FICLET: Tactile; Arthur/Unnamed female; PG-13
Anon at the inception_kink asked for: suit!porn. for real, you could just lovingly describe the tailoring on arthur's three piece and i would be satisfied.
Originally posted here - I pictured it Arthur/Ariadne because that's how I roll, but it's technically Arthur/unnamed female. 235 words.
He takes off his jacket, carefully folding it over the back of a chair.
That’s how it starts.
She can’t resist reaching out to run a hand over it, feel the contrast between the outer fabric and the silky lining.
She’s always been a very tactile person.
His tie is almost like water between her fingers, and she stops him from reaching up to undo the knot. She loosens it herself, taking a moment to trace along the edge of his collar, ghosting over the skin of his neck.
Arthur can’t quite suppress a shiver.
“Expensive?” she asks as the tie joins the jacket and her nimble fingers skate down over the vest, cotton giving way to wool giving way to silk.
“Very,” he replies, and her lips follow the trail of her fingers. One button, two buttons, slowly, carefully.
Jacket, tie, vest. Cotton, wool, silk. Eyes, fingers, lips. Muscle, sinew and skin beneath fabric. She grabs his wrist, undoing the button there.
At his waist is metal and leather, warmed from his body heat, and she breathes it in and pulls him closer. He’s hard, and his breathing is erratic, but other than that, he remains completely in control. So she continues the game, pants undone, working her way up his shirt, touching every inch of the fabric while only occasionally brushing a finger over skin.
And then -
Non, je ne regrette rien...
Originally posted here - I pictured it Arthur/Ariadne because that's how I roll, but it's technically Arthur/unnamed female. 235 words.
He takes off his jacket, carefully folding it over the back of a chair.
That’s how it starts.
She can’t resist reaching out to run a hand over it, feel the contrast between the outer fabric and the silky lining.
She’s always been a very tactile person.
His tie is almost like water between her fingers, and she stops him from reaching up to undo the knot. She loosens it herself, taking a moment to trace along the edge of his collar, ghosting over the skin of his neck.
Arthur can’t quite suppress a shiver.
“Expensive?” she asks as the tie joins the jacket and her nimble fingers skate down over the vest, cotton giving way to wool giving way to silk.
“Very,” he replies, and her lips follow the trail of her fingers. One button, two buttons, slowly, carefully.
Jacket, tie, vest. Cotton, wool, silk. Eyes, fingers, lips. Muscle, sinew and skin beneath fabric. She grabs his wrist, undoing the button there.
At his waist is metal and leather, warmed from his body heat, and she breathes it in and pulls him closer. He’s hard, and his breathing is erratic, but other than that, he remains completely in control. So she continues the game, pants undone, working her way up his shirt, touching every inch of the fabric while only occasionally brushing a finger over skin.
And then -
Non, je ne regrette rien...