[ She doesn't really think the Sanctum would devour him, it seems to enjoy having him as its protector or at least approves of the appointment, but you can never be too careful. He might still get lost for a few weeks, and she would miss him.
They reach his door too quickly. It's too soon, she isn't ready for the night to end. She isn't prepared to lose his warmth, to feel empty and alone without the sound of his voice in her ear. But then—
Julia watches him for a moment, knowing this dance intimately, and it takes no time at all for her to choose the path to follow. Letting go of his arm, she lifts both hands to rest them lightly against his chest, her expression completely serious and her eyes on the tie she'd tied so many hours ago. ]
Stephen, you've already bought this girl a drink tonight. More than one, in fact. [ She raises her eyes to meet his. ] So why don't you just kiss me already?
[ Stephen’s cautious, tentative expression flourishes into a smile instead: the relief and validation of him having raised the stakes and Julia firmly, instantaneously, unhesitatingly, calling said stakes. Laying his cards out on the table.
This whole evening has been a date-which-isn’t-a-date: getting to know each other more over drinks, cut loose from any obligation of magical training or curse-breaking, simply enjoying each others’ company and the gentle ebb-and-flow of flirtation. He’d been prepared to beat around the bush a little longer if necessary, but it’s nice getting to cut right through it. She’s always calling him on his bullshit. It’s refreshing.
So he doesn’t waste any more time. Julia’s already resting her hands against the material of his suit jacket, and there’s hardly any distance between them any longer, and so it’s the easiest thing for him to lean down and catch her cheek with his hand, and capture her mouth with his. The kiss is soft at first; the opening of that metaphorical door, stepping over the line, testing the weight to see if the floor will hold. ]
[ She'd been wrong — this is what coming home feels like. That soft brush of his lips against hers, warm fingers against her cheek, the sensations are like a whirlwind sweeping away any other thoughts in her mind. There is only him and she needs more.
One of Julia's hands stays on his chest to steady her as she lifts up the last little bit onto her toes, while her other hand goes to the back of his neck. She wants to make herself perfectly clear as she presses their lips more firmly together and opens her mouth to properly taste him: she is no fragile flower and she knows what she wants. ]
[ Even with those towering heels of hers, there’s still a height difference, but she rises up on tiptoe and closes that remaining distance. He shouldn’t have expected any less: Julia is the type of woman who simply reaches out and seizes what she wants, and Stephen’s always been the impatient kind himself, and so he instantly responds.
He had started to wonder, for the long last while, what kissing Julia Wicker might be like; and it turns out now that the door’s been unlocked, they’re both slamming it open. She opens her mouth against his and it’s like they’re crashing into each other, his tongue slipping against hers, diving hungrily into the kiss.
He feels ten years younger — he hasn’t done this in a while — but then again, after all this time living together, it’s about damned time. So all that pent-up passion and every lingering question is poured into it: mouth and teeth and her hands at the back of his neck, his own fingers curling into the waves of her hair, only coming up for air with a little gasping breath before renewing the kiss.
And in that jostling push-and-pull to get closer still, one of them bumps into one of those hallway endtables, sending it teetering, and with a jolt of surprise, Stephen catches it with magic before some stupid priceless decorative vase can shatter on the floor. He glances down in brief consternation, then back at her, amused. ]
[ That rush of passion is something she hasn't felt in a long time, fire filling her veins as his touch fans the flames. James feels like a century ago, and Richard a decade, but it had been different with both of them. James was comfortable, they'd always just fit, and Richard had saved her when she needed it most. With Stephen... He gave her the tools to save herself. They challenged, supported, and inspired each other. She wanted to know everything about him, from his favorite dessert to his dream vacation to what he sounded like when he came undone. That she might get to actually learn the latter takes her breath away as much as his kiss.
That pesky table barrels into her hip, not the other way around, and she grimaces with a smile as he catches it and gives the offensive thing a look. He makes a very valid point, though, and she turns her flirting up to 11 as she wraps her hand around his tie and slides it down the length of fabric. ]
Well, you did tell me once that your bedroom is the least dangerous place in the Sanctum. Maybe we should continue this there.
[ And then there's the briefest moment where she's afraid she's gone too far, too fast. He'd given her signs but there's still a flicker of doubt, some part of her worried about... too many things. ]
Least likely to contain a portal to hell. And it’s very spacious. Very comfortable.
[ He’s grinning, the amusement sparking even brighter in his eyes, now that they’re both so clearly on the same page. They’re no longer nosing around the corners of the possibility, no longer waiting and wondering.
So Stephen shoots a quick, surreptitious glance up and down the hallway; checking to make sure they’re not being noticed by Wong or another master or a novice awake in the middle of the night to brush their teeth. They’re stealing away like they’re two truant students avoiding the hall monitor, trying not to be spotted sneaking around in the night. ]
Lead the way.
[ So then Julia’s walking backwards into his living quarters, teasingly tugging him along by his tie: whenever she takes a step back, then he takes a step forward following her in, and the door whisks itself shut behind them. They’re crossing the room together, going past the chaise longue where she’d once patched him up, past the study area, past the dressing area. Just before they reach the second door, then he reaches to his chest for the scarlet pocket square and tosses it aside; in the blink of an eye, it transforms back into the Cloak of Levitation, which disappears back to its hook in the corner for some privacy.
And just as they cross the bedroom threshold, then Stephen closes the distance once more and kisses her again, even as the Mission-style bedside lamp sparks to life (dating a sorcerer, it’s very handy). Now that they’re in here, she finally gets a view of his bedroom, this innermost private chamber: more hardwood floors and another fireplace, floor-to-ceiling paned windows with drawn curtains, a hefty bed with carved wooden bedposts. All of the aesthetic radiates an old-world grandeur which he hadn’t actually picked, but which fits the man nonetheless. And to no one’s surprise, the walls are lined with even more bookshelves, the bed piled with more. The room itself would be tidy (he’s always meticulously tidy) if it weren’t for the books on the bedspread and some papers on the endtable. He breaks the kiss just long enough to say, breathlessly, ]
I hadn’t planned for company, but I have to admit that I have been wanting to do this for— god, a while.
