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:

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. ]


[ 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. ]
striketwice: (030)

[personal profile] striketwice 2017-02-21 05:02 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He follows Peter as he sinks down onto the bed, bracing one knee on the mattress, crawling after him as he’s guided back.

Then Peter’s hand finds that mark on his arm, and he moans as his blood turns molten, as every part of him seems to burst into flames. He goes boneless for a second, slumping against Peter, fingers digging desperately into his shoulders as he looks for a way to keep him anchored. ]

Fuck, Peter—

[ It’s nearly a sob, breathed out in ragged tones against Peter’s shoulder. He can’t think, it’s too much, it’s so good. ]


[ At first he doesn’t realize he’s said anything, his brain takes a few long seconds to catch up with his mouth, and even then he doesn’t realize what he’s asking for. He just wants. He wants Peter to drop his damn barriers, to feel him, all of him. He wants the layers of clothing between them to be gone like five minutes ago. He wants to fuck Peter, or for Peter to fuck him, he’s not entirely sure which one he wants more.

He wants…

He sucks in a sharp breath, gathers what precious few pieces remain of his wits, and pulls away just enough to rest his fingers at the hollow of Peter’s throat, just below where he knows that band is. His eyes search Peter's face. ]

Can I? I want to see it.
Edited (brackets!!) 2017-02-21 17:03 (UTC)
nostalgiabomb: (041)

[personal profile] nostalgiabomb 2017-02-21 06:11 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Peter feels that sudden burst of heat, of desire, as strongly as if it were his own, but with his defenses still in place, there’s a level of distance, still. Something that cordons it off. It still hits him, though, like a wave of noise, like a physical force, and when Alec moans, Peter lets out a quiet echo of it. He hooks an arm around Alec’s waist as he slumps against him, which puts him at just the right angle for Peter to mouth as his neck, running his teeth along the hinge of his jaw.

Peter seems to recover much sooner, because while Alec is still slumped against him, he lets out a low chuckle, murmurs against Alec’s skin, ]
do that so much [ and Peter’s hand runs up Alec’s arm, edging close to the band without touching. He adds on reflex, ] you asshole.

[ Because there’s something kind of awesome about this, having like, a trigger to turn the other into a blissed-out mess, content and warm slumped over like a purring cat. Alec usually gets the first shot at it, leaves Peter sobbing and begging

Much like Alec is doing right now, and Peter’s name formed on that voice makes heat surge through his veins, makes the corner of his mouth quirk up in a sharp smile.

But Alec is pulling away before Peter can really press the advantage, and when his fingers rest against the hollow of Peter’s throat, Peter inhales sharply through his nose. He tips his head back a little, still and rigid – and it would almost seem like Alec pulled a knife on him, for the way Peter treats that question. The band has been hidden away for months, now – not nearly so constricting as it had been in the early days, but Peter never quite forgets it’s there, invisible as it is.

It’s a long moment, and Peter swallows thickly as Alec watches him, his gaze darting away from Alec’s eyes in a rare show of self-consciousness. He licks his lips, examining a pile of gadgets on his work station, but at last, he offers a tight little nod. ]

... Okay. [ Slightly strained, a little nervous, as if he suspects revealing the band might somehow end the world or something. ] Yeah. Go ahead.
striketwice: (024)

[personal profile] striketwice 2017-02-21 06:52 pm (UTC)(link)
[ That weird little flicker of panic, the way that Peter immediately freezes snaps him back to reality for a second. He pulls out of whatever strange nosedive he’d been in just a bit, and the desperate look on his face gentles. His tone shifts from need to a note of quiet concern. ]

Are you sure?

[ He’d hate to ruin this, whatever it is, by stepping over a line. These funny little marks on their skin carry a lot of weight. Bringing them both out after keeping them hidden for so long is surely significant in some way he can’t quite grasp. Maybe they’ll finally have to acknowledge what they are to one another with their bands laid bare. ]
nostalgiabomb: (218)

[personal profile] nostalgiabomb 2017-02-21 09:14 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Another second passes as Peter considers it, as a strange sense of nervousness writhes and snaps in his chest, but—

He’s being stupid. It’s just— just for now, he tells himself. And it’s not like making it invisible makes it not there. It exists. It is a thing. And making it visible or invisible won’t have any effect on what it does.

So it’s just for now. Just for tonight. It doesn’t mean anything, doesn’t have to mean anything beyond this evening. And if he feels weird about it still, feels like he’s still weirdly exposed, then he can just ask Alec to hide again.

(... would that be a dick move? He wonders it distantly. Is it like accepting an engagement ring and not wearing it?

Oh, Jesus Christ, is Peter’s immediate thought after that, as he does the mental equivalent of clamping his hands over his ears and singing loudly. We are not thinking about that right now.)

Peter nods tightly again, dragging his gaze up to meet Alec’s. ]

Go ahead.

[ A tad more resolve, that time. ]
striketwice: (051)

[personal profile] striketwice 2017-02-21 09:37 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He carefully watches Peter’s face, like he’s trying to figure out what’s going on beneath that weird wriggly mess that squirms at the fringes of their link. He can’t get a handle on it, whatever it is, aside from a brief inkling of nervousness.

But Peter seems to gather himself, and ultimately agrees. Alec gives a small nod, and it takes only a small motion of his hand to dispel the illusion keeping Peter’s mark hidden.

The last time he saw it, Peter was glaring daggers at him, hating him with every fiber of his being as Alec laid the spellwork to keep it hidden in the first place. It seems like ages ago, when waking up that morning to find the colored band around his arm felt like the biggest mistake he could ever make. (How quickly he proved himself wrong on that one.)

