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"I'm not sleeping on the floor," Tewkesbury scoffed, looking pointedly down at the floor in question, "The fact we're standing on it is bad enough."
Enola rolled her eyes at him, but she did acquiesce to them sharing the bed. Though not quite what he'd been aiming for, Tewkesbury would take it. His room across town would still be there come morning, as would Enola, perhaps more amendable to his proposition after a night sharing such little space.
Neither were, unfortunately, the only thing waiting for him when he woke up. Tewkesbury's breath caught in his throat, his lashes fluttering when he took in their state, and his... predicament.
They'd gone to sleep on their sides, facing away from each other. Enola lay sprawled across him now, half on top, her leg hooked around his. Tewkesbury lay perfectly still on his back, fully aware Enola was only moments away from realizing how 'stiff' he'd grown in his sleep.
She shifted, head burrowing into his shoulder. Her knee brushed over him and Tewkesbury gasped. Head falling back against the pillow, he swallowed, voice cracking as he whispered her name.
By some miracle, Enola didn't wake. Not then. Oh no, instead she curled around him even more, her body flush against his own. Tewkesbury whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut.
Perhaps he could simply... will it away. Think of less pleasant things than Enola's warmth. The fingers curled in his shirt. Her undergarments drying by the fire...
A faint throb assured him his efforts proved not just fruitless, but counter productive. Even if he could disentangle himself from Enola, her accommodations did not include a private toilet where he might relieve himself.
"Tewkesbury?" Enola mumbled, nosing at his throat. Her lashes fluttered over his skin and a quiet moan slipped from his lips.
In the next moment, Enola was up, pinning him to the bed. Her eyes wide and chest heaving as she startled awake. Regrettably, she'd taken up a position in his lap. Straddling him.
Cursing softly, Tewkesbury flushed crimson, waiting for Enola to freak out, to get angry. She did neither though.
As with everything else, Enola reacted far outside his expectations.
She laughed, in fact, patting lightly at his chest as she took a breath, "Right. I had forgotten we were sharing."
Still, Enola remained perched in his lap, wearing little more than a long shirt. A poor replacement for a dressing gown, and thin at that. With the morning light pouring in, Tewkesbury had a rather excellent picture of her body's true shape.
Subtle curves, small breasts. Certainly not a boy, but neither did she match the exaggerated proportions of the lady's dress she'd worn the day before.
His heart pounding in his chest, Tewkesbury knew he ought to look away, ought to alert her to such immodesty and turn his head. He remained quiet, his mouth inordinately dry.
Throat bobbing, his gaze raked over her, again and again, drinking in every detail he could. Right down to the little nipples poking up agains the fabric.
How she hadn't felt him by now Tewkesbury couldn't fathom. He'd never been this hard before in his life. Not ever.
"Enola?" he managed to croak. Tewkesbury cringed at the sound, well aware of how thick his voice had become, and not from sleep. His throat hoarse for another reason.
"Are you sick?" Enola furrowed her brow and leaned forward. Her hand rising to cup his face as the other remained on his chest.
Palm over his heart, Tewkesbury was certain she could feel it racing.
Watching her though his lashes, he found his view much improved. The collar of her shirt quite wide. He could see right down.
Her breasts skimmed over his chest, hanging down. A handful each, he'd guess. No more, no less. No extra fuss. Just like Enola herself really.
A whine slipped out, his eyes rising to the ceiling as his hips rose up of their own accord. A moan soon followed.
The friction was equisite. A moist warmth pressing down on him. Like nothing else he'd ever felt before, staggeringly better than his hand.
It clicked a moment later, when Enola's breathy gasp filtered through the haze in his head. Her fluttering lashes and parted lips. The pink on her lips.
All at once, the reality crashed down on him, and Tewkesbury flipped them. Enola gasped again. A little squeak she muffled in the back of her hand, eyes wide again.
"You... you're aroused?" Tewkesbury panted above her, hands braced on either side of her head. His gaze flicked over her body again. An even easier endeavor now, with her beneath him, her shirt clinging to all the right spots. Or... wrong ones.
"So are you!" Enola accused him, nearly stammering. He groaned.
It was growing painful, being like this. This... hard. Especially with Enola soft beneath him. His body craddled between her legs.
"Shall we... assist each other?" Enola cleared her throat, chin rising up, even with her face burning a decidely deep shade of red.
It was almost cute, how proper she tried to be, even with her hair splayed out on the pillow and her shirt riding up a bit when she bent her legs. Tewkesbury envied her the composure and then descended on her.
