finalflight | OPEN POST; [ HERLOCK SHOLMES / TGAA ]

[ 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?

[ a small nod, forehead-to-forehead. if she braces her knees a little wider, it is nothing short of blissful to arch her back and lift up just so, and then a little more, and even more, until she can feel the ridge of the head of his cock stretching her just inside. a pleasant moment, hanging in the balance where he is on the very verge of slipping out of her—

and then, relief. a sigh. she sinks down onto him again. ]

[It is one extraordinary tease when she lifts up just slowly enough to suggest at removing herself completely — no, he doubts she would, but wouldn’t that drive him mad? To be hugged by her after so long of being deprived, only to be without again?

He’d have to beg her to continue. He would, too, his pride hardly an issue. In fact, the thought might be a bit exciting—

But then she slips back down, and Sholmes can’t help but raise his hips again to meet her, to sink in completely with not a millimeter wasted. God, that warm, slick friction, his cockhead rubbing against her walls the entire journey… Maybe she’ll drive him mad, all the same. He murmurs against her, low- ]

Oh, you are divine.

[ in response, she tightens the hug of her arms around his shoulders. ]

Yes... [ the gentle alignment of their bodies. hearts beating together, one into the other into the first. with her eyes closed, she can focus on his firmness inside her, and how nicely it pushes on her the entire long slide back in. ] Slowly.

[ up, slick and slow, as she said. the head just inside her cunt, then a steady, all-engulfing sink. repeat. repeat. repeat. each time a little wetter than the last. ]

You feel just as I remember.

Slowly?

[Ahh, she may be taking it slow, but his nerves are on fire, a conflagration growing with each lift and descent. How could he have lived without her for more than a few days at a time? He's such a fool, truly, and his own grip tightens around her for a moment, before clumsily slipping both hands between them—even if it's a tight squeeze—to fondle her breasts.]

Slowly is torture, my love. [Not a complaint. He can feel her getting wetter and wetter, and he can only imagine how his cock twitches with nearly every upstroke now. No, he doesn't need to imagine it. It is.]

But it is feeling so nice...

[ there is plenty to fondle, and for him, she'll rise up onto her elbows somewhat to give him the space for it, presses down on his hands laced with hers. flushed and warm, her hair falling in a curtain to one side. when she glances down between them, she sees the goosebumps rising on both of their bodies. ]

Change our tempo whenever you please.

[Handfuls to fondle, to squeeze and to feel how the generous fat adjusts to his wandering touch. The way her hair falls seems to frame them, to make this moment even more private and secret than it is, already hidden away behind locked doors.]

Oh, but I wonder if I should take it as a challenge to endure ["endure"] the pace you're setting for me now? A great detective never shies away from one.

[...He says this as he, naturally, as he arches himself up and into her, twice in succession and quickly the wonderful feeling of really sinking in deeply as she bounces atop him like little fireworks along his nerve endings.]

Then again, I am often called impulsive by others...

[ oop! she bounces atop him with as much grace as can be expected—which is to say, nearly none, but she smiles widely and spreads her knees wide to brace herself so she can follow the ups and downs of his thrusting...

only twice? ]

Hmm? So, what do you think?

[Only twice, because...]

I think...

[Okay, thrusts his hips up a couple more times, like he's lingering in the sensation of sinking into her fully against and again from this angle, before his hands grip at her sides and he makes an attempt to flip them over!

...She's stronger than him, and he's just a noodly twink, but if he succeeds, his body presses against hers, instead.]

I can't make up my mind.

[ strength has no bearing when she likes the idea of being turned on her back. and indeed she does—so much so that she kicks her ankles high in the air on either side of his hips, nearly flushed from the pleasure of his depth.

a lithe man, but still a man. his weight presses his length into her. it's inexorable. like being outfitted with the most realistic daydream. ah. ]

I make it up for you. [ breathy ] Defy those expectations of your peers who cannot fathom their Great Consulting Detective, Herlock Sholmes, in this way.

[Sheathed completely, the only space between them created via his elbows, propped up on them, yet still very close. Here, like this, she can see there, concurrent with his usual spark of energy, exists proof of his lust — pupils blown wide.]

Mm, maybe so. Those who think I've not a romantic bone in my body.

[Or is so uninterested in sexual matters that they never ping on his radar, minus the times where they're relevant to a case at hand — and usually only because they're someone else's folly. But no, that could not be farther from the truth. At least, it certainly became the truth itself not terribly long after he met her in Reverie.

Sholmes thrusts into her without preamble, their bodies still hewn closely together. For now, this closeness is enough, and the warm pleasure that rolls through his body is incalculable.]

Those who believe that I've not an eye for any woman, no matter how beautiful she may be.

[Those who would not ever believe that the great detective Herlock Sholmes is married.]

[ he looks lust-drunk, and so does she. she stretches and reaches her arms above her head, splaying fingertips against the headboard. his thrusts are warm and wet, pleasantly lewd to the ear, and she doesn't answer right away in her preference to listen. ]

Mhhh. You are very romantic.

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WHERE DID MY NOTIF GO

SADCAT

ratshakes

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