bakerstreet | hidden relationship

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[meme] shipping

hidden relationship—

hidden relationship;

The fact that you're in a relationship with this person isn't public knowledge. Actually, no one knows about it except for the people involved. Maybe you guys are just private like that; on the other hand, it may be a necessity to keep things a secret from others. Maybe you're both team mates, and others on the team would give you grief, or you're not supposed to be dating, or you're not the type to usually date and you're only testing the waters. Perhaps it's the combination of you two, possibly an odd couple, that would bring some controversy or some teasing. Or, you know, you could not want to deal with friends and relatives being busybodies. Your reasons are your own.

Are you content with stealing moments to be together as a couple? Do you want to make your relationship known and the fact that you can't drives you batty? Remember, there are lots of benefits to dating in secret. You can be yourselves completely, away from prying eyes, and get to know each other better as potential longterm romantic partners. In a way, it's ideal.

...still, do you ever wish you could scream from the rooftops how much you care for your significant other?

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Play out stolen moments (◡‿◡✿), secret dates (◕‿◕✿), secret handholding (⊙‿⊙✿), and secret kissing ( /)w(\✿)!

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"I guess, if having rent breathing down your neck constantly counts as moving up in the world." His living accommodations have technically only gone down, his setup with his aunt had been pretty nice. Aunt May had been rather despondent about the idea, but after enough close calls with his suit — and more than one occasion not having words to explain why he'd had the living tar beaten out of him — Peter thinks it's for the best.

And he heads back to Queens most weekends for homecooked food, because he can hardly do more than cook a poptart without setting off a fire alarm. "My couch is more of a love seat, you might have to crash with me." They'd be hopefully making good use out of his bed, anyway, why leave it for a couch he may have picked up at the side of the road because it was free? "I am not going to say no to dinner, though. What have you missed most since you've been out of town?"

"I think that's the American thing." Izumo has a roommate, because he does actually own an apartment back in Japan, as rarely as he's there. But his roomie is his cousin and also a ninja, so he has no problems with secrecy. "Honestly? I've been wanting a good pizza, but I'll eat whatever you'd like."

He's not that picky. He'll eat pretty much anything. He runs his hands up to settle in the small of Peter's back. "You're letting me stay, after all, might as well be some kind of leftovers you'd like to eat later."

There will be leftovers. Izumo's going to make sure of that: he'll help out the best he can, without insulting Peter's pride.

"Rent can't just be an American thing, but I have no receipts to refute you with." For all his promises to follow Gwen Stacy to London, he'd never had the chance to do much more than say the words. He'd never looked into rent, though he is fairly confident it exists. He's definitely not going to look now — any appeal that London had is lost to him now.

Pizza is one of Peter's many favorites, it's an incredibly safe bet he will always be game for pizza. "There's a new place in Hell's Kitchen I think you'll like, they do weird hipster flavors like Honey Bee. And it's good, before you sass me." If Peter was willing to abandon his old favorite pepperoni, it had to be worth trying.

He's incredibly disinterested in pulling away, punctuated by the way he gets closer first, stealing a kiss or three before he sighs, thumbs running the angular lines of Izumo's jaw as he makes peace with the fact he's probably got to let go now. "I should probably change first, huh." And yes he means here, on the roof, Izumo can be his lookout.

Izumo hadn't meant the rent, per se, just the moving-out-as-soon-as-possible-for-independence thing, but that is neither here nor there when faced with the prospect of Peter changing clothes right here and Izumo getting a good look. He beams at Peter, bright interest and a wicked spark in his eye.

"Well, I mean, I won't complain if you do," he chirps, one hand sliding back down to appreciate the curve of that ass. He catches the top ball of his tongue piercing between his teeth.

Well, to be fair, Peter had waited a few years to move out, and had only done it to avoid his Aunt worrying about the crap being beat out of him all the time. It definitely was an American thing to move out right away, though, he has no defense on that one.

There's something about the suit, it makes him feel more confident. Probably the mask, it's easy to hide behind the fact most people won't know who he is. He's not wearing the mask right now, though, which means the unabashed way Izumo seems delighted by the suggestion and oh yes the hand sliding to the ass that is not well concealed by spandex sparks the tiniest bit of pink in his cheeks.

Look, it's not anything Izumo hasn't seen, but, usually that's in the middle of heated things... and not in broad daylight.

Peter tucks fingers in the hem of the shirt first, pulling it up over muscular shoulders and messing his hair up even worse as it goes over his hair. "You could watch for a civilian or something," Peter points out, shoving the first half of his suit in his backpack, and retrieving the clothes he intends to put on while he's at it.

