retroductions | reverie overflow.

[ learning a lot about this woman, aren't you? she does not take much urging to follow him—again her tail makes a wonderfully convenient third limb, helping her to kick off her boots along the way, so that she barely has to slow down.
(though she does, still, lag a little bit, for the express purpose of getting a proper look at that tail, sir) ]

As much as I want, hm? We may never stop.

[ the thing is. the thing is, she overwhelmingly desires to feel safe. and Sholmes feels safe. even more importantly, she cares about him for reasons that extend past this room and what they're doing now, and that, in the end, makes what they're doing now all the more compelling.

as friends, you know. ]

Sit.

[Learning many things, indeed. Some which compliment, some which contradict. But all of which Sholmes wishes he could fulfill -- for as much as Sprezzatura might want to feel safe, the detective wants to provide. It is as much for the sake of his own ego as it is something far simpler: a fondness born of friendship, the good-hearted nature to tend to another’s needs. In the end, he really is little more than a softie at heart.

For now, though, as per instruction, he crosses over to the edge of the bed and sits, his hand still clasped against hers. Another gentle tug so that she steps closer.]

I hardly see how that would be so bad.

[That they might never stop. What’s so wrong with the self-indulgence of wanting pleasant things to linger?]

[ she wants to kiss him. she wants to cover him in love bites. he would look so nice covered in love bites. ]

Well, you would get very little else done. [ as she moves obligingly as close as she can while still standing--guiding his hands hands once more to her backside. specifically, the button that closes the slit for her tail. ] You were asking about scent of sex, hm? Undress me. You will know it then.

[He takes in the sight of her, as though he has not been doing so this whole time, when she draws closer. Her hands guide his own, snaking around to where he can feel the round edges of a button clasped closed -- around the base of her tail, which he thumbs a little out of curiosity, the constant need for stimulation taking all forms, even if it is just a brush against a fingertip.

Blessedly, he does not linger. He can work at it with one hand, undo that button with his forefinger and thumb with ease. Tugs at the waistband of the material once it gives a little, clear encouragement.]

Will I? On my tongue?

[ he touches her tail, her stomach muscles twitch; beyond that, she manages to make stripping away the last pieces of clothing on her remarkably comfortable, not at all like undressing for someone for the first time. she bunches everything down her hips, down her thighs, and it falls to her ankles, and she quietly toes it all to the side.

for his inquisitive gaze: she has no scarring, anywhere. not at all like him. on her breasts and low on her belly are a scattering of beauty marks—all mostly on the right side of her body—and there are some faint, long stretch marks down the sides of her thighs and buttocks. which is hilarious, because she is very much not a tall woman. ]

Are you so parched, Herlock? [ she slips her tail between her thighs, glides it between her folds and over her clit, then brings it around her hip to lift his chin—just gently on its slickened curve ] Kiss these lips first. Please.

[No scarring at all. Perhaps the only real oddties are the stretch marks that grace where they would normally be found on a much taller woman, and even that is not nearly as distracting as everything else about her complexion -- such a strange and lovely hue, sometimes patterned with beauty marks. So contrasted to the pale tones of a British man who goes on misadventures on the almost-daily.

Her tail is so sinuous, he thinks, attention drawn to how it slides between his legs, only to find its way to his chin, tilting his gaze up to look at her again. That is a tease; Sholmes is so very hyperaware of that warm touch of slickness against his skin.

But he complies, all the same.]

Since you asked so kindly...

[A hand rises to slip around the nape of her neck, drawing her closer for another kiss, opened-mouthed and eager.]

