bakerstreet | lights out

lights out

LIGHTS OUT
a dark room meme

Uh oh! Looks like something weird is happening, here! Did someone forget to pay the electricity bill? Or has that storm outside caused a blackout? Who knows! Reasoning aside, you are now trapped in darkness. You can't see anything, anything at all! And you can't even adjust to this darkness, for some reason! There's only black, black, black. Something about this room is odd, for certain!

How this is going to go down
♦ You will post as your character as ANON, because you're in the dark!
♦ There is no putting your character's name in the subject line. However, if you like, you can put your character's series/canon. It's no fun if you know who you're interacting with right away!
♦ You're free to set up your character fumbling around in the dark and such, just so you remember which comment is yours in this anon mess, if anything.
♦ Those who reply to you will roll the RNG for the specifics of the situation!
♦ Yay! In the dark shenanigans!!
♦ When you guys are ready, the lights go on, you can log into your character journals, and it's time to admire the awkward in the light.

♦ ONE: WHY IS IT SO SMALL AND CRAMPED IN THIS ROOM? Wait, this isn't a room, this is a closet. It looks like you've been locked inside for Seven Minutes in Heaven, or just for shits and giggles! The door doesn't seem to be opening, and it sounds like some ... Barry Manilow is playing? Oh, talk about awkward.
♦ TWO: BRR, WHY IS IT SO COLD? Looks like your clothes are missing! For some reason, you're only dressed in your underwear, or even commando if you feel like being really mean to your muse. Are you in bed with someone? Just can't find your clothes? Are THEY wearing your clothes? Up to you, because it really doesn't make it any less awkward.
♦ THREE: A LITTLE HANDSY: Did someone just cop a feel? There's a lot of accidental (or... not accidental groping going on, for whatever reason! Talk about an awkward situation, mmmhmm!
♦ FOUR: OOPS, STUCK! One of you is stuck somewhere in this room, and can't get out! Either in a hole in the floor or tied to a bed or something! Whatever you can think of! Hopefully the other person can help you out in the dark.
♦ FIVE: ON AND OFF! Rather than totally darkness, the lights are flashing on and off, creepily. And it looks like there might be monsters in there with you guys?! Or are those illusions?

If you don't want to roll the RNG, that's fine! Go ahead and create your own situation, if you'd like!

Have fun, everyone!

(originally posted here at memebells)

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The glove felt very familiar. His thumb found the top of it, tracing that line and lightly brushing skin. "But you can touch me. You always can."

She gasped at the contact, the lack of pull that came from his thumb brushing along the outside of her wrist. And she shivered at the touch, her heart clenching at his words. Something in them felt so true, so heart-achingly desirable and hinted at great pleasure and pain.

She wet suddenly dry lips, "I... don't know how that could be." She exerted a light pressure against his face, suddenly wanting desperately to see his eyes. "What you're sayin' is impossible."

"Oh dearest," he said, breathing that out like a sigh. "With magic, anything is possible."

There should be a retort for that. Maybe even five, and she could pick and choose which one she wanted, if she'd be kind or cruel and why.

But there wasn't.

There was just the heat that suddenly shot through her and coiled low in her stomach at the way he breathed out that word. Dearest.

Why? Why is that so familiar? Why did she feel like she knew this?

Her lips moved to form a name she didn't recognize, and it didn't make any sense, and how terrible to be wrong and hurt him, insult him, no, she wouldn't risk it-- "Oh."

Come on, girl, get yourself together.

"Guess... I won't need the gloves, then."

None of this should have been emotionally engaging at all, and he wasn't certain why it was to begin with. He cleared his throat, licked his lips, laughed as he tried to figure that out. "It would seem not."

He released her hand, tracing a line up her arm to her shoulder, neck, then cupped her cheek.

She made a small sound when he made contact with her cheek, something about the way he ran his hand up her arm filled her with memory and expectation. But this was impossible. It was impossible!

...but she could feel his hand, warm against her cheek, and she leaned against it. She didn't quite dare to believe it was happening, and she craved more at the same time.

"This doesn't make any sense," her gloved thumb caressed along his cheekbone, her hand other hand coming up to trace the other side of his face, attempt to 'see' him.

"Magic." He laughed.

He brought his other hand up to cup her cheek as well, carrying out that same exploration along familiar lines. "I remember this beloved face," he murmured.

Not as much as he wanted, but enough. He held her face carefully still and leaned down to press his lips lightly against hers, almost an experiment.

She didn't move to intensify the kiss. She just stood there for a moment and trembled, her heart racing.

Beloved face. There was something frightening in that... because she believed him. Because this felt too familiar, too real to be a dream.