Izumo stands out for a better view, then snorts a laugh at Peter's suggestion. "Any civvie that's got a view up here has either got a damn fine telescope or is drunk enough to brave the mostly-collapsed stairs and won't remember anything."

Sure, someone with enough dexterity and determination could manage it, but this building had been abandoned a while. It was structurally sound but in heavy disrepair.

Still, he does tear his eyes away to have a good look around: he can't see anyone who's got even half as good a view as he does of Peter and his damn fine ass. He happily wolf-whistles between his teeth at Peter as he peels off that shirt.

Peter absolutely did not walk up the stairs, so he'd never of guessed that the rooftop was more or less inaccessible. It does make him feel at least a little better. He'd be in serious trouble if anyone had a telescope and could spot him both without his mask and making out with someone on a rooftop, but Peter is honestly less worried about that. The angle would be terrible, this building is taller than the surrounding ones. It's probably fine.

The whistle makes him an even more obvious shade of scarlet than he was before. Did Izumo know Peter's blush can extend into his chest when he's especially embarrassed? Well, he does now! Because he's more concerned with taking his suit off than putting his shirt on. "You are really not helping."

While he's in his bag getting his jeans, he also pulls out his sweatshirt, which he throws at Izumo in hopes of distracting him from the pants that need to go off next. It won't work and distantly Peter knows that. You don't need to be a superhero to be able to catch a sweatshirt before it lands on your head. But he tried, okay? No matter what crowing he gets, the rest of his suit goes off and his jeans come on with impressive speed.

He's gotten really good at changing quickly.

Izumo laughs and lets the shirt drape over his head. "Oh I'd help, but then it would take so much longer," he declares, lustful suggestion heavy in his tone. Oh, he'd help, but it would involve a lot more of his hands all over Peter and a lot less of clothes actually being put on.

He pulls the shirt off his head and grins at Peter, hair askew, a hint of green eye glimmering through his bangs. "Gods, that blush is adorable, you look good enough to eat." He pretends to muse over it, offering out Peter's shirt. "If I'm lucky, can I have you for dessert?"

Peter has relaxed a lot in the sex department, though public is one string he has let to release. They've already established the fact that getting up here would be practically impossible for a normal person and yet the idea of them fooling around on the roof is enough to make his mouth dry. Not to say he wouldn't... but, he might need some liquid courage first.

"Pizza first, then dessert." It's said with a quirk of a smile, which sort of implies that yes, he can. Peter has a mild awareness that they both aren't going to want to leave bed once they get there, so it only makes sense to make sure they eat first. And then hope Manhattan manages not to self-implode for a few hours so they can properly enjoy each other's company, in every sense of the word.

Peter accepts his sweatshirt after he's elbowed into a band tee to go underneath and with that, he's as presentable as he's going to get. His hair is still an unmitigated disaster, but it always is. "You want a lift to street level?" He offers, eyebrows lifted. There's perks to secretly sort of dating Spider-Man, and the occasional websling off of rooftops is part of the package.

Izumo grins at the agreement, then gives Peter a distinctly unimpressed look at the offer for a lift. "Yes, so you can give me a godsdamned heart attack. No fucking way, not after last time."

Okay, so, it's impossible to really account for pigeons and their flight patterns. Still. It's the principle of the thing.

He hops up onto the ledge at the edge, fearless, and grins broadly at Peter. "See ya on the ground, sexy." He hops up of the ledge, graceful, fearless, channels chakra to his feet and simply steps over the edge. Well aware Peter's method is faster than walking, he jogs down the side of the building, jumps off at a story up and lands easily in a deep crouch on the cracked and grass-riddled pavement below.

All things Peter can do, too, but sometimes it's fun to show off for a lover! Izumo tips his head back to watch Peter, grinning. He can only do superhuman things in short bursts, and is completely normal when he's not actively working his chakra....Peter has to live with it all the time.

Peter has no grace to even feel badly, laughing and lifting his hands. So their first swing hadn't been the best one, but, he can't help but offer! He's hoping to convince Izumo to give it another shot at some point because if he's honest, he kinda likes sharing webslinging with people and as it stands, Izumo is the only option he has at present.

He follows Izumo toward the ledge leans against the edge of the building to watch his descent. Honestly, it's pretty cool to watch someone run down a wall — especially knowing that no tricky sticky powers are involved. Peter could probably just run down the building himself, but, he'll always stick to his webslingers when they're an option.

