bakerstreet | kiss kiss

Entry tags:

kiss kiss

The Abrupt Kissing Meme

Plain and simple: your character is being kissed. Abruptly. How did this happen? Were they talking too much to the point where it was the only way to shut them up? Was someone bidding adieu or just not able to hold in their feelings? Or was this some CPR class gone bad? More importantly—how do they react?

How this works:
→ Leave a comment with the usual information in the subject line: character name, fandom. Any preferences, including what you don't want, should be included as well. Congratulations, your character is being kissed by whoever tags them!
→ Tag around.
→ Feel free to roll RNG (1-9) if you cannot come up with scenarios of your own.
→ Have fun, and be excellent to each other!

1 — Simply put: I like you. (You may or may not know this already.)
2 — I did it to shut you up. (It worked, didn't it?)
3 — I've always been curious... (About what it'd be like to kiss you.)
4 — It was an accident! (I totally tripped!)
5 — Farewell. (I may never see you again and...!)
6 — Taunting. (Bet you didn't see that attack coming didja?)
7 — CPR (You were asleep and you suddenly woke up..?)
8 — No more waiting! (Ain't nobody got time for that.)
9 — Fuck da police. (In other words, the random/whatever option.)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

To bed. To bed seemed better, more proper, more special than atop his lap in his office. She was special, and she deserved the sort of ritual worship she should have had years ago from any daft fool with eyes that she dallied with in the village.

But fortune had brought her to him, and as a virgin, which meant more care. At least, this first time. He would treat her like glass wrapped in fur, and it was at that urging that he rose from his chair, holding her under her backside with one arm while the other held the back of her neck. "Mine. My room, my bed, my witch." He could move quickly, when he chose, and with himself half undressed and sporting the evidence of his arousal and her flushed and with mussed hair and looking wanton and heated, he used that ability to leave the study they were in and make it up to his room; nothing more than a blur of pale skin and blue to anyone they may have crossed.

Then he was latching the door, carrying her towards his bed with a determined look in his eye. "You should be afraid, Devia. You should be terrified I'll not have my fill of you."

Had she not been drowning in a sea of wanton lust and frustrated desire, Devia might have wept when Vlad swept her up and rose from the chair, the promise of exquisite relief appearing on the horizon as rain clouds after a drought. As it was, she simply clutched him tight and closed her eyes as he moved out of the study, down the corridor, and into his quarters in less, it seemed, than two heartbeats, her breath stolen away again for an entirely different reason.

His rooms, yes; filled with his own unique scent that she'd recognize blindfolded. His bed, large and inviting in the far corner. And, unequivocally, his witch. Who held him tightly and pressed eager little kisses to his lips, cheeks, jaw, neck, wherever she might reach as he strode across the broad chamber.

The words growled at her ear brought a shiver and a throaty little chuckle and she breathed against his lips in response, "...then it is well that we have all night.."

He had to set her down, though his senses screamed to only hold her closer. He set her on her feet beside the bed, his hands cupping her face as he kissed her breathless. "Wicked, tempting little siren." He slid his hands to her shoulders, tugging at the blue velvet to drag it over them, to bare white skin he could touch, that he could taste if he would but lower his mouth. "You think I'll be satisfied with a mere handful of hours?"

God, she prayed not. And told him so, quite pointedly. She was hardly less eager, insinuating herself into his arms the moment her toes touched the floor. Small as she was, top of her head only reaching Vlad's chin, Devia arched high on her tiptoes, unabashedly pulling him down for a series of heated, aching kisses, squirming almost uncontrollably by the time she had to break her mouth from his, panting nearly breathless.

The tugs on blue velvet were irksome; it had taken Lydia near an hour to lace the damned dress, earlier. And it felt so heavy on her skin, barring those cool hands from soothing her feverish flesh. "Rip it," she told him heatedly, licking kiss-bruised lips and running warm fingertips down his broad chest. "'tis but a dress.."

He laughed, taking the front of it between his hands and smiling down at her. "I must be fond of you indeed, to face Madam's wrath at ruining her work." With a jerk, the dress tore like paper down the front, dropping into a forgotten pool of blue, his hands reaching for her to pull against him. He may have intentionally torn the light shift she wore underneath as well. Prudence was in his nature, after all.

Hands touched warm, silky soft skin and he let out a pained groan, body still trapped behind his infinitely constricting breeches. "I'll see they make you another. It was very lovely. Perhaps... a green one?"