She tilted her head then, to lightly respond to him on her own terms, a pleasant pulse of attraction rippling through her at their kiss.

Her hands slid from his face to behind his back. Resting her forearms on his shoulders, she shed first one glove, then another, allowing them to drop on the floor. She moved bare hands back to tangle in hair that she somehow knew would be long and too close to his head. One hand curled into a loose fist while the other slid back around to rest on his shoulder.

He breathed out a soft sigh against her lips, then placed another kiss delicately. His thumbs moved over her cheekbones.

Somehow, he'd been afraid she would reject that. Perhaps reasonable enough, for a stranger in a closet. But it felt hard-won, as if he had been rejected many times before.

But not any more. Mine. The hand in his hair felt like a confirmation of that.

Almost reluctantly, he let one hand drop from her cheek, but he slipped his arm around her waist instead, tugging her closer.

It would only be reasonable to pull back now and ask for his name. The lack of tentacles was a relief, however she had enough experience with the uncanny to know that the sense of familiarity she felt shouldn't be trusted. In fact, it was that very sense of familiarity that felt as if it came with some sort of warning attached.

But no, when he slid one arm around her waist, she shivered and moved towards him willingly. She had been reasonable for far too long. And now she was locked in a dark closet with a man who could kiss her and called her beloved, who she felt in her bones was someone she cared for. She could be reasonable later.

She stepped close, flush against him. She responded to his kiss, allowing her head to loll in whatever direction that would help keep his lips on hers longer.

Rather than a sigh - since that would require him to release her lips and he had no intention of doing that - he made a soft, pleased sound deep in his throat.

He took that response as an invitation, kissing her more deeply. He spread his fingers across her back, other hand slipping down to rest against her neck.

She was sensitive where he touched her. She shifted back and forth against him as his hands spread on her back, wanting more, arching into him. She could feel her hair raising at the back of her neck, both from this prolonged contact and the type of of contact it was.

But when he moved to deepen their kiss, she only responded, making an encouraging noise. She leaned into him, her eyes sliding shut in the darkness. The added layer of darkness made her feel as though he completely surrounded her, and rather than feel claustrophobic, it made her smile against his lips.

Her hand moved from his shoulder down his arm and up to his upper back.

He ran his thumb slowly down her spin, wanting to feel her pressed again him. His fingers teased at her skin lightly, wandering across her neck and then up to trace the curving outside of her ear.

He shut his eyes as well; no point in keeping them open, and it was easier to think, almost remember the face he'd read with his fingertips with his eyes shut. He tugged lightly on a lock of her hair, weaving his fingers through it.

Feeling her lips curling, he tasted her smile lightly with the tip of his tongue, and that was familiar too.

She curled into him at the way he ran his finger along her back and the teasing touches across her neck and the side of her face had her making a needy sound low in her throat. Deliberately now, she pressed against him, wanting more. Her hand caught the material of his shirt, catching it in a fist as she rose on her toes to press closer still.

She knew this, somehow. She knew these sensations that she could have sworn she'd never experienced before. She knew him. And it was to him, to this familiar stranger, that she willingly opened her mouth and invited him in.

There wasn't that much room in the closet; it was easy enough to press her back against the wall, holding them firmly together. Something seemed odd about her back, something missing, but his hand seemed to find it rather perfect. He set that confusing thought aside for the moment, focusing instead on what was far more pleasant - kissing her, and the fundamental warmth and rightness of it.

He delved expertly into her mouth, not so much exploring as seeking out what some murky, muffled memory told him would make her go weak in the knees.

He still took his time - he always did, that was his nature - before finally breaking away to breath a moment, to speak the words, "I have missed you." He kissed her again.

This was familiar and that was impossible and with each stroke of his tongue that mattered less and less until he found a place that caused all the strength to leave her legs. She clung on to him desperately then, hand leaving his hair to wrap about his shoulders, press against the back of his neck for more.

She trembled, the constant contact and closeness almost overwhelming - almost but not quite, and she gasped for breath in that instant his mouth left hers.

I have missed you.

Impossible, impossible - she had no idea he existed before this and yet, and yet something about the way he pressed against her, her back against the wall and herself quite close to him fit with dreams that she couldn't remember, dreams that had left her aching.

"I know you," she whispered against his mouth. "Who are you?" Rather than let him respond immediately, she boldly kissed his lower lip, catching it between her teeth before drawing it into her mouth to ease the sting, "Don't let me go."

This felt too right. She didn't want anything to stop their closeness.