He makes sure they don't have any errant eyes before he jumps down to a fire escape and then swings the rest of the way, sliding into place next to Izumo almost like he'd just jogged over from across the street. "You get style points, I'll give you that."

"Hot damn, if Spiderman is giving me style points, I must be good, oh king of acrobatics." Izumo grins broadly, then bumps into Peter as they walk. "Lemme guess, it's cuz my ass looks damn fine in these jeans."

This smugly: Izumo knows he's good looking, fit from martial arts and ninja acrobatics. Conceited? Maybe. Confident? Absolutely. "So if they do hipster flavors at this pizza joint, do they have eel?"

Look, Izumo lives in Japan. It's not the weirdest thing to go on pizza. He does like it but he also wants to see exactly the sort of grossed-out face Peter will make.

( in the end, it doesn't matter if trevor never says anything aloud — or alucard for that matter — because they don't need to say anything at all. the fact is more than obvious that they care for one another that words aren't really required. at least, not at this point in their "odd couple" relationship. alucard doesn't need words to hold anything over trevor's head (though, trust that he has enough of those to do just that), because his actions always speak louder.

true to form, alucard does wrinkle his nose in distaste, but to be fair: he does it a lot when it comes to trevor and his grooming habits.

or lack thereof.

(thousands of years old and he's the one picking up after a spoilt brat of an entirely different quality.)

he makes a soft sound as trevor slides into his lap and thinks very seriously about just shoving him off. because he could if he wanted to. but, well, he doesn't want to. instead he withdraws his hands and lets them settle against trevor's hips for a moment, his fingers drumming absently as he thinks. )

I don't know...

( except, it's said in way that makes it very clear he does know. also a sign he's going to do something that may or may not cause an argument. one side of his mouth lifts in a smug smirk and within just mere seconds, he rips trevor's shirt right down the middle from collar to hem. that smirk becomes a little sharper. )

Well... ( his palm presses flat against trevor's chest, enjoying the warmth from his skin. ) I suppose that's a start.

Peter is such a vacuum of self confidence that they balance out. He admires it and almost envies how easy it is for Izumo. He's never been able to look at himself and find much good to say, except for he supposes he's smart and good with his hands. His superpowers are probably the most remarkable thing about him, sad but true. (At least, Peter thinks it is.)

He laughs because really, that's fair! That's part of the appeal! "I'd definitely be lying if I said that wasn't a consideration. Form and technique were equally impressive." That said a lot about the technique, because the form was sort of hard to beat.

Eel on pizza? Peter makes a face, not because he's turned off by the prospect (he'll try pretty much anything on a pizza), but because he's trying to remember. "There's a seafood pizza? But, eel specifically? Not sure."

( words have never been their strong suit and he knows it — well, knows it on his own part, that's for sure — and yeah, it might not matter if neither of them ever get around to putting those aforementioned words to whatever it is they have together.

trevor knows he cares beyond what he tries to convey on the surface, or perhaps more appropriately what he tries to keep beneath it, and he might just have an inkling that alucard does, too. two peas in a pod of denial that neither of them care to get out of, and he's just fine with that.

there's a small moment in which he wants to press into the drum of those fingers, the smallest bit of movement to press them that much closer together but it doesn't last long, because it never does and even as it dawns on him that he's about to be minus one ( 1 ) shirt, he can only hone in on the sharpness of those nails and the marks they're capable of leaving.

he's got a one-track mind most of the time, what can he say?

to his credit, he makes a pretty grand show of scowling down at the other's handiwork, huffing out a sigh as calloused fingers catch the ripped edges of fabric and let them fall back where they were, brows knit above hooded eyes because sometimes he might just get off on that blatant strength, all right? sometimes it's hot.

right this second, though: ) Bastard … that was my favorite shirt. ( but it he rolling his shoulders to remove it from his person? yep. and is he flexing just a bit as he goes? yep.

he leans in close after that, speaking against alucard's mouth like he has every right to be there. ) Helluva start, if you ask me. What else are you going to ruin?

( unfortunately, they know each other well enough to know where they stand. words aren't necessary, it's true. in fact, it might just complicate things if one of them decides to just spout something unnecessary off because one of them might not be ready to hear it.

so, this sort of thing is fine. it's Fine.

alucard grins, sharp and feral as he sees the annoyance settle on trevor's face. it's not true annoyance, he can tell that much, and while that would definitely give him a little more glee in this destruction, this is just fine for now. it means the mood isn't ruined and they can proceed as they are.

and, besides, he knows that isn't really his favorite shirt. and if it is, one: alucard doesn't really care, and b.) he likes a particular red one on him instead and by default that should be his favorite because it's alucard's favorite.

as trevor moves in closer, alucard tips his head enough so he can lip along the sharp edge of his jawline for a moment, dragging his teeth that end in a small pinch at his chin. he hums a soft laugh against his skin as his hands move over trevor's body (because yes, he saw that ridiculous flexing and enjoyed it enough to want to touch him), then curls his fingers enough so his nails drag lightly over his skin. )

You.