Even though she had insisted, it was still a bit...strange to be standing here, wearing naught but her bare skin. Never before naked in front of a man, Devia hesitated only marginally before letting herself be pulled into that cool embrace, the contrast between them sending gooseflesh rippling...everywhere.

She shivered again at the blissful sensation of being pressed tight against him, hard planes firm against soft curves. She was still a bit coltish in stature, but nowhere near as thin as she had been so many weeks ago. Stifling a giggle, the tiny witch wound small arms around Vlad's waist, gazing up at him with bright, soft eyes.

"She enjoys the sewing." Devia wrinkled her nose playfully. "And the gossip, of course." Curious fingertips began to explore more thoroughly, slowly grazing along the edge of his breeches. "Of course, green if you wish..." A palm traveled over the intriguing bulge pressed between them, her fingers pressing just lightly into the stretched fabric.

He hissed, grabbing her wrist and stilling her hand, then pressing it to him properly. Letting her explore him for a moment before she drew it up to the stays on his trousers. If she was to be with him, and was as untouched as he feared she was, she should be given the chance to see what she would be allowing into her. To get to know him until he was no more fearsome a thing to her naked than he was with fangs bared and blood smeared over his face.

Yes, he remembered her reaction to him then, that lack of fear, that trust, the way she'd let him take her up with utter certainty that he would keep her safe. He would grant her that time to accustom to... well, a naked man in the flesh. "There'll be no end to it after tonight, you realize." He didn't regret it. The adamant stance he'd taken earlier had been for her benefit more than his. He wanted her to fit in, to be comfortable here, not to fear the wagging tongues of others. "And yes, green. Green to match those eyes. Perhaps I should get you a gift..." An emerald necklace for that pale throat.

Devia nearly balked when Vlad snatched her hand, but didn't pull away, and then he returned her hands to his body, silently inviting her to explore as she might. She had seen him bare before, the very first night they had met, when she had heated his bath water and sung to him of love, loss, and green fields under the blue skies. Granted, her attention had not been quite this focused, carefully pulling at the laces of his breeches until they gave and slipped down over his hips to be kicked away, unheeded.

She gazed her fill, looking him over without a virgin's innate fear, despite her status to that regard. There was no hesitation, no uncertainty in her, simply a smoldering curiosity. She finally lifted her eyes to his, shivering from the stone's chill this time, and rubbed at her arms, shrugging lightly.

"Let them talk. Madam knows the truth of things. She will keep the women from prattling overmuch." The men, well. There was little she could do in that regard. Devia then stepped close again, small hands sliding around Vlad's waist. "Then green it shall be." The same curious hand drifted lower between them, warm, warm fingers lightly brushing over stiff flesh, stroking gently. "Aye? But I need naught else." She gripped him firmly, tugging him down for another lingering kiss.

"All that I want, draga mea, is you."

She'd seen him bare, yes, but he'd not been... well. Full mast, so to speak. She was going more than looking now, though, her touch on his length making him growl as he lowered his head to nip at her throat. "Onto the bed with you, before I toss you on it. The floor leeches all your warmth and I want it for myself."

His hands were at her hips, lifting her carefully as he set her on the bed, moving to crawl on after her, fully male and predatory as he stalked across the bed towards her. "Madam knows the truth of things, does she? Pray tell me what this truth is? No one has bothered to whisper it into my ears," he spoke as he crawled over her, pressing her back to the bed and lowering his mouth to kiss at the top of the swell of her breast. "You shall have me, little witch. As much as you can take."

That bestial growl clenched something deep in Devia's loins and she unconsciously shuddered, unable to do as bid even though she was slowly growing more chilled from standing naked on the stone floor. She squeaked when Vlad lifted her atop the counterpane, but fell back willingly amid the pillows and stifled a giggle when he followed suit, crawling beast-like over her, dark head immediately dropping to her breasts.

Devia moaned in pure female satisfaction and sank both hands deep into Vlad's dark hair, cradling him close against her inherent warmth. A lithe bare leg innocently wound about his hip, cradling him between her knees as she squirmed beneath him.

"...no one...would," she told him, a little breathless. "But Madam is very wise, she knows much about...well..." a slow flush crept her chest, over her breasts and along her throat, "...things between men and women," she finished somewhat weakly. "She instructed me to bring your tea tonight."

