bakerstreet | ONCE WE'RE DONE, WE PART WAYS. RIGHT?

( ooc ; no deliberate jealousy-making, otherwise i'm ota! )

[ooc- M/F for anything that leans shippy/smutty. Undercover spy missions and cons are definitely my favorites, but I'm open to other stuff, too.]

ooc: I've been meaning to hit this for a while if you'd like Peter!]

Sure! Do you want to kick us off?

Sure! Would you prefer assumed CR or a wild encounter?

Assumed CR works!

In hindsight, it probably wasn't the smartest move Peter could have pulled, but he was beat six ways to Sunday, and his side was still smarting from the lucky punch the flaming douchenozzle - who until just moments ago had been ripping apart uptown - had landed right in the middle of his gut. Now the villain was on the run, twisting and turning through side streets, and both Peter and Barry were flagging in their chase.

"Shit," Peter muttered under his breath, landing in a crouch as they broke out of the alleyway onto a crowded street. It was absolutely packed full of clubbers, most of whom were too drunk to notice the spidery human who had just landed among them. "He can't have gotten far."

Peter's eyes scanned the street, looking for any sign of the villain they'd given chase to, but - shit, he must have ducked into one of the numerous clubs along the strip, all of whom were pounding with music far too loud for Peter to pick up anything useful with his extended hearing.

[Is used to doing this in a professional capacity.]

( ooc: I have no idea where this is going, but I hope it works? assuming something modern, but I can also make it work with something set in Arthurian times.

I AM ALSO REALLY RUSTY AT STARTERS I'm sorry I fail. )

Diana might be capable of taking on an entire bar full of men and winning, without even breaking more than a slight sweat, but she prefers to avoid violence when she can. She has existed for years in the world of men without drawing attention to herself and prefers to keep it that way. The fewer questions, the better.

So when one of the drunkards ends up being more persistent than she would approve of and refuses to leave the girl at the bar alone despite the obvious rejection, Diana takes matters into her own hands and approaches the girl. "Play along," she whispers, leaning in close to brush her cheek against the girls, lips skimming over her porcelain complexion, catching the corner of her lips. "Darling," she continues, her voice louder, "I am so sorry to be late. You were not waiting for long, were you?"

She wedges herself between the lout and the girl, remaining standing, and slips her arm around the girl.

(HUSH IT'S PERFECT.)

There was no shortage of things Morgana could do to keep some creep off her, and yet they still seemed to lean too close, press themselves beside her like they didn't see the sharpness of her smile, as if "no", or "piss off", weren't enough. And as tempting as it was she could hardly set them on fire, at least not in a bar.

Maybe if he followed her when she decided to leave.

Just as she saw the man move to come closer again, a silky woman's voice whispered to her, soft lips brushed faintly over her cheek before she'd even fully turned her head to see who this stranger was. She was tall, lovely, and someone Morgana was sure she hadn't met because she doubted she could forget that face.

The smile that forms on her lips is genuine, and if she's blushing faintly pink well, she'd never admit to it. Must've been the wine.

'No, not too long.' she almost wondered if she hadn't been waiting for her her whole life, but that was such a stupid, ridiculous thought that she quickly shoved it aside. The other woman must have simply spied the situation and picked the easiest way to get her out of it. It was nothing more. 'You are stunning tonight,' Morgana said as she leant a little closer.

Diana's not the type to assume people, especially women, are helpless, but she has dealt enough with humanity to recognize a certain amount of hopelessness and the resignation that came with being unable to decline someone's interest politely. There are times when she thinks her mother and the women on Themyscira had it right - avoid men altogether.

This gentleman seemed to fall into the group of people to avoid, as he shot Diana a disgusted look when the woman leaned closer, and Diana was going to smirk at him, only to be stopped by the woman's face.

