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Penny's belly-up to the bar waiting for her gin and tonic and a Diet Coke when Emily leans in over her left shoulder and says, "You know, you told stories and showed me the photos, but I guess you can never really be prepared for what he's like in person." Big talk coming from a lady who spent six years playing - well, basically Sheldon if Sheldon were a forensic anthropologist and also female. Penny turns slightly to better face her, and over Emily's shoulder she sees Leonard and Sheldon clumped with a few of the crew, mostly lighting guys if she's remembering correctly. She's pretty sure a couple of them worked on the Star Trek reboot, so hopefully that's what's causing Sheldon's full body spasms and not - well, any number of things. Mentions of Leonard Nimoy do have a disturbing tendency to shut down his fine motor control.

Emily turns to look with her, and she hums appreciatively. "You did get him cleaned up pretty nicely, though." Penny rolls her eyes - that's its own story, complete with a standard Sheldon shit fit that ended in a salesgirl crying and Penny giving up hope completely on her secret plan of pouncing on Sheldon in the dressing room. He does look great, she willingly admits. She'd found him a simple pair of gray slacks, a dark brown shirt with a subtle stripe to it, and added a splash of color with his tie. She had trusted Leonard, Howard, and Raj to dress themselves, and they had all actually done pretty well, even if they were playing it safe with variations of the same black suit. (Although at least Raj's dark red shirt had saved them from looking like they were headed to a costume party back in '97 dressed as the agents from Men in Black, thank god.) Sheldon's already hung up his blazer somewhere, and he's got rolled his sleeves up to his usual spot of just below the elbows. Basically, she's spent the last ten minutes resisting any wayward urges to lick her way up his forearms, when she wasn't distracted by trying to keep tabs on Howard and Raj, who had Yvonne cornered and seemed to be reenacting the season two finale of Chuck, complete with terrible kung fu attempts. She supposes a hefty dose of second-hand embarrassment is what she gets, bringing the boys to the party stuffed to the gills with actors from some of their favorite shows, but that's part of the price of actually being in a big-budget sci-fi flick. One she's willing to pay, too.

The bartender appears in the corner of her eye, tosses down a napkin and places her G&T on it. "And a Diet Coke, right?" He double checks, reaching for the nozzle under the bar. She thinks for an extra second and decides to throw caution to the wind. It's her first premiere party, now that she's actually working and being successful and her boyfriend looks totally hot even if he doesn't realize it. Come on, her life is awesome, she deserves a reward. She puts a hand up to stop the guy, and says, "You know what, make that a Cuba Libre for me, actually."

Emily tears her eyes away from watching Sheldon, and Penny is on the receiving end of one of those looks that basically made Emily's entire TV show work. "Shut up," Penny tells her. Emily holds her hands up in surrender. "He is quite tall," she says out of nowhere, but like it means everything, grins, and wanders off. Good, maybe Em will even find Zooey. Someone else she can big-sister to death instead of her, and in that case, it's actually her job.

The bartender is thankfully clueless, just hands her the Cuba Libre and smiles in that distracted way overwhelmed servers always do, a smile she remembers well. She tips the guy a twenty, her face aching from muscle memory.

Sheldon sniffs at his drink when she hands it to him, and she knows that's he's figured it out, but he starts drinking it anyway. (The hour-long discussion they had this morning on societal expectations at parties, particularly parties involving a certain physicist's girlfriend and her acting career and famous coworkers and what behaviors were considered wildly inappropriate may have helped after all.) Leonard catches her quick smile, and tips the neck of his beer bottle in her direction, and goes back to his conversation with the lighting guys about lens flares. She leans against Sheldon's side and wonders again how she got this lucky.

"Penny, this restroom is intended for the physically handicapped."

If nothing else, Sheldon in a tie makes it remarkably easier for her to yank him into the bathroom before anyone notices. (Especially any meddlesome costars.) And easier still to pull his head down to a height where she can reach his lips, even with the heels she's wearing. When she lets him up for air, he glances at the bathroom, looks back to her. She can see the mental debate between the fact that this is about to happen in a bathroom, even if it does look spotless, and the obvious fact that his girlfriend is about to jump his bones. She smirks back and lets him think he's the one making the decision, but if he doesn't kiss her again in the next, oh, five seconds, then she's not going to hold herself responsible for whatever actions are necessary.