"I won't again," he murmured. He pressed another hungry kiss against her lips, then the corner of her mouth, her cheek, and feather light on each of her eyelids. He smiled, lips against her forehead for a moment, and murmured, "I'm yours, when you want me."

As if that hadn't always been the case.

He hitched her a bit higher against the wall, pressing one knee between hers, other hand wandering down to caress her side, her hip. Carefully, he found her lips again, nipping, then kissing deeply.

She made way for his knee, willingly spread her legs apart to accommodate him - though she wasn't thinking very clearly about her actions at all. What part of her mind that was still capable of thought was wrapped up in cataloging how wonderful the slide of his hand down her side made her feel.

His careful attention to her face had worn down the resistance of her heart to something negligible - sometime between his kiss to her first and second eyelid, she'd begun panting softly for him. The warning she felt along with the sense of familiarity, she dismissed utterly. How could this be wrong? She wasn't at all afraid his closeness - somehow she knew that he wouldn't hurt her, that she wouldn't hurt him and that knowledge made her shiver.

He returned to her lips, and she made a small, needy sound that moved to one of satisfaction as he deepened his kiss. She sought to coil herself around him in response, shifting one leg to loop it around his and using the wall to support her as she arched her back, pressing her chest more firmly against him. She wrapped her arm around the breadth of his shoulders to help hold some of her weight and ran her other hand down his back.

When he ended their kiss, she tore her lips out of his reach. Pressing her cheek against his, she tilted her head upwards until she could whisper in his ear, "I want you."

He moaned a low sound into her mouth, pressing closer, hand sliding lightly along her leg. His other hand slipped up from her hip again, fingers brushing across the side of her breast.

Those words. He would have -- had? -- given everything to hear them. They drew another low sound from him. He ducked his head to press a lips against her neck, words failing him for that moment.

"Ha--" she exhaled when his fingers brushed against the side of her chest, suddenly and vividly aware of him. This - this wasn't a dream. Had it happened before? Just like this? She wasn't sure, but it felt like he fit.

One hand slid up to the side of his head and she didn't so much press him against her as she moved to simply hold him, cradle his head against her. I'm right here. I've got you.

"I missed you too," she whispered.

He breathed out a shuddering sigh against her neck, kissing her skin. "Don't leave me again," he whispered. "Please."

He pressed tightly against her, wanting as well. His fingers brushed over her breast again, but continued up, skating over her neck, cupping her cheek again.

The music, which had been growing steadily more and more faint abruptly came to a complete stop even as the lights turned on. Rogue heard a distinct click as the closet door unlocked.

She opened her eyes, blinking several times. The awareness she had of him was suddenly joined by awkwardness as she became fully aware of just what he was pressing against her. Rogue attempted to put that to the side, right now. There was something more important. She wanted to see his face.

She slowly pulled her head away and tugged lightly at his hair. Up.

His eyes were shut so he wasn't blinded by the lights coming on. He didn't move back or away, since at the moment the woman he had pressed between him and the wall was far more important to his mind than simply leaving.

At the tug on his hair, he reluctantly straightened; he had a bad feeling now that this would be a matter of being left, or no longer wanted since he knew that had happened before. But still, it did no good to ignore it. Loki straightened, eyes opening.

Her face, familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, brought with it a name. He smoothed his thumb along her cheekbone, smiling, something terribly vulnerable in his eyes. "Rogue," he murmured, stealing a quick kiss. He could hope it wouldn't be the last one he'd get, but just in case, he would take it.

Ah, yes, that's right, she thought as soon as she saw his face. That's who this should be.

Hearing her name from his lips was the strangest pleasure - she was too bemused at all the pieces of memory - How do I know this man? - falling into place to react much at all to the way he stole a kiss.

"Loki."

Where there should be shame, there was only wonder. She gave him her own kiss on the corner of his lips and lingered there sweetly for a moment before pulling back and sliding her leg back around. She moved her hands to his shoulders. "Let's get out of this closet."

She moved her hand up to his hand on her cheek and tugged it away to clasp it. She remembered turning him away - how many times had she had to turn him away, to deny herself the ability to express any sort of feeling towards him? It seemed a bit late now. She'd recognized him even in the darkness, even when she by all rights shouldn't even know his name. She didn't want to let him go so easily, not now.

The smile flashed into brilliance when she said her name, and all he heard in her voice was the same sort of thing he felt. Loki nearly sagged with relief, not really capable for a moment to keep up his normal facade.

Also, he found her did not want to.

He wove their fingers together and added to it magic, guard against the oblique but very real fear that in leaving the closet they would be separated and forget each other again. "All right," he said.

...and thank goodness he was wearing a long tunic. There was that too.

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