He paused and lifted his head, one brow raised. "Did she?" Well. Perhaps Madame would find herself a bonus within the next few days. A rather large one. Women. Women always seemed to know more than men, no matter how long they lived. "And what else has Madam instructed you about men and women, mm? What tales do I have to live up to?"

"Da, she did." But the question deepened her flush, and Devia wriggled even more, chewing on her lower lip and lowering her lashes in effort to avoid answering, gods. The look, however, had her huffing in mild annoyance and lifting her arms to drape over his shoulders.

"She told me to be gentle with you. That you had been lonely for a very long time, and would need soft kisses and gentle hands to bring you out of the shadows." She even managed to smirk up at him slightly. "And, that your gaze seldom left me, whenever I came into the room, and that your eyes were always...hungry."

"Hungry?" Well... clearly he'd been doing a terrible job of hiding his thoughts if the Madam could pick them up so easily. Women. And because she was pliable and under him, lying there naked in his bed and seemingly wanting to be there, he felt the urge to tease. He let those long fangs drop, staring at her with that hunger that never left him, never truly. But it was mingled with that other need, the one that had him hard and heavy between his legs, his eyes on her as he lowered to kiss her nipple slowly. Carefully. "Is she so certain she knew which hunger I was feeling?"

The sight of those gleaming fangs never ceased to send a purely instinctive chill through her blood, but Devia never recoiled. Instead she reached up to touch his cheek, stroking the pad of her thumb over his lower lip, careful not to slice her skin. Then he lowered his head to her breasts again, and Devia fought not to writhe right out from beneath him at the tactile torture.

"...she-she...did not say."

She had offered him her blood twice before, but neither time had he accepted. Lying beneath him now, warm, willing and completely his for the taking, Devia had to wonder which way he would. "...I have offered you my blood before," she reminded him somewhat tartly, "but you would not take it. --will you now?"

Ever curious, she bid him lift his head, only to slip a slim finger between his lips, digit carefully stroking along one sharp, ivory fang, mesmerized by the daggers decorating his mouth.

It was at both the question and the teasing press of her finger that he withdrew them, nipping her with his human fangs, ones he'd always had that had given him a predatory look from a rather young age. "You are more to me than that, Devia. Surely you know that by now." He let his tongue lick along her finger, sucking it into his mouth before letting her take it back. "I... have not fed off someone I'm..."

A huff, and then he lifted up to press a kiss to her mouth. "There is a reason I send those away who grow addicted to it. Who seek to curry favor by crawling into my bed after too many feedings. It is pleasurable, but you are witch-blood, Devia. You are more than they could ever be, and I'd not sully this moment, not this first one, with that. I wouldn't... I don't know if I could control myself. It's not something I've had to test."

His explanation had her immediately reaching up for him, drawing him down to her lips once again. Devia stroked her hands over his shoulders, smoothed fingertips over his cheeks and slipped them into his thick hair, soothing as much as she could. She pressed soft kisses where she could reach, discontent with simply lying prone as a plank beneath him. Gently urging him over, she lay close in his arms, eventually maneuvering him over and wiggling about to lie draped across his chest, still feathering soft kisses and caresses over chill dusky skin.

"Shhh...then we will speak no more of it." She glanced up from placing a line of kisses from his collar to the center of his chest. "Take my body, then--it is yours, as you like." A little wickedness crept into her gaze, and into the fingernails which abruptly began to catch, just a little, in his skin.

Devia slipped a bare leg over Vlad's hip, gingerly coming astride him. "Madam also advised to let you be a little 'beastly', that doing so would be...mmm...beneficial to us both."

He hadn't meant to upset her, but he couldn't resist her pressing him down, letting her lay him back on the bed and place herself above him. The touch of her lips was like a firebrand on his skin, but it was a sweet torment he would bear for as long as she would allow it. "It is nothing, little witch. But I would not test my control with you. Not like this. Not when I am already tested so."

She slid her leg up along his and he raised a brow at her words. "Did she? And what beastly things did she imply would be beneficial? Perhaps I shall have a word with Madam about telling tall tales I have to live up to."

Devia giggled aloud this time, stretching out atop her vampire and gracing his wonderful lips with another long, slow kiss. It seemed she wanted more of them the more they shared. Lifting her head, she rubbed his nose with hers, asking, "Would you dare? She quails even my father, and he is at least as stubborn as she."

