retroductions | reverie overflow.

[ 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.]

[ each time his hand comes down, she jumps—not quite so noticeable as at the start, but given she's still splayed over his lap, he'll be able to feel the way everything tenses even as he kisses her. he'll be able to see the way her toes curl as she tries to tamp down on the bubbling feeling of shame.

really. grown woman like her, prostrate over a man's lap? being spanked?

closes her eyes, presses her forehead to the sheets. long, steadying breath in and out. around Sholmes' shin, her tail ripples, not quite squeezing. the sound of her breathing slowly evens out, but it culminates in a low growl. ]

No good. [ it's a hurdle she can't seem to make it over: ] Be gentler.

[A hurdle difficult to surmount, indeed. Sholmes feels the rippling of her tail, her reaction laid bare to him despite his inability to see her face, given that the rest of her is pressed against his lap.]

Tell me what goes through your mind.

[Gentler, she requests, and Sholmes does not go for another spank across her rear just yet — instead, he smooths over the areas that must still sting with a palm of his hand.]

[ literally laid bare, am I right? another hitchy, bracing breath as he palms her--expecting a blow that doesn't come, this time. then the relief of realizing he's not going to hit her again yet. her body goes limp ]

I... I. [ her mind is racing; how can she possibly slow it down enough to say? ] Do I look good? Not... not like disobedient child?

A disobedient child?

[Embarrassment is an obstacle, still. Appearances, perception, even in the presence of someone trusted.

Reassurance is no doubt necessary, though it comes easily. "Disobedient child" is not at all what he sees when he views her splayed across him like this, and his hand runs up her back, eases into her hair, stroking.]

My dear, you are beautiful lain atop me like this. It takes an inordinate amount of willpower not to touch you more than I am already doing. I think that far removed from any descriptor of "childlike".

[ beautiful. his hand in her hair, coupled with his words, goes a long way towards soothing her. difficult though it is to think she looks good in such an ungainly sprawl, knock-kneed and facedown, she has to believe he finds her to be so.

squirms, pressing her thighs tightly together. just enough pressure to tease at stimulating her clit, really, between the tension she herself provides, and Sholmes' thigh tucked close beneath her ]

Oh, please. Please touch me more while you are spanking me.

[Of course he’s beautiful. Tempting. Should self-control go flying out the window, he would like to do more than just have her bent over his knee, sprawled across him— But this is about her right now, not him.

He palms at her rear again, soothing where it had been stinging just before. That same hand, though, travels a little further down, until his touch is little more than the press of two fingers that tease in the spot she’s pressed tight. Her folds, slick and warm, with the cloth of her panties pushed out of the way.]

Relax. Just a little more.

[ relax, he says, and puts his hand there. all her breath leaves her in a soft, shivering exhale. his fingertips feel so warm when they toy between her legs; it's instinct to part her thighs again at his urging, just in case he might... ]

Herlock, I...

reverie overflow.

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