finalflight | OPEN POST; [ HERLOCK SHOLMES / TGAA ]

[ oh, but at the mention, she craves it again. another puff. that warm languidness. how it was to linger on the knife's edge of a change between them and feel the charge in the air skate across her skin.

grunting, she tugs her tail out from its painful bend beneath her. the face of conceiving, perhaps, that he will be a one pump chump. so to speak. ]

This is mistake...

[WOW HE MIGHT LAST LONGER THAN THAT--]

Hm. I don't think so.

[Says the guy who gets to fuck a beautiful woman. It is an experiment, a curiosity at its most empirical; and a simple glimpse into the connection that they might share in the future at its most sentimental.

Lowers himself to kiss at the corner of her mouth when she moves her tail aside. The warm press of his cock against her is impossible to miss like this.]

It's me wanting... desperately to know my wife better.

[ this is a teenage boy, a boy with a lightning mind, his curiosity piqued for the first time, discovering a desire to unravel and learn of things he had never seen the need for prior. and he is very high.

the off-aimed kiss. the slender line of heat straining against her inner thigh. her heart flutters; Sprezzatura closes her eyes and kisses the corner of his mouth in return. ]

Ahh. You pose good argument.

[ does he???

either way, wriggling now to get her legs up on either side of his hips. an easy way in. ]

[TMW YOU REALIZE SHOLMES STILL HAS HIS PANTS MOSTLY ON-]

Irrefutable.

[Is it.

While she wiggles, her legs seeking the frame him, he realizes he must at least push his trousers and aught with them down. This, too, is a bit of a clumsy struggle, his hips wiggling to shuffle them down, down... He manages, though, via sheer determination. The heat of him nudges against her the entire time.]

[ she'd nearly think he's doing it on purpose. to drive her out of her mind. clumsy hands begin the work of his blouse, long after he requested its removal.

all but growling, all but whining, ] Bare to me, bare to me. Show me every inch.

[He barely manages to get his pants shuffled down to his thighs, before he can free up his arms to try to... wiggle out of his shirt as she undoes each button. Sorry. The wiggling is just inevitable and unavoidable, but moreso since he's going to have to try to get out of his sleeves once able to.]

I will, I'm going to...

[A strange hurried eagerness, bolstered by her words. Need this shirt... off... now.]

[ the instant it falls open, she's sliding her hands beneath the panels to feel at taut, smooth, young skin. all of his clumsiness compounded by her own. she doesn't mind the wiggling; she's wriggling, too. ]

Da, da, da—

[Her hands rove, leaving a sensorial trail of warmth, and it feels good… Not even the ridge of an old scar beneath her palms, collected from old cases, from this version of Sholmes. He has not yet experienced them.

With greatest effort, he frees his arms. Tosses his shirt aside with minimal effort, and it ends up hanging off the edge of the chaise.]

There—

[Triumphant. She can now adore his frame, which is lithe and young and familiar to what she may remember.]

[ tabula rasa.

taut and lithe... young, yes. the frame beneath is the same. the appeal now, though—

hha. without pausing, she starts pushing at his trousers, and her claws leave pink trails at his hips. this is not bared! ]

Hurry and stuff me full, Herlock. Herlock—

[ she likes prompting his blush ]

Edited 2025-07-06 05:55 (UTC)

[She's definitely seeing him blush, spreading so deeply and completely it's as though he were never a less erythristic color at all.

And how easy it would be to relax in the great effort of finally freeing himself of his clothes, to let his limbs feel heavy and weighed down by the ever-present lingering of the drug. But the sting at his hips is poignant, making each moment feel alive and eminent, each second existing only to press forward into the next and do as she says. To work quickly.

He wants to feel her wrapped around him; his clumsiness and experience are hardly ever barriers to experimentation, and this is nothing different. It's an awkward shuffle to arrange himself at just the right angle, sitting up just enough to grasp at his cock and align himself with her entrance, its head nudging up against her wet heat and pressing in. Hips pushing forward so that she might accept him.]

Ms Vaux— [Even something as plain as her name on his lips feels so lewd right now.] Let me feel the... the shape of you.

[ yes yes yes yes yes!! the sound she makes now is one of exultation; relief at the pivotal moment finally coming to pass. it's wonderful. he's so good to her.

a little pressure, a push... he slips inside easy inches at a time. mmh, perfect union. ]

Here you are. Here you are—

[ one leg hiking up against the back of the chaise. grace and poise mean little when what she wants most is to have him hilted and straining inside. ]

[Inside of her, finally. Surrounded all over. The feeling is both new and overwhelming, but both were expected, and therefore, he doesn't make a...

-completely embarrassing noise, half exhale and half groan, as he hilts himself to a stop. Perfect union, indeed. He cares little for grace and poise, either, not when she angles himself so beautifully around his cock as she lifts up her leg even higher.

Sholmes pushes his hips forward, as though to make sure he's in as far as he can manange, his heart going mad inside his chest. She's almost too soft inside, how is any man expected to make this last overlong? One hand braces his palm against the back of the chaise, nails digging in slightly against the fabric.]

Good god [what if i wrote "by jove" there instead jay], you feel inexplicable-

[ but she wants the embarrassing noises!! she wants the whimpers she built up in her head since first kissing him, the pathetic and needy sounds she has decided he would make, that her husband of tomorrow never does. too busy laughing, smiling, gasping, to whimper.

she wants them... so badly... sounds like the one she makes as he rolls his hips against her, a bubbly rough sound in her throat becoming an outright moan, ragged and wanting and lacking in all shame. millimeters more. ]

Ohhh, suss it out, you amateur!

A...amateur?

[Almost disbelieving, almost dinging at his pride, a task easier to accomplish at this age. But maybe this only works to stoke his fire further, enough to temporarily push aside the overwhelm and ease out just enough to push back in, harder. That soft friction, the sound their connection makes...]

I'm no such thing.

[He is absolutely the very definition of one.

An arm slips behind her, tries to pull them both into a tight embrace, seamed together. His hips trying to find a clumsy rhythm.]

Inexperience does not mean in... incapable. I'll feel out every inch of you.

Amateur! Amateur!

[ giggling as she says it—what counts for her as giggling. she loves the embrace he forces her into, so perfectly caught in his arms that she forgets to complain. her body is mired down yet by the opium, wanting to tug her back into the cushions, and so the embrace pulls her against that urge, leaving her pleasurably, eventually painfully, on the verge of either.

thighs wide, sinful sight and sound at their apex. his thrusts are so staggered and uneven... groans into his shoulder, wriggling in his grip. ]

How many inches is this?

[Why is she asking such a ridiculous question? Is it to goad him? Surely his anatomy is not surprising to her at this point, given that she should be well familiar with it in the future. She must be teasing — that giggling of hers gives it away, poking at his poor pride again and again.

But as before, this only ever encourages him.]

Does it— [A hard thrust this time, shaking the chaise. Almost a mistake, for the wave of stimulation that crashes through him after. His next word is barely a word.] -matter? Enough to fill you.

Ha—auuw!

[ oh! that's hard! she spasms, legs jumping, and her breath comes out of her with a sudden stop. every single inch that he is is wrapped in wet velvet heat, snug and squeezing, tugging gently on his length with her heartbeat.

the side of her face nestles into Sholmes' neck. she's so tight in his hold that he'll feel the minute arch of her back and how she tries to hug her inner thighs to his hips. ohhh, she wants to lay down for this. but he holds her upright, and the weakness of the drug turns it into its own strained pleasure. she feels... everything. ]

You are crawling into me—

OPEN POST; [ HERLOCK SHOLMES / TGAA ]

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