[ Leading Stephen by his tie is the most natural thing for Julia and that he allows her to do it and follows along willingly just further confirms how right this is. They're a good fit, whether this turns into a long-term thing or not — he understands her the same way she understands him. They're safe with each other and that means more than anything else ever could.
She only gets a glance at his bedroom before his lips are on hers again and she is thoroughly distracted, though what she gathers is that it's well-matched to the rest of his suite and to him personally. Had the Sanctum designed it for him like this or had he chosen the design? The question makes a fleeting pass through her thoughts as her hands roam over his strong shoulders, feeling the lean muscle hidden beneath his suit, which brings to mind that he is extremely overdressed for their present circumstances.
A quiet laugh escapes her at his confession, the sound reverberating through their next kiss, and then she pulls back enough to make her own. ]
And I have to admit it may have crossed my mind while I was gone. Once or twice.
[ Her hands slide down his chest, thumbs tracing the curve of the lapels before finding their prize. With a quick flick, she undoes however many buttons stand between her and removing that pesky layer of clothing. ]
Only once or twice? I’m going to have to work harder to stay on your mind.
[ She’d had far more important things going on at the time, he knows it; but they also both know that it’s simply part of the playful patter, the flirtation turned white-hot.
It’s still a little difficult for him to work the buttons without using magic, so it’s a relief to have Julia swiftly unpicking the buttons on his jacket for him. Stephen tips a shoulder to help shrug out of it, and her hands slide under the fabric, along the lines of his shoulders and back, dragging it loose where he just lets the jacket tumble to the floor. He pulls at his tie, messily undoes all her work from the beginning of the evening until it hangs loose again around his throat. That one layer shucked, Julia can reach for his white dress-shirt (it’s well-tailored but simple, unornamented, he’d stopped using cufflinks since his accident), as his hands settle on the arch of her corseted bodice, and then gathers up a handful of voluminous skirt, just to keep touching her and have something to hang onto. His attention drifts a little to the side: his lips mouthing at Julia’s jaw along with the faint scratch of his beard, then the delicate arch of her throat, then his voice murmuring into her ear in a low purr. ]
It’s a very nice dress. How do we get you out of it?
[ He assumes there’s a zipper somewhere but if so, it’s cleverly-hidden, designed well enough that it doesn’t stand out in the black-and-gold. ]
[ Okay, yes, it had been more than once or twice, but she was fairly distracted by other pressing matters at the time. Those thoughts of him had helped her get through some rough patches, though, so they'd meant a hell of a lot more than a passing daydream.
Removing Stephen's jacket has to be one of the most sensual things Julia has ever experienced. Knowing how he is about doing everything himself and recalling that night so many months ago when he'd allowed her to help him, it makes this moment all the more impactful. He's letting her take charge of this moment and take care of something that's a struggle for him, allowing them the haste they both crave and avoiding any embarrassment or self-consciousness on his part. She's grateful for all of it.
His lips on her jaw and throat make it hard to concentrate on those damn shirt buttons, her fingers working on pure muscle memory as her head tilts slightly to the side to give him better access. And then— His voice in her ear sends liquid fire through her, her breathing becoming more ragged and giving away just how much he's affected her. Fuck. If this is how they're starting, what state will they be in when they finish?
Her hands fall away from the half-unbuttoned shirt with the unspoken promise to resume her efforts. Reaching behind her, she locates the zipper that's hidden under a fold of the golden brocade to the right side of her back and pulls it down just enough to reveal its location. Then she turns around, gathering her hair with one hand to pull over her shoulder and give him unhindered access, and looks back at him with an expectant expression. It's his turn to reveal what's underneath: a strapless bra that matches her black underwear, both high-quality but not quite to the same extent as his suit. Julia might enjoy the finer things but she's also on the more practical side and saves her splurging for other things. Though now that she has someone to see them, she might reconsider that particular stance... ]
[ That expectant look is going to be the absolute ruin of him, this wordless invitation which he's more than happy to answer. His mind is already alight with the possibilities, thinking of all the different ways he'd like to have her, all the options and new variations and possible timelines fanning out at his fingertips: this could have been a rushed thing, still half-dressed, rucking up her skirt, simply eager to get to it. Both of them undressing just enough to get the job done, Julia’s skirt up around her waist, burying his hands or mouth beneath the fabric.
Those are all considerations for another day.
Because for now, this is their first time together and he decides he wants to explore. He wants to savour each inch of exposed skin, new details of Julia’s body revealed like delicately unwrapping a beautiful present. She tilts her head to the side and offers up her back, and so Stephen takes up position behind her; presses a kiss to the woman’s naked shoulder, then pinches the zipper between his fingers and slowly peels it down the curve of her spine.
And where it goes, his lips follow, trailing a path of kisses down her bare skin as the dress loosens and they extricate her arms from the sleeves. There's fewer steps compared to his own clothing — as soon as the dress is loosened, then it's already falling free — but Stephen still draws out the process as long as possible. As the material hits her hips, he tucks his fingers between the dress and her skin to drag it down over her curves; he presses a kiss to her bare hip just above that black underwear, until the dress is finally a puddle of fabric at her feet.
That done and Julia revealed in that matching set, goddamn, this is going to kill him— Stephen straightens up again to his full height. He presses closer with his chest against her back, hands settling on her hips as he kisses her neck again, hot and open-mouthed. ]
[ It's a damn good thing that his quarters are so roomy because she's having ideas herself and her own room is far too small to execute all of them. And while the Sanctum itself offers plenty of space, it also offers far too many wandering novices and masters who would probably spread the gossip like wildfire. Plus, the idea of Wong walking in on them in a compromising position is... nope. Just big nope.
She's always wanted to have sex in front of a fireplace on a snowy day.
