retroductions | reverie inbox.

[ oh god she's not going to survive ]

Let me finish lacing you, first.

[ with a warm palm against his back. straighten up again? ]

[good 8)

-! He straightens, and also sucks in a little breath. Not as needed with this corset, but when you come from the Victorian era, you get used to a certain routine.]

Take your time, my dear.

[ that breath is familiarity; he has done this enough for these things to become habit. Sprezzatura shifts slightly where she sits, but shortly her hands move and her eyes follow the laces as she tightens them. she does take her time.

at the end, he will feel the warmth of her cheek as she lays it against the slope of his shoulder blade.

this is quite a lot to indulge her in, so soon after... ]

Finished. [ a murmur. she ties the bow and slides her arms around his middle, an embrace from behind ] Perfectly huggable waist.

[Plenty of times — with Mikotoba, who did so with hesitation at first, and then with an automaticness of accepted routine years later. Or Iris, who is always excited to do so, who laces him up rather tightly with nimble fingers and tells him not to complain.

But with Sprezzatura? There is a distinct difference of warmth, intimacy, that he had not shared with either. A different brand of love.

Her hug is bracing, and he lifts on of her hands to bring it to his lips with a kiss.]

Mm, more huggable than before, is it? Thank you.

Cinched. This is word I am looking for.

[ turns her fingers into his kiss, and like that, she traces the curve of his lip. ]

May I kneel?

[ since when does Sprezzatura utter "may I"s? ]

[When, indeed. Now that is a rarity, though he assumes the sudden bout of asking for permission may be rooted in a desire to apologize for Svetka, and all that entailed from it.

Unnecessary, in the end. But of course he will not deny her-]

You may. You hardly need to ask, my dear.

[ to apologize for Svetka, yes. to apologize for the capricious nature of her moods. to express the rare need to give herself over to someone completely, indulgently, and place herself in a position of utter giving. she wants to kneel for him where no one else will ever see, and do something tender and intimate for him.

she smooths her palms flat against his corseted stomach, then around to his sides, then up his sides and around even further to caress the bruises dotting his back. a slow inhale precedes her slipping from the bed; she sinks down slowly before him, never breaking eye contact, her hands trailing down his petticoat. ]

[No questioning that this will be a tender and intimate process, the way she touches him, the way she moves around him; his eyes never leave her face, and hers never leave his. It's almost a shame that her new position, kneeling just before him, creates even the slightest more distance between them -- he enjoys her warmth lingering nearby.

Slowly, and slightly, he lifts one leg at the knee, the hem of his petticoat rising in tandem.]

[ her heart starts hammering out of control

tailfwip ]

[ for the love of god stop being horny.

she reaches for a stocking, drapes it over her palm as she brings it to her lap. she opens it and begins rucking it in her fingers, methodical, taking her time (she has to—her claws would tear them otherwise). not until she has to lift his foot does she look away, and only then to bring it up by the back of his ankle. she hooks her fingers around and sets it in her lap.

as she works the toe of the stocking over his foot, she finds herself humming quietly, beneath her breath. ]

[Sholmes is doing her a favor, not remarking on those little tells that are not so little for a detective such as himself. Instead, he just smiles, warm and eyes bright, and lets her take her time.

Over the foot it goes, inching over the ankle.]

Shall I lift my petticoat for you?

[Maybe he teases a little.]

Yes.

[ literally zero hesitation. moving the fabric up past his heel, this tremendous slowness to it. she curves her palm to the back of his ankle and rubs, indulgently ]

Please.

[Oh, that feels nice. The sinuous pressure and the warmth of her hand straddle the line between sensuous and calming.

"Please", even. Sholmes lifts his petticoat up accordingly, slowly, just granting her enough leeway to slide the stocking up inch by inch at her own pace.]

You spoil a girl, my dear.

I try.

[ she swallows visibly before saying this. she does try, Herlock. she tries so hard. her hands form to the shape of his calf and then his thigh as she moves the fabric up, smoothing it around him. the petticoat brushes against the her skin, it hints at where her touch lies beneath. and when she brings her hands away again, it's by gliding them all the way back down, until she can gently set his foot back on the floor. on to the other, the same deliberate process. ]

Do you need garters?

[And like that, stockings. So lovingly applied.]

They should be a nice touch, would they not? But no, I find that these stockings are rather... "elastic", is it? At the top, with the lace?

[A silicone band, he means. NOVEL INVENTIONS OF THE MODERN DAY]

[ murmured, ] You would look good in garters.

[ on instinct, almost, she leans in and presses a kiss to his knee.

and snaps the elastic of one stocking. ]

[How flattering, how gentle-- and how surprising!

He starts, though it's with the flutter of a laugh on his lips, amused.]

Then if I cannot fish one out of the costume shop...

[Leans forward, arching a brow knowingly in her direction.]

Perhaps it can be an ask from the item box the next go-'round, hm?

[ she lays her cheek on his knee next, gazing up at him about as demure as Sprezzatura Vaux gets. it's very much an unspoken "please". ]

For now, I wish to see you fully-dressed.

[Demure enough to still make his cheeks tinge a little pinker, even amid his clear good humor. What a sight -- weaponized just right, and it might be the death of him.

But for now, getting dressed.]

Then let us retrieve the dress, and you can do my make-up afterward, too, if that sounds appealing to you.

[ there is almost no hoop she wouldn't jump through to be the one putting makeup on Sholmes.

she rises up and tips his chin on her tail, very much like their very first encounter. kiss! ]

Downright appetizing.

[ without breaking eye contact, Sprezzatura reaches over for the dress laid on the bed nearby. ]

[Very much like their first encounter. How can he forget?

He leans into the kiss a bit before she pulls away, and though they do not break eye contact, Sholmes will stand to make dressing him feasible.]

I am curious to see what "look" you give Ms Adler. Perhaps I might adopt it back in London when we are free to return.

[ she doesn't want to think about Sholmes back in London right now. ]

We will see. Step in?

[Oh, but surely the time is near. Surely they've all given it some thought, even if not everyone has put the notion to words just yet.]

As the lady wishes.

[And into the dress he goes. It seems fairly tailored to his frame.]

[ every day... every day.

she busies herself with helping the bodice up over his petticoat and then over his hips. there is a degree of focus she can allow herself for this, hedging out the less pleasant thoughts. once she's helped him into the sleeves, she puts her fingers to the lowest button. starts working her way up. ]

[He lets her take her time, of course. Sholmes is still as she works, dressing him, and he looks at her face all the while. Wonders what is working behind that mind that he is not privy to, not yet.

So, instead, as she works at the buttons-]

What would you like to do after Ms Adler is dressed and made-up, hm?

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