finalflight | OPEN POST; [ HERLOCK SHOLMES / TGAA ]

[ he's so pale, she thinks. Ms Adler, that is... both hands cup his face and thumb over his cheeks. back and forth. back and forth. she's missed all of this, and it's a relief to know he has felt the same. ]

My cunt petalled around Ms Adler's pretty cock? Mmh, well, Herlock's.

[A soothing gesture, stroking his face like a cat who so dearly missed his owner. Though Sholmes feels more like a hound; joyous and eager, instead.]

Oh, yes. [In the intonation of oh, yes.] That should be agreeable to you, too, I should hope? Still, I'd hardly complain no matter what we do. I am... blessed, truly, to share a bed with you again, Sprezzatura.

[ LIKE A HOUND.... OF THE BASKERVILLES? ]

Yes, you are.

[ hooking a leg up, she rolls them over. the many skirts and folds of her dress bunch around her hips between them. ]

Won't even need your usual bedwarmers tonight.

[ get it? because she's a bed warmer. ]

[Rolled over!! His hat tilts perilously on his head again, but remains “on” enough to keep the illusion going for now.

Hands on her hips.]

Because I’ve the unparalleled warmth of a tiefling instead?

[The joke is never as funny when it’s explained,]

[ she wriggles into a wobbly squat just above his groin. appreciation washes over her for the prettiness of the woman beneath. ] Give Ms Adler her equipment now, Herlock.

[Hehe.

Lifts a hand up and pokes at the hat. It's just enough to make it tilt completely off of him, dispelling the disguise. The return of Herlock Sholmes, equipment and all!

Equipment which is already standing at attention, she'll note.]

Yes, my dearest. Ms Adler says her goodbyes.

[ but not forever. the return of those unruly blonde locks—Sprezzatura sinks her fingers into them, wriggles a little until her dress falls off her hips.

she can feel the warm tip of his cock now brushing between her thighs and tickling in the soft curls there. suddenly her chest is tight with eagerness. ]

Hello, Herlock.

[Eagerness is overtaking him, too—or maybe it already has?—but his is never a tightness, but rather a warm flowering, spreading to every limb, filling him with energy and capriciousness.

The tip of his cock brushes against her, a sensitive spot that sends another thrill through him. He moves his head just to feel her fingertips brush through his hair, though his eyes follow the curves of her body until more and more is revealed.]

Hello, Sprezzatura. Would you like assistance with the rest of your dress?

[ what feels as good as being eyed by your spouse? ]

Bare me and then connect with me.

[Being touched and kissed and making love to one’s spouse. But not much else.

Encourages her up higher on her knees, then, with his hands.]

Then up you go!

[And when she lifts, he will help her shimmy out of her dress, until her legs are free. It is not the proper way for a lady to undress, but who’s keeping track?]

[ not her! she merely laughs, dangerously close to a giggle, and shakes her legs as the fabric slithers down. ]

You make me happy, Detective.

[He should put more care into how he treats someone else’s things other than his own, and he does: by folding the dress in half and plopping it down on the floor beside them. That’s about as good as it’ll get, but he knows neither of them care about their garments right now.

Rather, it is the lack of them that holds his keen interest. The whole of her body on display for him — it’s been too long since he’s been gifted such a sight. Sholmes wiggles beneath her, getting comfortable again, then plops back down on his back while his hands alight on her hips once more.]

And it is one of this life’s great blessings that I am able to provide you some happiness. There are few true joys in my own life-

[Which sounds like a drab thing to say for a man in such a good mood, but he means it thusly: all that really matters in this life are the people precious to him, and the thrill of unraveling a case piece by piece. Aught else are but temporary frivolities.]

-and I count myself lucky that you are one of mine. You, too, make me truly happy.

[ she is so happy she finally made it back to him. the kind of happiness that nearly hurts.

uncupping his hands from her hips so that she can lace their fingers together on either side of his head; her tail will take up the duty of coiling gently around his length and nestling it against her folds. ]

Smooth-talker.

