[ it's a little longer of shifting and adjusting--there's only so much she can do without a brassiere to put them in--but eventually, Sprezzatura's matronly fussing diminishes. she slips her hands out and closes the buttons. it's... passable.
in self-indulgence, she cups him and gives a squeeze he won't feel. ]
[It's better than passable as compared to... steamed meat muns. This is an upgrade, Sprezzatura.
And when the dress falls across his form properly, as Sholmes chooses to stand to test out just how well this blue-breasts hold, the curve of his bosom is certainly the shape of one that would belong to a lady, from a distance and even up-close. Who's going to scrutinize it too much between them, after all?]
Perfect! [He grins, gives a little twirl.] Nearly done.
[And he is always happy to earn that sound from her.]
I am a beautiful woman, you mean. [Well on his way, at least! But he nods, then crosses over to his messy desk, unearthing a makeup bag. He holds it up, jiggles it a bit.] My face first, then my hair.
[ she wastes precisely no time in crawling on top, straddling his hips, her knees disappearing into the great falls of skirt billowing out around them.
she could have knelt beside him, yes. she could have done that. ]
I like this. [ unzips the bag ] Don't you?
[ just... don't think about yesterday, having him beneath her in the graveyard, his face twisted in pain, her hands on him, squeezing, the crunch of the rock against her temple ]
[The weight of her on top of him is always warm and welcoming. As though he would say otherwise.]
Of course I do. The view is unmatched.
[No, they'll not think about yesterday. Sholmes has put it far from his mind. That was not her, just something wretched puppeteering her body, choosing to bring her pain by dispensing it to others. He'll not give Svetka the satisfaction of letting her ruin this moment.]
no subject
You can do it yourself, if you like, but do not complain if your breasts finish lopsided.
no subject
In what universe would I choose for you not to be touching me, hm? Do not be silly.
[In other words: yes please fix his breasts.]
no subject
[ it's a little longer of shifting and adjusting--there's only so much she can do without a brassiere to put them in--but eventually, Sprezzatura's matronly fussing diminishes. she slips her hands out and closes the buttons. it's... passable.
in self-indulgence, she cups him and gives a squeeze he won't feel. ]
Like so.
no subject
And when the dress falls across his form properly, as Sholmes chooses to stand to test out just how well this blue-breasts hold, the curve of his bosom is certainly the shape of one that would belong to a lady, from a distance and even up-close. Who's going to scrutinize it too much between them, after all?]
Perfect! [He grins, gives a little twirl.] Nearly done.
no subject
look at him twirl... ]
You are such beautiful man, Herlock. [ she wants him so badly, to kiss and hold and lay with, quietly, in the dark. ] Wig and makeup, was that it?
no subject
I am a beautiful woman, you mean. [Well on his way, at least! But he nods, then crosses over to his messy desk, unearthing a makeup bag. He holds it up, jiggles it a bit.] My face first, then my hair.
no subject
holds her hands out to him. c'mere!! ]
Come lay back for me.
no subject
Would it not be easier for me to sit up?
[...he says, already post-flop.]
no subject
she could have knelt beside him, yes. she could have done that. ]
I like this. [ unzips the bag ] Don't you?
[ just... don't think about yesterday, having him beneath her in the graveyard, his face twisted in pain, her hands on him, squeezing, the crunch of the rock against her temple ]
no subject
Of course I do. The view is unmatched.
[No, they'll not think about yesterday. Sholmes has put it far from his mind. That was not her, just something wretched puppeteering her body, choosing to bring her pain by dispensing it to others. He'll not give Svetka the satisfaction of letting her ruin this moment.]
no subject
Hhhm. Bad luck for you--you must close your eyes now.