retroductions | reverie overflow.

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?

[ the chances are very slim that Herlock Sholmes will ever be a bore. but... Sprezzatura Vaux is self-destructive without even realizing it.

lifts her chin to chase the kiss, murmuring, ] I remember crying on you. Violin outside motel. We are like strangers still, you and I.

[Another kiss, warm and lingering on her lips. And then another, on her neck, and then yet lower again.]

Strangers? You have a strange definition of the word. And yet still, you apply logic where only emotion applies. I am happy to be in your presence, and that is simple fact, regardless.

[ she has never been happy. only in dreams. ]

I am not exceptionally capable with emotion, Herlock.

[ and what do they know about one another—truly?... maybe it's better this way. he's happy. she sets her jaw and closes the door on such thoughts. only Sholmes' voice and the smile she can hear, as ever, when he speaks. curls her fingers in his sleeves at each elbow, grounding. ]

Where are you going, hm?

Ms Vaux, so very few of us are.

[Get Henry's influence out of your head, Sprezzatura.

Her touch is grounding, and he lifts his head to catch sight of her expression.]

I should like to put my tongue against your breasts, eventually. Would you prefer it somewhere else?

[ her expression is merely... quiet. flushed. the beauty marks on her face and her breasts stand out against the purpling colour—and beyond that, not a scar to be seen. just like before. a little smile arises. ]

No.

[Quite a beautiful sight, he thinks. One that he will make room in his ever-shifting memory, data always coming in and being thrown out, to keep as a permanent fixture.

His look lingers accordingly, but then he angles his head back down to kiss her chest.]

I did not think so.

[And lower again, finally catching her nipple in the "o" of his mouth in a kiss.]

Herlock.

[ beneath him, her legs pull straight as she stretches, and her hands cradle the back of his head in an instant. he has such a gentle heart. gentle mouth.

she would like to make it as pleasurable for him as for her. and so she wraps her tail around one splayed thigh, squeezing with her approval.

let's see if he likes to hear her talk. ]

Look at you. You look so devoted like this. Nothing feels so good... only your pretty lips. Aren't you pretty, detective? I could just eat you up.

[Oh, of course he does. Encouragement and praise are half of the motivation, half of what bolsters his own pleasure. Pleasing her becomes an echo chamber of that same pleasure reflected back.

He sucks at her nipple, making a sound of appreciation. Affirmation? Either. He only wishes to encourage her words, let them warm him and wash over him, and he runs his tongue in small circles, hoping to make her harden.]

Ohh. Yes. [ carding through his hair, both hands. her eyes fall shut with an exhale that's just a little bit of laughter, too ] I can feel that all through me.

[ a sort of pleasant twisting that shivers all the way down to her cunt. beneath his pressing tongue, her nipple stiffens; the areola pebbles with goosebumps ]

Yes, please...

[Her fingers through his hair send goosebumps sprawling across his arms, but it's not nearly as notable as the tone of her voice, asking for more. So of course he obliges. He nurses at her one hardening nipple until it swells slightly with his ministrations, then moves over to the other to grace it with the same attention. His tongue laves generously.]

Like this? Does this warm you, my dear?

[ the air on her dampened skin sends a cool bolt of pleasure through her; she fumbles to cup that breast and keep it warm in his absence. ]

Mmmm-hmmm. [ her voice trembles beautifully—shivering into a higher register than her usual. eyes still closed, but her smile is wide and joyful. ] Oh, perfect. I wish you could know how it feels...

[ for her, specifically. why she would happily sacrifice all other intimacy if it meant a lifetime of this. but she can't show him—at least, not yet—so she gathers her focus juuuust enough to drag her hand from his nape down his back... to his backside. ]

[It doesn't take a detective to glean that this is a preference of hers, having her breasts tended to in this way, kissed and fondled and worshipped. His mouth curls with a grin, his tongue moves in slower circles around the bud of her nipple, and he hums a sound of-

Oh. Vague surprise as her hand moves down to the curve of his backside, and he severs his kiss with a wet sound.]

I can do this for as long as you like. But with your hands wandering the way they are, you'll have to forgive me if I'll need to tend to myself partway through.

Oh, Herlock. I would love to see you handle yourself.

[ she wants to know, wants to witness the sight of the great detective indulging himself in the most intimate act of self-preservation. does he twist his wrist as he strokes himself into fullness? does he tease, or get straight to the point? how much does he make himself drip, with only his own palm and that vivid imagination...?

her other hand roves down to cup the other cheek. she feels shivery and too warm. ]

Perhaps we try spanking thing after all...

[Would she? With those musician's fingers of his, long and deft, no doubt he'd put on quite a show for her. He would take his time.

He teethes gently at her nipple again, returning the favor for her palming his opposite cheek. Sholmes' breath is cool when he speaks again.]

Putting you over my knee, hm? Or something like it.

[Rising up, drawing his hands to the waistband of her pants.]

On or off?

[ oh, so soon. she squeezes his bottom gently before he straightens too much to keep hold, pleasantly flushed from her cheeks down to her breasts, faintly swollen from his nursing. ]

Off.

[So soon, but he can tend to her a little beforehand. His hands unfasten the front of her leather pants, then back around to any fiddly bits to allow for her tail, and then Sholmes raises himself up on his knees so she has leeway beneath him to wiggle free -- with his assistance of pulling the article of clothing down, to peel it off like a second skin.

All the while, appreciating the view of more bared to him. Like unwrapping-]

Like unwrapping a gift.

[Sholmes.]

[ quite form-fitting, these trousers. they look just as good coming off as they do on, and she eagerly shimmies them down with his help.

her legs are slender and unscarred. she digs her heels against the bed to shed her loafers. ]

Like unwrapping delicious bonbon to eat.

[ Sprezzatura. ]

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