finalflight | OPEN POST; [ HERLOCK SHOLMES / TGAA ]

[He won’t hide the way his gaze traces down the full curve of her cleavage, and she has quite a bit to display. His flushed and somewhat flustered state may be sincere, especially expecting outside of the bulwark of deduction, but Sholmes is rarely ever ashamed. And he isn’t now.]

I would like to examine you more closely.

[ oh, yes, Sholmes and her bosom. she takes a deep breath, which lifts the fat and that deep shadow in between, and catches his chin by the claws of her hand. lifts it. ]

First... [ as she seals her mouth to his throat: ] Come closer...

[Oh. Angled like that, she might see— no, feel how his throat bobs as he swallows down what feels like his heart.]

Am I not already sitting so intimately close?

[And yet there he goes, tilting himself in even more, shifting his hips forward, too, to find a half-centimeter more closeness.]

[ warm iron aching and straining into her belly. she loves that feeling; finds it incongruently soothing. so long long as the body desires her, things are not so amiss.

her hands snake about to his backside, which she palms once to feel the tightness of his trousers stretching over each cheek. ]

Mmmh. [ suction and pressure at his pulse. pop! and release. ] Even closer than that.

[Every movement of hers is torture, every millimeter of friction turning him molten. Enough that he feels he might really melt against her and becoming nothing short of useless, and the only thing keeping him upright is his desire.

Makes a low yet keening noise as she sucks and releases. Her hands at his backside should be delighted, for the material pulls tight when he frames his thighs around her middle like this.]

Any more and we might merge into one.

[ delighted they are. she palms him there a few times, utterly without shyness, and noses up beneath his jaw. huffed laugh. ]

Is that not what good husbands and wives do?

[RED-FACED AGAIN, heart jumping wildly in his chest.]

I... I suppose...

[ what a reward that colour is. Sprezzatura rubs the side of her face against his once more, nice and slow. still holding his butt. even only this feels transcendently pleasant to her drug-addled brain. ]

What do you wish to do? We can do it. Only it.

[Oh, oh god. Don't make him think that far ahead to where all of this might lead. He might combust if he had to consider in detail what it is couples do with and to each other behind closed doors. And while this should not make him feel so shy—this is his apparent wife, after all, and he should not be embarrassed by the notion—this is still very new and she's very, very attractive, and all of it is pulling his mind down one very salacious path that makes it hard to think.

He should hate being not able to think. This time, it isn't so bad.

Sholmes ends up speaking without any real filter.]

My dear girl, I think right now, I only wish to touch you... bare skin to bare skin.

Haah... you will.

[ not yet, but soon. she would laugh if she knew how far ahead his mind keeps surging, only to struggle back in embarrassment and shyness. even she isn't thinking so strongly of nakedness and fornication, of spreading herself on him, of his musician's fingers... toying inside...

...

ah-hhhh. ]

Start with my neck.

[I have no doubt that both of their minds are going end up wending down the exact same path and end in the exact same destination....

Her neck. Dumbly, perhaps (we will always blame the opium), both hands rise and trail the tips of his fingers from the sides of her neck and behind, lacing them there and leaning forward, taking in scent, softness, warmth.]

[ that feels... nice. yes, that's what she wanted. his fingers tickle through the fine hairs at her nape, causing those on her arms to stand on end. she exhales roughly and hangs her hand from one of Sholmes' wrists. the better to encourage he keep touching, tracing. ]

Like that...

[The touching is addictive, the sensorial softness and warmth just beneath his fingertips. He thinks he can feel her pulse, perhaps, when she drags those fingers forward again, then back.]

You're... very warm.

[tiefling-warm]

Little devil, me.

[ tiefling-warm. heartbeat thrumming happily beneath his hands. she enjoys the cupping sensation of them on either side, neither squeezing nor pushing, simple in their want to hold.

her tail has moved to hold at the small of his back. ostensibly to keep him arched into her where she can feel the steady ache of his erection resting on her. ]

I like this.

[Her parallels to devilry run the gamut. The tail, horns, her scent, her body temperature. Maybe even how easily she's seduced him into slotting himself so close against her, touching her, kissing her...

Oh, his erection still strains against his trousers. As long as he's touching her—and as long as his cock is touching her, in a way—then he's going to remain hard. Unsated, though perhaps he's not realized that himself just yet.

Drifts his hands across and behind her neck again, almost-massaging. Feeling the fine hairs, taking note of the hue of her skin.]

Being adulated, as I said...

Da.

[ a breathy sigh, because she is at least deeply aware of him and the focus he places on her instead. it's becoming more and more difficult to understand why she was so upset not so long ago... ]

Does this make me predictable woman?

Very many people who both enter and exit my life are predictable.

[Such is the blessing and the curse of a great detective, or a great detective to be.]

But you… [Cups the back of her neck again, fingers undulating gently with pressure. As though he plays an invisible string instrument.] …I hardly think I mind it at all. And I believe you’ve the capacity to surprise me yet.

[Again.]

[ that feels so good that she nearly melts utterly into the chaise. her knees, brought up behind him, begin to slide lower as she relaxes.

dreamily, ] Oh, I am having plans for you.

Edited 2025-03-05 15:07 (UTC)

[It's pleasurable for him, too, to watch her melt under his touch. Of course he continues, just subtle-pressure ministrations up and down the back of her neck.]

Do you? Then show me.

Da.

[ she'll show him. permission given, she curves her arms around his back and lifts, clumsily, bracing him close and with one hand dipping beneath his thigh. she turns, then, both she and him, and moves to lay him back on the chaise cushions. her above. ]

[She'll find it is exceptionally easy to lay him down, because he is already given to being a useless blob right now, anyway; only curiosity and growing lust motivates Sholmes at this point, and neither are getting in the way of him being rearranged by her so intimately.

So, laying flat against his back, with her above. Like this, his blood really does feel like it's rushed straight to his head. He blinks up at her, swallowing.]

And now...?

[ he's so... pliant. she loves that. ]

Now...

[ she holds her hand up to his mouth, an offer for him to kiss the graceful, ink-spotted knuckles ]

[How is it that this somehow feels just as intimate as kissing her on the lips? His flush bolsters—perhaps never to be banished at this point—but for once, there’s no slight moment of pause, no quick fire assessment.

He kisses her knuckles, knowing what she’s asking, feather-light.]

Good boy...

[ Mammon, that's pretty. she looks on as though transfixed, while her free hand presses down on his chest and holds her above. not for long. all her body wants is to recline. ]

You may remove my coat.

[ his coat ]

[She’s such a slight frame, but solid. Ample muscle mass beneath those clothes, his buzzing, observing mind notes.

Remove her… coat? His coat.]

I’ve been witness to what’s beneath already.

[This, however, does not halt him from reaching up to shuffle her (his) coat down her shoulders-]

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