a musebox for meliorist

He let out a strangled cry at the second line of marks down his back, and at the way she had to press against him to reach. It was almost overwhelming for a moment, Nora filling his senses, her scent in his nostrils, her honey-toned voice filling his ears, her praise filling his soul, and oh, so much touch - the press of her stiff corset against his skin, her soft hair brushing him in counterpoint, and in another contrast the trails of fire now throbbing down his back. Air became even more difficult to find, and the gaze he turned on Andrei when his attention was drawn to the boy was dark and not quite in focus, the smile on his parted lips a little dreamy.

"Isn't she marvellous?" he echoed.