( it's fine, it's fine, it's more than fine —

more because this one is worse with those words than alucard ever will be, and maybe it's the difference in their upbringing that makes a difference at the bottom of it, but.

suffice it to say that neither of them will really be prepared to listen to the words given over, if they're ever given, because there's a certain amount of comfort, of reassurance that comes from being blissfully ignorant.

maybe willfully so, but we'll never tell. never in a million years.

there are moments that he's truly irritated — annoyed, whatever — with something the other does, but now isn't one of those times, and it shows in the way he makes short work of removing the ruined fabric from his person, scowling just for show. because ninety percent of what he does is for show, and he won't be able to deny it, now or anytime in the future.

( it might not be his favorite shirt, more because he doesn't have a favorite of those to begin with but he may or may not be privy to the idea the other prefers a certain color on him, and when it all comes down to it?

it is his favorite, whether he chooses to admit to it or not. mostly because he has a preference for how he ends up covered in it, but that's neither here nor there. )

nails drag, and he can't quite contain the shiver that comes from it, his own chuckle bubbling up from somewhere behind his ribs at the response he gets for his question. ) Me? ( he asks, and for all it sounds like a challenge in its own right, it also sounds like something of a plea, because hey —

do your fucking worst. ) Better get started, then, hadn't you?

Cheated of the reaction he wanted, Izumo shook his head. "Seafood is not the same as eel. But hey, we'll see! Let's get it to go, please?" To maximize the time he gets to spend both teasing Peter and getting into his lap, so he can tease them both with dessert.

He certainly likes Peter for himself, but Izumo also really enjoys sex, having it, and the best part of all, seeing how loud he can get his partner to be. It's fun and it feels good. Better than pizza, in his opinion, but Peter needs to eat more. Too thin and too stressed. Izumo bumps up against him, and he's a little too short to make it shoulder-to-shoulder but he can't help that. Not his fault the rest of the world is populated with giants. Five foot five is an excellent height. Really.

~~Sucks balls.~~

"Had any really exciting adventures since I've been gone? Launched yourself into the duck pond lately?" Never living that one down, Peter. Ever.

( now isn't the time to be annoyed, and alucard isn't particularly working on that. normally he would, but right now he wants them both to enjoy themselves. isn't that what this is all about, why they're even here in the first place: enjoyment. it's not like they have something so droll as feelings.

he feels that shiver more than he sees it and that brings a slight smirk to his lips. the antagonizing question from trevor makes his heartbeat pulse in his groin as his dick fills to press against the confines of his ridiculously tight pants. that simply won't do, will it?

while they have utterly desecrated literally every last inch of furniture in the living room, this isn't where alucard wants to stay. the chair is fine for a quick romp, but that isn't — exactly — his goal for the evening. so, he decides in an instant what he's gonig to do, knowing it's just a little bit extra, but hey, that's alucard. so, leave him alone.

the flash of teeth in his smile before he moves is a danger on its own, so trevor may expect something but, well. alucard is a vampire and significantly faster and stronger than mortals. so, he moves quickly, scooping trevor right off of his feet (if he holds him like a sack of potatos, well, that's his own business) and goes to the bedroom... where he drops trevor heavily onto the bed.

alucard is already removing his shirt (carefully, tbh) and peeling out of the rest of his clothes. )

Get undressed, unless you'd prefer I do it.

( which means, for those who might be new here, that he'll shred them. )

( he might have been fine, staying where they started, more because he isn't all that picky when it comes to where they fuck than anything else but it really. isn't all that surprising when the other is dissatisfied, and makes the choice to move them.

not that he'd been expecting to be carried like a fucking sack of potatoes, but it's alucard and he's about as extra as they come when it all comes down to it, and the only thing he gives is a deep-set grunt and an i have legs, you know as he's hoisted in the direction of the bedroom. and dropped unceremoniously on the bed.

y'all think he's rude? this blond asshole might just take that title for the moment, if only because he's still being extra about getting what he wants.

trevor pretends to grumble under his breath but there's absolutely nothing real behind it, and he catches himself watching the other peel out of his clothes like he's making a goddamn spectacle of it ( which wouldn't have been a surprise in the slightest, we'll have you know ), eyes dragging over the lines of muscle beneath pale skin that don't even begin to honor the strength in that lean body.

he almost hates how attractive it is, how attractive he is in the simplest of ways, and it has him rolling his eyes just a little as he reaches to pull off boots, let them fall to the floor and to proceed to make a show of hooking his thumbs into his waistband and dragging his pants down low on his hips. )

I don't need anything else shredded, thanks. ( he smirks, catching his bottom lip between his teeth. ) I'm a big boy, I can undress myself.