[He gives her hands a squeeze. He can’t tear his eyes away from her face, even as the sensation of her tail makes him swallow down a little moan of approval. It’s the most attention she’s given his cock yet, and in that vein, almost too distracting.

Almost.]

I only speak the truth.

[ a little, playful shimmy! and she begins the pleasurable sink down onto him. her lips petal around his length, as she suggested they might. ]

Mm. Good. Look at my face.

[ past the ridge of the head, a wet pop. now an easy slide down, down, down, until she sits against his groin and sighs out a shaking moan. perfectly full. ]

[Sholmes possesses enough willpower to keep his gaze fixed on her face—and that's an easy ask, of course, because all of her is a sight he missed—but not enough pride to tamp down every little noise. When she slips past his cockhead and slides down to engulf his length, the sigh he lets out is disjointed from both how wondrous she feels and his overall giddy nature.

Snug, warm. Perfect. The weight of her atop him is a comfort. Another squeeze of both hands, and he playfully hitches his hips up, jolting her gently.]

I'd gaze upon nothing else.

No?

[ ahh. he fills her so well that the jostle rubs him just so, and Sprezzatura presses back down eagerly. every inch of him tucked inside. swallowed utterly. she is warm, and wet, and as she curls down over him so they press together from groin to chest, she tightens her fingers in his. ]

Oh... Herlock. You're—

[ so much better than she remembered. ]

[Absolutely not. Though where her cunt swallows him up is a sight unto itself, beautiful in its own right, true beauty is her expression right now, he's sure of it.]

Ha, the most fortunate man alive?

[Is she close enough so that he might raise his head and give her a proper kiss? Heated and lingering? He's going to try anyway.]

[ she is, in fact! she has curled down nearly forehead-to-forehead, and that's how she intends to stay through the entirety of this; it would be terrible not to be ale to watch his face. it is the greatest proof of their living and feeling. ]

Living or dead.

[ pushes out her bottom lip, plush, into the kiss. for as long as he wants to linger, she will, too. she can breathe quite easily through her nose—long and slow breaths, as though she is now utterly at ease with the world.

she is. ]

[Then he will take it upon himself to loop his arms up and around her, a close embrace, as though she were not close enough already so folded-in. The kiss will linger, and kissing Sholmes tastes as it always does — warm and with the tinge of shag tobacco, the same as he oftentimes scents.

Utterly at ease with the world. Yes, that's quite accurate. There are very few moments in which Sholmes would label as perfect, but Sprezzatura is beginning to encapsulate many of them in the time since he's known her.]

Mmm.

[Seamed together as they are, the fact that he's seated inside her feels almost like an afterthought in the wake of this kiss, this embrace. But eventually, Sholmes does pull away, though he tilts his chin up immediately after to place a kiss atop her forehead.]

The most fortunate man ever to have fallen in love, living or dead.

[ being coupled together only adds to that sense of belonging and contentment. her eyes drift closed as the kiss unfurls, and they stay closed even when she feels him press his lips to her brow.

a little shimmy, which urges him deeper inside barely at all, but it's enough. she likes his weight and his stiffness and how she can feel it keenly even laying atop him. a reminder of how lucky she is, too. ]

Mmmhhhhmmmmmm.

[Keenly felt by Sholmes, too, given how long he's been deprived since she's been away. Oh, he should have had her come to visit long before now; what a fool he's been.

Fingers pressing into her back when she wiggles, he lets out a guttering breath. Rucks his hips up once more again, feeling the soft friction of her cunt, not impatient more than he is just playful.]

Proof of which is how good you feel right now. I had nearly forgotten.

[ and she wriggles again. each time the hug of her lips pulls him in a little deeper, and her heartbeat drums a little stronger around him. Sprezzatura feels deliciously wet. ]

Isn't it perfect?

[She does feel deliciously wet, and for as clever as Sholmes can be (when he so chooses), his brain already cannot comprehend how it feels as though he sinks in even deeper.

He slides his fingers through her hair; up, then down again.]

Nearly so. [Encroaching actual perfection once she...] Will you ride me now, my dearest?

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