finalflight | OPEN POST; [ HERLOCK SHOLMES / TGAA ]

[this white boy can't turn any redder at this rate]

You have quite a way with words, you know.

[Oh, yes, she paints a picture. Indeed, the heft of her chest—what he can manage to manipulate with just one hand—is compelling. The deep valley of cleavage only entices him to do more than just touch, and her subtle wiggling stokes the currently neglected desire in his own cock, drawing out impatience despite their languid demeanors.]

Should not a gentleman be exactly that? Gentle.

[She knows him well enough to realize that Sholmes only cares about propriety in very specific circumstances, and certainly not now. So, then, he's teasing a little, and clearly so — as he finally draws closer to bring his lips to her breast, it is only as a soft, experimental kiss. Lips parted just enough so he can press the flat of his tongue against her hardened nipple, testing.]

It will not hurt.

[ she wants to encourage him, but it's true. the kissing and tugging could, at worst, be overwhelming. but not when she is this honed in on him, this needy, this drugged out.

when he finally touches her, she stiffens, jumps. no, it doesn't hurt—how could it when his kiss is so light? but in its own way, that makes it much keener. ]

Da. Like that...

[Ridiculously, he thinks he needs more hands to hold her. Feel the way her muscles in her sides and back ripple when his mouth makes contact in that light, experimental kiss. Every action of hers worthy of note and archival in his brain (which holds onto data like a sieve, thanks to the opium), to be referenced later.

As it is, he just wiggles his fingers still in her cunt, kneads her breast to lift it even incrementally higher, and hums pleasantly. Leans in further, his kiss all roving tongue for a moment... and then, with her encouragement, he sucks.

Not hard to start. He doesn't need that much effort to feel the pull and tug that follows, his tongue still swirling in gentle circles the entire time.]

[ instantaneously: she goes limp, makes a sound like purring or moaning, thumps her tail against the front of the chaise. she loves... this feeling. Sholmes hardly needs even to lean; she's melting down over him. soon, he'll be pleasantly squished between the cushions and her bosom.

the nipple is stiff in his mouth. she feels it tense even as he tongues at it, sucks it stiffer. with a clumsy hand, she cups his hand cupping her. ]

That's right... good.

[ and she lifts on her knees, just a little. trying very selfishly (though who cares?) to open her cunt to his fingers even more. maybe he's the wrong twink but she wouldn't hate his entire hand inside her. not right now. ]

Oh, such good boy you are.

[As soon as she loses the ability to remain somewhat upright, Sholmes leans farther back into the cushions, until he is very much just pressed lovingly between it and her body. His hand still cups her breast, leaving it there despite how unnecessary it is, refusing to deprive himself of touch. She’s stiff in his mouth; perhaps more so with each passing second, it seems.

As she rises up incrementally, he sucks harder. Parts his lips a little wider to well and truly take her in, though her other desire is not completely lost to him — her cunt spreads around his fingers, suddenly not quite as snug as before, and he takes that as an invitation to push up and bury them as deep as he can. Harder. Wondering, perhaps, if another finger is overdue—

His kiss ends with a wet pop, and he can’t pull back enough to earn any real space, but it doesn’t matter. His breath his hot against her, and his lips practically smear saliva against that same nipple in reply.]

You have a way of encouraging me to be good to you, my dear.

[His fingers wiggle inside of her, sliding out minutely only to settle back in, collecting her wetness at his knuckles. It all feels so obscene, but wonderfully so.]

Oh, I want you to be.

[ nonsensically murmured as she curls into his mouth and his hands: so low that he can't get any space from her at all. the sounds between her legs are not for polite company. ]

Put your hand in from underneath.

[ a clumsy touch to his wrist. underneath, so she can feel his palm over her clit. as nice as his hand on her backside is... it just can't get deep enough.

with a thoughtful little wriggle she nudges her knee between his thighs. ]

[He's already sucking at her again by the time she instructs him to rearrange the angle of his hand, so all Sprezzatura will hear is a murmured affirmation that vibrates up his throat and in his mouth; diligently, he follows instruction the best he can, though the result is a little clumsy, a little groping, when they're so closely snug together.

His fingers, they slide out, a sound not suited for polite company, indeed. He moves his hand around to the front of her, slipping down, fingers nudging through her folds to insert them again. Even without her saying so, he realizes why this is preferred — he can reach in more deeply. He can cup her... more fully, which he does, raising his hand up at an angle so his palm smears against her, so he sinks in deeply.]

Mmn?

[Better?]

