❝ infect me with your love and fill me with your poison ❞

[ham]

❝ permanently public roleplay post ❞

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COME TO ME Elle c:

[abidan]

[ When Emery shudders awake in the wee hours of the morning it's on a sigh that would make a nun blush. He'd been having a dream — a wonderful dream filled with formless eroticism and a firm, possessive touch — enough to have his cock is rock hard in his boxer-briefs and his throat lightly dusted with sweat. It's ridiculous, of course, because he's not some horny teenager, but after ten minutes of wrestling with his conscience he decides that fine — fine.

It's his flat, right? And Elle will be fast asleep. If he can rub one out quickly and clean up quietly, why shouldn't he do just that?

And that's how Emery ends up kicking the blanket off onto the floor and pushing his pants down around his knees; how he ends up spitting into his hand and wrapping his palm around his dick. It's good. He starts slow, teasing himself, pushing his pyjama tee up a little way to slide his free hand across his abdomen; wandering down towards his balls as he begins to work himself with thorough strokes.

If he groans, it isn't intentional. If he gasps he tries to stifle it. But, as Emery gets more invested in his "alone time" he finds it more difficult to keep quiet — when he presses two fingers over his perineum he moans sharply into his pillow, dark curls sticking to his neck as he pants into the fabric.

Gods ... ]

sobs

[prevents]

[Much as Elle hates being any imposition as a guest, it's three in the morning and the glass by her bedside table is empty. Her throat's parched and she needs a drink. Tiptoeing to the kitchen, she pours herself some water from the pitcher in the fridge, sipping slow as she leans her back against the countertop. At this point, she's practically half-asleep, just seeking to slake her thirst before going back to bed. That is, until a particularly loud groan perks her ears.

What is that?

Creeping quietly down the hall, the noise grows louder as she nears Emery's room.

Is he all right? Having a fit?

Thinking nothing of it, she flings his bedroom door open and immediately regrets it. Her hand immediately rises to cover her mouth, stifling a gasp.]

Oh...

[abidan]

[ Emery doesn't notice her at first. He's too involved with rubbing smooth and firm over that sweet spot behind his balls; with stroking his cock and twisting just so, in that way which makes his toes curl and pulse race. It isn't until that tiny choked-off "oh" that he realises he has company — Elle, of course, of course it would be Elle, because this is really a classic example of how his luck tends to go. ]

Elle!

[ He yelps her name just the once as he sits bolt upright, scrabbling for a pillow, which he slams over his crotch with a wince and an embarrassed huff. The sleepy light from the street lamps is streaming in through his open curtains ... but Emery hopes it's still dark enough to hide the beet-red blush staining his cheeks and ears. ]

I ... um. I'm ...

[ Em's still panting a little, although now it's partly panic, and he runs his hand through his hair before realising he just pushed pre-come and spit through his own 'do.

Oh God.. She should be able to tell how humiliated he is by the sudden inflection of Welsh in his words; ]

I'm so sorry, Elle. I ... I didn't mean to wake you up.

[prevents]

[Now that she's a bit more awake, there's amusement curving her lips upward. He's really flustered, isn't he? Crossing her arms and tapping her foot, she does her best to wipe the smile off her face and project a bit more sternness. Well, mock sternness. She lifts an eyebrow at him, clearing her throat and pondering what to say.]

So you have a tattoo... Interesting place to put it.

[That goes to show what her priorities are. You learn something new everyday.]

[abidan]

[ Okay, that throws him. ]

... What?

[ Because there he is, his pants around his knees and a pillow covering his crotch, and Elle is talking about his tattoo? Emery blinks owlishly before glancing down towards his thigh. ]

Oh! Right. It's a dragon.

[ Dumb, Em. She probably got a good look at it when he was stripping away his shame in front of her. He clears his throat, looking anywhere but in Elle's direction; ]

Do you need something?

[prevents]

[See, if this was a porno she would have said something dumb like: You. But this is not a porno. This is life and he's as awkward as can be.]

When you look like that, everything you say sounds suggestive.

[She's just teasing, really. Wondering how far she can push the poor thing. This is leverage for the future. No, she's definitely not going to let him forget this anytime soon.]