[ yes. yes. finally. the woman who had been so reluctant to kiss him even once now sighs happily against his mouth as he nudges closer—bringing both hands up to cradle his face. she'll worry about everything later. for now, she wants to enjoy the slow warmth of someone she likes quite a lot kissing her.

the eagerness is not quite as intense coming from her, but that's because of the tusks jutting behind her lips. doesn't want to cut him. instead, she lets her interest come out in the longer-than-normal tongue that slips between and strokes beneath his. it's—that's tiefling, alright. or oni? hard to tell. ]

[Oh, the tongue is-- surprising. Is the oni, or is it the quality of a tiefling? He cannot hope to know, and it certainly does not matter in this moment. It adds only a strangely sensual quality to their exchanged kiss, a sensation entangling itself with his own tongue in a way he's not experienced before.

That in itself is a delight. He moans into her mouth, faint. Leans forward slightly, her tusks prickling at his skin.]

[ that he doesn't wrench away while exclaiming does her some good. emotionally. humming an answering laugh into his mouth, she brings a knee up to slide onto the bed, and then the other—bracketing his hips, perching. her free hand drapes over his shoulder and caresses up and down near the top of his spine, as far as she can reach. ]

Mmn.

[ they are skin-to-skin, chest-to-chest, kissing slowly. all of it has an oddly dreamlike quality, for her. but please don't make her make you bleed, Sholmes. ]

[What's a little prickling of blood amid a pleasurable kiss? Nothing at all. Thankfully, her tusks do not quite pierce the surface of his skin, and even if they did, it's unlikely he would care too terribly about a small scrape. Not like this; not when she's drawn closer, her knees bracing him against both sides, pressing them together in a remarkably wonderful way.

And in other ways, remarkably frustrating, given that she undoubtedly brushes against the length of his cock via nearness alone. He must busy his hands now, as though seeking stimulation elsewhere -- his free one glides down her backside, squeezing her ass, not unlike their time spent in the grave together.]

[ oh, undoubtedly she does, but he has more power over her than he thinks. she feels him take a palmful and start to squeeze, and her whole body gets so hot that it's practically dizzying. breaks the kiss to nod feverishly against him, murmur— ]

Like that...

[ when she fits their mouths together again, still softer than you'd expect, this time her tail slips between their bellies. it loops gently around his cock, begins to stroke him in its coils. the touch is deft enough you have to imagine she's done this sort of thing before. ]

[He would have been keen to follow her approval, to glide his other hand down to grope at the other side of her ass, even before the sensation of her tail loops around his cock, stroking it in dizzying coils. But that— that nearly causes him to break their kiss with a sharp inhale of air. The only thing keeping him pressed against her lips, then, is indeed the very hasty way he hastens to grip her bottom, squeezing, and anchoring himself just enough so he can lift his hips up, rutting against her.]

[ oh! she did not expect this kind of hunger from Herlock Sholmes of all people. her surprise comes out as a giddy little laugh as he ruts up between her spread thighs ]

I could bring you off just like this, you know.

[ rubbing fond circles beneath his jaw with a thumb. he would look so pretty, and she would make it feel so good for him ]

Would you like that?

[It is supremely difficult for him not to chase self-indulgence, to not follow pleasurable impulses; ask anyone who's known the detective over the years, for good or ill, and they would agree. Yet he has not loosed all of his self-control. Her laughter is bright in his ears, and he looks up at her with a flushed face, gaze hazy with want, but echoes an airy laugh right back.]

And undo our grand plans for a few hurried moments of bliss?

[He grinds against her again, cheeky.]

Surely you're in no such hurry.

[ bliss, he says, but also, you. that makes her laugh again, sable this time; she reaches between, slips her fingertips through the wetness beading at the tip of him ]

I would take my time. [ there's warmth there, in her tone, but also an affectation of poutiness. her fingers slip up again, now to smear his lips with his own precome... if he allows it. ] But precisely what grand plans are you thinking?

[ it would be its own pleasure, she's sure, for him to detail it. she likes hearing him talk. ]

[He does allow it, and it shines his lips as she drags a finger across them. Sholmes worries at his bottom lip ever so slightly, catching the tang of himself in his mouth.

She would take her time, she says — oh, he is quite sure she would. The purposeful way she touches him now, almost languishing in every action, makes that clear. Sholmes supposes it comes down to which scenario sounds the most enticing.

