retroductions | reverie overflow.

[ 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.

[Her fingers grasp at his hand, and he thinks to himself what fond affectations are still present between them, even as he has his mouth buried between her legs, his tongue moving in slow, tracing circles when he isn’t kissing, sucking. Sholmes obliges, and happily so — he turns his wrist at just the right angle to twine his fingers through hers, if she allows for it.

Makes a pleasurable little noise at this gesture, of all things, and though handholding certainly has little to do with how she twitches beneath his tongue, he can appreciate both in equal measure. She asks him to continue, and so he does, though he never truly paused at all.]

[ it has more to do with it than you'd expect, Sholmes. a spark of pleasure runs through her as she helps him to lace their fingers; she bites her lip and muffles a laughing moan, because she wants to hear him instead. the sound of his sucking kisses, and his breathing as it fans over her. Mammon, it's all... so nice. incongruently relaxing. ]

Mmmmmn. More.

[ she pushes her toes into the small of his back, a playful nudge of encouragement. she'd do it to his buttock, but she can't actually... reach... ]

[He twines his fingers with hers, a tactile connection that will remain for as long as she wishes. His other hand, however, no longer feels content at her side, doing little more than remaining idle; it moves upwards, knuckles brushing beneath the curve of her breast. His limbs are quite long enough to reach, after all.

His mouth, however, continues its warm ministrations. Sucking languidly, giving her clit the focus it deserves to make her twitch in rhythm to his attentions. Yet, at some point, he does interrupt the process by flattening his tongue against her, gliding it upwards, long and slow.

Eyes flick up just to take her in. His lips shine from his efforts.]

Mm, and more still?

[ the unhurried nature of this is really doing it for her. pleasure running parallel. she twists and rocks herself beneath his lips with nothing short of deliberate hedonism; she doesn't urge him faster, only closer, and her tail only creeps so far down as to mirror his wandering hand, and strokes indulgently up and down his side. ]

Yes. [ just about a purr as she squirms gently in place. smiling down her body at him, and the very pretty sight he makes down there, indeed. ] You look perfect, Herlock.

[Pleasure running parallel — it had not been an exaggeration, and it still applies. Her praise is its own ego boost, coiling his belly with a new flare of heat. He loves this sight of her, the musky scent of their sex, the way she wiggles closer to him, unabashedly requesting more.]

And if only you could see yourself, Ms Vaux.

[He will make her wait just long enough for a compliment to be paid in turn, at least. The hand not clasped around her own trails up and down her torso.]

A stunning sight. Remarkable in many ways.

[ his fingers will brush through the thinnest film of sweat; she is not unaffected by all this ]

That was what mirror was for.

[ sometimes. ]

Room is so cold after your mouth. Sore already?

[He is absolutely throbbing for stimulation, if that is her meaning. The air is bracing when they’re apart, seemingly to highlight this further — not that they are very much apart, now, limbs still twined against her.

But she had appeared to enjoy the slow, indulgent nature of it all. Who is he to deny her? It is not as though she’s twisting his arm to do any of this.

Another slow, drawn-out lick. The tip of tongue teases at her clit.]

Taking my time. Would you prefer otherwise?

[ drops her head back on her shoulders, ah ]

Mmmmno.

[ she rather thinks she likes having Sholmes kissing her cunt and speaking to her in dulcet tones. the noted lack of urgency seems to make every touch feel more pronounced—more the reward than the motivation itself. Sprezzatura squeezes his hand, nice and slow ]

I could stay like this...

Forever?

[He kisses again, the warm sensation of his mouth doled out with a questing tongue and lingering lips slick with her wetness. His hand squeezes hers back, while his other draws little, idle circles along her torso with callused fingertips.

He draws it out, nice and slow, indeed.]

[ echoing: ] Forever.

[ the stretching of the moment finally realizes a shift; gasping once, soft but sharp, her stomach clenches under his palm. the same languid motions he's been keeping up from the very start are suddenly and hellishly there—she can feel his lips and tongue moving, acutely, all her nerves catching fire.

Sholmes will be able to tell he's getting there not least of all from the way she tosses her head back and reaches up above her head to clench her fist in the sheets. soft sounds—but getting louder. ]

Oh, please.

[Her muscles tensing under her touch is the first easily notable thing, but the rest come just as evidently, from the way she fists at the sheets, to the gentle sounds she begins to make. He thinks to himself that forever may not last at this point, but he also does not think she would complain terribly, not the way things are going now — and so Sholmes hums a little noise of appreciation, of encouragement, as she writhes a little against him.

What was once slow and languid begins to hasten, so slight. His tongue laves against her with a steadily increasing tempo, warm and uninterrupted, his hand sliding back down to lightly brace at her hip; his other remains holding onto hers, that connection still ever-present.]

[ oh, it is warm. that minute shift in his tongue's frictional glide prompts Sprezzatura's first full moan—low, nearly purring—and she arches on the bed, pulls her knees up so she can splay herself more open for him. everywhere his mouth touches feels like it's throbbing, wet, all the way deep into muscle and fat. it's perfect.

she unfurls her tail from his side and tries to wriggle it beneath him, to belatedly tend to his untouched cock. ]

Herlock. [ s q u e e z i n g his hand ] Just like that, just like that. Don't be shy. Do feel how wet you've made me? It's all for you.

[ surprise! she's a talker. ]

[And he likes hearing it. Likes feeling her move and twitch under his tongue. He would have many pleasant things to say in return were his mouth not busy otherwise — just like that, she tells him, and he is wont to continue. The pace of is tongue increasing, steadily, her opening up wide for him, and—

Good god, her tail.

His cock twitches when her tail teases at him, so neglected that it is difficult for him not to hitch his breath against her cunt, moan deeply between her legs. He hardly needs any encouragement, if that is what she’s trying to give, but he will not complain if given any, either.

His hand squeezes hers in return, harder. It takes a fair amount of willpower not to just rut against her searching tail.]

[ Sholmes doesn't need to rut, because she has every intention of doing it for him. even her tail is unbelievably warm--a sinuous heat that ripples around him. it is never too tight or too hard; whatever experience she has, she's putting it to use now.

she hopes he likes it. she wants him to feel as tortured as she does. ]

Like hot iron in my tail, you. Ahh-- [ dissolving into a shaky moan as he licks at her ] There, there, there, don't go any faster.

[ despite the imperious nature of her demands, she's smiling and flush and her fingers tremble between his. releasing her clench in the sheets to cup her own breast, toy with the nipple, ah ]

Let me hear you...

[She's doing well to torture him. Her snaking tail is impossibly warm and writhing around his cock in just the right way, a reward for the continuous ministrations of his tongue without threatening to push him right over the edge. Oh, yes, he has quite decided that he likes her tail. Who would have known?

He drinks deep, laves his tongue flat against her clit at the same rhythm as directed, and moans in time with her stroking. A little louder, a little louder; she may as well feel the vibrations from his own pleasure, a nice little side effect to bolster her own.]

[ everyone likes a tiefling's tail when they're in the bedroom with one. after all, they're exceptionally clever with it. about as clever as he is being with his mouth. he has her biting her lip and tossing her head, lashes fluttery and heavy and her voice gone jagged when she answers his moaning. like this, he works her right up to the thinnest edge—

and her voice breaks around a blissful, indulgent sigh as orgasm finally takes her. slow and warm, to start, and only gaining momentum as she goes. her body quivers hard, hips bucking, so he might want to brace her or risk a damaged nose. ]

reverie overflow.

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