[abidan]

[ This is just unbearably cruel and vicious. Elle is gorgeous, and Robb's girlfriend, and clearly sadistic enough to enjoy watching him squirm about getting caught. He sucks his head and pulls up his pants (careful not to give her another eyeful from under the pillow), before smoothing his tee down and drawing his knees up so she doesn't have to look at the softening bulge in his boxers.

... Which is a shame. He'd set himself up for a really good orgasm, too. ]

Better?

[ Emery's smile is still hopelessly bashful, although he does seem to be calming down just a touch. It must be the pants. ]

[prevents]

A bit.

[Is she walking over to sit next to him? Yes, she is. Plopping down on his bed, she crosses her legs under her robe and betrays the glint of a red silk negligee underneath. She takes her hand and places it under his chin, stroking at his stubble and pushing him to meet her gaze.]

We really need to get you laid, don't we?

[abidan]

[ Why is she touching him. Why hasn't she just gone back to bed and left him to wallow — which he has every right to, by the way, because he knows she'll lord this over him forever. Emery's eyes lift a little reluctantly as he tries to quash down the tingle her touch inspires; ]

Maybe? I'm not really looking.

[ Because he's not. One night stands just aren't his thing and he's pretty oblivious when it comes to girls — guys too, for that matter, if for no reason other than he rarely expects to be wanted.

... And not in a self-pitying, self-image kind of way. Em is just usually preoccupied. ]

Anyway, you and Robb are the minority. [ Have a little grin. ] I know loads of happily single people.

[usually]

You're not one of them though, are you?

[Her fingers glide up to push his bangs up away from his forehead without a care for the fact that he'd just run his soiled hand through his hair. He's seeking understanding, isn't he? Perhaps someone to teach him the ropes.]

You know you don't have to be alone.

[And just then, she leans in, lips tantalizingly close to his, letting him feel the weight of her breath.]

You just have to reach out for what you want and take it.

[abidan]

[ It's the sweetness of her breath that pushes Emery into leaning back — into leaning away for her in case he gets the impulse to do something utterly silly. He likes Elle, likes how she's let him into her life, but ... ]

What about when you know you can't have what you want?

[ His response is little more than a murmur. ]

I don't mind being alone.

[ Which is almost true. Emery's long since grown used to being lonely. He leans back on one hand, trying not to look at the scarlet sliver of Elle's nightwear. ]

... Really.

inb4 she actually sleeps in really lame pajamas ; good job em

[usually]

[As he glances away, she retreats but only to push the robe from her shoulders, letting it puddle to the floor. Her negligee is a short whisp of fabric cutting off well above the knee, trimmed with lace at the bodice. Every breath she takes is perceptible thanks to the scooping neckline.]

Tolerance isn't the same as enjoyment. Don't fight it.

[The back of her hand moves to stroke his cheek, taking the gentle approach in drawing his gaze.]

Let me make it up to you.

STFU his fantasy his negligee B|

[abidan]

[ When he looks back to her there's far more skin on show than he remembers. Her arms, shoulders, chest, right down the the negligee hugging her figure, accentuating her curves just so in the cool wash of moonlight. She's utterly gorgeous to look at, and she's stroking his cheek, easily sucking him in ... ]

But—

[ But then he's kissing her; he doesn't know when or why but he is, and it feels good, so instead of stopping he lifts a hand to slide around the back of her neck. Everything about her is warm and soft enough to tingle down to his toes; ]

You're sure?

[ A breath against her lips, still sweet against his own. ]

... With me?

fine geez em B| not like i uploaded this icon just for you or anything

[usually]

[Her response is a smile as her hands crawls under his tee, exploring the flatness of his stomach and chest as she pulls the shirt over his head, further mussing his hair.]

How could I not want you?

[And again, she's kissing him, slowly pushing him to lie back on the sheets. After all, she's committed a slight against him, and she has to make up for it. Her hands have already travelled down, stroking him through his boxers, helping him regain the momentum he lost when she stepped in unannounced.]

[abidan]

[ This time Emery doesn't bother trying to answer her. Of course, there are a whole host of reasons why she might not want him, the primary one being Robb, but her body is like some kind of sinful heaven all close against his own. He lets her push him until he feels himself sinking back into the pillows; lets his thighs fall open just a little when her hand starts rubbing at him.

