retroductions | reverie overflow.

[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. ]

[Why are they like this. Don’t encourage him.

ENCOURAGED:]

Oh, would you like for me to do that first? Eat you up before your spanking?

[He’s nice enough to to set her trousers aside in not a messy crumple beside them both (the loafers, too!), leaning in to run his hands up the length of her thigh. Oh, the possibilities.]

[ this is a feedback loop of stupid and it's what they both deserve. she ... giggles, actually, a husky sound she feels guilty for but an instant later. ]

Dinner before your dessert, Herlock.

[Oh, but he has a sweet tooth, you know, made worse by a slightly addictive personality. Her giggle just seems to delight him.]

But dessert's my favorite bit, my dear.

[But also, who is he to tell her no?]

Still, I shall oblige you. How might you like to situate yourself?

[ her tail wriggles on the bedspread, belying her eagerness. there is something particularly rewarding about having someone who will banter back in bed--and as earnest as Sholmes is, she could ask for no better. in fact, she finds herself wanting to please him.

again.

just like before. ]

I want you to turn me over your knee. [ pushing her thigh up into his touch, eyes on him with a delirious little smile ] Tug my panties aside, lay me across your lap. Would you like that, Herlock?

[ keep the horrors at bay ]

[To keep the horrors at bay. To let the body unwind, if the mind cannot.]

I would like nothing more.

[Palming her with his hands, all too eager to touch her. At some point, he will have to shuffle aside just enough to situate him in the proper position to facilitate her request: namely, seated at the edge of the bed with his long legs hanging over the side.]

Come, my dear. Draw closer, just so.

[ the mind will follow the body. that's what she hopes. she is white-knuckling that hope, because even Sprezzatura Vaux can only exist in a state of constant anxiety and depression for so long before it burns her out. she doesn't thrive in such loathsome mindsets, no matter what she tells herself. ]

Coming, detective. [ just a touch breathy, and that is just a touch on purpose. still not on command, she thinks, but brings herself to her knees so she might crawl across the bed to meet him. once close enough to touch her lips to his cheek, she does. chu. ] You may manhandle me... little bit. If it suits you.

[Never a command, of course, but a request. He leans his head into that kiss; and that, paired with her comment about manhandling has his cheeks tinting a faint pink.]

Oh? [A hand to the small of her back, easing her closer.] If it suits me, you say, though I suspect that is a subtle request on your part, hm?

[And an uncommon one, he might guess.]

[ oh, is he blushing? how utterly charming. murmurs, against that warming skin ]

So rarely I would have men do such things to me.

[ it always felt like being overwritten, like being demeaned to, regardless of the true intent. she's certain none of her lovers ever meant it, but she felt that way every time. every time. Sholmes, though... he is no threat. whether her perspective has finally shifted, or he's simply too himself to count like so many others have counted—it likely doesn't matter.

another kiss, this one more open-mouthed, and another, and another, until finally it is less of a kiss and more the draw of that purple tongue up the flushed edge of his cheek ]

I am trusting you, Herlock.

[A flush blooming across his skin for certain, though less to do with embarrassment than the warmth of anticipation itself. The things she does to a man's imagination...

Her kisses become more generous, and when her tongue draws up his cheek, so close and so warm, he lets out a little noise of pleasure. Even still, his lips quirk.]

And you have no idea how flattering that is to hear. That I am one of the rare few. Even so... You will tell me if it is too much, hm? [A kiss for her, too, in return. Light, lingering, on the corner of her mouth.]

Yes...

[ murmured before he can draw away; there's a reference to this closeness. she cups beneath his jaw to turn the kiss towards her lips proper: here. kiss me here.

at the same time, she takes his wrist and guides his hand between her legs. the thin, damp fabric covering her does little to disguise the sensation of his fingers brushing her at her insistence. it feels wonderful. ]

You will know. I do not want to be hit as though in punishment. It should be... fun.

[Kissing her lips, hand guided between her legs. She needn't guide him for much more than that, his fingers already brushing along that damp cloth, applying gentle friction.]

Very well. Then drape yourself over my knee, Sprezzatura. That will be my last gentle ask for now.

["Fun" she says. He cannot claim that it would be otherwise; the possibilities already dance in his mind as his fingertips graze across her panties.]

[ her gaze falls unsubtly towards his lap, a mote of the performative igniting—is he hard? is she going to look pretty enough for him? will it be too naked, too human, not perfect enough once she's there? it actually takes a moment to move, even though his words—my last gentle ask—and his roaming fingers jumpstart her pulse.

a little exhale escapes her, against his lips ]

Ah. . . Whatever you say, Herlock.

[ she braces one hand on his knee, then reaches the other across him to rest on the bed and bear her weight. bit by bit, she crawls over his lap, then she takes a steadying breath and lowers herself down into it. doesn't come naturally for Sprezzatura to hand off the reins of control like this, and it's clear. her tail flickers by his ankles, like that of an uncertain cat. ]

There?