Diana was no stranger to beautiful women. Well, people in general, but especially women. She was the daughter of Hippolyta, sister to Amazons. The gods had blessed her. A beautiful face was nothing, especially when the heart and the mind were so much more important. But the woman was delightful, a smile curving those red lips and a pink flush on her cheeks, and well - Diana falls.

"As opposed to every other night?" she asks, gently teasing. "I wanted to dress up for you; it is a special evening." She glances down to her dress, a short red backless piece with gold accents. "Do you approve?"

Stunning had been the perfect word because despite the fact that with almost everyone she met Morgana at least looked over them once to see if she found them desirable or interesting, her eyes had barely dipped below the jawline of the woman before her. Only catching slightly on her lips before she looked back into her eyes, reminding herself that this was probably just a game to keep the man away.

'You could be in sackcloth and ash and you would blow me away, love,' she says when the woman teases, head tilting to the side and a few loose curls falling over her face, thankfully hiding the blush that quickly darkens.

Morgana was not a woman who easily blushed, she wasn't easily wowed, and god help her things - feelings didn't easily creep up on her. Except for tonight, when a bored drinking session with some wanted company had turned into a whisper and a brush of lips and her standing there and making Morgana's heart feel like it was going to leap out of her chest, and Morgana didn't even know her name.

She takes half a step back, not inclined to go too far, but they were far too close to get a good look as they had been.

It might have been safer looking her in the eyes. What had been a light pink in her cheeks quickly turned into a rosy red as it reached her ears, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she found her way back up to her face. She didn't touch her, but one hand involuntarily moved, skimming the air above the fabric along her side.

'Last time a woman looked this beautiful, I think there was a war. And a golden apple.' she replied, returning that earlier teasing tone. Yet somehow Morgana felt wildly underdressed for a woman she hadn't even intended on meeting. All she ever wore to bars was black. Black dress, red lips, it was all she ever needed at these places to catch anyone and everyone's attention. It wasn't exactly a high-class establishment. A fact which only made Morgana more curious about her knight.

'It is a very special evening, though you hardly need my approval.' even though she unmistakably had it. Their gentlemen friend makes some noise Morgana vaguely recognises before she spies him out of the corner of her eye and before he can say or do anything she puts a finger on his lip like one might shush a child, eyes faintly gold for a moment as she looks from her "rescuer" to him. It was fine for him to bother her, but interrupting the moment was not okay. By the time she looked back to her, most of the gold had faded back to green though her finger was still shushing the man, lest the small bit of magic wear off or he got angry.

Edited (undressed is not the same as underdressed self.) 2017-03-27 23:56 (UTC)

Diana has always been drawn to intriguing eyes, and this woman's kept in that same vein; multi-faceted, an intriguing combination of greens, heightened by her pale skin and dark, dark hair, and red, red lips. There's a fairytale there, Diana is sure.

The Trojan war reference makes her lips twitch. She doubts anyone in this bar knows her origins or would make a connection to her alter ego, and so she is safe to enjoy the moment.

"I would hate to be the cause of a war between men, especially when someone so fair already holds my interest."

When she looks away, Diana can feel the magic in the air. It's an electricity unlike anything, indiscernible to most, but Diana was raised in a world where magic was not simply a myth. Perhaps not in the same form, because none of her sisters performed such feats, but she can still feel it.

Diana reaches out to brush a strand of hair away from the woman's face, tucking it behind her ear. Diana knows she is being far more forward than she should be, considering she doesn't know the woman's name. But what started as a simple rescue attempt has morphed into something much more. Diana wants to know this woman.

"Special though it is, I'm tempted to steal you away from here, forget our commitments, and work our own magic." Diana isn't easy, but she enjoys sex just as much as any healthy woman possessing a working libido, and she wouldn't mind seeing this woman beneath her. If not tonight - perhaps in the future. "What do you say, shall we depart and continue this conversation elsewhere?"

She meets the woman's eyes with a steadfast determination, hoping she conveys her true meaning: Let's ditch this place so I learn your name.

