retroductions | reverie overflow.

[Oh yes, that tail of hers is quite the tell, indeed. His eyes flick up to her face, curious to learn what sort of expression pairs with it, but his hand does not stop its tweaking. He pinches just a little harder for good measure.

Sholmes' lips brush against the supple curve of her opposite breast as he encourages, cheekily-]

Yes? More?

[-before he simply takes the bud of her nipple into the warmth of his mouth, teasing with his teeth.]

[ what he'll feel next is her hands at the back of his neck, cradling him close to those lovely breasts of hers. this is a terrible angle. he's much too tall, and she's in desperate need of something to cuddle, which she can't have at the same time that he's bending forward. she drapes one arm over his shoulder and begins to apply pressure to the centre of his back; downward pressure. ]

Why— [ a fullbody shiver, that pinching making quick work of her composure ] —don't you kneel for me first, detective. Give yourself terrible crick in your neck.

[Their height difference does add another layer of challenge to their little tryst, but one easily overcome if the detective himself made an effort to ease that same difference between them. The pressure applied to his back is a clear request before she even says it aloud; he lingers for a moment longer, though, attending to her breasts with mouth, tongue, and fingers, before his knees bend and he sinks, slowly, into a kneel.

His ministrations temporarily ceded, he just looks up at her from below for once. For now, he appears as unflappable as ever, even if there is the smallest tint of pink at his cheekbones.]

Is it really my neck you're concerned about, Ms Vaux?

[ oh, that's much better. automatically begins to pet the hair at his nape, a compulsive gesture, it would seem--and she both notes and admires that faint faint blush. what will it take to deepen it? ]

You are too tall. Enjoy my breasts without discomfort, Herlock. [ there's colour all her own spreading across her sternum, though on her it's indigo, not pink ] They are, after all, exquisite. You may find yourself lingering here for some time.

[What a uniquely appealing color, he thinks, noting the swath of darker indigo spreading subtly across the contours of her sternum. He pins these details with his eyes; commits them to memory for however long they will stay nestled in his mind. For the length of this particular encounter, he will make a note to see just how far the shade will spread.

Even kneeling, the fullness of her breasts is still well within his capacity to give them the attention she requests, and both hands reach to fondle them appropriately. Kneads them in his ever inspecting fingers, thumbs stroking at her nipples. Sholmes' gaze remains observant of her face.]

If that is what you want.

[All that much easier to please her.]

[ he's really quite gentle. she's grateful for the tenderness as much as his curiosity; it adds an unexpected thrill, to feel him forming these tactile hypotheses. cupped in his palm, her heart beats a steady rhythm—and she's warm, and very, very soft. in fact, everything about Sprezzatura seems less painfully taut than is her usual, as though the key to her relaxing was, all this time, as simple as stroking her chest. as he works her nipples stiff, she meets his gaze with admirable ease.

he looks good. ]

It is. [ it's practically a sigh ] What you are doing now is... one of my favourite things. Why do you think that might be, Detective?

[ he said so himself, he wants to unravel the mystery. she might as well play to the theme. but despite the playful nature of her words, she's also nudging at his knees with the toe of her shoe, urging them to spread wide enough to stand between ]

[She doesn’t have to urge him much more; Sholmes understands the request, spreading his knees further apart so that she can draw even closer.

His hands do not cease their movements, thumbs lingering a little longer on her stiffening nipples, yet his look shines with the spark of the analytical. He does like to put the pieces of a puzzle together.]

Beyond the obvious physical stimulations, I do wonder… [He hums, considering.] If it simply has to do with having pride in one of your more striking features. To have someone linger in their appreciation of your body, and in turn, you.

[ this is fun. into the open vee of his legs, which he may soon realize as the danger it is when he feels her geeeently sliding the top of foot up his inseam.

injecting a note of the wry into her voice, ] So, you think it ego? Hurm. Well, you are not wrong... However, there is also comforting feeling. [ tugs a lock of his hair ] And you look so pretty doing it.

[Oh, that danger becomes so very apparent, the pressure of her foot sliding upwards all too slowly and purposefully. Sholmes is very aware of the growing heat that pulses at his groin, knows that should she venture higher, more boldly, it will be impossible not to note the bulge beginning to press against the fabric of his trousers.

He exhales, breath against her skin, as she tugs at his hair.]

Oh, is it the visual stimulation that titillates you just as much? Tell me, what else would you like to observe me doing to you?