The thought hits her as the fabric of the dress whispers down her skin, followed by his hands and lips. She shivers not from cold but from delicious anticipation as he moves against her back. It isn't cold out yet and winter isn't just around the corner; her mind is already assuming this is real, something potentially permanent rather than scratching an itch and satisfying a question they've both had. But hell if she's going to ask for that clarification — now is not the time and that's way too heavy for a first night Together. If they are together.
She lifts a hand to run her fingers over his perfectly styled hair that she wants to turn into a wild mess, her other hand moving to rest on his at her hip. Her eyes close for a moment, just drinking in those sensations, and then her impatience wins and she lets out a playful but grumbling complaint. ]
Doctor Strange, you are very overdressed right now and I do not appreciate it.
[ Oh, how he loves hearing his full title rolling off Julia’s mouth, like this, in the bedroom and this context. He hadn’t expected the thrill that shivers down his spine at the sound of it, and then he laughs against her neck. ]
Well, we can’t have that. I’m all about equal opportunity.
[ Stephen toes out of his shoes and socks, nudging both pairs aside and pre-empting the inevitable, because there is truly nothing more ridiculous than the sight of a man eventually standing naked wearing nothing but his socks.
He reaches up, manages to clumsily unhook one of his shirt buttons, and then heeds that thread of impatience in her voice by simply going ahead and magically unpicking the rest of them. He moves around to step in front of her again, tossing the shirt to join the growing pile of clothes and reveal lean muscle, the benefits of clean living and a vegetarian diet and meditation and exercise and occasionally needing to go into physical-magical combat to save the world. (It happens; he always has to be in shape for the possibility.)
Now that he’s standing in front of her, Stephen’s gaze slides downward to the dip of Julia’s cleavage and belly button, her bare legs and high heels. He’s not shy about the appreciative look, slowly lingering across all of her as he takes in the sight, checking her out. He grins. ]
Christ. Is it too much to say I’m the luckiest man in the world right now? I’m feeling very lucky.
[ It says a lot about a man when he can have fun during foreplay. She's grateful that his general manner seems to extend to the bedroom; she couldn't be with someone who wasn't a little playful during this part of things.
Glancing down to note what's going on with his shoes and socks, she can't help but grin at the thought of one day getting to take them off herself. She's already planning how she'll remove each piece of his clothing, exploring every inch of him as slowly and thoroughly as they can both stand. But that's for next time, or perhaps the time after that. Either way, they'll get there, and she's so looking forward to it.
The way he looks at her when he comes back around leaves her wanting to climb his towering form like a goddamn jungle gym. And he looks like he could handle it — he has enough muscle to be more than attractive but not so much that he'll be like embracing a statue. Julia herself doesn't have overly toned muscle; it's good genetics and an active lifestyle that keep her slim and fit. ]
Well, you're about to get lucky, so it's only fitting.
[ She cracks a joke, of course, but the praise is still thrilling to hear. Her entire life, she's known she was attractive, but that doesn't mean she hasn't also fought the occasional battle with her self-image. The way he looks at her now is enough to banish any wriggling thread of doubt planted at the back of her mind by popular media.
Crossing the few inches between them, her hands gravitate to that expanse of bare skin, her fingers splaying over his exquisitely toned abdomen and then moving up to trace the curve of his ribs. She bites her lower lip before looking up at him through her perfectly mascaraed lashes. ]
Besides, have you seen yourself? You're not the only lucky one in this room.
Once you’ve met an Asgardian god, the scales tip unfairly. But thank you. The monks advocate for lots of yoga.
[ Still grinning. She’s not the only one who appreciates this playfulness. With the way his sense of humour works, he can’t turn off the wisecracking even here; he genuinely enjoys being able to laugh and have fun with each other in the bedroom.
And as highstrung and high-maintenance as Stephen Strange can be with so many things, it turns out that he’s fairly easygoing and straightforward about sex. It’s an enjoyable stress relief, and it was one of his most common casual vices in his old life, whenever he was overworked and in need of some release. It’s an easy way to get out of his head, to anchor himself back in his physical self and simple pleasurable sensation rather than overthinking things. To remind himself that he is a functioning body, and not just a brain on legs. Since becoming a sorcerer, it’s been even easier to get lost in the abstract, the astral, the ephemeral.
He needs this. She needs this.
Julia’s hands fan across his ribs, and so his movements unconsciously mirror hers; leaning in for another kiss as he palms a handful of that strapless bra, then after only a moment’s hesitation, his thumb glides beneath the cup and grazes her nipple, and —
— there’s a light flicker of magic which she can sense in the air, like a telekinetic fish-hook tugging behind her, and then the bra unclasps and falls away.
Those goddamn hooks had been difficult with women even before he lost motor function in his hands. It’s a neat trick, and he looks a little delighted that it actually worked. ]
[ Her breath hitches at that brush against her nipple, a quick intake of breath before she presses that much closer into both his touch and his kiss— And then the sudden unexpected tug of magic and following rush of air against her breasts catches her off-guard. She looks down in surprise and then back up at him with amused incredulity written across her expression. Did he seriously just? ]
You are such a cheater. [ The laughter that bursts out of her shakes her entire body and feels so damn good. She needed this too. ] Struggling to get the bra off is a time-honored tradition!
[ But she's really not the least bit bothered by it. If anything, she finds it a bit more ridiculously endearing than she usually would, thanks to the alcohol in her system. She is in that delightful space between drunk and tipsy, though as another chorus of giggles cascades out of her, she starts to tip a bit on her stiletto heels and quickly grabs hold of him to keep from losing her balance entirely. ]
[ Her giggles are adorable and infectious, and so he can’t stop that laughter bubbling beneath his voice either: ] A time-honoured tradition, and cruel and unusual punishment for yours truly. Only if you wanted us to be stuck here for fully half an hour as I fumbled with the clasp…!
[ Being the prideful person he is, Stephen’s been reluctant to outright refer to himself as physically disabled or having a disability, even when that is absolutely the case— but he can point this gentle fun at himself and his altered capabilities, at least. They’re both clearly too impatient, and definitely wouldn’t have wanted to wait that long.
