bakerstreet | cuddle meme .

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[warning] nsfw

cuddle meme .

The Body Heat Meme

Post with your character! They're now stuck in a very cold place of your choice. It can be anything, such as a freezing chamber, a cavern or a small cabin in the midst of a blizzard. The choice is up to you.
Comment around! Now your character has some company in this bone-chilling environment. The two of them share two things in common: clothes completely unfitting for this weather (be they summer clothes or even lingerie) and a blanket.
A blanket? Yes, just one warm blanket and no other ways to escape the cold. The two of them will have to share it in order to stay alive in this weather. Don't worry, you're sure to find a common language in this terrible situation!
So, uh, have fun, I suppose. Try to not freeze to death!
Protip: friction and body heat are both excellent ways to fend off cold.

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Which I invited you to share. You remember?

[She flutters one corner at him like a bat wing, invitingly.]

Unless you're comfortable already. [A head tilt, intent.] You're a shifter, aren't you?

What makes you think that?

[Oh, he knew she likely had some witchy way of finding out, but Lucas wanted to know if it was something he'd done. He'd been raised to keep what he and his family and friends were as a secret. If he'd done something to ruin that illusion, then he needed to work on that. Part of hiding it was not admitting to it right away.]

[Rhea shrugs a bit, like it's nothing special, as she pulls the blanket loosely around her shoulders again.]

Just a guess. [Educated, but instinctive nonetheless. White witches have a knack for getting the vibe of a person, and--] Body language. Not the kind of thing most people would read the same, but if you've known shifters...

[Another shrug, and she smiles.] If you say you're not, I'll believe you.

[Lucas leveled her with a flat look, picking at a thread on the blanket.]

I don't need extra senses to tell you're lying. You may want to make a point of not doing that around people that can tell.

[Not that it was a bad lie, but it was just better all around if she learned to talk around the truth. Especially if she was going to run into enough shifters that she could tell by body language.]

You never know who's going to be incredibly offended at a white lie.

[For a moment, she gets the sort of look on her face of someone trying to decide whether it's worth arguing. (Despite his careful phrasing, she rather thinks that answered her question anyway.)

So she tilts her head.]

Are you incredibly offended?

[The hand plucking at a thread on the blanket moved up to tug at a stray strand of hair of hers, Lucas smiling as he answered.]

Do I look incredibly offended? Or any other level of offended?

[It's hard to keep her smile from growing, and it plays at the corners of her mouth as she pretends that she doesn't notice, lifting her chin.]

Well, no. But maybe I'm not as perceptive as I think I am.

No? See, you're willing to learn, though. The maybe is a saving grace of any comment. Or possibly. Or anything that doesn't lend to a definitive statement. If you hadn't locked us here in a bloody storm, I might think there was hope for you yet.

[A 'maybe/might' of his own tossed in there, along with that smile still spread over his face.]

[She will accept responsibility for the storm only by not putting up a fuss when he blames her.]

I'm always willing to learn.

[Perfectly innocent, even. And before she offers the blanket again...]

I've heard that shifters run hotter than other people. Is that true?

[She was persistent, but she was also right. It was cold, there wasn't much in the way of bundling here, and shifters certainly did run hotter than humans. Eyeing the blanket one more time, he gave a resigned huff that didn't carry any weight with that smile still on his face as he stepped in closer. He was taller than her, so the blanket didn't reach his shoulders, but he slid an arm around her side, around to her back, then pulled her in close.]

You'd have to tell me.

[Now she genuinely can't hide how pleased she is. The blanket properly opens to accommodate him (he is... large), and she curls one arm around his middle, willingly going as close as he pulls her. The hand that rests rather boldly against his chest finds him satisfyingly solid and warm.]

...I'll say.

[She gets a quiet rumble that rolls through him, a growling purr as he looks down at her, watching her adapt to his proximity and seeing that she seems more than welcoming towards it. If there was anything a feline liked, it was being appreciated.]

Another mystery for the ages answered.

[What a lovely sound that is, especially when she can perceive it as both sound and sensation, a low thrum beneath her palm. Perhaps it's with the inner animal in mind that she runs her fingers slowly up his chest and then down again, practically petting him, watching her own path until she lifts her eyes to his.]

I might offer to warm you up a little more, but... any hotter and you'd be on fire.

I don't know that I'm the one that needs warming, witch.

[His hand that wasn't around her came up, tugging on that stray bit of hair again as he kept her close. She was human, after all; witch or not. The last thing he wanted was for her to get ill or take harm over something as silly as a miscast storm.