He lets his fingers drift along the edge of the mark, cloudy purple, the exact shade of his magic. It’s not pretty, not by a long shot, but he’s drawn to it all the same.

Alec ducks his head to mouth along that colored band, gentle presses of his lips, and long, lazy passes of his tongue by turn. ]
nostalgiabomb: (229)

[personal profile] nostalgiabomb 2017-02-21 11:23 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Alec waves his hand, and a part of Peter expects there to be more to it than that. Like, a little pop. Or for that ring to settle on his neck again like an actual collar. But— nothing. And that logically follows, of course, but Peter’s still a little disappointed.

The only thing that tells him it’s visible again is the way Alec’s fingertips ghost along the edge, maddeningly close. The way Alec stares at it, and the scrutiny makes color inch up his throat again, makes him feel self-conscious, makes him want to squirm.

He wants to say something snappy and clever. Wants to say something to crack the weird tension settling between them, but nothing comes.

Thankfully, Alec breaks the silence first, moving forward to kiss along the band, and Peter groans, arms turning to jelly. He falls back against the bed, dragging Alec with him. ]


[ This, on a shaking exhale. Peter arches up against Alec, head tipping back to give him more space. The languid pace he’s suddenly adopted makes Peter want to sob in frustration, but he bites down on his lower lip to keep it at bay.

It’s lazy and easy and maybe the mood had flagged a bit, but that first press of Alec’s lips against the band was enough to kickstart it again. And now, with Peter’s fingers digging into Alec’s back, twisting into the hair at the nape of his neck, with the wet slide of his tongue against Peter’s throat, the heat of his mouth, the warmth of his lips – all of it slow. Too slow.

Way too fucking slow.

Feeding flames already well and fully lit. Stoking them higher and higher, well past dangerous.

And Peter aches with it. ]

Fuck, come on— [ Sharp, impatient; not quite pleading but edging treacherously close. ]
striketwice: (095)

[personal profile] striketwice 2017-02-22 02:25 am (UTC)(link)
[ He's not actively trying to pay Peter back for fucking with him at the bar, but the idea sort of occurs as flickers of impatience poke through the haze of desire they're both swimming in.

He breathes out a laugh, breath hot against Peter's neck. ]

You got somewhere to be all of a sudden?
nostalgiabomb: (024)

[personal profile] nostalgiabomb 2017-02-22 03:33 am (UTC)(link)
[ He whines a little, Alec's breath flitting across his skin, but when Alec backs off a little, it gives Peter some time to gather the frayed edges of his thoughts.

And with some higher brain function returning, he says, ]

Don't be a prick.

[ Breathless and sharp. And Peter reaches for the band on Alec's arm. ]
striketwice: (093)

[personal profile] striketwice 2017-02-22 03:54 am (UTC)(link)
[ He laughs, but it quickly tapers off into a moan as Peter's hand finds that band again. Bastard is playing dirty, but he can appreciate that. Alec is always fighting dirty.

He claims Peter's lips again, sudden and searing, spurred by the white-hot flashes of desire that spark from the brush of Peter's hand, burning away whatever will to tease he still had, threatening to incinerate them.

His hips shift, grinding against Peter's. ]
Fine. You win.
nostalgiabomb: (025)

[personal profile] nostalgiabomb 2017-02-22 04:06 am (UTC)(link)
[ Fucking finally, he thinks. Now we're getting somewhere.

And he'd say it aloud, too, except his mouth is otherwise occupied.

His hands curl possessively over either side of Alec's jaw, licking into Alec's mouth, biting as his lips, arching up into him. He groans, curses, aches as their cocks grind together, relieving some of the pressure building, but it's not nearly fucking enough.

Too many layers between them, still, and Peter reaches down with both hands, fumbling at the buckle for Alec's belt. ]
striketwice: (057)

[personal profile] striketwice 2017-02-22 04:35 am (UTC)(link)
[ Alec is in no way going to help him with that, aside from shifting his hips a bit to put some space between them. Otherwise, he's too occupied by the way their mouths clash together, the slide of their tongues and the scrape of teeth.

He can't recall having ever done this with the doors wide open, not a barrier in sight. It's addictive, the way everything flows freely. He's dizzy with it, overloaded but only in the best of ways as desire and need ricochet between them, feeding off of one another. Usually he's the one driving Peter crazy until he's begging and wound too tight, but it seems the tables have turned this time around. ]

Fuck. [ This said against Peter's mouth, as he catches his lower lip between his teeth, none too gently. ] Peter--
nostalgiabomb: (025)

[personal profile] nostalgiabomb 2017-02-22 04:42 am (UTC)(link)
[ He hisses in a breath at the sharp sting. He wrinkles his nose, though the expression goes lost on Alec, and takes on a tone of mock annoyance. ]

Fucking working on it

[ He finally works Alec's belt loose, yanks it from the loops and tosses it with a soft clatter to the ground. He works on his own next. ]

Could help[ And he gasps it out between presses of their lips. ] You asshole.
striketwice: (086)

[personal profile] striketwice 2017-02-22 04:53 am (UTC)(link)

[ But is he going to?

Apparently yes he is, because even through the haze of emotions, he realizes this is going way too slowly with just Peter struggling through.

With one last bruising kiss, he pulls away enough to kick off his shoes and work off his pants. Every moment he's not tangled with Peter seems like a small eternity, and once he's finally free of his clothes, he flops back onto the mattress, reaching over to pull Peter on top of him. ]

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