( trevor, no. )

Peter will try pretty much anything at least once. He even willingly eats his aunt's meatloaf, which is notoriously terrible. It's only after he's tried it that he'll make a ruling, or a ridiculous face, when it is mentioned. Unsurprisingly for an American teenager, he has yet to try eel. As long as it isn't electric, he'd give it a shot.

Honestly, 5'5 doesn't seem like a bad height. Peter is used to being the taller than most people, and it doesn't help him feel any less awkward to tower over whoever he tries to talk to. That, and his stunts would just be easier if he was shorter, there's a reason gymnasts aren't six feet tall.

"You are hilarious," Peter says with an elbow in retaliation. He's still haunted by that tragedy, at least no ducks were harmed. "I got run over by a pest control vehicle the other day. I thought it was pretty fitting." Spiders aren't the usual target of pest control, but it'd still been listed on the van as a service they offered. It still counted.

It's a kindness that Izumo lets the elbow land and takes it with a little huff. "Gods, and here you are walking. Good thing they didn't spray you." The stuff they spray to kill roaches will kill pretty much anything, and while an overdose in humans is rare, well, Izumo's made it happen before.

"Speaking of, don't get poisoned, it sucks." Izumo definitely knows about that, guess what he did last week. "Especially not inhalants. Yech."

He'd probably have to be drowned in the stuff for it to work, thanks to super metabolism, though Peter isn't really looking to know how pesticides would affect him because that sounds super terrible. And not just because he has spider genes now. "They claimed to be the best exterminators in the city, I'm not sure they can have that on their truck anymore." Truth be told the driver had been incredibly apologetic for running into him, and Spider-Man had been very graceful about it.

Somehow his boss had heard about it, though, and J. Jonah Jameson was not graceful about anything.

Peter looks passingly concerned at the mention of poisoning. "Food poisoning, or...?" Something more intentional, he says without saying. Izumo can take care of himself but Peter isn't immune worrying. Having a bunch of dead loved ones in your past does that to a guy.

"Oh, if only." Izumo rolls his eyes. "You know my day job, it's an occupational hazard. Fortunately I have an immunity to that one, just had a cough for a few days instead of getting holes in my lungs."

He flaps a hand, completely unconcerned. It is in fact an occupational hazard, and he's got immunities to a wide range of drugs and poisons. He's fine. Ninja go in for a lot of poisons and sneaky backstabbing things like that. Assassins and spies by trade, after all. Peter fights more straightforward battles and Izumo's glad, honestly. Means Izumo gets to worry less about him.

"Part of why I'm getting such a nice break, anyway," he admits. Not that he needs the recovery time, but hey, he'll take it.

( sometimes they're both just too tall for fucking on the chair. alucard is all legs and torso, so sometimes — flexible though he may be — it's difficult for him to get comfortable when in a smaller space. to say nothing of trevor's... length.

heh.

which, speaking of...

alucard lets his eyes roam over trevor's body settling on that hard line of his cock and his mouth practically waters. he doesn't know why he's suddenly feeling insatiable, but he is and trevor really needs to get with the program and get those clothes off and stop teasing him. )

Yes, ( he smirks, his voice is a purr as he steps closer to the bed, ) you are a big boy, aren't you?

( ah. see? alucard can be nice sometimes when he wants to be. because that definitely was a compliment about his cock. he can't decide if he wants it in his mouth or elsewhere first. well—

why not both?

alucard sinks down to his knees in a fluid motion, pulling off trevor's clothes along the way. he doesn't rip them, though he does consider it. his nails graze over his skin, though, almost like a threat. they get thrown to the side with one hand while the other curls around his cock, stroking him firm, but slow. his gaze is practically molten as he looks up at trevor as he moves in to get his mouth around just the tip, alreading teasing his tongue along the slit. )

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Page 3 of 4

hidden relationship—

SORRY I AM ALIVE... i moved this week and it has been hell

:D

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