[ she probably needs to move up a little more, get his thigh in the crook of where her legs bend at the hip ]

[Of course he’s hard. He was already stiff when he was atop her, kneading the muscles in her back, with her tail teasing between his legs. Sholmes’ arousal certainly hasn’t gone anywhere, not with her crawling across him like this, the strange sense of vulnerability on her side having a similar effect — making his pulse hitch a little in his neck.

Still, his eagerness does not blunt his observational instinct. He can see that she’s still uncertain, at least to a small degree, her twitching tail giving away so much, as always.

But Sholmes trusts her to tell him the moment she’s truly uncomfortable, and so. What point is there in being reticent any longer?]

Higher, my dear.

[It sounds like a request, but it is coupled with a hand coming down hard—but not too hard, not yet—on her backside, palming and… scooting her up.]

We want you at the perfect angle, don’t we?

[ his hand comes down on her with a satisfying smack!, a sharp and unexpected sting, and she jumps, muffling a yelp. the first feeling that registers is affront: who do you think you are? and then embarrassment, colour rising both where Sholmes hit her and in her face.

finally, as he moves her into position, both feelings mellow and meld into... well, she isn't sure what it is yet. her brain hangs on the edge of a misfire: is this sexy, or has something gone so wrong?

...it could be sexy. the palming feels nice, and there is something thrilling to hearing his voice without seeing his face. to feeling his stiffness taut against her belly.

up a bit. he puts her scantily-clad backside at the perfect angle. ]

Herlock.

[He’s aware of every fraction of her reaction — the tone of her voice, the rising flush in her cheeks. No doubt she’s vacillating on the edge of uncertainty, given her predilection for control, but Sholmes thinks she might enjoy the attention, all the same. As long as it is applied not as punishment, like she said, but rather its own kind of reward.

He swallows, though, as she situates across him properly this time. Hard to ignore the warm press of her body against his erection straining in his trousers, but he will for now.

A thumb hooks at the fabric of her panties, dragging it down over the curve of her rear.]

Yes, Sprezzatura?

[ jumps again, only slightly this time, even at the gentleness of his hand tugging her panties down. she expected another smack.

squirms her thighs, rubbing them together while her tail slowly winds about his shin. ]

Put your other hand in my hair.

[ a grounding touch. ]

[Gentle first; there is poignancy in contrast, a bit of thrill in the surprise of it. Though Sholmes is not opposed to tending to her request first as she settles into the idea of it, knowing that her tail winding around him is the same as seeking a sense of security. Grounding, as her ask to slip his fingers into her hair must be.

Of course he acquiesces. Fingertips splay pressure evenly across her scalp, fingers bury in dark strands. Securing, not hard, certainly not pulling. On the other end, however, his hand grips at her backside, kneadingly indulgent.]

Mm, like so?

[ he can't see the best of it, but Sprezzatura can feel it: the colour pooling in her cheeks until they are so warm that it seems to overflow. from there, it slips down her throat to collect at her collar, and around to the backs of each shoulder.

and the kneading. she closes her eyes as the guilty thrill bolts through her. he really has the nicest hands...

face down against the bedspread, one arm hooked beneath to pillow her cheek. mumbled, ] Thank you...

[Perhaps he can’t catch the fullness of her flushed skin, where it darkens the most, but the fact that it creeps around her shoulders is telling enough. One can hope that it’s more from pleasure than embarrassment — that the latter will begin to abate the longer they indulge themselves in this.

He gives her rear one more indulgent squeeze. Can such fondling be warm, affectionate? Maybe Sholmes can manage it.]

Anything for you.

[But again, contrast. Against that kindness, a second passes, and Sholmes brings his hand down hard against her backside again. The slap resonates throughout the room. He eases his palm against her gently afterward.]

[ the fondling feels... good. comforting. she would honestly quite like to lay across his lap like this, for only the purpose of him squeezing and toying with her. that would be perfectly fine...

smack!

again, she jumps, a sound escaping her throat. oh, it stung that time. ]

Oh--

[Stings enough to leave the faintest impression of the shape of his hand, just a hazy rise of color against her skin.

Her noise of surprise is coupled with a sound of approval from Sholmes, who runs one hand down the curve of her spine, gentle, caressing.]

Do you like that, my dear? It should not come as such a start if you let yourself go.

[Relax, trust.]

I don't—I don't know...

[ don't know if she likes it, don't know how to let go. she speaks in just a whisper, staring wide-eyed at the floor from where her cheek presses into her arm. her face feels very hot.

the sense is of being chastised. but—he likes it, doesn't he? that sound he made... ]

I'm trying. Don't stop.

[He likes spoiling her in every way possible, even in indulgences that take on surprising forms, like this might. Sholmes leans in first, placing a kiss on the line of a shoulder blade—the angle is not ideal, but perhaps all the more scintillating for it—before straightening and raising his hand again to give her another spank on a cheek. The opposite side this time, an equal amount of sting.]

As much as you like, as often as you like. If it pleases you. As I said—

[And one more.]

—anything for you, Sprezzatura. [It is certainly not chastisement; it is a reward.]

reverie overflow.

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