Enola gasped once more when he kissed her. Hands quickly rose to cup his face then, her fingers sinking into his hair as he licked into her mouth. He started to grind against her.
His knowledge of female anatomy minimal, and of female pleasure... entirely nonexistent really. But he'd read a romance or two. Heard the boys at school talking about their visits to prostitutes.
Men and women, their bodies slot together for a reason. So it couldn't be that hard to figure out, surely.
"We must... must be careful," Tewkesbury stammered, nosing at her cheek. Their foreheads pressed together. "I mustn't..."
He trailed off as his hands trailed over her sides. Enola shivered when he cupped a breast.
A perfect handful, just as he'd guessed.
Enola choked on his name. Her back arching into his touch. Her hips shifting forward.
Never had he been so happy to have slept in his trousers The undergarments Enola had on far from enough. Far from innocent. Thin panties. A bit of lace. Not knickers.
He wondered, vaguely, if she wore them on purpose. If she knew what they were, or if she'd trusted her unscrupulous landlady's word for what ladies wore.
A hand found one of his, dragging it down between their bodies. "Here!" Enola moaned as their fingers brushed over the damp fabric between her legs. He pressed in, finding a small bud right at the crux.
With every twitch of his finger, Enola's body jolted. Her eyes wide as he slid his hand downwards. His thumb circled the bud while his fingers ghosted over the moist folds of her most private parts.
She inhaled sharply and his gaze snaped to her face. Tewkesbury swallowed, "Should I stop?" Enola shook her head, almost frantic, and raised her hips.
Fingers sliding deeper, Tewkesbury watched with rapt attention as he brought Enola Holmes to her release. Her pretty features twisting with pleasure. Pleasure that came from his touch.
It's decidely quick, after, when he takes himself in hand. Enola watched him do it. Her gaze heavy as Tewkesbury stroked himself to completion. A few quick pumps and ribbons of white decorate Enola's shirt.
"M-may I?" Enola actually stammered and Tewkesbury furrowed his brows. His head far too foggy to understand what she's asking, even as her hand drifted down.
She replaced his hand with her own, her calloused fingers working up and down his shaft. The flaccid member twitched.
Enola traced a finger up the underside. Her touch gentle as she teased the foreskin rising over the head. Tewkesbury hummed, eyes fluttering closed when the pad of her finger slid across the slit.
"If... if you keep doing that, I might go again," Tewkesbury choked out. He tried to laugh, to force out a chuckle, but all that came out was a loan moan.
"Really?" Enola asked, voice soft, a faint whisper, "I thought... I thought men could only do that once, and then they had to wait. A refractory period."
He did laugh then. Nearly giggling. His arms shook and Tewkesbury gave in, letting himself twist onto his side. Enola released him then. He dropped his head down to rest on her shoulder.
"Yes, that's true," Tewkesbury cleared his throat and tried to focus on her face, on the bright curiosity in her eyes.
But his gaze flicked down to her lips regardless.
"I believe your joke, about my being a boy still?" Tewkesbury exhaled, eyelids drooping, "Younger men... it can be shorter. Our... our bodies growing aroused even when we ourselves are not."
Young men are overly exciteable. Or so one of the teachers had told them, when another boy in his class had gotten the nerve to ask.
"Not a joke," Enola said, quite bluntly at that, but she smiled at him. Tewkesbury hummed again, head still perched on her shoulder.
She was touching him again. Their heads tilting down, bowed together as they watched her palm at his rising erection. Her fingers wrapped around the shaft and she pumped her hand once, mimicking what he'd done.
"Enola~" Tewkesbury breathed out, eyes squeezing shut. Her hand stilled.
"Does it hurt?" Enola brushed her free hand through his hair when he shook his head. "Do you want me to stop?"
His throat bobbed. Tewkesbury knew the correct answer. The proper answer.
But his head shook and his voice cracked, "God, no!" Tewkesbury whined, face buried against her chest in the next moment as he gasped, "Please touch me."
If his mouth found one of her breasts, it was only natural. Tewkesbury needed to muffle himself. His lips parting around a nipple, his tongue circling the nub through her shirt... it was all coincidental.
Their bodies did slot together after all. Unavoidably so, on such a small bed.
Tewkesbury forgot about convincing her to join him in his room across town. He forgot about most things really, once the bed started to creak. Enola more than a little distracting once she returned to his lap.
Understandable, of course, given her rather thorough exploration of his body. Tewkesbury couldn't imagine why anyone would deny Enola anything. She was practically glowing, when she finally sated her curiosity.
He didn't want to go anywhere else. Not ever. Not without her. Not without Enola.