[ "titillates"—she swears she made that joke herself, once before. so her lips curve slightly. ]

You are detective here, Herlock. Deduce. [ with pure selfishness, she cups a breast and lowers herself so she can brush its nipple across his lips. little tingle of pleasure while her foot trails deeper towards the joining of his thighs. ] I give you some clues, mm? At home, I hanged mirror... at foot of bed.

[ impossibly high, that pressure comes.... so close to touching, and just. skips over his groin to continue its path down the opposite thigh. it is very incredibly on purpose ]

[Oh, she's a tease, and perhaps there is some part of his deductive brain that tells him ahead of time that pressure will not meet the part of him that desires it the most. It nearly blunts the disappointment that follows when she skips over to the other thigh. Nearly.

He makes a noise at the back of his throat, almost a low exhale, but redirects that little spark of unsated sensation towards her breast -- taking her bud gently between his teeth, then sucking slowly.

And then, finally:]

Very lascivious, indeed. I can think of a myriad of ways to utilize a mirror placed so strategically. A first guess: you would like the "pretty" sight of my head between your legs.

[ he makes that sound and her brows jump, nigh-imperceptible, in the subtlest expression of satisfaction. she's quite successfully unravelling him, too, she thinks. from where she's standing, the upper hand is all hers. ]

Of course. I would like that... very much. [ husky-voiced. her cheeks are turning the same indigo colour he's been sucking into her. very few others have ever lavished her with quite this amount of patience and attention. Sholmes is doing everything right. she takes his chin and tips his face up, urging him to look at her ] Tell me how badly you wish to "tip Ms. Vaux's velvet".

[ she eases her foot forward, so that the vamp slides firmly against his groin, seaming him to that smooth curve. honesty will be rewarded! ]

[At this rate, they may fall into a mounting feedback loop of wanting to please and wanting to be pleased. Unravel one to unravel the other — it would certainly not be so bad, and Sholmes is more than willing to comply, all inquisitiveness and curious eagerness in his eyes. A look so very easily noted when her fingertip eases his chin upwards. His face is a little more flushed than just minutes prior.]

Very— [He starts, but that pressure right between his legs has his words hitching ever so slightly. He is warm there, and hard.

He swallows the failed attempt back down, smiling, and continues.] —much so. I would love to hear you moan for me, Ms Vaux. To feel your fingers twisting in my hair. Your own pleasure would run so wonderfully parallel with mine.

I know, Herlock.

[ her own gaze is stern, but fond, as she thumbs his cheek. seeing him smile when his voice hitches, rather than try to disguise it, makes her entire body flare with a pleasant warmth, and she rewards him in kind with the gentle rolling friction of her boot, encouraging Sholmes to move himself against it in turn. ]

And should you earn it, I will gladly have you drink deep.

[ her voice is far from unaffected--she hears it waver slightly, thick with desire. ]

So what have you now, Detective?

[Her encouragement trends his hips forward. It's a slow and languorous grind, seeking friction as though to defy the growing strain in his trousers. The action makes him lean forward, the side of his face pressed against her warm bosom, one arm snaking up her back to keep him rooted there, if just temporarily.]

Mmn. [-is his only real reply at first. Fingers press into her back, the faintest sting of blunted nails. What now, indeed. The distraction of his pulsing groin would be so easy to direct all of his attention to, but he can sharpen his focus just enough to slip his other hand between her inner thigh, trailing up between her legs.]

Might I return the favor?

[ Sprezzatura is more than happy to hold him; she cradles him close, goosebumps erupting afresh as he pushes himself into her shoe and her shin. there are muscles in her back that work and jump and twitch, and he will be able to feel it. there is simply no way for her to hide what all this has been doing to her. her face is hot and her heart is thumping a steady beat. and now he's drifting his hand towards the ache of her cunt, and she very quickly scraps the idea of making him (making her) wait for it. ]

Go on. Touch. Tell me what you think.

[ he'll feel the brush of her tail coming to coil around his wrist, just to hold. and the gentle movement of Sprezzatura widening her stance for him ]

[He feels the rhythm of her heart thudding in her chest, the muscles quivering along her lower back like a plucked string. Data, data, all of it; but also the fine satisfaction wrought from being the one to cause such a reaction, twined with his own physical desires. Sholmes arches slightly against her again, still slow and purposeful. His trousers really are very constricting now, but he is a patient man when he chooses to be. When he knows the reward for doing so is worth the wait.

He lifts his head to look at her face -- her permission is ample encouragement, and he runs two fingers along that little tract right between her legs, applying just enough pressure to feel notable through the fabric of her trousers.]

Are you aching for my fingers? [Eventually, his tongue. For now, his fingers slide back... and then forth again.] You're delightfully warm. And dare I say the scent of sex is already present?

