The Weeaboo Sock (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
weebsock) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
bakerstreet2017-10-09 07:59 pm
weebsock) wrote in bakerstreet2017-10-09 07:59 pm
We don't have to take our clothes off.
| There’s plenty of sex that involves orifices, but this isn’t a meme for that kind of sex. This is the meme for handjobs, footjobs, hotdogging, and anything else your heart desires. HOW TO PLAY: -Comment with your characters with preferences and a little information. -Reply to other characters -Use the RNG to roll or pick a prompt. WHY 1. No contraception You forgot to take your pill, you left your condoms at home, someone’s allergic to latex, it doesn’t matter. You have to improvise, and would prefer not to use mouths. 2. Best kind of sex You really have a thing for outersex, no questions asked. 3. Need for speed Intercourse and the subsequent cleanup will take too long. Just be careful not to get anything on clothes! 4. Exploration This time you have a lot of time to set aside for some experimentation. 5. Tortuous Have someone at your mercy? Know that outersex isn’t someone’s favorite outlet for relief? This one’s for you. HOW 1. Hands Old fashioned, but hands are great. Nimble, sensitive and all around good for hitting the right spots. 2. Breasts Yeah, there was a whole meme about it already, but this is just one of many options--and you don’t even have to put a penis or strapon between them this time! 3. Thighs Just like the ancient greeks--you apply lube between the thighs, tighten up and get ready to have fun. 4. Butt Hotdogging for everyone! Penis and strapons go between the butt cheeks. Sorta similar to thighs, but different stimulation for the receiving partner. 5. Feet If your feet are nimble enough for this, go ahead! Just be careful not to slip or kick anyone. 6. Frottage Rub your penises together and enjoy yourselves! 7. Mutual masturbation Don’t even touch each other, just watch. Learn some new techniques. 8. Tribadism It has its critics, but you like it, thank you very much. 9. Humping Do you just like to hump thighs or something? This is your prompt. 10. Dry humping Clothes on! Don’t get rug burn. 11. Anything I haven’t covered? Want to mix and match? Re-roll? Here you are! ( written by based 2tailedbakeneko, the real mvp. )! |
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[He starts idly tracing circles with his thumb, slowly. Some of their housemates might seek release in fights - and Sam isn't opposed to a bit of sparring, either. But when it comes to stress release, his method of choice has always been sex. After a run, with adrenaline coursing through his veins, his heart still pumping away...yeah, even after a nice little jog through the jungle, he's still got energy to spare to get frisky.]
Tempting whenever he starts pulling the "on your left" shit, though. Man needs to learn to keep his mouth shut sometimes.
[Pot, kettle.]
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[ Bruce's response to that bit of hypocritical bullshit is a slow raise of first one eyebrow then the other. As if nobody in this particular bed were guilty of the same, as if they weren't in this bed because of someone's nonstop talking— The way Sam had practically stuck his head in a green lion's mouth in spite of several no's from said lion.
For all the irony in those two syllables, for all that he knows better, he still relaxes inch by inch the longer Sam's thumb swipes along his skin. The other shoe will drop, it has to, that's the way the universe works, but Bruce is still starved for contact. Selfish. Stupid. He knows better yet in a choice between scalds and frostbite he still catches himself leaning towards the fire. ]
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(Though, yeah, he'd like to avoid the surprise of getting to third base with the Jolly Green Giant, Sam can't deny that.)
By the time his palm is flat in the middle of Bruce's stomach, Sam has one leg draped over Bruce's drawn-up calves, and he's close enough that he can feel his body heat.
He's also discarded his shirt along the way. Completely coincidental, of course. But it's soaking wet and he's tired of the way it clings to his skin, turning clammy in the cooler air of the compound. Nudity - or partial nudity - doesn't bother him in the slightest, and he's utterly casual with far too much skin on display.]
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But he's not right now, and maybe (definitely) there'll be regret down the line but it's a little easier to ignore it today with Sam here.
