finalflight | OPEN POST; [ HERLOCK SHOLMES / TGAA ]

[He is not as apathetic as he seems, and certainly not as unaffected as he'd like to be. But such thoughts are very far away, long tossed aside — he looks at her entire form, finally and freely. Barely any clothing to halt the imagination of how her naked body may appear, even if there was not much left to it at all.

One hand cannot help but hover beneath her forearm bracing herself against the chaise, as though she might topple over at any moment he should steady her if she does. But his eyes trail down between her legs, where he's left her wet and slightly swollen, filling in the mental details when he could only guess at them with what he could feel with his fingers and palm.

Sholmes swallows hard, blinking.]

And... third.

[Was he the one supposed to be undressing? He's forgotten about that.]

[ no shyness, just wobble. dark, damp curls, violin hips, a soft belly. yes, he has made her wet. and yes, as she stands here nude while he regards her, still in dressed, she can feel the thump of desire between her legs. ]

Third?

[He doesn't know what he's saying at this point. Words are secondary to the vision that is her body — her flushed and wet arousal, yes, but also just... the rest of her.]

...Yes. However many more impressions you may give me for the rest of this day.

[And in the future, no doubt, several more. His hand at her shoulder travels down, no hesitation as it roves past the full curve of a breast and down farther, farther still. Beyond torso and the hitch of her hip and sinking down lower to cup her between her legs. Again.]

Enciting as they are... somehow, you've found yourself the one fully undressed, Ms Vaux.

[ stretch marks, moles, claws, and all. when he cups her, she closes her eyes and sways a little. if he's paying closer attention, her heartbeat greets his fingertips. Sprezzatura just focuses on their warmth. ]

Mmh. [ eyes open again, now in mock surprise ] Have I?

[The sharp edges of his usual awareness might be temporary dulled right now, but he’s still observant by default — as much as his senses will allow. And keyed in as he is to her, how can he not notice?

Her arousal pulses with her heart, just like his own. Straining and currently neglected. Still, easily ignored for now as he slides the long length of a finger through her folds.]

I think so. [Quirks a brow at her mock surprise.] However did that happen?

[ she feigns a naked curtsy, holding aloft invisible skirts. wobbles. those fingers of his... she would not mind humping them. who said that? ]

My mistake, sir.

[With a motion like that, she nearly does. He can feel the slide of her cunt against his palm, warm and slick. It's tempting to just slip a finger inside of her again, though he miraculously keeps on track with his original intent, smiling a little lopsidedly.]

Will you be kind enough to help me remove my shirt, then, dear girl?

Da.

[ she falls upon him eagerly, with hands far less skilled than his own. clumsily fumbling buttons while her tail wends around between her legs and begins to coil about his wrist. ]

[He's more than willing to be patient and allow her all the time she needs to fumble his shirt open. It gives him leeway to lean back against the back of the chaise again—a satisfied exhale upon doing so—while still keeping his hand cupped between her legs, just to feel. No reason other than that, beyond the fact that she appears to encourage it with the winding of her tail around his wrist.]

Thank you...

[And yet, given the opportunity, he can't help himself: he pushes up a little with his palm, a gentle rub.]

[ to see him recline like that is erotic in its way; she likes to see him relax, she likes the way he sounds so pleased, and yet he's unable to want, even to ask, to draw his hand... away...

ahh. she spreads both hands on his sternum and widens her stance. just a little. ]

You make it difficult to undress you.

[Likely she'll never see him as relaxed as he is now, that's for certain. Sholmes is always full of energy, and even when he's moping there's still a sharp edge of awareness to him. Now? He might as well be a useless blob lying on the chaise, and one that presses his back into the cushions with equal ease as she pushes against his chest.]

Hm. Do you want me to stop?

[Touching her. He very much doubts it, and the tiniest curve to his lips suggests it.]

[ hers is not a voice suited to giggling, but that is what she does, and slips forward to straddle his lap.

his clothes are abandoned. she's tired of standing. ]

You are very smug young man.

[The press of her is warm and welcome, the nearness strangely exciting even if it’s not the first time she’s been so close. Also, he’s still not making the effort to move his hand unless urged otherwise, even if that means it’s now sandwiched between both of their bodies.]

Not at all.

[Sometimes.]

Am I not being accommodating enough?

[ one hand, nearly impish, toys with his nipple through the fabric of his half-opened blouse. ]

Truly accommodating man would be on his hands and knees begging to taste what you cannot stop touching.

[Feels nice... he exales pleasantly. The luridness of her request doesn't seem to even register just yet.]

Oh, if you want me on my hands and knees right now, I doubt I'd be able to stay very much upright.

[Look at how useless he is.]

But that's never a reason to not try.

[ not as much reaction as she'd hoped. but, still... she toys at him. the room feels very exposed with her body bare to it. ]

You are barely upright now.

[Don't worry. It's simply because it has no registered in his addled mind, taken over instead by the challenge of trying to sit up.]

Watch me...

[Tries with great effort to sit up!! He manages with a wobble, but ends up just leaning forward against her instead.]

[ wobbles, too. and pushes him back with a faint laugh, all curled up close against him. ]

Stay as you were...

[Oof. Back against the chaise again.]

Ah… I could have done it.

[ PUN OPPORTUNITY SPOTTED ]

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

Instead.

[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?

[ YOU LAUGH?? ] No.

[HE LAUGH]

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

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