And then she’s teetering, and so Stephen braces her with a hand, lets Julia hang onto him — except that he then consciously lets their balance tip in a few tumbling steps and that momentum carries him backwards, until he sits down abruptly on the edge of the bed, Julia either remaining standing between his legs or falling into his lap. This’ll be easier for helping her out of those stilettos, and the bed, too, is going to be helpful soon enough. A thought occurring to him, he snaps his fingers, and the books on the bed start floating away to stack themselves tidily by the fireplace, which leaves Stephen’s full attention for the beautiful and entirely absorbing woman with him.
He’s never had a better puzzle he wanted to solve. ]
[ Julia doesn't point out that she would have taken pity on him far sooner than that, the way most women do when adorable men struggle with this particular piece of clothing. They are far too impatient for it now, regardless.
That tumble back to the bed sets her giggling again as momentum sends her right between his legs, her hands going to his shoulders to keep from toppling onto him. (There will be time for that later.) Her eyes follow the books as they float off before she turns her gaze back to the man who, for once, is below her. Just slightly, though, since he's still so much taller than her.
Adjusting her balance, she gives him a little show by lifting her arms and reaching back behind her head to remove the few pins holding the half-braid in place, providing him a clear view of her chest. Then, with her hair free to fall around her as it pleases, she drops the pins to the side (she'll try her best to locate them later), combs her fingers through that still-perfectly styled hair of his, and leans down to kiss him soundly. The tips of her curls slide over his bare shoulders and surround them like a curtain, shutting out the rest of the world for a brief but perfect moment. ]
[ Just as Julia's enjoying having that rare height over him, Stephen finds himself thrilling at having to cant his gaze upwards for once, too, perched on the edge of the bed and watching her showy movements with a decidedly hungry look, his gaze sharp and intent and riveted on her. He's leaning back on the heels of his hands as she tosses the pins aside, her gestures graceful and languorous and fucking beautiful. He only surges forward again when she leans in. And all things considered, he's showing some measured self-control in not going straight for her breasts like an eager teenager; he's old enough by now that he knows to not neglect the basics, and so he pours all of his attention and focus into the kiss as she leans into him, his legs spread to give her room where she's standing between his knees. There'll be time for the rest soon.
Their positions are at a perfect height for his hands to settle on Julia's hips again, steadying her where she stands; and as the kiss deepens, his palms slide just under the edge of her underwear, delivering an appreciative squeeze of her ass even as his tongue slides against hers again.
When they next have to break for air with a small gasp, he lingers, nose against her jaw. And even through this haze of starving desire, one last disclaimer takes shape in the back of his mind— because it has been a while for him, too, and he doesn't know the timeline for Julia but she does have a difficult history— and just, maybe— it's worth saying and not just assuming— ]
If this is too much. Any of it. Just let me know. We can do as much or as little as you like, or stop anytime.
[ Julia decides that she would like to drown in Stephen's kiss forever. His touch ignites something with her, his warmth wrapping around her and soothing her soul. She wants to breathe him in, consume him as she is consumed in turn, and forever might actually not be long enough.
His breath against her skin is more intoxicating than any of the drinks they'd enjoyed that night and she's ready to dive back in when he takes her breath away with his words. For a long moment, she's quiet, those precious sentences carving themselves into her memory to keep her company on the loneliest nights. Then, leaning back just enough to look in those gorgeous eyes of his, she has to fight back a wave of emotion that threatens to choke her with its suddenness. ]
God, you're amazing.
[ Does he understand how much it means that even now he's thinking of her? That he's not assuming her past means nothing, but nor is he assuming it still has command over her life. He's making sure she knows she has power in this situation the way she hadn't before. This is her choice.
Well, she chooses him. ]
And still incredibly overdressed.
[ She murmurs the words before catching his lips again in a searing kiss that feels like she's trying to devour him, mind, body, and soul. And sometime in the midst of forgetting anything exists between the two of them, her hands find their way to the waistband of his pants, fingertips blinding searching for the most efficient way of getting him out of said pants. ]
[ It's a delicate position to be in: not wanting to handle her with kid gloves, nor do Julia the injustice of thinking she can't make her own decisions; but also not wanting to rush or pressure her into said decision, either. Stephen's well-familiar with trauma, mostly his own, but he's never been on the ground floor with someone else's like this before. Putting in the work. The commitment. But he's choosing her regardless and she's choosing him, and so he's grinning against her mouth as they renew the kiss: ]
Mmhm. I'm going to take that as meaning "carry on".
[ So he joins that blind fumbling; her fingers go for unbuttoning his trousers and he's lifting his hips off the edge of the bed to help her, shimmying those expensive slacks off his narrow body, eventually managing to kick them loose until he, like Julia, is down to his underwear. It's slim-fit trunks, contoured enough to not have any seams or bunched fabric visible in a suit at a party — but that also means his interest is more than visible, erection half-straining at the fabric. His hands finally start to roam, then, as if they've both granted him permission: palming her breasts, thumbs rolling over her hardening nipples, even as he hooks his knee behind hers to draw her even closer to him. It's almost impossible to be as close as he'd like, to be tasting and touching all of her at once; before, behind, between, above, below. ]
[ That commitment he's making to put in the work and weather the storm is more than she expected anyone to ever want to make. Julia knows she isn't "damaged goods" or whatever other bullshit society tries to force on people who have endured trauma like she has — she's a survivor who will always carry that trauma with her. But she's also a person, and people heal. Expecting other people to understand all of that, however... But here he is, doing just that.
They work together to remove his pants and then she can see the proof of his enthusiasm. And as he pulls her closer, she can feel it as her thigh bumps against him. Leaning into his hands, she urges him to keep touching her, but a moment later her hands are on his shoulders to gently yet firmly push him back to the mattress. She wants to touch, taste, and explore every inch of him and her patience in taking things slow is waning thin.
Climbing up onto the mattress to follow him, her knees take up position on either side of his hips, those ridiculous heels hanging off the edge of the bed while she pursues her mission. She leans down, balancing her weight just so to not fall on top of him but also keeping a teasing distance between their bodies. This she has patience for.
