[He immediately arches into her through pure instinct, as though seeking out the shape of her hand and the friction it might grant him. A warm grasp she could gift him with. Spoiled by touch, of course Sholmes will seek out more, even if his body moves partly on its own.
He’s only dimly aware of how she’s now exposed to the room, simply because his own fingers—still unmoving, still only slightly kneading into her—also feel a breeze.]
no subject
He’s only dimly aware of how she’s now exposed to the room, simply because his own fingers—still unmoving, still only slightly kneading into her—also feel a breeze.]
Ah… god.