retroductions | reverie overflow.

[ her muscles flutter beneath them ]

Hard-boiled detective like you? Defies belief.

[He feels that, too. He trails a little higher — to just beneath the curve of her breasts.]

Indeed. But perhaps I cannot deny it fully. For what is a “romantic” but a man who is only a single step away from a “softie”?

[ her gaze roves his face; the way his hair falls, his quiet smile, the warmth of his expression. it all seems so alien. ]

Thank you.

[ for not letting her run away ]

[Gently, his brow raises. He can guess at her thanks; he does not feel he needs any mode of clarification.]

...I should thank you, instead. For taking the chance.

[For putting a small amount of faith in this.]

Please kiss me.

[ unlike Henry, Sholmes gets a "please" ]

["unlike".... when did she ever ask Henry to kiss her

But Sholmes' eyes twinkle a little more at the request.]

As the lady wishes.

[And shifts closer, uncaring for the hair strewn across his forehead, and presses his lips so very gently against hers.]

[ it's more like... Henry simply could not get that word out of her in our PSL...

but this? this is a very gentle kiss—verging on too gentle. like she's kissing a piece of fine china. she curls onto her side proper so she can bring one knee up between them and tangle her tail in with his ankles ]

[maybe she could say it one day to NICE henry who did NOTHING wrong

Anyway. What's the rush, Sprezzatura? He is sure a gentle kiss will not stay gentle for very long, and he wants to indulge in it while he can.

Her tail snakes between them, rounding his ankles, securing their closeness. Now, his hand strays with more boldness than before; palming her breast, still languid, still patient. His lips part, at least, in encouragement.]

[ this is different than during the bingo game, when she was half out of her mind with guilt and worry over something as simple as a kiss. her mind is no calmer now, but that's not Sholmes' fault. they lived. for one more day, they lived.

at the new pressure of his hand, and the soft sensation of his lips parting, she takes and releases a slower breath through her nose, brow pinched in concentration. murmurs, ] Mmn.

[ there is so very much of her to touch. she lays her hand in the crook of his elbow, encouraging ]

[There’s no true escape from the lingering shadow of the elevator game, there’s only easing the wounds it might have caused them — more mental than physical at this point. But they lived, and they can cling to that together.

He likes the taste of her, just as he did before. He could linger there longer, but he does detract just enough to roam his eyes across her face, taking in those pinched brows.]

Allow yourself to relax.

[His hand remains where it is, full of her, squeezing slightly. The other moves over to her shoulder, rubbing with more pressure. Stress relief.]

[ don't be silly, Herlock. both hands are stress relief.

her lashes flutter when he speaks; she looks at him, quietly, and the pinch does not dissipate. ]

Do you do massages?

Yes. Of course. These hands, as you know, are deft enough to loosen even the most stubborn knots.

[He would say that his deductive capabilities add to his potential to offer a good massage -- to pinpoint the problem areas with unmatched efficiency.

Here, his hands slip away from her, but only so he can instruct:]

Remove your top, and lie on your stomach, my dear.

[ it looks like she's getting a massage. Sprezzatura rearranges herself to sit, opens her blouse one button at a time from the bottom up. today she wears a brassiere, soft and unremarkable, and she reaches behind herself to pinch the clasp open and remove that, too.

a massage is so indulgent. she turns, smoothing one hand up the bed as she sinks back down, on her stomach this time. ]

[An indulgence that he's ready to give her, patiently watching as she rearranges herself, eyes trailing down her form. Once she's on her stomach, Sholmes moves and settles himself in position, too — he straddles her, thighs bracing at her hips, then reaches down with the flat of his hands and runs them from the middle of her back up to her shoulders.

Intimate and practical, all at once.]

Comfortable? Shall I move elsewhere?

[ wriggles herself sinuously while he settles, one arm up and then the other, so she can fold them underneath and pillow her cheek. the weight of him is oddly soothing—weighted blanket effect.

sighs, ] Perfect...

[He smiles down at her.]

Good. Now let's see... I think this should be quite simple.

[It's easy when there's tension everywhere to be seen. He starts at the shoulders, though, fingers pressing in against muscle in even, steady circles. Again, that calloused touch of his is firm but strangely rhythmic.]

[ yeah, Herlock, she's making this easy for you! seduction couldn't be simpler. her lashes flutter a few times as she blinks, unspeaking, unmoving... then she closes her eyes; they fall still upon her cheeks.

the muscles protest. his touch is sore, achy. she isn't a masochist, either, but there is something pleasurable to it. here and there, he prompts a flinch, her painted lips tightening, or her tail's tip flicking abruptly where it drapes in a loose S-shape beside his knee. ]

Ah.

[He doesn't press in too hard, but it's not much of a massage if his touch is feather-light. Once he finds a knot near the shoulder blades, he begins working it through. He feels her tail twitching somewhere around his ankles.]

You'll loosen up sooner rather than later. Does this feel good at all?

Some would say I am always loose. [ girl don't just say that. she nods, though, subtly ] It does. Feeling you touch me so deeply...

[His brows shoot up and he laughs.]

Sprezzatura! I would say the opposite. That you are instead terribly, terribly tight.

[Sholmes leans in, still working at that knot, but plants a kiss just below the back of her neck. She'll feel the tickle of his hair.]

[ oh, that is a nice place to be kissed. ]

They say that, too.

[And it's a nice place to kiss. He gives her another, plush against her warm skin while his hand still works at a tight grouping of muscles.]

Oh, you're insatiable, aren't you?

[ mmh. laughs gently, pricking his sheets with her fingers, before settling back into quiet ]

It has been weeks, Herlock. Hardly.

[His hands move down to her sides. There's not much in the way of muscle there, but now he's just being indulgent, remaining close so that his lips still brush against her skin as he speaks.]

Yes, but there's not been much chance for intimacy in that time, has there?

[ there are some goosebumps forming, at that murmur. she shifts beneath him. ultimately, though, her body language is still that of a languid cat. ]

It is sounding more like it is you who is insatiable, detective.

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