shootstars: (Default)
there's a river running wild. ([personal profile] shootstars) wrote in [community profile] bakerstreet2017-02-16 12:04 pm

the picture prompt meme



the picture prompt meme

I — Comment with your character.
II — Others will leave a picture (or two, or three...)
III — Reply to them with a setting based on the picture.
IV — Link to any pictures that are NSFW, please.
V — Be aware that this meme will be image-heavy.


Link to an image:

Embed image in your reply:

Image width and height:

nostalgiabomb: (147)

[personal profile] nostalgiabomb 2017-02-18 07:46 am (UTC)(link)
[ Busted.

But rather than look guilty, Peter grins before feigning a look of surprise. ]


When the hell did that get there?

[ The whole soulmate thing grates a little less, these days. The weight of it all is still terrifying, sure, still makes something icy prickle in his lungs, but it doesn't send him into a panicky fit anymore.

Because it has its uses, has its perks, and Peter is willing to admit that. ]


Okay, then. [ And instead of tapping his forefinger against it, Peter rests his hand on Alec's arm, keeping the sleeve tucked away, runs his thumb over the band. ] What's this do?
Edited 2017-02-18 07:48 (UTC)
striketwice: (093)

[personal profile] striketwice 2017-02-19 04:40 am (UTC)(link)
[ He sees that grin, he sees it and knows exactly what Peter is up to, the asshole.

But Alec has never been one for playing fair, he fights dirty as a rule just because it's always his aim to win and he doesn't care how.

So Peter brushes his thumb over the mark on Alec's arm, and Alec throws the doors wide open. He lets every burst of pleasure, every spark of molten heat flow through their connection uninhibited. He lets Peter feel the slow, smoky curl of want that rises in his chest. ]


I think you know.
nostalgiabomb: (178)

[personal profile] nostalgiabomb 2017-02-19 05:21 am (UTC)(link)
[ He had expected Alec to retaliate, of course. Or just, you know, bitch at him or something. Yank his arm away and tell Peter to fuck off. Throw his drink in Peter's face and tell him to fuck off. Just straight up tell him to fuck off.

Peter hadn't expected him to retaliate like this.

That flood of warmth, the shower of sparks, the dark stirrings of something deep in his gut, and the feel of it all, the onslaught of it, makes Peter suck in a sharp, startled breath.

He should probably be more put out about Alec dropping the barriers on him, should probably back off from the edge of this cliff before they drive each other insane, but instead, Peter just laughs, soft and warm. Maybe it's the booze, or maybe it's the dregs of adrenaline from their earlier getaway, or maybe time and proximity has made this easy, but whatever the case— ]


Yeah, guess I do.

[ And a smile curls Peter's lips. ]

I think that one might be my favorite.
striketwice: (007)

[personal profile] striketwice 2017-02-19 06:36 am (UTC)(link)
[ They keep walking this line, teetering on this edge, and allowing themselves to get closer and closer to plummeting over. But oddly, it's a line he doesn't mind walking.

He's not sure why, exactly, because there was a time when just looking at that band on his arm would terrify him. It was too big, too unknown, and had lived far too long without depending on others to be tied to someone now.

This could have started better- much better- but Alec finds himself settling nicely into the way they've eased into this. He and Peter fall into bed together a lot these days, though they don't really talk about what that means, and half the time one of them has already gone back to their own bunk by morning. Sometimes, though, they wake tangled together. Sometimes Peter smiles at him, like he is right now, and it makes something in his chest tighten. ]


Oh, you think so? I think you just like getting a rise out of me.
nostalgiabomb: (071)

[personal profile] nostalgiabomb 2017-02-19 09:40 am (UTC)(link)
[ He offers a bright little hum, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. ]

Can you blame me? You make it so easy.

[ Alec is a line of warmth against his side, and Peter keeps his hand just where it is against his arm, though he doesn't stroke along the red ring again. Instead, he finishes off the last of his drink, grimaces at the burn it leaves on the back of his tongue, down his throat. ]

Man, that tastes like shit.

[ He peers at the empty glass mournfully for a second, before depositing it on the table in front of them. ]

I'm gonna get another one. [ Despite his earlier protest. ] You want another anything?
striketwice: (094)

[personal profile] striketwice 2017-02-19 05:01 pm (UTC)(link)
[ They both get a rise out of each other more often than not, but lately it's much less... genuinely infuriating. They needle each other, get under each other's skin, but there's no actual vitriol to it.

