OPEN POST; [ HERLOCK SHOLMES / TGAA ]

[retroductions]

(( hold you in my dreams ))

Comments

[retroductions]

[Oof. Back against the chaise again.]

Ah… I could have done it.

/3

[velluminous]

[ PUN OPPORTUNITY SPOTTED ]

But you can... you should... I am wanting you to also do me.

[velluminous]

Instead.

[velluminous]

[retroductions]

[ajsfkaj;

This is an instance in which the (most obvious) innuendo does not escape him, but instead is so overriden by her flubbed attempt at a pun(?) that he can't help but laugh. Shoulders rising and falling with the effort.]

Would you like to try that again?

[velluminous]

[ YOU LAUGH?? ] No.

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[HE LAUGH]

I see. The wordplay might have fallen short, but the intent did not, at any rate.

[velluminous]

Do not tease. You cannot even sit up.

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Hm.

[ ...

He tries to sit up again. Success dependent upon if she pushes him back down or not.]

[velluminous]

[ well, no, but she still wobbles and clings to him ]

Stop that, you knave!

[retroductions]

[Which means he is only half-successful in his effort, which he then declares boldly (as she clings to him)-]

Am I a knave for this great show of… of…

[Flops back again.]

…strength?

[velluminous]

You are needing to go to bed, not taking me to bed.

[retroductions]

[Mmngh.] But you're not faring much better, either.

[velluminous]

[ there's nothing from her but silence for a moment, as she gazes at him and has the thought, for the first time: should we be doing this?

he's so beautiful and so young. ]

[retroductions]

[And he looks at her with curiosity in turn, able to perceive a notion running through her mind, but not the nature of it.]

What is it?

[velluminous]

[ the idea of pulling away now, of rejecting him now, yet being trapped in this building and this time... humiliated. lonely. and still aching.

yes, she decides. they should do this. ]

I really am fond of you.

[retroductions]

Oh.

[Why does that make him redden anew, almost more than before? Perhaps it is the sincerity of the admission, even though one would assume that there's some mote of fondness between a future them if they are married.

But to hear it spoken after a moment of contemplation is... different, somehow.]

It might be... silly for me to return the sentiment, knowing you only for hours when you have the advantage of far more, but— [Well, with all that they're doing, and as strangely magnetized as he has been around her...] -I think I'm safe in declaring that I, too, am fond of you.

[velluminous]

No. Not silly. No...

[ she sniffs, nuzzles her cheek against the side of his face. catlike in intent. ]

I like to hear that.

[retroductions]

[Affectionate in return for such sentiment. He wonders if she hears such things often from anyone other than his future self.]

...Good. Because it's true. Quite so.

[velluminous]

Oh.

[ it feels so good it begins to ache. another rub, more slowly. she closes her eyes and exhales roughly, honing in on the sound of her own heart, their breathing, the sound of a clock and morning voices on the street outside. ]

I need you doing awful, dirty things to my body now. Herlock.

[retroductions]

[Warm, she's warm and humid where he still cups her, still very aware of every minute movement of her body. He still hasn't bothered to move his hand, even slightly squished between them; why would he?

Finally, the reality of her failed-pun-request manifests in his mind, but where it would have reddened him moments before, there's something about how she says that which makes him simply wish to comply. To please her. To indulge themselves both. His heart beats fast in his chest, so contrarian to the laziness of his limbs.]

Such as my face between your legs?

[velluminous]

[ unmoving, yes, but breathless. a fine tremble through her limbs, especially her arms and her tail. the sheer want she feels—for the younger man, but even more pressingly, for the younger man to be Herlock Sholmes. her husband in spirit if not in body or mind.

this is not how it should be, and yet she feels only a throbbing, hot desire for the fact that it is. yes, want her. feel fond for her. learn her body anew, again.

suddenly, ] Da. Taste all my openings.

[retroductions]

[He isn’t sure he’ll ever feel this way again for how peculiar it is. That heated flare of desire and continued intrigue, mirrored opposite of a lazy comfort. Time itself moves slowly yet has sharpened its needlepoint to this one moment, this one person. It’s dreamlike. Surreal.

He finds he wants the same things as her, and he has no desire to question it.]

As the lady wishes. Then…

[Oh, the very hard part. Rearranging oneself.]

You sit. Back against the chaise.

[velluminous]

[ for Sprezzatura, it is as simple as surrendering to the lure of gravity. her insides so knotted with anticipation that her chest hurts, but how simple for her to list to the side and lay back on the cushions. no more holding herself upright.

instead, with great relief, she sighs out and then pulls her thighs up to show him what lays between. she wants to watch the investigation play out across his face: thighs, cunt, curls, that secret mole. ]

Look.

[retroductions]

[Ah. Have no doubt that he's looking. Though he's already vaguely explored between her legs with his fingers, it's quite different when she purposefully displays herself to him like this. All of it, slick and slightly swollen and so very inviting. He would lean in, but there's no hurry to do so—he'll be in quite close sooner rather than later, besides—and instead he... begins to ease himself off the edge of the chaise. Slowly. More like oozing down onto the floor than with any mote of grace, but a man does what he can.]

I am — but I wish to see closer. Come sit on the edge of the cushion.