There's nothing about this little meeting that makes sense to Morgana aside from the definite desire to leave so they can give up the game and actually speak without some idiot who frankly deserved more than to lose his voice for an hour or two interrupting them. People never really "rescued" her, needed or not, they never slid up beside her and left her wondering just how long she could keep the night going.

This woman did.

'Eris seems to be handing out apples to everyone but the fairest, of late,' she says, eyes closing as she feels the soft brush of skin on her cheek as the woman pushes away a curl. It's nothing, Morgana tries to tell herself as she swallows and grabs some bills out of her purse, pushing them toward the bartender even as she nods, knocking that pesky strand of hair loose again. Morgana tries to steady her heart and convince herself that the woman just wants to leave, she wants out. Surely this is just a slightly intimate game of charades. Had she not done the same thing herself a few times?

Still, her mouth felt dry as she smiled, almost missing the word magic at the end of the woman's plans, but she catches it and raises a brow wondering if she had noticed the quiet spell that had silenced the man. It causes a raised brow for a split second because in most cases Morgana could make much more blatant displays and people would readily call them tricks. No one really wanted to believe in magic.

'Luckily, my only commitment is you,' Morgana says, reaching up to take the woman's hand in her own, her thumb gently brushing over the back of it before she pulled her, gently but insistently towards the door. There was something genuinely youthful and exuberant in how she pulls her pretend- lover along, like a teenager who can't wait to get her girlfriend alone for the first time in months her hand gently squeezing the strangers. It's easy to ignore the man, and the looks from the bar, easy to ignore everything but the warmth of her hand in her own.

None of them mattered, but once they're outside on a poorly lit footpath, alone, that little touch seems almost too much and matters entirely too much.

'You make quite an entrance.' there was a rising trepidation in her heart that she might make quite the exit too, before Morgana even got a chance to know her. Before she could even discover what about her was so enthralling.

'I'm Morgana,' she says, still not remembering to let go of her hand, thankful for the poorly spaced lights that hide how warm and red her cheeks still are. 'Thank you.' though there was nothing those men could do to her that she didn't allow, it was still something for her to have stepped in. Most wouldn't even humour the thought of getting between a girl and the louts who thought they had some sort of right to her because she showed up in a short dress.

"I wouldn't want an apple from Eris, only from you," she says in response to that, her eyes alight with amusement. Which is true - she would not want such a gift from Eris; she has heard stories of the war, the one everyone believes is a mere myth. Aphrodite forgive this woman and her comments, Diana thinks briefly, as her pretend girlfriend drags her outside.

The bar fades into the distance. Diana has keen senses, but she can ignore everything she doesn't want to focus on. Her training means she's still aware of any possible threats, but she can concentrate on the woman - Morgana, as she learns, once they reach the footpath. It's poorly lit, but Diana can still see Morgana's features clearly, the pale skin and striking eyes, those lips she wants to kiss again.

Diana's never been one to hesitate or waver; she knows what she wants, and she'll not let herself get in the way of obtaining it. Using their still connected hands, Diana pulls her closer.

"I'm Diana," she says simply, reaching out to thread her fingers through Morgana's hair. "I'll admit, I had an ulterior motive. Not at first, perhaps, but after a moment in your company, I wanted to know you better." Wanted to kiss her, but also talk to her. Especially after that display of whatever it was. "I hope I wasn't stepping on any toes."

'Diana.' like the Roman Goddess of the hunt, the moon and animals. Maybe she should've cracked jokes about the Empire instead. It's a good name, it sounds right as it rolls off her tongue under the faded streetlamps. As right as their hands feel, as right as yielding when she pulled closer felt even though Morgana is normally the one doing the pulling.

She can't help but lean closer, into Diana's hand, into the small space between them as she watched her with wide, curious green eyes. Morgana had thought she knew what falling felt like, god had she been wrong.