Much easier to appreciate the (sure, completely coincidental) view in front of him as he eases a leg back down onto the bed, tangling under Sam's as his stomach tenses under those fingers. Said appreciation flickers in his eyes as he glances along the defined planes of Sam's chest, sheened with sweat. Bruce is always overwarm, his screwy metabolism making him a gangly radiator with heat rolling off him in waves through cheap jeans and thin undershirt. He never dresses for it, though, would rather sweat through long sleeves than leave himself exposed. Not that he minds other people but himself...no. Just no. ]
Hi,
[ he huffs, quiet and almost amused at the— Not subtlety, since Sam doesn't believe in that sort of approach once his cards are on the table. ]
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[Sam lets his forehead brush against Bruce's, closing his eyes and sighing with contentment. He can feel how tense Bruce is, but that's a constant; nothing he does ever makes him relax. He's given up on it as a lost cause, and just tries to make Bruce happy in whatever ways he can. Usually, those ways end up making Sam just as pleased, so it's a win-win kind of deal.]
I locked the door, [he offers with laughter in his voice. They'd learned to do that early on, because Scott has an unfortunate tendency to just walk on in if doors aren't locked. (He's glad Vision isn't here, all things considered. Having a guy walk in through the door would really kill the mood.)] You know. Just in case.
['Just in case' isn't fooling anyone with the way Sam's encroaching on his personal space. But Sam's going to pretend it's entirely coincidental anyway.]
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[ This close, he breathes in a blend of clean sweat and crisp aftershave as Sam's eyes slide shut. Sam makes relaxing look so simple, so easy, but it's something Bruce hasn't been able to afford himself for a long time, wound tighter and tighter until he was about to snap. That was how he came to Wakanda, strung out so far a trained ear could hear the strain. These days...he isn't relaxed, no, but he's not as tense. Maybe not a lot but it's something. At least to Bruce.
His nose brushes Sam's as he inches closer, the hand between them lifting to almost touch Sam's hip before it thinks better of it and drops back to the mattress. A locked door isn't that much more guarantee for privacy, between superstrength or telekinesis or (god, seriously?) ants but Bruce knows to take what he can. ]
Sounds like a smart move.
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(Sam, of course, has precisely zero shame, but Bruce has more than enough for the both of them.)]
Comes up, huh?
[That wolfish grin makes another appearance with too many white teeth and that look in Sam's eyes. He walks the fingertips of one hand down Bruce's stomach to idly play with the button of his fly, catches his bottom lip between his teeth and nips gently.]
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[ But that last syllable hitches in the back of his throat as Sam leans in, nibbling at his lip and tugging at his pants. Bruce can't meet that look straight on, eyes lidded and dropping to Sam's chin even as he ducks in and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
For all Sam's steadiness, and he hasn't hesitated once in the face of anything Bruce has brought to the table thus far which is absurd, really) he can't help...not. Other people, it'd be mincing and coy and teasing but not Bruce. Not when he tests out every move as if on thin ice after an early thaw. So it's slow but eventually a hand comes up and curls, uncurls, then flattens against Sam's ribs as he offers another kiss. ]
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[Yes, he's definitely blaming this on Bruce. It's not even remotely Sam's fault.
(Everything is always Sam's fault.)
The words are murmured against Bruce's lips, tone distracted, and he makes a pleased humming noise at the touch. He's not touch-starved, not like Bruce is, but he's still greedy about it, hungry for every little bit he can wring out of him. So when Sam kisses him, it's an encouragement, a silent plea for more, even as he drags the zipper down. He doesn't try for more, not yet, just lets his fingers play at Bruce's waistband.]
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[ It's a rare guilt that Bruce won't pick up and resignedly add to his already impressive load, but this? Nah. Sam can find another buyer.
Not that shopping around is a priority right now. Not when Bruce starts and stops and starts again to arch into Sam's space, lips brushing along his lower lip until it's a real kiss. Feather-light at first and ready to bolt at the first hint of no, but real enough as he exhales shakily against Sam's mouth. ]
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[Since, you know, it's totally accurate, and almost as common as accusations of wandering hands. The kind that are definitely not tracing light circles on his pelvis, making it perfectly clear where he wants to go and that Bruce's boxers are definitely in the way.
If he shifted his weight just a little, just there, he'd be straddling Bruce, and that sounds like a fantastic idea right about now. Having one leg slung over him like this makes it pretty apparent what his train of thought is - as if that weren't obvious enough - but, nah, he needs to take his time here. Instead, he teases his tongue past Bruce's lips, tests the waters there first.]