371. Public Sex Meme

[itsfabray]

The Public Sex Meme

This is for all you people out there who like a bit of a thrill. Does the thought of getting caught at any moment turn you on? Well, this meme is the one for you!

- Post with your characters name, fandom and any preferences
- Others respond to your post
- Roll RNG 1-11 for a location! The rest is kind of self-explanitory!

1) The

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Irene Adler | Sherlock Holmes 2009 movie - het

[missthewoman]

1o~! Your choice if it's the first time or not <3!!

[eatprettyhearts]

[Let's not jump into the middle of the story, let's begin-- softly, the rain before the storm rather than the thunder.

Even here, however, desire is an insistent thing, unlikely to be ignored for long, for anything longer than a moment just shy of being something rushed, for anything that outruns the time it will take their song to end.

Letting his fingers skirt close to Irene's, Shiro finds that he's smiling; three minutes for the song, eight years for the both of them, but the edge of that expression is still mischievous.

Is he singing? It seems like enough time for Irene to have taught him this act of bravery--]

[missthewoman]

[Being on stage is a thrill, and it does not matter if the theatre is empty or not. The seats are dark and she can imagine the audience taking in their duet.

Shiro is indeed singing, and singing well - the cumulation of many month's hard work. And this is the climax: standing on stage and performing the song fully.
Never mind that she had snuck them in, and never mind that the rest of the cast would be coming in for rehearsals later. (Or perhaps security would come even sooner than that.)

When singing all that mattered was the now. The feeling of her breath coming out in song, melding notes to his surprisingly broad range, enjoying his smooth clear voice, the slight brush of his fingers upon hers.

Responding with a mischievous smile in return, she threads her fingers through his and watches his face as the song draws to its close.]

[eatprettyhearts]

[Have a realisation that isn't one, truthfully {if only because he doesn't want to remember it, come morning}: Shiro has always pegged himself as someone with a stubborn will, able to move beyond what flesh allows, thought that he could do things his heart would like to shrink away from- and yet. Here he is, they both are, the keys falling beneath their fingers a truth he cannot lie about. Irene has him sing despite it never having been his own passion to do so, blond hair and green eyes a splash of colour he sees in his dreams even now

[missthewoman]

[Smiling as he plays with her fingers, Irene gives over trying to play the melody one-handed in favour of taking his other hand.

She strokes his fingers gently like handling a small bird, waiting for their combined voices to fade away on the last note before giving the back of his held fingers a light kiss.]

Bravo, Shiro. Bravo.

[eatprettyhearts]

[A breathe here, trying to catch the air the song stole out of him. Or borrowed, maybe. Shiro's body expands with it, then thins out again-- but, even so, the feelings stay; there's something warm about them, and jittery. He isn't sure if he's supposed to feel pleased, but the years have taught him contentment. He's making use of that now.]

Praise, again. [And that's not contentment piping up but amusement; Irene knows by now what he thinks of that] Impossible not to succeed with a teacher both gifted and beautiful, I believe.

[The fingers wander, curl around her wrist with the thumb tracing her pulse. It's a touch with intent, more intimate than one might believe.]

[missthewoman]

[The back of her neck prickles at his touch. It is not unfamiliar, but on the elation from singing it seems even more emotional than usual. (Or perhaps Shiro himself is showing his emotions more than usual.)
Leaning in close she studies his face, her free hand returning his caress by gently ghosting over his fingers, his palm, his wrist.]

Thank you. And impossible for a student as attentive and handsome as you to fail. [Praise given where praise is due.]

[eatprettyhearts]

Aah. Haven't changed my mind, in this case. The proportion of one's face, the look one wears on the outside, they don't make anyone beautiful.

Music like this, it requires true beauty and a good heart.

[And while he's holding his body up, something attentive in the line of it, he leaves that hand soft and open in Irene's. It's as if he's enjoying them to their fullest, and the eyes looking back at her are heavy-lidded but not quite dark yet.]

[missthewoman]

[So happens that she rather likes the proportions of his face, however.
Keeping her eyes on his, she slowly moves his hand to her lips to give the palm a soft kiss, then places it over her heart. Doubtless he would feel her heart beat through the fabric of the blouse, as her fingertips lingering on his wrist could read his.]

A good heart, is it?

[eatprettyhearts]

[Even through this, he smiles. There are two possible explanations for that: a) Shiro has no shame or, b) he simply doesn't hold back.

If Irene has learnt anything in all these years, she'll know that it's a combination of both, and a belief that this is the one way he can get close to those around him.

Nothing about this is new, but there is a change, if only in how Shiro fails to do something. The hand he'd have pulled back even months ago, stays now, the fingers curl. It's not crass, just something small and soft, something bound only to the tips of his fingers, but it's there regardless.]

'es. [That's what conviction sounds like] One that has always made you very attractive to me.

[missthewoman]

[Also so happens that Irene likes men who don't hold back.
And shame can be optional, in the right circumstances.

She smiles at the slight pressure of his fingers upon her chest. It seems that they are past simple flirting now.
At his compliment her smile deepens even further, lips curling in a subtle invitation, her posture moving forward just a hair.]

[eatprettyhearts]

[Shame is, in Shiro's book and life and experience, a concept that is hard to grasp and better to let go of. Compared to the weight of it, the heavy gazes of people who find themselves confused by his behaviour, unsettled by his mannerisms are all but the weight of a tea cup.

So he pursues what he desires {but goes for the flesh instead of the blood, the dizzy laconic pleasure instead of red-dyed bonds}, and pursues it well. Even this thing with Irene, while it has taken a short part of forever, has not been wasted. He'll move now that he has the courage

Leaning closer, but it's not your mouth he goes for. Lips to your jaw, sure but soft, but tingling.]

[missthewoman]

[Ah, what a tease that was. But she smiles, savouring the sensation of his soft lips.

She lightly runs the fingers of her left hand from his wrist to his elbow, then back up the arm to his shoulder. But for the fact that they were in the theatre rather than a private room, there was no rush. (And even then, it added a slight undertone of excitement.)]

[missthewoman]

[[Continued here]]