Returning to her work of familiarizing herself with the body beneath hers, skating inquisitive fingertips over hollows and planes, Devia shook her head, dipping to press a nipped kiss beneath his breastbone, splaying her hands against his ribs and gently lapping at his cool skin. "She said nothing outright, and I thought it better not to ask."

That spark of mischief appeared in her eyes again and Devia smirked. "Are you truly tested so? Do I torment you so much, draga mea?"

"You do," he rasped in a whisper, his hands sliding over that head of dark hair again. He gathered a handful to finger, to let the strands slide over his skin as he looked at her. "You torment me in the most lovely of ways, witchling. You make me feel warm, you make me feel as a man who is desired. You make me want, and that is not something I have felt since... not in a long, long while, Devia." His hand cupped her cheek then, his eyes soft as he looked at her.

"I am never alone with your kind following me around, your family, your blood. For generations they have been my companions, my solace. People I can keep safe. People I can count on to take care of, to not fear me as most do. But you, little kitten... you are the one that makes me feel like a man again. Less a monster and more a creature of flesh and blood. And needs."

She eased her way up the length of his body as he spoke, inexorably drawn to him as she'd been to nothing else in her entire life. His voice might have been a lodestone, and the witch a magnet, unable to pull away even if she'd wished to do so. Devia settled firm against him as he finished speaking, cupping his cheek to kiss him again, long hair feathering across his chest.

"...then I will care for you," she promised, falling to her back and urging him to follow her. "For I do desire you, all of you, everything that you are. You need only touch me..." she took his wrist, flattened his hand to her belly and guided it down, dipping his fingers between her thighs and drawing a swift gasp out of her, "...to know it."

Ah, there. There where he'd tried to keep from thinking of, to keep from touching, and she drew him there so easily. His fingers stroked over her slowly, teasingly, then he slid apart her folds to slick over her, into her with a finger, testing, then sliding up and around her sensitive nub. "All I want, little Devia, is you. And all that you'll allow me to have. No more, no less."

Her lashes fluttered closed and Devia's back arched as he stroked her, teeth worrying her lower lip to keep from mewling aloud. She gripped at his arm, needing something solid to anchor her while she writhed in his bed, beneath his hand. The rasp of blunted fingers against such sensitive flesh had her gasping, then squirming when one of those fingers eased inside her, and Devia whimpered, feeling her lower body spasm in response.

The pressure then eased but a different torture resumed once more, enough to have her fingernails digging crescents into Vlad's upper arm, the young witch nearly unraveling from even so simple a touch. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to take it all, she was willing to give everything--but then the rough pad of a fingertip scraped over something between her legs and Devia did whimper, then gasp, buck, and writhe almost wildly as shuddering spasms washed over her without so much as a warning.

She was so very sensitive, so responsive. He would have to take his time with her, but he felt no problem with that thought. He merely lowered his head to kiss at her throat, then start to blaze a trail of kisses down to one of her lovely breasts, nuzzling at it before he let his lips fix over the peaked tip of her nipple. That lovely rose-colored point that he tongued over, suckling at as he moved to slide his finger back inside her, carefully. Testing, letting her get used to the intrusion.

The fire in the hearth leapt merrily, quivering happily. Devia, in turn, shivered from head to heel, breath whispering sharply from her lips. Her eyes drifted closed at the soft rasp of cool lips at her throat, her pulse hammering beneath her skin. She felt hot from the inside out, wanting to twist and writhe to help alleviate this tightness coiling deep below her belly, but before she could even lift one finger, she felt Vlad's hand press between her thighs and she froze, fisting her small hands in his hair.

But the soft kisses and gentle caresses of his mouth had her gut tightening again and Devia's hips bucked of their own accord, one knee bending to open her for him further, and slick inner muscles eased briefly, but rippled over the intruding digit invitingly. Long hair strewn across his pillows, Devia tossed her head slightly, biting at her lips to stifle her whimpers. The fire continued to flicker brightly, and a soft breeze wafted through the room, cool as a kiss.

Lower still did he kiss, leaving the soft plushness of her breast for the smooth expanse of her stomach, nuzzling into the dip of her navel as he kept his finger's movement slow. Smooth. Testing in a little further with each press, stirring in her slowly even as his thumb danced over that sensitive nub further upward.

Glancing up at her along her body, he nipped at the jut of her hip bone, flicking his tongue over it, working to kiss and nibble even lower over her body.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

....and bedtime for me, uff

>>

no subject

no subject