'Only the toes of some drunks who never even had a chance,' inhaling, her breath trembled slightly. Morgana drew her lower lip between her teeth as she searched for the right thing to say, something smarter than yet another comment about her beauty, something that makes her sound like a woman she'll want to stay around.

'Nothing better than a woman who knows what she wants,' is all she lands on, rolling her lower lip between her teeth again, as much a nervous gesture as a manifestation of her desire to never have Diana stop touching her again. 'and isn't afraid to take it.'

Aka, take her, please, dear gods. Before she embarrasses herself more.

Though she manages to say it with a warmth to her voice, leaning up and just a bit closer to whisper it in the dark.

Diana might be the Roman goddess of the hunt, but Diana Prince far prefers Artemis. And the entire Greek pantheon - after all, it is largely due to them that she has a life and a home. A home she hasn't been to in years but one she remembers fondly, with a touch of nostalgia.

It had been easier, there. No one would think anything of the way she pulls Morgana close, her hand settling on the nape of Morgana's neck. It was different in this world - though, with Morgana, it did not seem that different after all.

"I only take what's offered," Diana says, though she can read the approval, the desire in Morgana's body, the way she leans close and whispers into her ear. "I like a woman who isn't afraid of offering."

That's all she says before she finally claims Morgana's lips, light at first, a tease as she tests the waters. And then she tilts her head, letting the kiss grow deeper, sucking on her lip.

First kisses mean nothing, she has told herself seemingly a thousand times before, each one is different. Some are drunken messes; too sloppy, noses bumping, sharp. Others are quick, the forewarning of tomorrows regret already bitter on her tongue even as she lets herself fall into their hands.

Like every other part of tonight, this kiss is different. Diana is somehow, inexplicably, so much different to all the other women who have dared to drag Morgana close.

For once it doesn't taste like a means to an end. Doesn't taste like too much wine and mistakes quickly brushed over as they roll out of her bed and forever out of her life.

Kissing Diana tastes like promise, her lips part easily for this beautiful, strange woman, lips yielding but inquisitive, wanting her. There are no ashes in her mouth as Morgana's hand curls in what little give the red dress has, no wine is needed to make her drunk on Diana's taste as she presses closer still, as she leans up and into the kiss.

Maybe she will wake up alone tomorrow, but this doesn't feel like the usual fling.

Edited 2017-05-08 15:04 (UTC)

Diana is no stranger to kissing, especially not to kissing women. Before she left her island, women had been all she knew, and there had been no shame in slacking her desire with the touch of her fellow Amazons. Sex and desire were never forbidden.

Since then, the number of women Diana has kissed been few. Mostly, it's been men, their lips firm and rough against hers, fighting against hers for control. Kissing a woman is different. Morgana's lips are soft against hers, graceful. Yeilding but curious, dynamic; her body against Diana's is soft in all the right ways, curves to match her curves.

She tastes like magic.

Diana sighs against her lips, exploring all that Morgana bares to her before she has to break the kiss. When she does pull back, she nips at Morgana's lower lip, using her tongue to soothe the sting. Her hands slide up to curl at the back of her neck, fingers sinking into the strands of hair at her nape.

It's instinctive, the way Morgana follows Diana after the kiss, after that playful nip, only catching herself at the last second before their lips would meet again. Somehow, kissing Diana is different to all the girls she's ever pressed against her bed, or a wall, all the girls whose faces she had gently cradled in her hands.

She's different, but she has been since Morgana felt her voice curl against her skin.

Her eyes are half closed with an easy, pleased smile curling her lips as Diana's hands slide over her skin, moving just a little closer, watching her.

It's only a span of heartbeats before Morgana speaks, but it feels like years as she looks at Diana, into her eyes, steadied by her hands and her body. Morgana licks her lips, ignoring how warm and pink her cheeks are so she can focus, even a little.

'I think I can offer myself up much better than just that,' she began, her voice low and her eyes barely managing to keep watching Diana's when she wanted so much to look at her lips, to taste her again. 'If you would like to try again.'

