OPEN POST; [ HERLOCK SHOLMES / TGAA ]

[retroductions]

(( hold you in my dreams ))

Comments

[velluminous]

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

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[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. ]

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[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.

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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.

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[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.

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[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.

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[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.

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[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.

[velluminous]

[ he sinks—she watches with a hazy look of interest. ah, like this, then. her entire psyche seems to cry out against it, but Sprezzatura wriggles herself into the corner of the chaise back and arm, then slithers lower and lower until her lower body has begun to hang over the cushion. at once, her body seems to melt. she is grateful for the security of the chaise couching her on either side and behind her back.

curls her tail delicately between her thighs. waiting. ]

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[It's too late if she prefers another position, because there is absolutely no way he's going to be able to crawl back onto the chaise without a titanic, supernatural effort. Situated this way is easier, anyway. He can lean much of his body weight forward, elbows sinking into the cushions if need be, as his hands rest atop her thighs first and foremost.

And the view here? Unparalleled.

From an anatomical standpoint, there is no part of the female sex that is strictly surprising to him, for while he hasn't a doctor's expertise when it comes to the human body, he has a future-detective's enthusiasm concerning the subject. But never did he think that he would be taking note in this way; with his own body spilling with heat, his erection nearly painful between his legs, the sight of her folds and curls and even that little hidden mole so visible to him. There is nothing empirical about this. It is all desire and drive and a tinge of greediness that he wants to touch and indulge in each other's pleasure.

So. His hands then move behind her hips and scoots her forward even closer, until he is perilously close to the vee of her legs, so much that he can turn and (softly) nibble at her inside thigh, taking in her scent while he does so.]

Further examination required, I think.

[velluminous]

[ so nestled that her heart leaps up into her throat even when she can barely summon the strength to hold her own head up. she lays it back against the chaise and sinks her trembling fingers into his hair. that nibbling... her thigh flexes, but she says nothing about it. just a hitch of breath. ]

Breathe deep and ignore nothing.

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And whatever would I ignore?

[The drug has the effect of making his tone sound almost casual despite the presence of his heartbeat in his ears. But he is adamant in being thorough, and while his reply tickles the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, his hand slips between and two fingers gently part her folds. The sense that this is new, experimental, and curious to Sholmes will not go away anytime soon — it's inherent in how he touches her with delicate examination, and how his attention is as keen as his mind will allow.]

Why would I deprive myself of knowing everything I can about you...?

[And with that, he'll not keep her waiting for much longer. Sholmes turns his head, meets his lips against her cunt, intending nothing more specific than that for now — just a plush kiss, a taste. How soft she is.]

[velluminous]

[ soft and beauteously warm. her fingers, which had tightened in his hair when he parted her, now fall slack so they merely lay at the back of his head. even only a kiss is enough to set her heart thumping in a new and painful way.

he has always been like this. oh, what a lucky woman, her. ]

Oh, you are soft.

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[Her relaxation is not lost on him, less tension pulling at the root of his hair. It feels as though he's been given more clearance to move, though this is of course just in his mind; he's just as much freedom as before, to press his lips against her a little more fervently, to part his lips slightly, tasting. Breaking contact with a wet, lurid sound when he speaks.]

Which part of me?

[It's some manner of lazy banter, because surely every bit of his mouth is as soft as the rest — even so, he darts out his tongue to swipe a slow lick experimentally through her folds. The tang of her teases his tongue.]

[velluminous]

All but one.

[ not quite as smoothly as she would have liked to say it—a tremor and a shaky exhale at the end. the sounds of his kisses are nearly as nice as the warmth of them. she thunks her head back on the chaise and lets it loll towards one shoulder, gazing at him askance. look at him... just look. ]

What do you think?

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[Ha. She’s the sort always to have an innuendo loaded on her tongue, isn’t she?

A hum of faux consideration, a low rumble between her legs.]

Hmm…

[velluminous]

Say to me that I taste good.

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But I'd be making a hasty assessment, having hardly tasted you at all.

[The compliment she wishes to hear isn't difficult to earn; it's more so that Sholmes does find himself delighted to play the game of harmless teasing, of pretending that he needs more data before he can give her a positive assessment.]

Indeed, I might be here for quite a while yet before I can tell you one way or another. I assume... that won't be a problem.

[velluminous]