[ from the front, the soft damp curls and the cling of her folds welcoming him. Sprezzatura's weight drops into his palm; she rolls her hips like that. together at once, that twisting ache in her breast and Sholmes' gentle fingering—she exhales like she's never exhaled before. stuttering, nearly whimpering.

nails in the upholstery: pop... pop... pop!

it just comes out: ] Mmmh—yes. Yes. Herlock. I love you so much.

[ she pushes her knee snug between his legs. the heat of his groin on her still-clothed thigh. ]

[Somehow, bafflingly, this angle seems even more intimate. His fingers buried in deeper, curled gently within. The way her hips move to rub against his erection, which throbs in time with his heartbeat.

And the sounds she makes — by god, he wonders if he should be so lucky to always win those noises in the far flung future. And Sholmes certainly isn’t the type to give true mind to the upholstery, even in normal circumstances, so he can’t be bothered to care right now about something so mundane, with the exception that this must please her enough to ruin (exaggeration) his chaise.

His heart catches in his throat, still beating fast. The idea of her love feels so, so poignant, and yet this version of himself has not yet earned it. This is a sentiment reserved for his future, but maybe he can be selfish enough to appreciate it now, all the same.]

I— ahh.

[Heavens, her thigh. More attention to his cock that craves it so much, he can’t help but fumble his sentence in an inelegant way.]

I— I can see how I would grow to feel the same for someone such as yourself… God, this feels like a dream.

[It’s his turn to hitch his hips up — rubbing against her thigh, and pressing in completely with his fingers inside of her.]

[ what if it is a dream? oh, then she doesn't want to wake yet. the pain from earlier has nearly fully faded into the backdrop of quiet gramophone, the scent of opium, the scent of tobacco on Sholmes' clothes and in his hair, and sex. Mammon, with him it all feels new again.

he grinds on her, she grinds on him. symbiotic, ha. but for him to speak means his mouth has come away from her breast—she can't have that.

cupping herself, she puts her other hand to his cheek and with a firm but not painful grip urges his jaw to open. she feeds her breast into his mouth. ]

Perhaps, then, my milk does come.

[ it won't. this isn't really a dream, no matter how dreamy it makes her feel. she wriggles on his fingers to chase the gorgeous full feeling they impart. with his erectipm so firm against her thigh, she's starting to imagine it in... other... places. ]

[Not painful, no, but certainly firm. He’s so very easily manipulated right now, besides, and it’s with comparable ease that she urges his jaw open to take her breast back into his mouth. Her assuredness bolsters his own, and he reflects it by nursing at her with more fervor than before, his eyes shuttering closed as he nuzzles in.

His tongue outlines the stiffness of her nipple first, as though he needs to assess it anew, but the sucking sensation follows soon after. Harder, more ardently, like they both might make this hypothetical of hers a reality if this were a dream. Slow, steady, and heated.

…If this were a dream, it’d be the strangest he’s ever had, at least in comparison to the usual. But it’s one that he’d be more than happy to draw out as long as possible, and consider its meaning only after he awakens, so for now? He’ll indulge. He grinds his erection against her once more with what little room he has to work with, slightly moving her own frame in the interim, which in turn makes her rise and then sink on his fingers slightly.]

Mmn. [The lackadaisical curve of a smile can be heard and felt, both.]

[ if this were a dream... what would change? the choices are beyond her: all her focus has narrowed in on Sholmes' suckling mouth, his hand halfway inside her cunt. how hot he is between the thighs.

and all of that is too much to focus on. she can barely keep her languid mind together enough to pull her breast from him with a pop and set the other between his lips—what else is there? she does not need to come yet. his fingers can stay warm and cushioned exactly as they are. ]

I am going to put my tail...

[ around him. there it is, clumsily seeking entry past the open vee ]

[The sound is wet and messy when his lips depart from her breast, and he almost thinks to question it before she's offering him her other — his mouth seams around that as easily as the first time, as though it were made for nothing else.

The same amount of pressure and fervency, sucking at it. He, too, is languidly warm, and only cognizant enough to take action when his mind sharpens just enough to force it with effort, before letting it drift away yet again. But his reaction when he realizes her tail is snaking into the open vee of his trousers is thoughtless; all instinct, surprise and revelation at how talented that tail of hers must really be. (All of my characters will perish upon realization of this, apparently.)

And so-]

Mmmn!

[Definitely not a complaint. But absolutely a surprise, the feeling of it nudging in close already, where he aches the most. He sucks even harder for it, tongue dragging across her hardened nipple, nothing short of reactionary rather than intentional. His other hand well and truly cups at her, nestled in close.]

Perfect, yes?

