Setting: 2009 movie
Word Count: ~6,500
Characters/Pairings: Holmes/Watson, brief appearance by Mary
Disclaimer: Don't own, just having fun with them.
Summary: Holmes has grown tired of sitting around while Watson vanishes from his life. It's about time that they get some well-deserved rest in the country at Mycroft's estate.
Notes: Many thanks to ladylovelace for beta-ing. Written for sherlockfest.
It was quiet, once Watson had left. On a certain dreary night, weeks after his companion had departed, Holmes sat at his table and puffed periodically at his pipe, watching as the smoke diffused throughout the room. His shirt was ungraciously unbuttoned, his hair mussed and his shoes discarded. With his eyes squinted slightly, he was the image of a man who was planning to sleep but whose mind could not quite let him. There was much too much to think about; rest was not wanted at the moment, although it was required.
Since the case had been re-opened, there were other matters for Holmes’s mind to be focused on rather than interpersonal relationships. The identity of the professor, his motives, his future plans. Who should be investigated, what locations should be visited, what means should be used to obtain more information about a rather ill defined case.
Holmes gave another puff of his pipe and his gaze focused on the curtain that fluttered about over the window. His mind rushed over the events of the past few days. The details, the extrapolations. As yet he had very little to work on. For the next half an hour or so, he sought to focus his mind, a process that usually did not require such effort.
It had recently become more and more difficult for Holmes to keep certain irritating distractions from popping into his thoughts. Ever since Mary’s arrival, Holmes had found the idea of sabotaging her relationship with Watson quite appealing, if ever there was such an understatement. As time went by he found himself intensely planning actions that had very little to do with his role as a detective, even during the most stimulating of cases. Upon hearing of Watson and Mary’s engagement, it had become all but impossible to remain completely civil when the two of them were in the same room. Watson had been spending less and less time with his partner, and his increasing attempts to distance himself had begun to distress Holmes. And when he was alone with Watson, there were these bizarre sorts of urges…
He found himself wanting to grab the other man by the lapels more and more and…
Oh, this had started to pose a rather serious problem lately. Holmes’s brow furrowed and he deliberately closed his eyes. He had seen this coming. Observed his increasing attachment to Watson with growing worry. He was not the type of man that was keen on forming relationships with other people. It could distract from his intellect and prevent him from performing to his true potential. The rational response would have been to let Watson leave without showing any sign of worry, and then to allow life to resume as it once had. But that was, quite simply…unacceptable.
So Holmes, as usual, decided that it was about time to concoct something most marvellous. Really, the matter was quite elementary and did not require much ingenuity. His lip tugged a little in contentment and his eyes flickered to life in mere moments. Yes, yes this plan would do quite nicely, thought he. There was, of course, no guarantee of success. But Holmes, to his own dismay, found himself willing to risk a very important friendship, his only friendship, in order to proceed with the plot. It wasn’t quite rational at all. Especially since Watson had evidently been growing more and more attached to Mary. Especially since they were engaged.
He never was one to care about legal boundaries, but in this particular case he very much should have.
He sighed and cocked his head. Snapping out of his thinking process, he rose from his seat with satisfaction and ambled off to bed. It appeared as though he was becoming somewhat of a gambler.
Living in Cavendish place was, without a doubt, quite a change from the lifestyle I had been leading with Holmes. I no longer woke to the sound of Mrs. Hudson bustling about or to Holmes making a racket, and to be sure it was much more peaceful. Although the residence itself was not particularly charming, I looked forward to Mary joining me in my home. A domestic and stable life was something that I was looking forward to experiencing, especially after my recent escapades.
It was to some irritation, then, when I received a letter a few weeks after I had left Baker Street. It was morning and I was preparing to meet Mary for lunch. From the handwriting on the front of the letter, it was quite easy for me to determine the sender. Although I was very glad to be hearing from him, his letters always meant that there would be added complication in my life.
The short note read as follows:
My Dear Watson,
It is with sudden circumstances that I find myself involved in a most stimulating case. Although I understand that you are quite the busy man, I will be glad to have you at my side should you be willing to assist me. I am inclined to believe that the case should take no more than a couple of days to resolve. If you so decide, it will be necessary for you to take a train to Chichester. Please wire ahead so that I may arrange for there to be a coachman upon your arrival.
