bakerstreet | Don't wait any longer

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Don't wait any longer

❝Finally❞

There's always been tension between the two of you, a will-they-won't they kind of vibe. Perhaps you're even romantically involved, if that's your way. But for some reason, you haven't taken the next step yet.

Now, though, you're finally ready to be sexually intimate.

How to Play:
★ Comment with your character and preferences.
★ Comment to others.
★ Play out the scene.

Prompts:
☆ First Time: This is your first time having sex, so it was something to approach with caution.
☆ Unsure: You're uncertain of your skill or prowess or even how to go about this.
☆ Uncorrupted: One of you is more innocent, younger, more inexperienced, and the other doesn't want to take that away.
☆ Differences: The two of you are different enough - perhaps even different species - that intimacy may be an issue, but you're ready to attack it head on.
☆ Taken: You aren't "together," and one of you is involved with someone else. This is the big decision to do an act that may be viewed as heinous.
☆ Forbidden: There's been no sexual contact because it's utterly forbidden, be it incest, class difference, enemies, etc.
☆ Realization: Maybe you'd been friends, but this is the first time you've really seen them in that light.
☆ Otherwise Distracted: Whether it be a job, a holy mission, or anything else along those lines, you've just been too busy to be with someone like that because it would take your mind away from what you have to do.
☆ Finally Free: Before, you just didn't have the chance. Now you do.
☆ Only Time: You were unsure before, but now, it looks like you'll only have this once chance to be together.
☆ A Long Time: You've been separated and it happened before you could get to the good parts. You want to pick up where you left off.
☆ Desperate: You've wanted them for so long...God, this feels so good, you never want it to stop.
☆ Romantic: You want it to be perfect.
☆ Waiting Until Marriage: Doing things all proper-like.
☆ FREE STYLE

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[so what are you thinking?]

(Unsure, Uncorrupted (with Mae being the corrupted one of course) and Realization strike me as interesting. They could combine all three?)

[That they could. Want to start or shall I?]

The robes are stiff and horribly ornate; Maedhros can feel his skin crawling underneath the fabric and the crown on his head feels heavy. Maglor had helped him braid his hair - it isn't his strong suit - and the rich copper strands fall in gentle waves down his back. He doesn't remember when his hair got so long, but he supposes the look suits an Elven King. Not that he relishes that position either.

He watches the crowd before him, sitting rigidly on his throne. Deep down, he fears what his brothers might be doing - they are never still and hardly seem to sleep. Then there are the larger matters to consider; like facing Morgoth and his foul creations. Somehow he needs to ensure their people carry on through these Dark days, but that is becoming increasingly difficult and he feels the strain on his mind and his body.

If only he had a respite. A small one would do. He had heard his cousin was visiting and he finds himself looking for him. Beyond the tension of worry and grief, he experiences a flutter of wonder.

Fingon strides into the Feanorian encampment with his head held high, deliberately heedless of all those who might be unhappy to see Fingolfin’s heir among them. If they don’t like it, that’s their business; Fingon wasn’t there to see them anyway.

Instead he looks for the calp’s highest roof, the house where his cousins are sure to be. It’s been months since they handed Maedhros back to his brothers’ custody, weeks since a letter from Maglor hinted strongly that the eldest Feanorion would welcome a visit, and all this time Fingon has wondered...well. He’s wondered lots of things.

And when he walks into the Feanorian great hall and locks eyes across the room with the red head whose voluminous robes don’t hide his jutting cheekbones, the sensation swooping though his stomach is relief.

Relief... and something else, though he dare not yet name it.

Weight is hard to acquire when you don't eat much and move from dawn to dusk - and sometimes beyond. But his brothers do try to help him - when Maedhros is not in a foul mood. His rage is easy to rile and everyone walks on eggshells in his presence, which only frustrates him more.

Surely Fingon has longed for such a happy environment to welcome him? Then again, maybe it's not so bad. Something awakens in Maedhros's eyes and his now angular face softens.

"Welcome, cousin. You are a face we have not seen in at least several turnings of the moon."

No, he remembers the exact day they parted and he secretly hopes he looks better. Will Fingon still find him handsome?

Well, Maedhros looks... better, mostly. Not saying much, perhaps- he'd been barely well enough to travel before, so desperate were the Feanorians to get back their liege lord (and so eager was Fingolfin to get his nephew away from his camp before one of his followers did something extreme). But he doesn't look truly well, either. Whether by lingering weakness or his own dissatisfaction, there's a pinched, exhausted look to his face.

Yet when he brightens ever-so-slightly and begins to speak, Fingon feels his heart lighten.

"Alas, o royal cousin, this new world of ours is full of tasks for us to perform. I have been too busy to come visit these past few months, but-"

So much formal claptrap in the words, despite the facts of the situation being true. But there's something more sincere in the last turn of phrase,"-you can rest assured that my thoughts were always with you."

His mind is in worse shape than his body; there are so few Healers in their midst and few can put together something that is so shattered. But Maedhros tries to focus on the life he had held before. He tries to focus on his brothers and, of course, the damnable Oath - even if he no longer feels emotion like he should.

"Would it behoove us to leave this land behind?" he takes a dark pleasure in the faces that inquiry causes, "We are buried too deep in our sins."

Suddenly, he can't stand the room. It's stifling. Maedhros rises from the throne, stiffly, and strides through the crowd as if they don't exist. But Fingon stands out - like a star in the pitch black - and he pauses, nodding at his cousin to follow him into a garden.

"My thoughts have lingered on you in times of pain. As pain is all I know, you never leave me."

The looks on some of the surrounding faces are hilarious, which does blunt the shock of Maedhros' words a bit.

To be fair, though, they're still quite a shock. "I was rather hoping to break the Enemy's nose before making future plans," Fingon manages, his eyes wider than they should be.

A pleasant fantasy is one thing- more than understandable, in Maedhros' case. But the Noldor are here for war, and the Feanorians here for the gems that hold- what, vengeance for Grandfather? Uncle's sanity? A good 'fuck you' to Moringotto?

Whatever the exact reason, the only way out of this is through. And as Maedhros beckons him away from the crowd, Fingon can only follow and worry.

"I'd hoped for better for you than that," he tells his cousin, when they are along and all the world seems to have fallen away. "You have had enough pain for the lifetimes of a hundred elves."

It's no secret on the Waverider that Mick Rory is no fan of change.
He prefers things simple. Straightforward.
Mick has been gradually making his way to changing who he is, but it's been a slow process. Gradual.

But the change he likes least is what he's seeing with Sara and her relationship with the uptight Time Bureau broad. Wound too tight, too rigid. Nothing like Sara in any way. She deserves better but it ain't Mick's business.

It ain't Mick's business when she tries to make herself into something she isn't.
It ain't his business when he stuffs down an angry sense of betrayal when she takes her side. The book wasn't hurting anyone. Sara trusted him with it right up until Uptight went and complained because it wasn't following the rules.

Rules.
Like anyone on the damn ship much cares about rules.

Then there was that stupid dinner.
Domestic and so forced Mick could barely choke down the wine.

She deserves better.
She deserves someone who can see her for who she really is. Fierce, wild, shining bright. She deserves someone who would embrace that part of her, not try and force her to stuff it away and try to become something she isn't.

[Interested in both canon and cross-canon CR, assumed CR fine, happy to do things in her world, your character's world, or a jamjar!]

[ooc: tentatively ota sw canonmates]

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Don't wait any longer

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