DEDICATED HENRATURRA POST;

[vecna]

(( when the sun sets, we're both the same ))

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[vecna]

[If he took the effort to peer into her thoughts, he’d declare that she’s overthinking it. But maybe only the ghost of those notions brush past his mind, too busy kissing her to note otherwise.

The same gentle kisses; her touch framing his jaw. He hums satisfaction and a question both — more? His hand squeezes at her rear. His other is still kept prisoner.]

[velluminous]

[ an inhale, a sigh. still frowning in her brows, but she sinks into him, folding her arm around his shoulders. a firmer touch.

she loves when he holds her like this. her own value has never felt so keen as when Henry Creel melts into her this way, all soft sounds in his soft voice. hands that are gentle and intelligent, the way he has memorized how she likes to be touched. her answer is, at first, that sigh through her nose. Sprezzatura arches so that her backside pushes into his palm. then her tail unwinds, freeing him for the other cheek.

murmured, barely above a whisper, between those languid kisses, ] If you find my panties, I will give you treat.

[ she's not letting this go. ]

[vecna]

[As if he'd not want to play this game.

In fact, nearly as soon as her tail uncurls from his wrist, that same hand drifts down on finds it perch on her opposite cheek, feeling with twice as much enthusiasm as though to make up for what it had been missing. He does have the curve of her memorized at this point, yes, though that hardly makes it less compelling to explore her ad infintum.

But she teases him, and he smiles, kissing and murmuring.]

What kind of treat?

[velluminous]

Anything you are wanting.

[ and how her nerves flutter. they practically sing wherever he touches them. Sprezzatura shivers and hitches her breath over and over as Henry palms her, pressing her cheek to the side of his neck for a moment. ah. mn. her trousers feel too tight between her legs. ]

[vecna]

[She gives him clearance, then, to rest his chin on her shoulder, as if he could cast his gaze down and see the way he palms her backside. He can't very well, but he can try.]

Oh? Don't overpromise, Ms Vaux.

[Her trousers might feel a little bit higher now, because Henry attempts to slip his fingers down the band. Skin-on-skin touch. And most likely no sign of those panties on entry.]

[velluminous]

[ she's small enough he might be able to glimpse enough... especially with how she seams herself against him, as if trying to sinks into him, when he dips his fingers beneath.

not very far, though. her trousers have a high waist and it sits snug around her. there's very little leeway for a wayward hand without opening the buttons. her spine tingles.

no sign of those panties she speaks of. ]

Your mind went somewhere, hmmm?

[vecna]

[Just enough to glimpse at how his fingers can’t quite slide down as much as he’d like, the waistband too snug to offer much more clearance.]

Somewhere very obscene, yes. You always drag my thoughts there.

[Moves one hand to slip between them and work at the fastenings of her trousers instead.]

Is that a problem?

[velluminous]

[ her voice hitches at his throat as she answers: ] Where has it gone?

[vecna]

[With that teasing amusement of his that she should know so well.] To places that would definitely wake up the rest of our little family.

[velluminous]

Don't tease me if we cannot do it.

[vecna]

Oh, but we could... if you think you could be quiet.

[By now, he's properly undone the front of her trousers, and one hand snakes around to the back to properly slip in and feel at the curve of a cheek. Squeezes.]

[velluminous]

[ her skin is feverishly warm, as though their time outdoors has put her body into overdrive. she slumps against his shoulder at the squeeze, a little sigh. it is so much better to be skin on skin ]

I hate being quiet.

[vecna]

[She is almost always untenably warm to Henry. Good thing affection and happy associations make it actually tenable instead.]

How come?

[velluminous]

I want how I am feeling to be known and heard. So much of my life I am told be quiet, girl.

[vecna]

[Oh.]

I see. You want to be defiant. Me, I kept the habit.

[Lab and whatnot, you know.]

[velluminous]

Your quiet voice is beautiful. I love it. But...

[vecna]

But what?

[velluminous]

[velluminous]

I am wishing I could hear it moaning more often.

[vecna]

[That moment of hesitation. He chuckles, pleased.]

Is that embarrassing to admit to?

[velluminous]

You give me hard times.

[vecna]

I’m really not this time. [This time.] You know you can share with me anything and everything you enjoy.

[velluminous]

I enjoy... [ eurgh. ] your voice. I say this already. It is so soft and gentle, like breath down my back. Like butterfly wings.

[vecna]

[The soft and gentle side of his voice, the low intonations of kindness and consideration that are partly a mask, partly just the remnants of a young, awkward boy forced to grow up quickly, and partly sincere — the latter applying more often with her than not.]

Oh? Do you like it when I speak to you sweetly?

[He turns his head, letting the words practically whisper into her ear. Meanwhile, his hands have not forgotten their challenge of trying to find any hint of her panties. They dip in lower, his fingers molding to her curves, groping. Squeezing. And... if he can, gently, very gently, parting.]

Like this, Sprezzatura?

[velluminous]

[ precisely like that. her entire spine tingles with a jolt of pleasure, a thrill that he indulges her something so simple, so undoing. his voice silk on the nerves. she shivers, conspicuous, and drapes against him more completely than before. ]

Da. No one alive would not like it.

[ his hands, too, are a pleasure. making her heart thump. seems that she is not wearing panties at all. there is only warm, flushed skin beneath his cupping hands. a slight arch comes into her spine when he parts her. ]

Ah...