It's a moot point, since success, victory, triumph, his hands are at her elbows, skimming up past her bare shoulders to familiar spots, cradling the back of her head, and Sheldon's lips are back on hers, and he's pinning her against the bathroom door. God, she has really, really trained him well. His mouth tastes sweet--soda and sugar and rum, and when she licks his lips she tastes the sharp bite of lime. She has enough presence of mind to finally drop her clutch to the floor, then use her free hand to awkwardly reach back and lock the door. It's a satisfying click, and one that they both hear.

"You are incorrigible," he informs her as he moves his mouth to lick a line across her collarbone, and she laughs, a little breathless. This dress was a terrific idea, the best one she's ever had. He has miles of skin to play with , and there is something about trying to stay put together, as unrumpled as possible, that is turning her on like crazy.

"Don't forget insatiable," she says, her hands trying to be everywhere at once, threading into his hair, touching the smooth material of his shirt, coming around to clutch at his tie again and drag him back up into another kiss, pulling him close so that they touch thigh to thigh, hips to hips, the silk ends of his tie trailing across her chest and making her shiver. At least they have a whole bathroom, not just a cramped stall. She's had sex in those before too, but it always turns into a battle of making sure to not touch certain things and trying not to think about how dirty the floor is (or being too drunk to even notice), but here, there's the door, the sink counter, and a few square feet that are translating to a world of possibilities in her brain. Even if they do need to be quick about it. And quiet.

"Completely indecent," he adds, as he watches her bite his forearm , then lick a path to his wrist. His muscles twitch under her lips. Her hands are working at his belt, and as she slides leather through metal, her fingers stray, just a little, and she feels him struggle not to press himself against her hands.

Belt, button, zipper, she's leveled up one layer closer to skin, and by now she's managed to shut down enough of Sheldon's higher brain function so she's actually able to take him by surprise and spin them so he's the one against the door. This night isn't all about her anyway. He's been perfect, actually, withstanding both rounds of press photos she was forced into; he had held her hand through the movie, squeezing it slightly whenever she came on-screen. He had actually listened to her and stayed close to Leonard whenever she got dragged off to meet someone. She pulls back and takes a moment to just look at him, eyes closed, lips set in a firm line of self-control even if the way he's swallowing compulsively is giving away how close he is to losing it, the knot of his tie still touching his collar, shirt tails rucked out of the front of his pants. Her hands go from where she's still holding both sides of his zipper to reach under his dress shirt and undershirt, where his skin is warm and his stomach muscles are taut from holding back. She uses him to balance herself as she goes up on her toes to press a kiss under his jaw. He exhales, slowly. She loves the way he always fights for every second of control, but she really loves the way he always inevitably breaks (gives into sex and feelings and being a guy, more importantly, gives into her and gives into them). This time, it happens when she reaches up with one hand and loosens his tie, undoes the first few buttons of his shirt, and traces the V of open skin she's left with her tongue.

Her name is on his lips, and really, it's time to take pity on him. She kisses him with her lips closed, then uses her hand to tilt his head just enough so she can whisper against his cheek, "Stay quiet."

And before he can reply, she's on her knees, her hand drawing him out of his underwear, and then her lips wrap around his cock, and she has his taste, the weight of him on her tongue, and Sheldon's hips arch off the door and the movement causes it to slam against the lock. She pauses, hmms a little in her throat, and he gets the message. He clears his throat, and pitches his voice low. "Silence. I apologize, I underestimated the structural integrity of the door and its ability to bear weight." Only Sheldon can still use words like that when his dick is in her mouth, even if his voice is cracking at the edges. He won't last long, and they've already been in here a solid five minutes. And it's bad enough that she's probably going to have to deal with Emily's knowing glances the rest of the night, she doesn't need the boys wisecracking at her either. Time to pull out the big guns. She takes his entire length in her mouth, once, twice, pulls back and swirls her tongue around the head. She glances up and admires the tilt of his neck, the way his tie has fallen to the side, the hint of skin she's exposed where her hand is pressed against his hip bone, the way his chest rises and falls rapidly.

She says his name once she has him back in her hand and is pumping him, lazily, keeping him wanting. He looks down, and she watches him shake himself back into control, or as close to it as he can get right now. He puts his hand over hers, stilling its movement, then pulls her up in a searching kiss, his cock trapped between them, twitching against her stomach. She doesn't even care what happens to her dress anymore.