"You acquitted yourself quite well," Diana assures her, but she can understand that desire. To do better, be better, prove yourself. Not that Morgana has anything to prove to her.

Her eyes track the path Morgana's tongue takes, and Diana wants to taste her again, following that same path with her tongue and lips. And clearly, Morgana wants it too.

She falls into another kiss, using the hand at the nape of Morgana's neck to draw her closer. It's not so teasing this time, firm and heavier, even though Diana's careful to control her strength. No point in startling off someone before she even gets to the fun parts.

Her words die on her lips as Diana pulls their lips together again, but the promise of how much more things could be doesn't need words to be understood. It's in the way she yields but presses for more at the same time, lips drinking in every bit Diana is willing to share, giving whatever she wants to take. It's in the slide of her hands over that red dress that had almost left Morgana flat on the floor of that grungy bar.

That promise is in the barely suppressed spark of gold in her eyes, electricity in her fingers she has to still herself to stop because her heart is racing so fast and Morgana has never felt more delighted at feeling so undone by an act that isn't even scandalous. By a woman whose name she barely knows but never wants to forget, no matter what comes with tomorrow, or doesn't.

Diana can feel something shimmer in the air between her and this woman, though she's too busy kissing her to pay much attention for the moment. She'll think about it later - much later, after she's had her fill of kissing Morgana.

Even Amazons need to breathe, and eventually she pulls back again, but not without a quick nip to Morgana's lip. She opens her mouth to say something, but her mobile beeps at her - not just a notification, but a specific notification. It's enough to force her to draw back out of Morgana's embrace, leaving a few inches between them.

"I must go," she says, her voice apologetic. "Would you be interested in coffee tomorrow?"

No way is she going to let this woman go without future possibility, far too intrigued.

There's little will left to not follow Diana's lips wherever they might take her, but she uses it to stop after that last nip, leaning back so her heels finally touch the ground again.

'Go?' she asks, her mind not quite catching on, until it does and she barely hides the pout that quickly follows. 'Oh. Of course.'

'Coffee sounds fantastic.' not as fantastic as taking Diana home tonight, but maybe that was for the best. 'Do you have a place in mind or would you like my number?'

"Give me your number," Diana says. She wants to continue the night, but if Bruce is texting her, it's important. So she digs out her phone, unlocking it - and dismissing the notification; she'll read later - so she can hand it to Morgana for her number. "I'll text you a place and a time."

Taking the phone means fully letting go of Diana, which she should anyway, because Diana has to go and they don't even know each other. Not really.

She mostly keeps it off her face, but Morgana can't quite shake the feeling of regret that lingers in her chest as she quickly adds herself as a contact in Diana's phone, leaving her address in there too just in case Diana changes her mind, or ever needs to find her properly.

When she's done, Morgana hands her phone back.

'You can call whenever you have time. I'm up at all sorts of hours.' and she'd happily get up to answer any phone call but certainly hers. Morgana and sleep were not good friends.

'Good luck with your...' she gestures vaguely to the phone whose beeping had interrupted their fun. 'And thank you, Diana.' for the rescue she didn't know she needed until she had gotten it. For the sweet kisses. For wanting to see her again. Maybe there was a god, after all. One with a slightly poor sense of timing, but still.

Diana takes her phone back, quickly shooting Morgana a text. "So you'll have my number too," she explains, stashing her phone away. "I regret having to kiss and run, but we'll do this again."

She didn't want to go, but work was necessary, and there would be an opportunity for her to see Morgana again. She wasn't going to let a lady like Morgana slip out of her hands. Diana leaned in, brushing her lips against Morgana's in a quick, light kiss, and turned on her foot to walk rapidly down the street to a car parked on the curb.

[Particularly interested in a scenario where he's been hired to pose as someone's date or boyfriend.]

[Cast and crosscanon welcome. 18+]

ONCE WE'RE DONE, WE PART WAYS. RIGHT?

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