He looked down at her hand on his chest, his smile growing.]

Are you petting me?

Rhea.

[It's conversational, and a smile tugs the corner of her mouth again when he touches her hair. She doesn't stop running her hand over his chest even when he comments on it; if anything, it encourages her to trace a little more deliberately over the muscle she can feel through his shirt (because damn).]

I'm just warming my hands.

[A beat, and she becomes coyly apologetic, as her hand slides higher and her fingertips feather across his collar.]

Oops. Was that an offensive little white lie?

I am offended to my very core.

[His own words were a lie this time as the hand under the blanket slid up her back, that rumble in his chest growing as he smiled down at her. She was small and dark and smelled of something musky and some kind of herbs and spices that made his nose twitch a bit, but he was curious, if only to himself, as to how much of her smelled like that. Just those roaming hands? Or was it a scent that was a part of her.]

[The way she touches him encourages him to chase that scent and find out just how thorough it is.]

I'm sorry. I guess I just can't help myself.

[Whether it's the lie or the caress she's referring to remains unclarified, and the petting doesn't stop, either. The hand at her back makes her arch toward him, even with little room to spare, and in the small of his back her own fingers spread, as much as they can without letting go of the blanket. She traces the slope of his neck to his shoulder, up to his chin and beneath it, almost to tip him down toward her. Almost.]

Would you still be offended if I tried anyway?

Depends on what you're trying; to lie, to warm your hands, or to pet me.

[He felt her hand at his back, slipping his own fingers under the end of her shirt to draw idle little designs on the skin at the small of her back. He could smell that scent of herbs and magic on her fingers, closer to his nose now, and he tipped his chin down to nip at one of them, gentle, but still grinning.]

You're doing a terrible job of all three.

[She feigns hurt feelings, and a pout, but still doesn't stop touching him; that little nip earns a fleeting caress over the shape of his mouth, very soft and delicate. A spell-touch, though there is no flicker of magic behind it.]

Why don't you give me one to focus on?

Just one? I thought women and witches were supposed to be good at multitasking.

[The touch was light, and he followed her finger with another nip, hand spreading out over her skin as he pressed her in that much closer, taking a step with her to lead her back to the ratty couch.]

[A raised eyebrow, as she follows him, half-pushing, toward that hideous (and hopefully sturdy) piece of furniture.]

Witches and women are good at a lot of things.

[He is much bigger than her, stronger, more solid. But when they reach the couch, she gives him a deliberate shove down to the cushions that is not meant to be ignored, and as soon as he's seated she straddles his lap with her arms and the blanket draped around his shoulders.]

Play nice, handsome boy. There's a whole night ahead of us.

[Releasing the blanket, taking his face in her hands, she tilts his head back and her lips find his in a firm, lingering kiss.]

[They made it to the couch, and then she surprised him with the shove onto it. He laughed, hands already reaching for her when she went to straddle his lap. They slid up along her thighs, then around to her back, one finding its home back under her shirt, playing over her skin as she took his face in her hands.]

Bossy, aren't you?

[He let her kiss him, then proved that he was just as into the idea of where this was going by kissing her back, both hands spreading up under her shirt, tucking it up to lift it higher as he mapped out more of her body.]

[It's enough of an answer as far as she's concerned to break the kiss and sit back, long enough to lift her shirt over her head and toss it aside, without caring about the burst of chill that hits her bare skin. The second she presses close to him again, the heat emanating from his body seeps into her and she kisses him again, another and another.

The blanket is half-tucked around them, slipping, but she doesn't care much about that either. Her fingers slide into his hair and thread through the loose dark locks, nails gliding down the back of his neck, and her thighs spread over his lap to let her rock down against him nice and slow.]

[It would hardly be fair to let her be the only one getting a chill, so he took his own moment to pull his shirt off, letting it fall to the side of the couch as he went back to licking at her lips. He nibbles at the lower one, drawing her in closer to feel the touch of soft skin through the light patch of hair on his chest. His hands skim up along her back, then glide down to slip over the round curve of her ass, squeezing when she gives that rocking glide against him that has him lifting up slightly.]

[Rhea expresses her gratitude with a purr of her own and rocks against him again, finding a rhythm that lets her kiss him and stroke him with much greater purpose than that delicate touch before. She runs her hands down his firm chest, nails scraping just so, and when his hands go to her ass she lets him decide how hard she grinds herself on his lap.

But it isn't long before she's impatient enough to reach back and catch his hands with hers, and coax them up her back to unhook the black bra she's wearing.]

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