sensation as her hand grabs blindly at his head, fingers in his hair. And then she looks down, and, god, she's got to pull the white of his hair back away from his face so she can see him on his knees, watch him, watch his tongue on her; the sight in itself is liable enough to drive a girl mad. ]

[His dark eyes lift when she pulls his hair out of the way to look up at her from under his lashes, but it doesn't stop or even cause a flutter of hesitation in what he's doing with his tongue and moments later he's back to concentrating on that entirely again. He wants every inch of her and his tongue slides back, curls, drags forward, slips along the outside of her folds and then back in. Hard and quick it plunges inside of her, curls, drags slow out, coating her, being coated. And then he drags it up until he can find her clit and that's another long, slow drag before he swirls it.

And then his head presses in a bit more and he brings his lips over her there, hums a low sound and sucks.

His mouth pulls away, presses open mouthed kisses and little nips and one long suction just to leave his mark there on the inside of her thighs, but then his mouth is back on the center of her again, his tongue dragging and her clit has all of his attention.

Almost all his attention.

Because his human hand slides up her body to press against her stomach but his metal hand slides down. And two slick, water warmed metal fingers slide up inside of her, slow and firm until he's fully inside.]

[ Hana has to spare a moment to wonder what the soundproofing is like in a space castle-slash-ship that's tens of thousands of years old yet still far and beyond more technologically (and, probably, architecturally) advanced than anything that exists on Earth.

Because she is not sparing a moment to hold herself back in reacting to each and every move of Shiro's, whether it's his tongue or lips or hands on her. And she cries out his name, desperately, not knowing what she really wants only that she needs him to keep going, ]

Takashi--

[ and she's melting, or she feels like she is, hot water all over her body and his and still she feels the most wet between her legs and once more she's helpless against him. Because everything he does feels so damn good; even his breath on her leaves heat and want in its wake but it's the way he's so thorough that has her writhing and moaning and pulling at his hair. Her free hand goes up to her mouth and she presses the back of it against her parted lips as though it'll keep her noises down (It doesn't.) but it's the only way she feels like she can hold on to some semblance of sanity because the feeling of his tongue inside of her, along the outside, on her clit, the way he sucks on it, and then the brief bite of sweet pain at the way he leaves a mark on her-- now one of many across her body-- before he's back to her clit and then slipping his warm, warm fingers inside--

It's almost too much.

Almost, because while her legs start to give out from under her, shaking and quaking with pleasure, she manages to catch herself from falling by holding onto something, anything nearby with the hand she'd been covering her mouth with, whether it's a towel bar or a shelf or the door, she doesn't care. ]

[He keeps the pressure of his human hand against her torso, offering his own support to her failing knees but as long as she keeps a certain part of her in line with his mouth he's going to assume he has the go-ahead to continue.

Because the sounds she's making and the way she's pulling his hair and all but quaking for him certainly only serves to egg him on more.

It's all about her now, about driving her until she's lost and screaming and then lost and limp and loose jointed. There's so much he wants to give her, so much he wants to drive out of her, even if only for a few more moments to have her completely back and pulsingly alive. And she is, tightening down around his fingers inside of her, calling his name, body quivering and helpless. He doesn't let up, bathing her with his tongue's attention, dragging and sucking and retreating only to come right back, breathe in between hot and moist against her. Inside of her he wiggles his fingers, curls them a little, drags them down and almost out of her before pressing back up and in. Slow, picking up speed, he pumps inside of her, adding another finger after the first few thrusts. Another long suck and exhale against her clit and then he raises his head to look at her, eyes half lidded, looking far too pleased with himself as he murmurs:]

Found a new trick, sweetheart.

[Inside of her, his fingers start to lightly vibrate as they moved.]

[ She can feel his fingers tight inside of her, the smooth, warm metal gliding perfectly in and out of her and, god, it feels so good-- and it feels so good to just feel good, too, when they'd spent so very long away from each other and throw in the fact that she'd almost died

and the fact that it's actually criminal how Shiro knows exactly how to drive her crazy and have her squirming and drenched with arousal (shower aside)

and then the fact that his fingers are suddenly vibrating inside of her-- ]

What the hell--

[ The words slip out, but who could blame her? She gives a gasp but it's truncated into a yelp because, seriously, she wasn't expecting that Shiro's Galra hand could do that. Her head had angled back with the sudden sensation but soon enough she looks down once more to find him looking right up at here, looking so completely smug and pleased with himself and her lips part for another breathy moan as he continues to move his fingers inside her and it's a miracle that she manages to mutter a complete sentence: ]

Seriously? Oh my god.

[ That counts, right? ]

[If he lives to be an old man, he doesn't think he's ever going to forget, or not be aroused by the memory of, the way she looks, completely flush with need, body shaking, naked, soaking wet across her skin and between her legs, long dark hair like streamers over her pinks washed skin, chest moving as she gasps in air and the way her eyes are all the desperate colors of forever as she looks down at him in a daze.

Shiro's done a lot of bad things in his life. This - this is not one of them.

And her response just has his smile spreading. Because her body's reaction and her words don't indicate she's not happy with his new talent. Still smirking, knowing she's watching, he lowers his mouth to her clit again, tongue out to stroke and then begin to play with it again, fingers not letting up in the way they moved inside of her, low, deep thrum in his throat and through his lips. Fully intending to keep going until she couldn't stand it any more and fell apart for him.]

[ He might not have to keep going for very long. Because there's a lot going on and all of it has Hana building and building, from the heat of the shower and the steam surrounding them, to the sight of Shiro on his knees before her and of him playing her like an instrument, to the feeling of his tongue licking and sucking on her clit and to his fingers pumping and stroking and fucking her while vibrating--

She's loud. She's being very loud and she finds that she doesn't quite care at this point, feeling that pressure in her body, heat flaring up all over her, and so much tension building in her with every gasp and moan and pull of Shiro's hair and she's close, so close, and so good, and all she has to do is let go. ]

Takashi-- oh, Takashi--

[ And so she does. She lets go, completely, utterly, and falls apart with a long, withering cry, the shuddering of her body from her head to curling toes, and with both of her hands now threaded into Shiro's hair, her nails scraping against his scalp.

And for that moment-- she hasn't felt alive like this since she she woke up from the pod. She hasn't felt so completely electrified and completely filled with at least four different emotions and so completely--

Complete. ]

[If Shiro had wanted quiet, he never would have fallen for Hana Song. And the fact that she's so vocal only feeds him.

Even more this time because she's been so damned quiet and subdued so often since she woke up and any brush of noise and life from her is a wave of relief to him.

It never hurts his ego though, hearing her scream his name like that.

He feels it when her climax hits, when it washes over her and twirls her away and he keeps going, tries to let it last as long as it can until he feels her body finally start to relax and unclench. Then he's on his feet again, wrapping her in his arms, holding her close against him.

And he can't seem to stop grinning like an idiot.

He does manage to get the water shut off, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead, before reaching out to get a towel to bundle around her, still holding her close with one arm.

Still grinning.]

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aand i'm off to sleep

sleep well!

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omg that icon choice lmao

lol we try

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yep, I went there

oh my god ??

hey! don't pretend that's not a burning question in fandom lol

i'm so glad lmao!

he aims to please (ie, I'm sure its got some kind of practical use. somehow)