Knowing that your presence would be most valuable,
It was to some regret that I, about an hour later, found myself re-iterating the note to Mary over lunch. Her brow furrowed slightly in response. I looked down for a moment, and when I at last shifted my gaze to her I felt myself caught between two ideals. One of domestic bliss and conjugal happiness, and another of wild adventures and close friendship. Although I liked to pretend that the letter frustrated me by disturbing my rather stable life, I could not hide my excitement at the prospect of another case. I tried to keep my expression neutral, if not slightly miffed, but Mary knew me well. She looked both sympathetic and mildly discontent as she spoke.
“John, I know that it’s…been a while since you’ve seen Holmes.” She glanced to the side, sighing slightly. “Although I have my reservations about him, I know how close you both are. And I know how much you hunger for these types of excursions.” There was a pause. “I’d be a fool to deny you such pleasure,” she concluded, smirking slightly and reaching for my hand. Although her voice contained a hint of sarcasm, I could tell that she was honest in her intentions. I twined my fingers into hers lightly, smiling warmly in appreciation.
When we parted that afternoon our embrace was longer than usual. Upon moving apart our eyes met, and her gaze was inscrutable at first, but then the strange expression quickly faded as she broke into a smile. I barely gave the bizarre gaze a second thought as arranged for a cab and had the page-boy deliver a telegram so that Holmes would be aware of my arrival.
It was fairly late in the day by the time my train arrived at its destination. As I walked outside I fastened my jacket more tightly, trying to pull the rough fabric closer to me as the cold found its way against my skin. The light was beginning to dim, but it was with some facility that I distinguished the coachman that was waiting for me.
“Dr. Watson?” he inquired, and I nodded curtly in response. It had rained a little during my ride over, and the ground was damp and stuck to my shoes. There was an earthy smell in the air. The coachman led me to the brougham and I climbed up into the carriage, knocking the dirt off of my shoes before entering.
It was not long before I reached my destination. Although the ride was short, there was plenty of time for me to reflect upon what would happen upon my arrival. I knew not where I was headed, where Holmes had set up base and why. I had heard nothing about any crimes of particular interest occurring in the area, so it was clear that whatever Holmes was focusing on was something that was being kept quiet. More than anything, I became excited by the knowledge that soon Holmes and I would be in each other’s presence once again. It had been strange, not seeing him around on a daily basis.
The house that we pulled up to was rather expansive. A porch surrounded most of the impressive building, the white supports contrasting against the darker tone of the outer walls. The shutters, a lighter colour than the surrounding stone stood out around the countless windows. Trees surrounded the majority of the manor; their leaves were a mixture of reds, yellows, and greens, having begun to change colour with the seasons.
There were expanses of grass on either side of the house. I noticed a large circle of stones set up near the woods on my left, containing the remains of burnt logs. When I stepped out and up to the entrance, a man opened the door for me. He had clearly heard the horses approach.
“Dr. Watson,” his smile was forced, and he appeared to be the type of man whose expression tended to remain a frown. “This way. Mr. Holmes is waiting for you.”
My coat and luggage was taken from me and I was ushered into the sitting room. The fire was popping nearby, warming the room considerably. I sighed pleasurably as the warmth hit me. Holmes sat, comfortably, within one of the two large chairs arranged near the fire. He appeared to be in one of his moods. Eyes staring into the embers and mouth puffing smoke, he must have been contemplating the details of the case. The firelight danced in his eyes, almost alluringly, and his hair looked dampened, as though he had bathed not long ago.
He looked up at me as I entered. “Watson, I am so very glad that you could make it.” He smiled as I approached him, and I was glad to see his enjoyment in my arrival. I seated myself in the chair across from his own.
“Hmph,” I uttered in response, hoping to make him notice that I had been enjoying life at home and pretending to be displeased with having been dragged out here. In truth, I was unable to abate my underlying desire to run off on an adventure, to observe the mind of Holmes at work, to be in his presence as his passions rose. It was exhilarating.
“I assume something of particular gravity has been in your thoughts?” I asked, hoping to get more of an idea of why Holmes had called me out here. “Where have you brought me to, by the by?” I added. Holmes seemed rather at home in this manor; it seemed as though he had been here before.
Holmes took a moment before responding. “We are, old boy, in Mycroft’s estate. He has been kind enough to let me use the place for certain important purposes. As for the nature of the case, I must say that it is something rather unlike any of the previous cases you have documented.” His gaze met mine, and I felt strangely uncomfortable under it. I felt it burn through me.
“Have you had anything to eat, Watson?” He switched the topic with some ease, and I was irritated by his poor explanation of the case. I had hoped to get more details, considering how far I had gone out of my way. I was also at a loss for why Mycroft’s residence was an appropriate place to be, at the moment.