Her lips press open-mouthed kissed to his neck, his beard scratching her cheek as she goes, and then she moves down to his check, her fingers once again tracing the toned muscle beneath warm, smooth skin. Down over his pectorals, her perfectly manicured nails giving the lightest scratch to his nipples as she moves down to his abdomen, bending her knees to lean down and be able to reach. ]
[ Stephen sinks back at her gentle push, and they land into that sublime well-padded mattress. It's a very nice bed; the Sanctum provides well for its (ex-) Sorcerer Supreme. His hands settle on Julia's thighs, the part of her body he can most easily reach as she straddles him, as she licks a stripe down his neck and he barely suppresses a shiver.
He always has to be the one holding the knife—
but it turns out it's nice, too, to hand over the reins here, to have Julia pinning his hips to the mattress, to have him sprawled backward at her mercy and watching as she works her way downward. His stomach muscles tense and flutter beneath her touch along with a sharp intake of breath, and he props himself up on an elbow to admire the view. Wry: ]
Is it too much to say you should leave the heels on?
[ Even in a serious moment like this, he manages to make it fun and lighthearted at the same time. It's something she loves about him — she knows full well that not everyone has the same appreciation for his sense of humor but she doesn't care. This is between the two of them, and somehow, miraculously, they fit.
Shaking her head to get her hair out of her eyes, she looks up at him with almost exasperated amusement. He's ridiculous and she loves that too. ]
If you want to risk being stabbed by a heel in the middle of things, then sure, I can leave them on.
[ He’s been trying to handle their evening with the reverence it presumably deserves, but just as he can’t help cracking jokes even in the most serious of moments, Stephen can’t help it here, either — and her reply makes him laugh outright with unbridled amusement, chest rumbling with the sound, and it turns out that overwrought reverence is extremely overrated. He’d rather be able to have fun throughout. (Isn’t that the whole point?) ]
Alright. Point. The idea’s probably better in theory than actual practice.
[ He watches where she’s settled over him, her hand against his stomach, tantalising. Turnabout is fair play with how agonisingly slow he was taking things before. ]
[ His laugh is one of the best things she's ever heard. She wants to bottle it up with the rest of this moment, keep the memory perfectly preserved so she can pull it out later in those dark moments that inevitably come back around. But most of all, she wants to make him laugh like that again, every damn day if possible. It's nothing less than he deserves. ]
It wouldn't be the worst way to go.
[ She teases him with a grin that betrays absolutely no sympathy for his fate. Lowering her head, she places an open-mouthed kiss just below his ribs, then another an inch lower, then lower still... Her tongue dips into his navel just before she moves backward off the bed, her movements as smooth as a cat's as she balances on those precarious heels. With her hands now free to roam other parts of his body, she drags them lightly down his waist to his hips, her nails causing the underwear to bunch on either side of his straining erection. She eyes it for a moment, that delicious evidence of his undeniable interest in her, her teeth biting at her lower lip— ]
Still overdressed...
[ The murmured pronouncement comes as her fingertips slip under the waistband of those shorts, lifting the material up and then pulling it down to release him. ]
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ourladytrees) wrote2022-06-18 12:21 am
no subject
They reach his door too quickly. It's too soon, she isn't ready for the night to end. She isn't prepared to lose his warmth, to feel empty and alone without the sound of his voice in her ear. But then—
Julia watches him for a moment, knowing this dance intimately, and it takes no time at all for her to choose the path to follow. Letting go of his arm, she lifts both hands to rest them lightly against his chest, her expression completely serious and her eyes on the tie she'd tied so many hours ago. ]
Stephen, you've already bought this girl a drink tonight. More than one, in fact. [ She raises her eyes to meet his. ] So why don't you just kiss me already?
no subject
[ Stephen’s cautious, tentative expression flourishes into a smile instead: the relief and validation of him having raised the stakes and Julia firmly, instantaneously, unhesitatingly, calling said stakes. Laying his cards out on the table.
This whole evening has been a date-which-isn’t-a-date: getting to know each other more over drinks, cut loose from any obligation of magical training or curse-breaking, simply enjoying each others’ company and the gentle ebb-and-flow of flirtation. He’d been prepared to beat around the bush a little longer if necessary, but it’s nice getting to cut right through it. She’s always calling him on his bullshit. It’s refreshing.
So he doesn’t waste any more time. Julia’s already resting her hands against the material of his suit jacket, and there’s hardly any distance between them any longer, and so it’s the easiest thing for him to lean down and catch her cheek with his hand, and capture her mouth with his. The kiss is soft at first; the opening of that metaphorical door, stepping over the line, testing the weight to see if the floor will hold. ]
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One of Julia's hands stays on his chest to steady her as she lifts up the last little bit onto her toes, while her other hand goes to the back of his neck. She wants to make herself perfectly clear as she presses their lips more firmly together and opens her mouth to properly taste him: she is no fragile flower and she knows what she wants. ]
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He had started to wonder, for the long last while, what kissing Julia Wicker might be like; and it turns out now that the door’s been unlocked, they’re both slamming it open. She opens her mouth against his and it’s like they’re crashing into each other, his tongue slipping against hers, diving hungrily into the kiss.
He feels ten years younger — he hasn’t done this in a while — but then again, after all this time living together, it’s about damned time. So all that pent-up passion and every lingering question is poured into it: mouth and teeth and her hands at the back of his neck, his own fingers curling into the waves of her hair, only coming up for air with a little gasping breath before renewing the kiss.
And in that jostling push-and-pull to get closer still, one of them bumps into one of those hallway endtables, sending it teetering, and with a jolt of surprise, Stephen catches it with magic before some stupid priceless decorative vase can shatter on the floor. He glances down in brief consternation, then back at her, amused. ]
I think we should get out of the corridor.
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That pesky table barrels into her hip, not the other way around, and she grimaces with a smile as he catches it and gives the offensive thing a look. He makes a very valid point, though, and she turns her flirting up to 11 as she wraps her hand around his tie and slides it down the length of fabric. ]
Well, you did tell me once that your bedroom is the least dangerous place in the Sanctum. Maybe we should continue this there.