Condom. They need a condom right now and Sheldon needs to be inside of her, and this plan is ready for immediate action. She gets a hand against his chest, and pulls herself away. He's confused for a second when she starts to bend down again, but makes a quiet noise of understanding when she reaches for her purse and digs for the foil packet. She presses it into his hand and watches as he opens it and rolls it on. Watching him touch himself has always made her hot (she remembers a million years ago, and the comment about the boys masturbating for money, and it had always been there in the back of her mind, the image of his fingers wrapped around his cock) but right now it's almost too much to handle. She's ready, oh so ready. She reaches under the hem of her dress and hooks a finger into the waistband of her panties, pulls them down and over one heel, then the other. Sheldon's eyes follow every move, until she drops them on top of her bag, and then, his hands are on her waist, and he's backing her up against the counter of the sink, biting at her earlobe, tongue darting out to follow teeth, his breathing loud and harsh. She can't help but moan, and she hears him chuckle slightly as she catches herself and tries to swallow it back.

"Turn around," he says into her ear. She does, and oh god, she's reminded of the fact that there's a mirror in the room. Sheldon's looking over her shoulder and making eye contact with her, and this has got to be one of the most ridiculously, mindbogglingly hot things he has ever done. She watches him lick his lips, and his gaze drops, then she feels his fingers on the back of her thighs where the bottom of her dress is. She braces her arms on the counter, and tries to keep her head up high enough so she can watch his reflection, a backwards Sheldon pulling up her dress and tucking it nearly under itself so it stays put, one hand suddenly veering right, past her hips as he leans over her, and he presses his lips to her shoulder blade as his fingers finally touch her for the first time.

It is almost impossible not to make a sound, but she manages, and if she leaves teeth marks in her skin near her elbow, well, those should disappear soon enough. Hopefully by the time they get out of the bathroom. "Sheldon, just--" she nearly breaks again as his fingers trace a line right down her center, circle once around her clit, then still. The pause seems to last forever until at last, she feels the slow press of him into her, the familiar stretch as she adjusts, his weight settling evenly on her back, his other hand finding placement on her hip. She glances into the mirror, sees a pink flash of tongue against her neck, the way his necktie swings every time he thrusts into her. They're both on the edge, dancing up to it already. She leans over as far as she can, giving into it and putting her forehead on her arms, and then Sheldon moves slightly and then, oh god, he finds it every time, every single time, the bastard and it's not even another ten seconds before she's done for. She bites her lip and reaches back blindly and finds the back of his head, and fists her hand in his hair and tries not to swear. He's not far behind her. One hand suddenly appears on the counter next to her face, and she turns to look at wet fingers and corded muscle, the way his elbow buckles when finally, finally, he surrenders one last time.

The coast is clear when she peeks her head around the door. She's been watching Sheldon compulsively check his tie for the past two minutes, after they had both straightened up and washed their hands. The teeth marks she left are still very red on her arm, although she's managed to mostly obscure them by tucking her bag into the crook of her elbow.

She nods at him, ducks into the hallway and tries to look like someone who did not just totally have sex in the bathroom at her very first premiere party for a movie she is in with actual famous people and has been missing for the last seventeen and a half minutes. Nope, she is certainly innocent of that. She waits for Sheldon to catch up to her, and he looks unruffled and slightly annoyed, as always.

She had hoped they could just slide back into the room, maybe pretend they had been at the bar again, or on the opposite side of the dance floor, or something less lame, but she's not expecting Leonard and Emily to be standing shoulder to shoulder, arms crossed and smirking. She does a full-stop, cartoon style, and imagines the floor skidding up underneath her heels. Sheldon doesn't expect her sudden stop and doesn't slow himself down in time, and really, this is her life right now? Okay, she can take it. That sex was totally worth it. (But thank god Howard and Raj are absolutely nowhere to be seen. She's not quite sure she could handle Howard's leering reaching new all-time high levels.)

Leonard and Emily shoot each other amused glances, and then Leonard is giving them the slow clap. The goddamn slow clap. Em breaks into bright pealing laughter and joins in, but thank god for at least one tiny miracle, no one else seems to notice. Well, if it's just the two of them, fine. She beams at them, then curtsies. She can hear Sheldon's exasperated huff behind her, and she twirls and grabs him and kisses him one last time, at first for show, but she forgets herself and it turns sweet and slow.

Leonard calls out, "All right you two, get a room."

Emily is still clapping, but adds, "I'm pretty sure they already did that."

Penny flips them both the bird over her shoulder, but she's smiling against Sheldon's lips. Yeah, for her first premiere party? Not too bad. Not too bad at all.