Envy Adams (
whenshewasnice) wrote2020-02-15 01:02 pm
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Entry tags:
Streets of Fandom and Beyond, Fandom Island, Saturday
It was the day after Valentine's Day, and that meant Envy Adams was 29 years old today.
But perhaps more importantly, she was just barely acclimating to non-touring life after spending most of last year (and the majority of January, because those NYE concerts had been a killer when multiversal timezones streched out to like two weeks of shows in her personal timeline) on the road.
It had been her idea, to come to Fandom for a little weekend getaway. Maybe because it was one of those spots in the multiverse that was more of a no-man's land of sorts. Not really Envy's, not really Peter's, but the place where they'd been just kids in the middle of other kids, even if just kids was a gross underestimation of everything they'd already been doing back then.
It had seemed like a good place for her to center herself back into something a little less hectic.
But, of course, now that they'd made it past the causeway onto the island proper, Envy was already feeling something was... off. As they walked, she spent a long while squinting at Peter, as if he'd somehow changed his hair after yesterday, or the cut of his clothes was particularly flattering, but she just couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was.
And then she breathed in a particularly big breath, and the feeling grew, and suddenly she knew exactly what was up.
And so she snorted softly, and shook her head. "Oh, we're being Fandomed already."
[ooc: Primarily for the Hegemon, and potentially NSFW-bound because this week is what it is.]
But perhaps more importantly, she was just barely acclimating to non-touring life after spending most of last year (and the majority of January, because those NYE concerts had been a killer when multiversal timezones streched out to like two weeks of shows in her personal timeline) on the road.
It had been her idea, to come to Fandom for a little weekend getaway. Maybe because it was one of those spots in the multiverse that was more of a no-man's land of sorts. Not really Envy's, not really Peter's, but the place where they'd been just kids in the middle of other kids, even if just kids was a gross underestimation of everything they'd already been doing back then.
It had seemed like a good place for her to center herself back into something a little less hectic.
But, of course, now that they'd made it past the causeway onto the island proper, Envy was already feeling something was... off. As they walked, she spent a long while squinting at Peter, as if he'd somehow changed his hair after yesterday, or the cut of his clothes was particularly flattering, but she just couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was.
And then she breathed in a particularly big breath, and the feeling grew, and suddenly she knew exactly what was up.
And so she snorted softly, and shook her head. "Oh, we're being Fandomed already."
[ooc: Primarily for the Hegemon, and potentially NSFW-bound because this week is what it is.]
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Envy's hands went down to the big buttons at the front of her coat. She opened them carefully, one by one, before shrugging the coat off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor exactly where she stood. It took the little bag that had been slung over her shoulder down with it.
Underneath, she had on one of her classy little black-and-white dresses. A little too upscale for Fandom and a little on the short and tight side for daytime, maybe - but she was Envy Adams, and this was her birthday.
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Then he turned without a word, opening up his own jacket and casting it towards the desk chair as he walked into the room.
"Come here."
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She hummed a quiet little mm-hmm of agreement, or confirmation, or compliance and followed him further into the room.
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"You're right," he said. "Patience is something for the second round."
A pause.
"Your dress."
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That could've been bratty, if not for the complete absence of that from the softness of her tone.
Maybe she was just hoping to hear it in full. If only from her own lips.
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She was as careful with undoing the dress as she had been with the coat, undoing the tiny button at the back of her neck before unzipping the back, so that she could peel the dress off her body. It fell to the floor at her feet, and she stepped out of it, nudging it carelessly to the side.
Leaving her there in her impressive heels, and her underwear. The bra and the panties were a matched set, of course, black and sleek with only a tiny bit of lace.
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Something tensed in his belly, but he ignored it. For now, anyway.
He turned to face her now, and found the words "Kiss me," rolling from his lips.
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But there was a weird sense of relief that accompanied his latest request (order? whatever), and she stepped closer, one hand curling tentatively into his shirt as she leaned into do as she'd been told.
She was definitely not less heated about it than she'd been in the elevator.
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He opened it.
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Very glad that was something that could be done without interrupting the kissing.
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He undid the fly of his pants with the other one, leaving her to lead the kiss, at least for now.
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Which left her a little extra aware of what his other hand was doing, and it took a fair bit of willpower not to break the kiss and sneak a glance down, like the feeling in the pit of her stomach was telling her to.
Instead, she deepened the kiss.
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Then he pulled back. Swallowed.
"On your knees," he said softly.
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Then, without even thinking about it, she wet her lips with a quick lick.
And murmured, just as softly, "Yes, Peter." Right before sinking down to her knees with all her unfair grace.
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"I want your mouth on me," he said, voice still soft.
It wasn't about power, he realized.
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Envy was still looking up at him when she nodded, though her gaze dropped down almost immediately after. He'd gotten his fly undone, and she could do the rest, tugging on fabric just enough that she could free him from his pants - and only enough for that. Turned out she really liked him clothed for this.
She didn't take her time before wrapping her hand around his dick, either. Though there were just a couple of tentative licks around the head, at first, a reminder of how warm and wet her mouth could be on him - right before it actually was, her lips closing around the head and her tongue swirling along the underside.
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His fingers slid down to carress her hair, then the back of her neck, before resting there like a weight. Unmoving.
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She let her moan happen around him exactly as it wanted to.
And then she let him slide smoothly a little deeper into her mouth, complete with sucking on him for a few pulses.
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He rocked his hips forward experimentally, claiming even more of her mouth, trying to control the rhythm now, too.
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Her skin felt tingly all over.
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"Good," he breathed. "You're so good..."
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Because she was good, thank you very much.
Both her hands were curled into the fabric of his pants, now. Just for something to hold.
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"Look at you," Peter said softly. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were made for this."
His thumb pressed against the flesh of her shoulder, just an inch below the place where it would actually hurt.
Then his hand retreated.
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And now the weight of his hand was gone, yet she made no effort to pull back. Instead, she hazarded a look up at him, up at his face beyond the stretch of blue that was his shirt and that really just served as a reminder of how little she was wearing.
There was a hunger in her eyes. But she looked vulnerable, too.
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