[ And then there's the briefest moment where she's afraid she's gone too far, too fast. He'd given her signs but there's still a flicker of doubt, some part of her worried about... too many things. ]
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[ He’s grinning, the amusement sparking even brighter in his eyes, now that they’re both so clearly on the same page. They’re no longer nosing around the corners of the possibility, no longer waiting and wondering.
So Stephen shoots a quick, surreptitious glance up and down the hallway; checking to make sure they’re not being noticed by Wong or another master or a novice awake in the middle of the night to brush their teeth. They’re stealing away like they’re two truant students avoiding the hall monitor, trying not to be spotted sneaking around in the night. ]
Lead the way.
[ So then Julia’s walking backwards into his living quarters, teasingly tugging him along by his tie: whenever she takes a step back, then he takes a step forward following her in, and the door whisks itself shut behind them. They’re crossing the room together, going past the chaise longue where she’d once patched him up, past the study area, past the dressing area. Just before they reach the second door, then he reaches to his chest for the scarlet pocket square and tosses it aside; in the blink of an eye, it transforms back into the Cloak of Levitation, which disappears back to its hook in the corner for some privacy.
And just as they cross the bedroom threshold, then Stephen closes the distance once more and kisses her again, even as the Mission-style bedside lamp sparks to life (dating a sorcerer, it’s very handy). Now that they’re in here, she finally gets a view of his bedroom, this innermost private chamber: more hardwood floors and another fireplace, floor-to-ceiling paned windows with drawn curtains, a hefty bed with carved wooden bedposts. All of the aesthetic radiates an old-world grandeur which he hadn’t actually picked, but which fits the man nonetheless. And to no one’s surprise, the walls are lined with even more bookshelves, the bed piled with more. The room itself would be tidy (he’s always meticulously tidy) if it weren’t for the books on the bedspread and some papers on the endtable. He breaks the kiss just long enough to say, breathlessly, ]
I hadn’t planned for company, but I have to admit that I have been wanting to do this for— god, a while.
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She only gets a glance at his bedroom before his lips are on hers again and she is thoroughly distracted, though what she gathers is that it's well-matched to the rest of his suite and to him personally. Had the Sanctum designed it for him like this or had he chosen the design? The question makes a fleeting pass through her thoughts as her hands roam over his strong shoulders, feeling the lean muscle hidden beneath his suit, which brings to mind that he is extremely overdressed for their present circumstances.
A quiet laugh escapes her at his confession, the sound reverberating through their next kiss, and then she pulls back enough to make her own. ]
And I have to admit it may have crossed my mind while I was gone. Once or twice.
[ Her hands slide down his chest, thumbs tracing the curve of the lapels before finding their prize. With a quick flick, she undoes however many buttons stand between her and removing that pesky layer of clothing. ]
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[ She’d had far more important things going on at the time, he knows it; but they also both know that it’s simply part of the playful patter, the flirtation turned white-hot.
It’s still a little difficult for him to work the buttons without using magic, so it’s a relief to have Julia swiftly unpicking the buttons on his jacket for him. Stephen tips a shoulder to help shrug out of it, and her hands slide under the fabric, along the lines of his shoulders and back, dragging it loose where he just lets the jacket tumble to the floor. He pulls at his tie, messily undoes all her work from the beginning of the evening until it hangs loose again around his throat. That one layer shucked, Julia can reach for his white dress-shirt (it’s well-tailored but simple, unornamented, he’d stopped using cufflinks since his accident), as his hands settle on the arch of her corseted bodice, and then gathers up a handful of voluminous skirt, just to keep touching her and have something to hang onto. His attention drifts a little to the side: his lips mouthing at Julia’s jaw along with the faint scratch of his beard, then the delicate arch of her throat, then his voice murmuring into her ear in a low purr. ]
It’s a very nice dress. How do we get you out of it?
[ He assumes there’s a zipper somewhere but if so, it’s cleverly-hidden, designed well enough that it doesn’t stand out in the black-and-gold. ]
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Removing Stephen's jacket has to be one of the most sensual things Julia has ever experienced. Knowing how he is about doing everything himself and recalling that night so many months ago when he'd allowed her to help him, it makes this moment all the more impactful. He's letting her take charge of this moment and take care of something that's a struggle for him, allowing them the haste they both crave and avoiding any embarrassment or self-consciousness on his part. She's grateful for all of it.
His lips on her jaw and throat make it hard to concentrate on those damn shirt buttons, her fingers working on pure muscle memory as her head tilts slightly to the side to give him better access. And then— His voice in her ear sends liquid fire through her, her breathing becoming more ragged and giving away just how much he's affected her. Fuck. If this is how they're starting, what state will they be in when they finish?
Her hands fall away from the half-unbuttoned shirt with the unspoken promise to resume her efforts. Reaching behind her, she locates the zipper that's hidden under a fold of the golden brocade to the right side of her back and pulls it down just enough to reveal its location. Then she turns around, gathering her hair with one hand to pull over her shoulder and give him unhindered access, and looks back at him with an expectant expression. It's his turn to reveal what's underneath: a strapless bra that matches her black underwear, both high-quality but not quite to the same extent as his suit. Julia might enjoy the finer things but she's also on the more practical side and saves her splurging for other things. Though now that she has someone to see them, she might reconsider that particular stance... ]
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Those are all considerations for another day.
Because for now, this is their first time together and he decides he wants to explore. He wants to savour each inch of exposed skin, new details of Julia’s body revealed like delicately unwrapping a beautiful present. She tilts her head to the side and offers up her back, and so Stephen takes up position behind her; presses a kiss to the woman’s naked shoulder, then pinches the zipper between his fingers and slowly peels it down the curve of her spine.