Alec realizes that slamming his barriers down may have been a mistake, because with Peter pressed next to him, his hand on his arm, he's warm and content and that coil of want still twists in his chest, lazily drifting like smoke.

He could put the walls back up- he should- but he can't bring himself to summon up the effort. Instead he turns a little, leaning in to press his lips against Peter's, licking past his lips to taste the alcohol on his tongue. ]


You're right. It does taste like shit.

[ Said with a grimace, though he only barely breaks the kiss to say it, lips still brushing Peter's. ]
nostalgiabomb: (034)

[personal profile] nostalgiabomb 2017-02-19 11:00 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Oh.

Peter inhales sharply, surprised, when Alec kisses him, though he only resists for half a second before relaxing into it. His lips part, letting Alec lick into his mouth, and the brush of their tongues draws a soft, barely voiced exhale from him.

When Alec pulls away, Peter breathes out a laugh. ]


I did try to tell you.

[ It's dangerous, the way they've been teetering like this, not quite giving in, not quite giving up, trying so damn hard to treat this like it's just— fun. It's a whole lot more than that, though, and Peter knows it. Because this thing between them is heavy, bears a significance that Peter can't bring himself to examine too closely, but—

For now. This. This is alright.

Peter returns the favor, kissing Alec, tongue darting over Alec's lower lip, into his mouth. And his thumb brushes lightly across the red band on Alec's forearm. ]
striketwice: (095)

[personal profile] striketwice 2017-02-20 01:51 am (UTC)(link)
[ He murmurs his approval as Peter kisses him again, his tongue slipping past Alec's lips, bringing that faint bitter taste of alcohol back into his mouth.

Then Peter's thumb brushes over his band, and that coil of want sparks dangerously, nearly igniting as a wave of pleasure rolls through him. He doesn't bother to disguise the way he groans into Peter's mouth, low and breathless. ]


You keep that up and we're gonna have to get out of here.
nostalgiabomb: (182)

[personal profile] nostalgiabomb 2017-02-20 06:24 am (UTC)(link)
[ Peter grins against Alec's lips, drinking in that sound he makes. ]

And that [ dryly, without much conviction ] would surely be a tragedy.

I mean— [ And Peter pulls away, ducking lower to press his lips against Alec's neck, just below his jaw. ] —who'd wanna leave a place as classy as this?
striketwice: (038)

[personal profile] striketwice 2017-02-20 04:48 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He lets out another little hum, angling his head to give Peter better access to his neck. He's slowly sliding out of control what with the way Peter keeps teasing him, making his heart hammer in his chest and heat spread through his veins. ]

Me. [ A little strained, a little breathless. ] I do.
nostalgiabomb: (176)

[personal profile] nostalgiabomb 2017-02-20 08:39 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He chuckles softly against Alec's neck. ]

Yeah?

[ Low, dark, breathy. He runs his teeth along Alec's pulse point, a light scrape smoothed away by a lick of his tongue, a gentle press of his lips. He pulls away after that, a sharp edge to his smile. ]

And I want another drink.

[ He gives Alec's hand a gentle little pat as he pulls back entirely. ]
striketwice: (033)

[personal profile] striketwice 2017-02-20 11:40 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He lets out a long sigh as Peter's teeth graze over his neck. His eyes slip shut for a moment as Peter's voice sends a little thrill through him, something like anticipation.

And just like that, it's gone. The sudden loss of contact actually leaves him reeling, the rug pulled out from under him. His eyes fly ope and his gaze snaps you Peter and he glares. ]


I hate you.
nostalgiabomb: (001)

[personal profile] nostalgiabomb 2017-02-20 11:45 pm (UTC)(link)
You're a shitty liar.

[ With Alec's barriers down, he can feel it, the coil of desire, the, the sensation of vertigo after having been dragged up and up and up and left to fall. Peter almost feels bad about it.

Almost.

And he just grins in the face of that glare. ]


You want me to grab you anything? My treat.
striketwice: (094)

[personal profile] striketwice 2017-02-21 12:48 am (UTC)(link)
Fuck you.

