retroductions | reverie overflow.

No, but they are a problem that needs solving. You would agree with that, wouldn’t you?

[Slowly, slowly, steadily with pressure. He’s going to work those muscles loose with the heels of his palms.]

It's so sore... you will have to kiss it all better...

[He hums a noise of-- content? Anticipation? Both.]

And where else are you sore, Sprezzatura?

Everywhere.

[Well, she makes it almost too easy. Sholmes leans in a second time, pressing a kiss again to the back of her neck. Then another, a little lower. He can still work his hands the entire time.]

Everywhere? We may be here for a while yet.

[ feels wonderful. if he is very, very astute, he will notice the fine hairs at her nape standing on end, tiny goosebumps beginning to form. maybe even the flicker of her pulse in the vein of her neck... ]

Would this be so bad...? Really?

[He’s Herlock Sholmes — he notes all of the above. This time, he trails barely-there fingertips up the plane of her back. Can he send a shiver up her spine?]

I should very much hate to bore you.

[A lark. Neither of them will be bored this evening.]

[ at first, it seems the answer is no, but when his fingertips brush just between her shoulder blades, they coax the shiver he wants. ]

I am not woman easily discouraged. Do that again.

[Right between the shoulder blades. He makes note, of course. And Sholmes brushes his fingers down… then back up, lingering in that same spot a second time.]

I do like to see you react to my touch.

[ this shiver is much more pronounced; she takes in a sharpish, soft breath and wriggles her tail between his spread legs. see how you like it. ]

And you like to feel... and taste...

[He certainly does not dislike it. In fact, he shifts his hips forward a little into her wiggling tail, though it does not earn a shiver from him in the same way.]

I do. You'll let me have a taste tonight, will you not?

[ Mammon. none of this has lost its effect. her stomach clenches in anticipation, and she turns her face into the pillow, nodding slowly. and until he stops her, that tail is continuing its steady writhe ]

I want to sit on your face tonight.

[He would be a madman to stop her, and instead just indulges himself in that sinuous touch. His fingers trail around her shoulder blades, only vaguely distracted now.]

Oh, then we are certainly in the wrong positions for that, Ms Vaux.

[ each pass he makes, the shivers lessen as Sprezzatura grows accustomed to the touch. that doesn't mean she enjoys the touch less, just that the trembling calms. ]

In time, Mister Sholmes.

[Acclimation is just as good. It means he's doing his job. Though the detective is now warbling between patience and impatience, given that her tail is presumably still in-between his legs.

Presses hard, massaging circles into the middle of her back this time. Leans in forward to kiss a shoulder.]

Don't fall asleep on me.

[ oh, it most certainly is! curving and coiling, the tip nestled at the small of his back while the rest does its work coaxing him into fullness.

the harder pressure earns a gasp, a pleasant jolt into the bed. ]

--You truly think you bore me? It would be blessing to be so quieted in my mind as to be bored...

Certainly not. Far from it.

[No, his ego is too big for that, and there is little else Sholmes likes less in this world than boredom to apply the descriptor to himself in any serious way.

He’s stiffening in his trousers, of course, matching the tempo of his massages to the rhythm of his hands, idly and instinctively. Another kiss.]

I only fear my touches are too effective in their relaxation techniques, skilled as these hands are.

And so humble...

[ her tail is, oftentimes, treated as a third hand. it is no less sure of itself than a hand would be--perhaps even more graceful and curious--and so she is well aware of him growing harder, that swell she happily rolls her tail over, urging him to twitch and press back against it. ]

Mammon. You make me want to do such things...

[Sholmes takes very little encouragement, not with attention so generously plied his way. He presses forward into her, self-indulgent and slow. Fingertips spread, bracing himself slightly her.]

Mm, what sort of things, I wonder? Other than spreading yourself across my face, of course.

[ self-indulgent is the name of the game tonight. she needs the drawn-out nature to keep her mind off the screeching fall of elevators. off the arguing and guilt and the numbing terror. she bucks herself against him from underneath, not hard—only enough to faintly jostle.

mmmm... murmurs, ] I want... to have you on your knees, in full rut against my foot. For you to put me over your lap and spank me. Tie me up... I never want to be tied up.

[A faint jostle, but still a blessedly wonderful hint of friction.]

The first... You did seem to enjoy it before. Still, should I be flattered that Ms Vaux, who rather prefers to be in control, is willing to give up some modicum of it for me?

[Shifting a little.]

And would you like to turn over?

You should be humbled.

[ finally, a hint of reprieve: her tail falls limp as she obliges, and turns over. lays her hands upon his thighs, palming. he looks good from this angle, she thinks. would think this about any angle. ]

You are safest man I have ever met. Utterly harmless. And kind.

[He settles his weight, still straddled ATOP her, once she's shifted onto her back. While she palms her thighs, he reaches forward to ease his fingers across her collarbones, trailing down to her chest, the plush curves of her exposed breasts.]

I would not have you feel anything but safe with me. I wish to only make you happy, my dear.

[ perfectly safe. will that one day bore her...? best not ruminate on it.

she holds her gaze on his face, as tempting as it is to sneak a glance between at the hard line she had shaped against her tail. stretches her thumbs—the nails catch on Sholmes' inseams, tickling through his trousers ]

Why? [ this is genuine, and soft. not necessarily self-deprecatory. ] What did I do?

[Oh, he should hope not. It would be painful enough to lose such a connection; it would be a knife in the chest to know that it was because he was a bore.

The tent in his trousers seems a contrast to the soft sincerity of his reply, leaning down with his hair tickling her skin again, kissing gingerly at her lips.]

You made me happy. Should I not return the favor?

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