And where it goes, his lips follow, trailing a path of kisses down her bare skin as the dress loosens and they extricate her arms from the sleeves. There's fewer steps compared to his own clothing — as soon as the dress is loosened, then it's already falling free — but Stephen still draws out the process as long as possible. As the material hits her hips, he tucks his fingers between the dress and her skin to drag it down over her curves; he presses a kiss to her bare hip just above that black underwear, until the dress is finally a puddle of fabric at her feet.
That done and Julia revealed in that matching set, goddamn, this is going to kill him— Stephen straightens up again to his full height. He presses closer with his chest against her back, hands settling on her hips as he kisses her neck again, hot and open-mouthed. ]
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She's always wanted to have sex in front of a fireplace on a snowy day.
The thought hits her as the fabric of the dress whispers down her skin, followed by his hands and lips. She shivers not from cold but from delicious anticipation as he moves against her back. It isn't cold out yet and winter isn't just around the corner; her mind is already assuming this is real, something potentially permanent rather than scratching an itch and satisfying a question they've both had. But hell if she's going to ask for that clarification — now is not the time and that's way too heavy for a first night Together. If they are together.
She lifts a hand to run her fingers over his perfectly styled hair that she wants to turn into a wild mess, her other hand moving to rest on his at her hip. Her eyes close for a moment, just drinking in those sensations, and then her impatience wins and she lets out a playful but grumbling complaint. ]
Doctor Strange, you are very overdressed right now and I do not appreciate it.
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Well, we can’t have that. I’m all about equal opportunity.
[ Stephen toes out of his shoes and socks, nudging both pairs aside and pre-empting the inevitable, because there is truly nothing more ridiculous than the sight of a man eventually standing naked wearing nothing but his socks.
He reaches up, manages to clumsily unhook one of his shirt buttons, and then heeds that thread of impatience in her voice by simply going ahead and magically unpicking the rest of them. He moves around to step in front of her again, tossing the shirt to join the growing pile of clothes and reveal lean muscle, the benefits of clean living and a vegetarian diet and meditation and exercise and occasionally needing to go into physical-magical combat to save the world. (It happens; he always has to be in shape for the possibility.)
Now that he’s standing in front of her, Stephen’s gaze slides downward to the dip of Julia’s cleavage and belly button, her bare legs and high heels. He’s not shy about the appreciative look, slowly lingering across all of her as he takes in the sight, checking her out. He grins. ]
Christ. Is it too much to say I’m the luckiest man in the world right now? I’m feeling very lucky.
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Glancing down to note what's going on with his shoes and socks, she can't help but grin at the thought of one day getting to take them off herself. She's already planning how she'll remove each piece of his clothing, exploring every inch of him as slowly and thoroughly as they can both stand. But that's for next time, or perhaps the time after that. Either way, they'll get there, and she's so looking forward to it.
The way he looks at her when he comes back around leaves her wanting to climb his towering form like a goddamn jungle gym. And he looks like he could handle it — he has enough muscle to be more than attractive but not so much that he'll be like embracing a statue. Julia herself doesn't have overly toned muscle; it's good genetics and an active lifestyle that keep her slim and fit. ]
Well, you're about to get lucky, so it's only fitting.
[ She cracks a joke, of course, but the praise is still thrilling to hear. Her entire life, she's known she was attractive, but that doesn't mean she hasn't also fought the occasional battle with her self-image. The way he looks at her now is enough to banish any wriggling thread of doubt planted at the back of her mind by popular media.
Crossing the few inches between them, her hands gravitate to that expanse of bare skin, her fingers splaying over his exquisitely toned abdomen and then moving up to trace the curve of his ribs. She bites her lower lip before looking up at him through her perfectly mascaraed lashes. ]
Besides, have you seen yourself? You're not the only lucky one in this room.
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[ Still grinning. She’s not the only one who appreciates this playfulness. With the way his sense of humour works, he can’t turn off the wisecracking even here; he genuinely enjoys being able to laugh and have fun with each other in the bedroom.
And as highstrung and high-maintenance as Stephen Strange can be with so many things, it turns out that he’s fairly easygoing and straightforward about sex. It’s an enjoyable stress relief, and it was one of his most common casual vices in his old life, whenever he was overworked and in need of some release. It’s an easy way to get out of his head, to anchor himself back in his physical self and simple pleasurable sensation rather than overthinking things. To remind himself that he is a functioning body, and not just a brain on legs. Since becoming a sorcerer, it’s been even easier to get lost in the abstract, the astral, the ephemeral.
He needs this. She needs this.
Julia’s hands fan across his ribs, and so his movements unconsciously mirror hers; leaning in for another kiss as he palms a handful of that strapless bra, then after only a moment’s hesitation, his thumb glides beneath the cup and grazes her nipple, and —
— there’s a light flicker of magic which she can sense in the air, like a telekinetic fish-hook tugging behind her, and then the bra unclasps and falls away.
Those goddamn hooks had been difficult with women even before he lost motor function in his hands. It’s a neat trick, and he looks a little delighted that it actually worked. ]
Hm. I can safely say I’ve never done that before.
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You are such a cheater. [ The laughter that bursts out of her shakes her entire body and feels so damn good. She needed this too. ] Struggling to get the bra off is a time-honored tradition!
[ But she's really not the least bit bothered by it. If anything, she finds it a bit more ridiculously endearing than she usually would, thanks to the alcohol in her system. She is in that delightful space between drunk and tipsy, though as another chorus of giggles cascades out of her, she starts to tip a bit on her stiletto heels and quickly grabs hold of him to keep from losing her balance entirely. ]
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[ Being the prideful person he is, Stephen’s been reluctant to outright refer to himself as physically disabled or having a disability, even when that is absolutely the case— but he can point this gentle fun at himself and his altered capabilities, at least. They’re both clearly too impatient, and definitely wouldn’t have wanted to wait that long.
And then she’s teetering, and so Stephen braces her with a hand, lets Julia hang onto him — except that he then consciously lets their balance tip in a few tumbling steps and that momentum carries him backwards, until he sits down abruptly on the edge of the bed, Julia either remaining standing between his legs or falling into his lap. This’ll be easier for helping her out of those stilettos, and the bed, too, is going to be helpful soon enough. A thought occurring to him, he snaps his fingers, and the books on the bed start floating away to stack themselves tidily by the fireplace, which leaves Stephen’s full attention for the beautiful and entirely absorbing woman with him.
