drwhitly | Closed to statuethief

Closed to statuethief

Martin was out cold for a lot longer than he would have anticipated. Of course, he woke up without much concept of time until he fully was lucid for a few days. He was set up in quite a nice flat. This Irene Adler really held up her end of the deal and he knew he had struck a deal with the devil, but he was loving it.

So on his second week in London, actually capable of moving about, he got himself a haircut and a shave. He now had the funds so he was able to buy a suit and look quite presentable. Nothing like his incarcerated self.

Then he found the guinea pig cafe.

She had to know that he had 'passed' since it was in the news, causing him to wait a while before coming out of hiding. Still, Martin grinned as he approached the tiny cafe, seeing that it was a bit different than what he had imagined from her description of it. He casually walked inside as if he were anyone else.

"Do I just take a seat anywhere or..."

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"Well that sounds fun." She can pick out a woman that exactly fits her tastes for the day.

"It is a great honour. I usually only close early when I don't want to be here." She smirks.

She wasn't expecting that romantic sort of kiss, it makes her breathless for a moment.

"Let's just pop Hillary back in her home and we can go."

“I anticipate we’ll be having quite a bit of fun.” He added, one last sip of that tea and yes now he was finally ready to put the animal away.

“Oh Hilary, parting is such sweet sorrow.” He recited before putting her back in her tiny home. Turning back to Fleabag, he offered his hand. “Shall we, my dear?”

It would be only a short taxi ride away to get to the flat. Irene didn’t cut corners which had been greatly appreciated and he had more than enough privacy there.

"We do seem to have fun." Great sexual chemistry between them.

"You'll end up seeing her again soon, I'm sure."

There's something simple about just holding hands. And getting in a taxi together, things she never expected to be able to do with her serial killer.

"Don't we look practically domestic." She teases once they're in the cab.

"I hope I do, she's quite the host." he squeezed her hand as they got into the taxi together. It was odd and he was still adjusting to the outside world being so big again; it almost made him nervous. 20 years in a cell will do that to a man. With her there, it did feel like a buffer.

"Almost," he added, giving her a nudge. "Who knows, maybe we'll even end up at the opera or grocery store together. Scandalous!" However, when he spoke while in the cab, a very distinct English accent came out. He had thought ahead that if he had to keep a low profile, he might as well blend in.

The accent is a surprise, and she may need to help him with a few words.

"Madness." She rests her head on his shoulder. This must be strange for him, to go from a cell to London, free to do whatever he wants. She tilts her head to kiss his cheek.

"I missed you."

"You are so lovey, aren't you." he chuckled, turning to return a kiss on her head. "I like it. I feel absolutely starved of affection."

"Oh, 'missed' doesn't quite cover how I felt about you." He had gone at least 2 weeks without any contact from her, he just couldn't and he was psuedo-dead. "But what did you miss about me?"

Truthfully she's pretty affection starved herself, it feels nice to just be touched.

"Well I had gotten rather used to our evening texting sessions. And I missed those talented hands, having you close, being able to touch you."

Releasing her hand, his slid down to her thigh, “Think of how much we’re going to save on airfare.” Not that the money ever mattered to him; he could barely use most of his. “Well having me close is exactly what you’re going to get.”

”Oh, the things I’ve fantasized doing to your body, darling...”

"It's all taxis or the tube now." She grins. There's a tiny shiver that runs down her spine.

"You've been without me for too long, right?"

"Far too long." His hand squeezes her thigh before sliding up just an inch, fingers tapping along her soft skin, teasing. "I've been without so much for far too long," he adds. "But tastes of you held me over. Did you know that?"

Her eyes fall shut and she sighs, they aren't going to make it past his entryway at this rate.

"Is that so? I've not had anyone since I last saw you." She admits, and that was well over a month ago.

“No?” He was somewhat surprised. Then again he also figured anyone with freedom should just be having a run at it. “Were you purposely holding out for me? Or was it just a dry spell of a month?”

His fingers were shameless going up her skirt, brushing along the outside of her panties, teasing her pussy beneath.

"It's hard to find anyone that compares to you." She hasn't felt the desire to bring home anyone.

She keeps her legs pretty closed, she's trying to not be absolutely shameless in this cab.

"Have you waited for me?" She chuckles even asking it.

Martin grinned talking pride in knowing that he had set the bar high for her. He truly believed himself to be a very experienced and praised lover.

Even if her legs are closed, his hand isn’t going anywhere and his fingers still tease and tempt by simply rubbing.

“I have.” In regard to what timeline, he wasn’t really sure. He had been dead, taken advantage of some situations after coming back from the dead but before that, sure he hadn’t had any visitors of that sort.

He is fantastic in bed. Kinky and dominant but he always makes sure she comes; a lot.

"I don't know if I believe you." She chuckles, leaving a little kiss on his neck. "What neighborhood is your place in?"

Her flexibility to do just about anything he's into got her a solid spot on his list of favorites.

"You're always doubting me about that," He observed. "I do have other women visitors, yes, but not all come to be for a shag." He leaned into her. "And it was your cafe that I just sought out, isn't it?"

“Just north of Camden Town, I believe.” He's still learning his way properly around London.

She is game for just about anything really. And besides the top notch sex, they do end up just chatting a lot.

"I was a bit far away there." It's more that she understands how easy it is for him to lie. He doesn't get twinges of guilt about it. "You did come find me, yes."

"Well you won't be any longer." And she was right to be wary that he did lie easily and without showing a sign of it. "And that, my dear, would imply that you are special, wouldn't it?"

"Oh, I'm definitely special." She laughs, "just ask my therapist."

She's a bit of a mess, one that is romantically involved with a killer. Who she is snuggling in a cab.

Martin perked up at the mention of a therapist, “And what is her take on me? Or me in your life. Or does she not know?” Oh, he just loves the silly analysis of therapists.

"Well, she thinks I've got an unhealthy fixation on death as a start."

She's mentioned Martin, but only parts of it.

"I believe the politically correct term is 'true crime'." He added. "It's pretty normal in America." he pauses with a wink. "Or so I've read."

"Yeah, America makes all the documentaries, after all. And most of the serial killers in them." Theres's probably a lot to be said about it.

"Indeed." he agreed, nodding. "Ever wonder what is wrong with the Yanks that they can't seem to manage their serial killer problem? Why they all seem to pop up over there?" He looked to her curiously. "Because it can't be the guns."

"I think it's all the narcissists." She gives him a knowing little smirk.

"They do tend to avoid guns, don't they?"

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