His own hands migrate towards the hem of her little slip, pushing it up her thighs towards her hips so that he can stroke over the smooth of her skin. ]

Can I ... ?

[ But he doesn't ask with words. Instead, Emery slips a hand between her legs to rub over the heat of her sex, hot and inviting beneath the thin material of her panties. He wants to touch her there, kiss her there too, but ... ]

[usually]

[The sensation of his fingers moving between her thighs draws small gasps and moans from her, filling his ears and delaying her answer. The hands of an artist. She's watched his hands create such beautiful things, and now, those same hands aimed to tempt and please her with masterful strokes, painting her into a perfect picture of pleasure.]

You can have anything you think I can give you.

[Dipping down, she kisses him again, letting their tongues tangle, reveling in the taste of him. Breaking away, she reiterates her answer in a breathy gasp to stress the point.]

Anything at all.

[abidan]

[ He sighs at her response, both relieved and aroused, before moving his fingers against her center with more sureness in his strokes. Emery doesn't press hard — he wouldn't want to irritate such a sensitive area with the rub of material — but he does thumb over her clit before reaching down to ease her panties out of the way. ]

I want to feel you ...

[ And so he does. The very tips of his fingers sweep up over slippery heat, and it's been so, so long since he last had a woman in his bed. Since he hand anyone in his bed, really: at least a year, give or take a few months, but this is something he reckons he'll never be able to forget.

Emery teases her for a moment before pulling his hand away. He moves, shifting his legs so that she's kneeling between his thighs, and takes one of her hands in his own to tug her down on top of him. His hand slides up over her arse, pushing the negligee as it goes; ]

Take this off? [ Pause as he leans up to taste her lips. ] Please.

[usually]

[When he pulls away, a whimper escapes her lips but she's soon put at ease as he takes her hand and lets their fingers intertwine. Once she's holding herself up over him, she pauses to tuck her hair behind her ear to keep it from falling over his face. His request is heard loud and clear, and she knows just what to say.]

Tear it off.

[Even as she speaks, she's doing her best to maintain her balance, keeping all her weight on the one hand he's holding. The hand she isn't using for support finds its way past the waistband of his boxers, wrapping around the hardness of his cock. It's a warm weight, still slick from his interrupted efforts. His intimate skin is hot to the touch, almost fevered. The extent of his desire is practically emanating off him.]

[abidan]

[ Emery doesn't need to be told twice. He manoeuvres Elle just a little so that she can take her weight by herself, before burying his fingers in the thin silk and parting it easily from itself. The spaghetti straps are thin and flimsy, they pop away with barely a thought, then the negligee splits itself down the middle as he pulls it separate ways. Her body is gorgeous: petite and neat with perfect breasts that he just wants to touch ...

And she said he could have anything, didn't she? Do anything. Be his for the night. ]

Oh ...

[ Her panties are gone in a second, torn away and tossed to the floor, and Emery lets a breathy chuckle leave his lips before pushing his own pants down and off. He's never done that before - never actually torn someone's clothes off. He hopes Elle won't miss the little slip too much.

Now that they're both bare he guides her down and flips them so he's on top; Emery's lips touch her throat, then her clavicle, before progressing down the dip of her torso, until he's settled comfortably with his face between her thighs. His breath is hot against her, thick and damp against her sex, and then he's licking her soft and slow before closing his lips around her clit. ]

[usually]

[It all happens so fast. His eagerness strips her bare and tips the scales in his favor as he lays her on her back. He moves with a certain unexpected agility, releasing pent-up tension and letting her feel the full weight of his hidden strength in a rush of speed that makes her gasp. His mouth offers a wet and welcome warmth, tracing a trail down her body until he finds himself at her slit.

Opening her legs a bit further, she revels in the sensations brought on by his tongue. Her knees knock, and she trembles when he finds her clit, unable to keep from moaning. The way he laps at her is enough to make her toes curl and her back arch. Her fingers curl in the sheets, fingernails digging into her palms. She's painting the perfect picture of desire for him, tossing her head on the pillows as her long brown hair fans out and spills onto the sheets, framing the lust on her face.]