[ for her, it absolutely is. she could melt into him and stay like this for hours, nothing more than his warm nursing and the sensation of Sholmes' breath fanning over her. even when compared to his fingers, she vastly prefers his mouth. it feels—nurturing. a moment of softness despite all the rest of her.

and as for her tail... well, she has to reach down and between and adjust his underclothes to account for it. but then she is free to feed a gentle, tense loop around him and cinch it snug at his base. a little lift onto her knees to gain the room. ]

Oh... Look at you.

[ she's peering down between them, barely able to see past her own bosom and the tight wending of both of their arms. ]

[And though he lifts his gaze upwards, he can hardly see her, either — not past the mussed tuft of blonde hair and the angled closeness of her body, even if she’s risen up just enough to afford her a slight view.

Her tail. By god. He is very aware of its warm pressure coiling around him once she ferrets past his underthings, and no doubt she can feel his pulse beating hard in his cock.

One more lewd, wet sound. Sholmes pulling away with a lingering suck, and just enough so he can nuzzle his face against her chest in reply.]

Do you like the view-? Hm?

[He can’t stay still, despite himself. She’s already teasing movement out of him, or at least the sorry attempts to do so. He arches, hips rucking up.]

No.

[ sincerely, but warmly. this is a terrible view, obscured by her body and their clothes, and she would like very much to have a better one.

still unsteady on her arms, she pushes up a little more. this pulls her away from his bosom-nuzzling, but gives her a little more of a vantage. enough to want more again. ]

Herlock... [ she wants to lay down and perhaps doze and drift while his fingers gently work inside her. but... in spite of that, she also wants: ] Undress for me. Let me look at this supple body of yours.

[She's right. It really is a terrible view.

One that's improved when she drifts back, his eyes still tracking her. His own lips glistening and a little swollen from the effort prior. Sholmes' heart does a little flutter in his chest; certainly no one's ever used that word to describe him before. Supple.

His gaze is admiring, taking on a somewhat owlish quality.]

Then we'll have to pull apart.

[Momentarily, anyway.]

[ oh, the greatest trial of all... to genuinely move. she huffs out a breath and does not adjust except to thumb gently along his bottom lip.

hrghhhhh... ]

I will if you will.

[It will indeed be an effort, and more so for her since she's on top and will be the one truly fighting gravity. Sholmes worries pleasantly at his bottom lip as soon as her thumb glances across it. He swallows, lips quirking ever so slightly.]

I'll undress for you completely if you do, yes.

Oh.

[ well, then. she wobbles up with tremendous effort, white-knuckling the back of the chaise as her legs tremble and her head spins. the music has stopped...

and then she thumps back onto her butt. her nightgown falls around his wrist, obscuring everything from him, and let's not pretend it's not a little painful to change positions so abruptly when there's a hand slipped up into her cunt. she winces, unfurling her tail from his cock just to tug his wrist free.

are you not bowled over by her seduction? ]

[Well. He’s not not seduced by her, inelegance or no. As much as she’s plopped back down on her butt, and her nightgown obscures all, there’s still the keen anticipation of more. The promise to undress. What she might wish to do with him after, once he’s borne his unclothed frame to her — and how might it compare to what she’s used to seeing?

But first… the removal of his fingers, sliding out with ease, cooling immediately in the open air of the flat and shining from her arousal. He languidly brings his hand up to the nearest light source—the wall lamp near the fireplace—and inspects what he sees.

Regardless of if her tail is still wrapped around his wrist or otherwise.]

Fascinating.

[ it remains wrapped, though only loosely. in fact, it slides down and hooks over his elbow as he raises his hand to the light. the skin glistens, but there is otherwise nothing of true note. it isn't as though a tiefling's slick is any different from someone else's. ]

Taste it.

[Of course not. (Well, not that he'd know.) But it's fascinating, all the same, in its newness to him.]

Oh?

[The request makes his heart skip a beat, but at this point, he can hardly flush any redder than he already is.]

What a lewd request.

[He says, while immediately bringing his fingers to his lips, then giving two of them a taste. Mouth seaming around both digits, tongue running along the bottom to taste her.]

[ he says that, then doesn't even try to be delicate! leans forward slightly as he obliges, fingers knotting in her nightgown. a little laugh. ]

You always have been bold.

[Sholmes often has the appearance of a gentleman, and will grow up to remain one in many ways; but he is, and always will be, more than ready to get his hands dirty.

Both literally and figuratively, in this case.

His fingers slip from his mouth.]

Because I have always been curious, I'm sure. [In his mind, one follows the other.]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

for once being stuck with younger icons works out for me

hehe

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject