bakerstreet | It's so much more exciting to look when you can't touch

Entry tags:

It's so much more exciting to look when you can't touch

CONSENSUAL VOYEURISM

You don't know that I know / You watch me every night / And I just can't resist the urge / To stand here in the light

What goes on between the walls of whatever little abode you call your own should stay there, in theory. In practice? Well, you've gained a secret (or not so secret) admirer, someone who watches you in your own safe spot, during your most intimate and private moments...when you're the most vulnerable. It could be anyone: somebody you know, a friend, an enemy or a complete stranger.

Most people would rightfully flip the fuck out, and understandably so, but not you. There's something incredibly appealing - and arousing - about watching them watch you. Maybe it's because you're attracted to them, you never thought they'd think of you this way, or you just feel a little naughty. So, at any rate, you'll let them watch you, and perhaps even add some more action to your daily routine just to tease them and see how they respond.

You could, of course, easily close the curtains, but this is too much fun. Besides, it's not like this will go any further than some cheeky peeking...

...right?

Comment with your character, preferences, desired role, etc.
Do both characters know that the one being watched knows their being watched? Will this lead to anything beyond a sneak peek? It's all up to you!
Reply to others.
Thread.
This meme is inspired by the song "I Get Off" by Halestorm, if you need some mood music.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ The voyeur. Fine with it being a casual, impromptu setting or a strip club/peepshow type vibe. Hit me! ]

ooc: would it be too much if this is like during/post civil war and her powers are going haywire. she thinks it’s a dream but it’s an illusion she’s accidentally created between the two of them?

ooc: exhibitionist. this meme is practically made for her. she works for a high end escort service that essentially throws these lavish parties where women are services or sometimes furniture/art/decorative pieces. She also gets paid to sleep naked with people, but we can fudge things or change it up.

( It didn't need to make sense long term, only short term, and Hank's story checked out. For the last two weeks, he was in training for his upcoming undercover position. He had to study who he was to become and forget who he was. The department of security online and otherwise purged Hank's identity from the internet. He was briefed on the very basics of that process by simply stating, "you're a ghost... if you googled Hank Anderson, you wouldn't find yourself with who came up." It still made Hank uncomfortable, as he knew there were people out there that still relied on their memory - but the logical side of him also reasoned that with information so easily accessible, nobody needed to remember his mug.

Even if his informant was to identify him, there was a paper trail detailing his new identity. Nobody would find any evidence she was telling the truth. Not that she would intentionally put them both at risk. In any case, here he sat, in the smoke room, bullshitting about nothing he cares to remember when he sobers up from this false identity. He's not surprised to see her, Lucy.

Or Sara, as she was known here. But she would not recognize him... as Hank. He was definitely a resemblance of his former self, but more defined and cleaned up. His outfit was tailored to fit his form, by a designer who didn't need to put their name on the lapel of the clothing to know who designed it.

Next to him was a tall glass of ice water, and in his hand a thick cigar. )

[Lucy has gotten used to only contacting him when she needs to. Not much has been happening on her end lately. It’s been actually business as usual—- which feels odd given the recent atmosphere. She tries to keep her eyes open, but it’s not as if she usually ever notices the men who appear at these parties.

Coming out of the kitchen, she has a tray of drinks. Void of emotion it’s just a typical of party. The men view them as objects, and they hardly view them at all. Which is why initially Lucy doesn’t even recognize him. It’s still early, yet. But after she walks around the room once, her eyes flick back to his.

What is he even doing here? Is she safe? Does she need to do anything?]

( Hank’s eyes idle for as long as he dares them to, and soon they’re looking back to the man on his left. The ego in the room was thick enough to choke on, and he wondered if every insanely rich person had a secret or two worth hanging them for. He was in a room full of people that didn’t have to worry about anything, ever. What a reality to have, what a perspective to have. Lucy’s pale skin, was a distraction for Hank. He hated to see her, this way. He would rather see her skin warmed beneath the sun, glistening with pool water, or speckles of sand glistening across her body as she plays on the beach.

Damn, she was too young for this shit. She had too much to live for, and whatever price that was, it couldn’t be worth this. No matter how he felt, he couldn’t be obvious. He took the trinkets of comforts as they came to him. The cigar, the water, a touch of whiskey. He wasn’t eccentric enough to blend in, but he was aloof enough not to care - which was the kind of arrogance that worked well in the crowd.

This party, this get together, this horror in the making was getting to his throat, and it was getting too tight to breathe.

He takes a long and painful drag of the cigar, blowing the smoke out from his nostrils and picking a piece of leaf from his bottom lip. His eyes return to her, and he watches her walk the room. )

ooc: voice testing but some hand waved prior cr needed, though this is a good way to ease her in if someone was interested in getting closer to her. voyeur is most likely, but I’m open depending on scenario. also hmu for any kind of plotting/kinks or whatever

ooc: either

[OOC: Open to either role. If Jamie is the voyeur, I'd say either she knows he's watching her from next door, or she lets him peep in on her during a particular sensual ritual.]

ooc: went with the ritual

He had been interested in what she was capable of for awhile now. Jumping straight into sex magic could be a lot to handle though. It was something usually to work up to. Sophie figured a cleansing spell might be a good starting point.