[ It's a little dubious at first whether that's a curse or a thing Alec would like to do or both. He still glares at Peter, of course, and he should raise his walls back up again. He should, but it's proving difficult. Even if Peter's being an asshole, there's something about being connected like this that he craves. His very soul needs it.

It's dangerous, of course, to admit it, but with his defenses already down, it's hard to fight the current.

So he suddenly turns and surges forward, pressing his lips to Peter's again. His free hand instantly comes up to Peter's neck to the band there- camouflaged though it is, he knows right where it is, and he's not at all subtle in the way he slides his hand along it. ]
nostalgiabomb: (025)

[personal profile] nostalgiabomb 2017-02-21 01:12 am (UTC)(link)
[ Curse or no, Peter just laughs again, bright and clearly unconcerned, already starting the awkward shuffle to climb out of the booth.

But Alec catches him first, and the force of it catches him off-guard. He braces a hand behind him on the couch's seat to keep from being bowled over. He laughs again— or at least he starts to, until Alec's fingers brush over the ring around his neck, and the sound melts into a curse, carried on a groan. His arm buckles beneath him, warmth tickling and sparking through his veins, and he grabs hold of Alec's shirt. His fingers twist into the cloth, and he makes a quiet, desperate noise at the back of his throat. ]


Fuck— [ This, bitten out between pressing their lips together. ] —goddamn prick
striketwice: (095)

[personal profile] striketwice 2017-02-21 01:39 am (UTC)(link)
You started it.

[ He practically growls it, catching Peter's lower lip in his teeth as he does. His thumb grazes over the band on Peter's throat again, slowly, deliberately. ]

You can feel it, right? How much I want you.
nostalgiabomb: (136)

[personal profile] nostalgiabomb 2017-02-21 01:58 am (UTC)(link)
[ He makes another strained sort of noise – ostensibly a yes, but words are kind of difficult to manage, with the way Alec is touching him like that. Steel striking flint, sparks catching on tinder.

And it hardly helps, feeling that coil of want from Alec's end; usually it's so muted, with both of their barriers only slightly parted, now and again, allowing a trickle through. But Alec hasn't put his defenses back up, and Peter can feel it all, writhing and twisting and winding like a snake, growing and building as it feeds into Peter's.

Fuck, it's a lot to process. ]


Alec— [ Barely voiced, thready and tight with need. Peter isn't sure where he was going with that, honestly, not sure if it meant to warn or plead, but it has shades of both. ]
striketwice: (001)

[personal profile] striketwice 2017-02-21 02:13 am (UTC)(link)
Peter. [ He groans, carried on the waves of his desire swirling together with Peter's, the way the brush of his thumb sends sparks and heat through the other man.

It's dangerously intoxicating, having the doors thrown open like this. He wants more, he wants to feel it all, and he wishes to God that Peter would stop locking him out because the little glimpses he's getting are maddening.

He draws his thumb away from the band around Peter's throat, affords them a moment to breathe, a moment to think, but his eyes remain dark and wanting as he searches Peter's face. ]


Still want that drink?
nostalgiabomb: (091)

[personal profile] nostalgiabomb 2017-02-21 02:30 am (UTC)(link)
[ Peter feels relief as much as loss, when Alec finally pulls his hand away, and Peter sags, breaths ragged and uneven, both hands twisted into Alec's shirt. That look on Alec's face kicks something up in him, makes his pulse pound in his ears, and he can feel heat rushing up his neck.

He's seen that look before, of course. That particular expression. Like, a lot. That I wanna fuck you, I wanna make you mine look, but—

He's finding more and more that he kind of likes it best when Alec wears it.

He swallows thickly, tongue darting out to wet his lips, and he quickly shakes his head. ]


Goddammit. Fuck. [ He captures Alec's lips again, insistent and needy. Too much teeth, far too fierce. ] You win, okay? You win.

Ship. Now.
striketwice: (095)

[personal profile] striketwice 2017-02-21 02:55 am (UTC)(link)
[ There's something he loves about having Peter like this, desperate and wanting, ragged and barely hanging on. Moreso with Peter than anyone else he's ever been with.

He tries not to examine that too closely.

He crashes their mouths together in one last bruising kiss, before finally pulling away, sliding out of the booth to quickly take their leave.