[ musician's fingers... fuck.

he'll see another muscle work in the underside of her jaw as he moves his fingers and moves his hips. and, far more apparent--her tail clenches at his wrist. the desire to do unholy things to him is fast reaching a boiling point; spurred forward, breakneck, by precisely how metered they both are being. you want it worse when you wait for it. and oh, it feels like they're waiting for it.

she manages a scoff, or maybe it's a sigh. "already present", as though they haven't been slowly teasing each other on for ages now. her exhale shudders, either way. lightly. ]

Is this wishful thinking, or are your faculties so impressive? Perhaps you ought to work little bit harder. See for certain.

[Musician’s fingers, indeed. Quite deft ones, too, though their dexterity cannot be fully appreciated as they are — sensation and pressure stifled by the extra layer of fabric. His motions are slow, perhaps purposefully torturous, and though he had promised himself a degree of patience, Sholmes’ mind is already weighing other options at her behest. The tautness of her tail around his wrist seems to cinch the idea; and while how very wonderful it would be to grind against her again, the detective chooses instead to rise to his feet, unbidden.

The height difference between them makes itself known again. But it is easier, this way, to slip his hand down the waist of her trousers, beneath any undergarments, and seek both the warmth and wetness of her cunt with questing fingers.]

How is this for verification, Ms Vaux?

[ the self-satisfied curl of her mouth momentarily falters; forming a soft "oh", at first. he'll find her soft and humid to the touch, and very, very warm. easy to glide those clever fingers between her lips, easy to get a tactile feel for how deeply Sprezzatura has been enjoying their game. suddenly the only thoughts in her brain are damn him and yes, more ]

Daring, Mister Sholmes. It's ... ah. Daring.

[ a breathy murmur, and definitely not a reprimand. she lifts her chin and holds his gaze, snaking her own hand down, covering his from the outside. and him still nearly perfectly put-together, no longer even on his knees...

she likes the look of him like this, too, though. ]

Mammon.

[She's warm, and her slickness makes it easy to slide between her folds, mimicking the motion he had performed before he slipped his hand down her trousers. Now, he can feel her in earnest; he can tease the whole length of a finger, dragging across the nub of her clit. And then again.

His voice, often lilted and somewhat airy, has taken on its own husky timbre. Sholmes swallows thickly.]

But you seem to like it well enough.

Mmh.

[ she's biting her lip, she's biting her lip so her pointed teeth leave little divots. now Sprezzatura is aching for his fingers, his tongue, his kiss—whatever she can get away with demanding. the tender friction he eases back and forth sends an electric thrill up her spine, jumpstarts her heart, pulls all her blood downward in a deliriously sickening swoop. ]

This is elementary. [ thready inhale ] After all, you are doing so very well. [ she wonders: does he have a praise kink to take advantage of? ] Do you feel my heart beating against your fingertips? Do we throb in like time? Hm?

[ he must be terribly stiff, she thinks. not so above acts carnal, the great detective Herlock Sholmes. the thought is just another log on the fire, already blazing ]

[So terribly stiff, so easily noticeable if either bothered to glance down at the bulge between his legs. His finger continues to try to draw a reaction out of her, more than the interest that her body is already clearly signaling, but even that feels insubstantial in these very restricting clothes.

As for a praise kink, well. Even outside of empty motel room trysts, his ego is so very easily inflated by a wayward compliment; it would not be such a stretch to think this inclination is far more amplified now.

Sholmes angles his head down, voice in her ear.]

Yes. [Breathy.] I should think so. Perhaps you would like to confirm it yourself, as well.

[ it's all in her tail. she has it so tightly wound around his wrist that he may well wake up in the morning with a coiling bruise. he draws near and she turns her face to kiss him, exhaling a trembling sigh into his mouth.

whispers against him, with every ounce of affectionate cruelty she can muster, ] Oh. I believe you.

[ and instead of touching him, she begins to unfasten her trousers from around his hand ]

[It will be a strange bruise. He will note its shape and the development of its darkening color around his wrist as the days pass, as well as how it fades. But right now, the pressure is a footnote in his mind — more encouragement, more sensation when his body aches for it. (Though admittedly in far warmer, far more throbbing places.)

He huffs a little when they part from their kiss, low and vacillating somewhere between bemused and impatient. She does not touch him—no tension to be released there anytime soon—but instead loosens the fabric around his hand, giving him more clearance.]

You torture me.

[Hardly a complaint, though. If he’s been granted more space, then is he not obligated to quest further, dive in deeper?

Sholmes presses closer, and in that some motion, slips a finger into her.]

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