It was always good to ward off any energy or anything that might want to attach to a person or witch. She had enough protection spells for anything bigger to keep her safe, but this seemed pretty safe to start off with. It didn’t need a whole lot, and it had the added bonus of sort of giving her a boost after—- always helpful if she was going to do something bigger in the coming days.

So she had him come over late one night. Moving the couch back a little created space in her living room. She had a few candles around her that were previously up on the mantle. When she answered the door, she stood in a simple white dress, something pretty uncharacteristic for her.

“Hey,” she said as she leaned in to kiss him quickly. “I’m almost ready if you wanted to get comfortable. There’s a couple beers in the fridge, too.”

Look, she knew this could definitely be different and strange to someone not used to it. She had a bottle of wine chilling if she wanted it later for herself.

This is unlike any date (or late night call) he's ever gotten before, and Jamie looks genuinely puzzled and curious as he takes in the arrangement. He'd heard a great deal from her about rituals and casting spells, but he'd never seen anything like it in action. And while he has no idea what sensations or "special effects" to expect, he knows from the moment he sees her in her unusual dress and surrounded by candles, that this is going to be a night to remember.

"Hey baby...Okay, so is there anything I'm supposed to do, or am I just here as an audience?"

A magic spell doesn't seem like something one can sit back with a bucket of popcorn to take in, and even taking a beer out of her fridge feels like an odd way to kick off the proceedings. Still, his eyes are firmly locked on her as he settles down on the couch.

[ either ]

[ exhibitionist ]

ooc: very open on this. new cr welcome, but likely to be voyeur. established cr/ canonmates she could be the one being watched

[ ooc — permissions and kinks (wip). can swing either way really. dyad shenanigans extremely loved. feel free to hit me up for plotting! ]

Edited 2021-09-29 04:53 (UTC)

[ voyeur most likely, but open to either! ]

[ would you want to do something with Silas? maybe he's been captured/is being held hostage by the Lannisters, or perhaps it's an AU where he's fallen on hard times and has to sell his body for coin, etc? ]

Elia was not one to sit around in self-pity. She spent enough time forced to sit around due to health reasons to know that there was no sense in wasting any more of it wracked with anxiety, sadness or anger. All of these emotions could be fueled into a more positive outlook; perhaps this was why they called her the sun of Dorne. This had worked very well when she had first come to Casterly Rock, and everyone had been gossiping about how her betrothed did not wish to marry and how some frail Dornishwoman wasn't about to change that. She had not faltered in her smiles and her courtesies, and Jaime had come around soon enough. Suddenly, surprisingly, marriage was not just a means to an end, but something she was looking forward to, with someone she very much liked.

The problem cutting through that sweet sentiment was that in order for them to be married, his father had to be at the Rock, planning the event with an iron fist. And that had put an end to the blissful hours where the whole castle seemed home to only them. Hours where they had fallen into lustful embraces more often than not- on the beach, in the library, in the Golden Gallery, in the Stone Garden. It was not a sin, she had decided. They were practicing for their wedding night, and if they were supposed to stop, why would it have felt so good? But they had to stop. Just for the two months until they were wed for true in the eyes of all the realm and all the gods, and waiting had never been an issue for her until now. They now rarely saw each other apart from meals, and she was lucky if she got close enough to touch her hand to Jaime's once before she was whisked off for another horrid hour with Cersei Lannister and a septa.

It could be worse, Elia knew- but it could also be so much better! She remembered how much more pleasant everything had seemed when she and Jaime had been left alone. That would be what it was like when she was Lady of the Rock, she promised herself- there would be no cold glares, no cutting remarks, no servants training their eyes to the floor out of fear. And all the want that had coiled in her veins would be set free, and she could rush into Jaime's arms and have him whichever way she wanted, and know that he was her husband and that no one could stop them now.

That is what she is thinking of, as she tosses the blanket aside and sinks a hand down her body, covered only by a thin gold silken nightdress at this hour, to rest at her thigh. It is too hot, or perhaps it is just that her hand, which had always been very helpful in the past at relaxing her before bed, is not the hand that she wants touching her. Still she persists, fingers tracing over damp folds as she parts her legs. A hum of pleasure leaves her, and then a whimper, when her thumb brushes her clit.

She does not currently notice how the door is cracked open an inch, or how the dying glow of the candles still shine enough light to make it clear what she is doing. The hallway outside her door is empty, no matter how much she might wish to not be alone.

ooc: either could work. It’s kind of a perfect meme for her to get into things with any previous cr or make new ones. She’s pretty hesitant but would feel comfortable with something like this.