If nothing else, he can give her the pretty, indecent words that she asks for.]

Your legs spread wide and my tongue exploring the place between them. You have already teased me too much with your nearness — just how cruel of a mistress will you be, Ms Vaux?

[There is nothing about his tone that reveals he is displeased by this at all, of course.]

Though perhaps you would prefer me inside of you, instead. Clenched tight; warm, slick. Touching yourself all the while. I should remember every detail of you then, as well.

[ just like she thought it would, his answer paints a pretty picture and sends a series of warm, damp thrills all through her. he could suggest just about anything and she's sure her body would agree. it's evident in the bitten smile she gives him, amused and eager. ]

I think you should give me both.

[ wraps her arms around him, ostensibly an embrace. her skin is humid, slightly wet, and she thinks he feels good pressed against her, just sharing contact. ]

Out of your fondness for me.

[Sholmes buries his face in the crook of her neck, taking in scent and warmth. The curve of his smile brushes against her.

His heart thumps in his chest. He wonders if she can hear it, for how thunderous it feels in his ribs.]

Then get comfortable on the bed, my dear.

[ her Perception modifier is, alas, also a negative. pretend to be shocked. but she can feel it, that steady pulse beneath her palm when she cups his neck, rubs her thumb beneath his jaw. ]

Eager to have look at me, hm?

[ she can't blame him. a tiefling must look so exciting and exotic, to his eyes. with a sinuous sort of expertise, she shifts her weight from his lap and moves to lay in the middle of the bed. her tail whispers over him as she leaves him, this long, unwinding touch. then, feeling oddly teenage, she spreads her thighs ]

Quite so.

[It’s okay. It is not so dire rolling low against Sholmes.

His touch lingers against her as she slips away, making herself comfortable in this sorely unused bed in this sorely unused motel room. It is as though he does not want to be away from her heat for longer than necessary—again, self-indulgent detective that he is—but he does not have to be parted from her too long. Sholmes shifts over, knees pressed between her legs. His erection bobs between his own, hard and throbbing, but is very much ignored in favor of her own arousal.

He lowers himself, hands first wandering upwards to glide across her hips, her belly, temporarily resting at her sides where his fingers press gently into her form; his head follows, tasting at her wet cunt, a long and experimental upwards drag of the tongue.]

[ crooking a finger at him as he kneels: come here, come closer--and he does. she exhales a soft, tremoring sigh as he licks her, turning the hand she'd beckoned him with and sinking it into his hair. nicely scrunching and unscrunching her fingers over his scalp, tousling it; a reward for the detective.

murmured, ] Show me.

[ show her what? ]

[Mm? is the noise he makes, a reverberation on his tongue. Her kneading fingers in his hair—already so easiliy mussed even without an external force to displace it—have given him a strangely rakish look as he lifts his head at just the right angle to look up at Sprezzatura.]

Show you?

[Show her what, indeed.]

[ with a pang it hits her: he really is handsome. fuck. she hooks one leg gently over his shoulder and lets the other fall open, so that even with that point of contact, of her thigh resting against his cheek, she's still nicely spread for him. ]

Show me how you kiss, Detective.

[Ah. He shifts slightly so that they might both be comfortable, pushing his weight a little more onto his elbows which press into the mattress on each side of her.]

As you wish.

[A simple request, one that takes his mouth against her folds again, leading with his tongue but ending with his lips -- a kiss, as she requests, slow, at first, but taking little time before he's sucking at her clit. Lavishing in both taste and scent.]

Oh.

[ that's right, that's absolutely right. and with so little guidance, too. she exhales slowly, shakily, and skates her palm down her stomach to stroke at the back of one of Sholmes' hands, entreating. she wants to hold hands. hold her hand.

she throbs beneath his lips; wordless encouragement for what he's doing, and how. ]

Just like that, yes. Again.

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