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: (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. ]
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. ]

Please.

[ 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. ]


Fuck...

[ 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)
Could.

[ 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. ]
nostalgiabomb: (035)

[personal profile] nostalgiabomb 2017-02-22 05:49 am (UTC)(link)
[ He buzzes with the loss for a brief second, but it's a necessary evil he decides. Like ripping off a bandage, he tells himself. Like drinking bitter medicine.

But it sucks.

Still, when Alec climbs off, Peter finally manages to undo his belt, his hands made clumsy with liquor and impatience. He shimmies out of his pants, toes off his boots, and when Alec reaches for him, Peter climbs over him, knees bracketing Alec's hips, elbows pressing into the bed on either side of Alec's head. For a second, he just its there, staring down at Alec, appreciating how fucking good he looks like this, flushed and wanting.

Peter dips down, capturing Alec's lips again, impatient and greedy, moaning into his mouth when their cocks slide together. ]


How do you want it? [ This, on a low rasp, their lips still brushing with every word. ] You want me to fuck you, Alec?
striketwice: (001)

[personal profile] striketwice 2017-02-22 04:23 pm (UTC)(link)
[ They slot back together at last- it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, but it felt like so much longer- and he has to take a moment to just appreciate how good Peter looks above him like this, eyes dark, that stormy purple band stark against his skin.

Peter ducks back down to kiss him, and Alec slides a hand into Peter’s hair, moaning and arching into him in search of more contact, just the tiniest bit of friction, anything.

He almost doesn’t hear Peter’s first question, too occupied by the press of their bodies, the way their dicks slide together with each motion of their hips, but that second one comes through loud and clear. Apparently Alec thinks it’s a fantastic fucking idea with the way his cock twitches at the mere suggestion. ]


Yeah. [ Breathless, needy, and not bothering to hide it. Then, with a little more conviction, ] Peter, yes.
nostalgiabomb: (034)

[personal profile] nostalgiabomb 2017-02-22 08:46 pm (UTC)(link)
[ There’s something about Peter’s name on that voice, Alec’s voice, begging and desperate with need, that sends molten heat through Peter, and he rock his hips. Their cocks brush together again, and he moans against Alec’s mouth, lets him drink down the sound.

He could stand to hear Alec like this more often, he thinks. And maybe tonight has taught Peter the exact wrong lesson, because he’s learning that if he’s an asshole about this, if he’s quicker on the draw, if he abuses the shit out of the bands that tie them together, then his reward is Alec writhing beneath him, pleading, almost shameless, skin flushed and eyes dark.

Then again, he thinks distantly, Alec makes a habit of doing the exact same thing to Peter, brushing and biting and mouthing at the collar around his throat, so it’s hard to feel any guilt for their evening starting the way it had.

Payback, as far as Peter’s concerned.

He fumbles for the nightstand, and he fishes out the little bottle of oil they use for nights like these. He sits up, pulling Alec with him to maintain their kiss. It’s awkward going, with Alec reaching up and Peter slightly hunched, pouring some of the bottle’s contents onto his palm, warming the oil between his fingers, and Peter can’t help but snort out a laugh.

Peter pushes Alec back onto the mattress and repositions himself between Alec’s legs. He rests his hand against Alec’s hip, thumb brushing against the crest of the bone. The tip of his slicked forefinger comes to rest against Alec’s entrance. ]


Ready?
striketwice: (038)

[personal profile] striketwice 2017-02-22 10:23 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Maybe later he’ll be ashamed by this, by letting Peter unravel him so completely. It’s his own fault, he knows, for dropping his defenses as he did and being either unwilling or unable to put them back up. (It’s probably both, if he were to be really honest with himself.)

But right now? In the moment? He can’t even care. With his doors wide open, their desire pools and swirls and drags him under until he’s certain he may never see the surface again, and he breathes it in, drinks deep of every press of Peter’s lips and the way their bodies slide together. Every point where skin meets skin is eclectic, white hot and burning, and he craves it.

Peter moves for the nightstand, but it seems neither of them can bear to be parted for long. Alec throws a hand over Peter’s shoulders, staying as close as he can before Peter eases him back onto the bed. ]


Yeah.

[ Still breathy, still strained, but the look he gives Peter is one of pure heat. ]
nostalgiabomb: (136)

[personal profile] nostalgiabomb 2017-02-23 01:35 am (UTC)(link)
[ ... Well, goddammit.

That might actually be the most beautiful look Peter’s ever seen. He kinda wishes he had a camera.

Except— yeah, Alec probably wouldn’t appreciate that. In fact, he’d probably, like, scrub all of the data on Peter’s storage systems just to get at the one snapped pic, and replace it all with jump-scare videos or like Gralesi shock porn or something.

Best not risk it.

Peter rubs gentle circles along the blade of Alec’s hip with his thumb, smooths his hand up Alec’s thigh. ]


Relax, okay?

[ He eases one finger past the tight ring of muscle, takes his time, tries to be gentle about it even if need swirls and crashes through the both of them, flooding the connection that ties them together, demands he go faster. But he takes his time, working Alec open, fucking him with his fingers – just one, to start, letting Alec adjust to the stretch, then two, then three, carefully scissoring his fingers, sliding them in and out in gentle little pulses. ]
striketwice: (086)

[personal profile] striketwice 2017-02-23 06:24 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Relax, he says, like Alec isn’t caught in a maelstrom of want and need, like he’s not hanging on by a thread at this point, but the gentle pass of Peter’s hand over his hip, his leg, unknots some of the anticipation that’s coiling in his chest.

It’s always uncomfortable at first, but Peter takes his time, eases him into it. He’d be grateful is he wasn’t so distracted by Peter’s fingers and his hands curl into the sheets as Peter works him open, head tossed back into the pillows. The discomfort melts away as he adjusts, as Peter keeps moving, every stroke of his fingers stoking a flame that starts somewhere in his belly and curls up to lick at the inside of his ribs.

Little groans and half-formed swears slip from his mouth. He might literally be going crazy, he thinks, because Peter’s fingers curl just so, sending lightning up his spine, drawing a moan out of him, low and deep and punched out from somewhere deep in his gut. ]


Fuck. God dammit, Peter— Fuck.

[ He hooks a leg around Peter’s hips, gives him a little tug forward. ]

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