The trek back is far from quick, what with them feeding desire back and forth like they are. More than once they pull each other into dark alcoves for messy, brutal kisses, fingers scraping over skin. When they do make it to the ship at long last, the doors are scarcely shut behind them before Alec is shoving Peter's coat from his shoulders, pulling his shirt up over his head. ]
nostalgiabomb: (048)

[personal profile] nostalgiabomb 2017-02-21 03:29 am (UTC)(link)
[ They stumble out of the booth, practically charge out of the bar, and, yeah, the way want and need volleys back and forth between them like a seriously adult game of tennis is distracting enough, but Peter was also three drinks deep into the night. Three very strong drinks. And polishing off that last drink may have pushed him over into actually drunk rather than balancing precariously on the edge of tipsy, as he had been most of the night.

Peter turns to look back over his shoulder, catching Gamora and Drax's attention to signal that he and Alec were darting out. He trips over his own feet and catches himself on Alec's arm, splutters with laughter as Alec drags him out.

(Gamora drags a hand down her face. Drax just shakes his head.)

It's probably the longest fucking walk back to the Milano ever, but Peter hardly complains, laughing and grinning and groaning when one of them can't wait anymore. When they finally make it back, Peter snorts, amused, as Alec shoves off Peter's jacket. It falls heavily to the floor, and Peter lets Alec yank his shirt off, next, raising his arms obligingly.

He thinks he hears a few seams snap in Alec's haste. Hopes they didn't ruin that shirt.

He likes that shirt. ]


If you fucked that up, you're buyin' me a new one.
striketwice: (017)

[personal profile] striketwice 2017-02-21 03:49 am (UTC)(link)
Sure thing.

[ He really could care less about a shirt right now, but Peter is so weird about his stuff. It's not worth it to argue and it's not like he can't afford it anyway.

He drags his hands over Peter's chest, nails scraping over his skin, and he ducks his head to mouth along Peter's collar bone. ]
nostalgiabomb: (024)

[personal profile] nostalgiabomb 2017-02-21 04:05 am (UTC)(link)
[ He hisses in a breath at the sharp drag of Alec's nails on his chest. ]

Shit, okay, we are not

[ doing this out here, is how he wanted to end that sentence. Because there's too much crap out here. Half-finished devices and too many knifes and a couple of twigs left lying around from pruning Groot, and that's bound to make things uncomfortable.

But Alec presses his lips to Peter's collar bone, and Peter moans softly at the warmth of Alec's mouth against his skin. ]


Alec—

[ One of Peter's hands tangles into the hair at the nape of Alec's neck, the other wraps around his waist, hands digging into Alec's back. ]

Bed. [ On a strained exhale, with a half-stumbled step and a tug in that direction. ] Bed, bed, bed.
striketwice: (093)

[personal profile] striketwice 2017-02-21 04:38 am (UTC)(link)
[ The Guardians have really got to learn to stop leaving their shit all over the place, because the table is right here, nice and convenient if not for the fact that the things on top of it will either stab them or blow them up.

That being the case, he takes only a second to appreciate the way Peter says his name, moaning and clinging to him, before taking the lead and guiding them to the bed. Peter's nearly fallen on his ass several times tonight, to have it happen now would surely ruin the mood.

He backs Peter into the edge of the mattress, breaking away long enough to strip off his own shirt and toss it aside. Then he's right there again, pressed against Peter, skin on skin, mouths crashing together. ]
nostalgiabomb: (091)

[personal profile] nostalgiabomb 2017-02-21 05:06 am (UTC)(link)
[ He lets himself be led, tries to be careful about where he places his feet – and thinks better of kicking aside some strange metal thing on the floor. Could either be a toaster or a bomb; who knows, without Rocket here to tell him otherwise?

But they make it to the safety of Peter's bunk, and Peter uses his boot to slide the door shut behind them – a practiced move, and one he can manage with relative ease, even when his head spins from the mix of alcohol and desire raging through him.

With the way Alec's kissing him, with the way want bounds through their connection, screams through his veins, Peter groans into Alec's mouth, feels his knees go weak. And it's a damn good thing the bed is right there, because he sits heavily on it, dragging Alec with him. Without the shirt to act as a handhold, Peter instead hooks his fingers into the waistband of Alec's trousers, drags him along as Peter shifts further up the bed.

And without the shirt, once he settles comfortably on the bed, Peter can easily run his hand along Alec's arm, his palm running along the tattoos, brushing across the bright red of his mark. ]

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