He’s never had a better puzzle he wanted to solve. ]
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That tumble back to the bed sets her giggling again as momentum sends her right between his legs, her hands going to his shoulders to keep from toppling onto him. (There will be time for that later.) Her eyes follow the books as they float off before she turns her gaze back to the man who, for once, is below her. Just slightly, though, since he's still so much taller than her.
Adjusting her balance, she gives him a little show by lifting her arms and reaching back behind her head to remove the few pins holding the half-braid in place, providing him a clear view of her chest. Then, with her hair free to fall around her as it pleases, she drops the pins to the side (she'll try her best to locate them later), combs her fingers through that still-perfectly styled hair of his, and leans down to kiss him soundly. The tips of her curls slide over his bare shoulders and surround them like a curtain, shutting out the rest of the world for a brief but perfect moment. ]
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Their positions are at a perfect height for his hands to settle on Julia's hips again, steadying her where she stands; and as the kiss deepens, his palms slide just under the edge of her underwear, delivering an appreciative squeeze of her ass even as his tongue slides against hers again.
When they next have to break for air with a small gasp, he lingers, nose against her jaw. And even through this haze of starving desire, one last disclaimer takes shape in the back of his mind— because it has been a while for him, too, and he doesn't know the timeline for Julia but she does have a difficult history— and just, maybe— it's worth saying and not just assuming— ]
If this is too much. Any of it. Just let me know. We can do as much or as little as you like, or stop anytime.
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His breath against her skin is more intoxicating than any of the drinks they'd enjoyed that night and she's ready to dive back in when he takes her breath away with his words. For a long moment, she's quiet, those precious sentences carving themselves into her memory to keep her company on the loneliest nights. Then, leaning back just enough to look in those gorgeous eyes of his, she has to fight back a wave of emotion that threatens to choke her with its suddenness. ]
God, you're amazing.
[ Does he understand how much it means that even now he's thinking of her? That he's not assuming her past means nothing, but nor is he assuming it still has command over her life. He's making sure she knows she has power in this situation the way she hadn't before. This is her choice.
Well, she chooses him. ]
And still incredibly overdressed.
[ She murmurs the words before catching his lips again in a searing kiss that feels like she's trying to devour him, mind, body, and soul. And sometime in the midst of forgetting anything exists between the two of them, her hands find their way to the waistband of his pants, fingertips blinding searching for the most efficient way of getting him out of said pants. ]
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Mmhm. I'm going to take that as meaning "carry on".
[ So he joins that blind fumbling; her fingers go for unbuttoning his trousers and he's lifting his hips off the edge of the bed to help her, shimmying those expensive slacks off his narrow body, eventually managing to kick them loose until he, like Julia, is down to his underwear. It's slim-fit trunks, contoured enough to not have any seams or bunched fabric visible in a suit at a party — but that also means his interest is more than visible, erection half-straining at the fabric. His hands finally start to roam, then, as if they've both granted him permission: palming her breasts, thumbs rolling over her hardening nipples, even as he hooks his knee behind hers to draw her even closer to him. It's almost impossible to be as close as he'd like, to be tasting and touching all of her at once; before, behind, between, above, below. ]
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They work together to remove his pants and then she can see the proof of his enthusiasm. And as he pulls her closer, she can feel it as her thigh bumps against him. Leaning into his hands, she urges him to keep touching her, but a moment later her hands are on his shoulders to gently yet firmly push him back to the mattress. She wants to touch, taste, and explore every inch of him and her patience in taking things slow is waning thin.
Climbing up onto the mattress to follow him, her knees take up position on either side of his hips, those ridiculous heels hanging off the edge of the bed while she pursues her mission. She leans down, balancing her weight just so to not fall on top of him but also keeping a teasing distance between their bodies. This she has patience for.
Her lips press open-mouthed kissed to his neck, his beard scratching her cheek as she goes, and then she moves down to his check, her fingers once again tracing the toned muscle beneath warm, smooth skin. Down over his pectorals, her perfectly manicured nails giving the lightest scratch to his nipples as she moves down to his abdomen, bending her knees to lean down and be able to reach. ]
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He always has to be the one holding the knife—
but it turns out it's nice, too, to hand over the reins here, to have Julia pinning his hips to the mattress, to have him sprawled backward at her mercy and watching as she works her way downward. His stomach muscles tense and flutter beneath her touch along with a sharp intake of breath, and he props himself up on an elbow to admire the view. Wry: ]
Is it too much to say you should leave the heels on?
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Shaking her head to get her hair out of her eyes, she looks up at him with almost exasperated amusement. He's ridiculous and she loves that too. ]
If you want to risk being stabbed by a heel in the middle of things, then sure, I can leave them on.
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Alright. Point. The idea’s probably better in theory than actual practice.
[ He watches where she’s settled over him, her hand against his stomach, tantalising. Turnabout is fair play with how agonisingly slow he was taking things before. ]
You’re going to be the death of me. Just, FYI.
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It wouldn't be the worst way to go.
[ She teases him with a grin that betrays absolutely no sympathy for his fate. Lowering her head, she places an open-mouthed kiss just below his ribs, then another an inch lower, then lower still... Her tongue dips into his navel just before she moves backward off the bed, her movements as smooth as a cat's as she balances on those precarious heels. With her hands now free to roam other parts of his body, she drags them lightly down his waist to his hips, her nails causing the underwear to bunch on either side of his straining erection. She eyes it for a moment, that delicious evidence of his undeniable interest in her, her teeth biting at her lower lip— ]
Still overdressed...
[ The murmured pronouncement comes as her fingertips slip under the waistband of those shorts, lifting the material up and then pulling it down to release him. ]
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and we've reached the part i don't write well... so slight vagueness
shush u write it beautifully!!
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wrap ♥