“No,” I responded, gazing at him wearily. My eyes narrowed and he looked at me blankly in response.
“Well then, there is some food waiting for you in the dining room. I suggest you satisfy yourself.” He broke off his gaze and seemed to again be losing himself in thought. I took it as a cue and left the room. I was guided to where my meal awaited me, and ate with relish. I hoped that once I was done, Holmes would be more straightforward.
When I walked back into the sitting room, Holmes abruptly rose to his feet to face me. “I believe, my dear Watson, that I shall be headed off to bed.” I was caught off guard by the remark, as I had been hoping to speak with him further. He placed a hand upon my shoulder and I felt his fingers press into my flesh lightly. “Should you wish to sleep as well, a bedchamber has been arranged for you. Just advise one of the servants.” His fingers swept down the side of my arm as he headed out of the room, and I was surprised by the touch. I stared inquisitively at him until he vanished into the upper story.
It was not long before I decided to sleep as well. I had been expecting to spend the majority of my time documenting the current case and attempting to assist Holmes. Since, at the moment, such things were not possible, I decided that I might as well rest and wake early the next morning.
A maid led me to a room on the second flood. It was large and ornately decorated. The bed itself was grandiose and took up a good portion of the space. I shed my clothing, glad to get rid of the fabric that had grown damp and humid during my trip. I changes into my nightclothes and washed up.
It was only when I approached the bed with the intent of crawling between the covers that I noticed that there was somebody else lying in it. I don’t know how I could have overlooked the fact before. When I pulled back the covers in confusion, Holmes lay sleeping against the pillow.
I gawked at him for a moment, wondering why on earth he had crawled into the bed that I was supposed to be sleeping in. For the love of God, the house was certainly large enough for us to have rooms to ourselves. It was not that I was uncomfortable with the thought of lying next to him, it was that Holmes’s behaviour was beginning to make me…nervous.
Despite my reservations, I decided to crawl into the bed. I had grown tired during my trip and did not want to bother with having another room prepared for me. The bed was more than large enough, and before long I grew comfortable between the soft sheets. I could feel the pleasant warmth of Holmes’s body, and I soon fell asleep.
When I awoke, Holmes was gone from my side. I slipped out of bed and met him in the kitchen as I headed down for breakfast. It wasn’t quite awkward, but there was a certain heaviness in the air. I tried to ignore it.
We spent the rest of the morning and afternoon in relative silence, although there was some occasional banter. I felt as though I was once again at Baker Street, and it was quite a pleasant experience despite my feeling perplexed about the case and Holmes’s night-time habits.
By the time early evening rolled around, I began to feel as though I was on a vacation rather than on a case. Holmes had remained cryptically tight lipped about the affair, and I decided that it was more than about time to confront him once again. I was growing tired of being held in the dark and feeling as though my presence was not helping in any way. We were once again sitting in the two chairs by the fire when I spoke.
“Don’t you suppose that I could, somehow, help you get on with things?” I inquired. Although spending time in the company of Holmes had been quite pleasant, I did want to get home at some point soon. Mary was waiting upon my return.
“Hm, yes Watson, it is quite possible for you to help out.” He responded, looking up at me as if it was strange that I should ask him such a question. “I was hoping that you might be able to assist me.” That was it. He did not elaborate any further, but looked at me almost expectantly, as if I would be able to understand the intent behind his words.
“Holmes.” His name fell from my mouth in aggravation. I rose from my chair. “What on Earth is that supposed to mean? How I am supposed to help if you’ve been speaking so little about the case that I’m beginning to wonder if it even exists!” I ejaculated.
“Oh,” he stated, “it most certainly exists”. He rose from his chair, standing not far from me. He watched me for a moment, and I did not quite know how to respond. I stood on the spot, taken aback.
His lips pressed against one another, and he seemed bothered by my silence. He inhaled heavily, and the next thing I knew he began to close the distance between us, walking a pace or two and leaning close. I felt a hand of his grab my shirt sleeve as he leaned his head to the side of mine. “Really Watson I thought you would have noticed the evidence.” His breath was hot against my neck and I felt my breath hitch.
“I have had quite enough of this, Holmes!” His proximity to me was beginning to have certain unpleasant effects on my physiology. I could feel my heart rate increase. He gazed at me inquisitively as I pressed a hand against his shoulder, forcing him away from me slightly, trying to push him off. He resisted my attempt to escape.
“Why did you call me out here? What on earth are you hoping to accomplish?” I continued asking questions, but his intentions were becoming more and more clear to me. He looked frustrated at my inquiries, and I saw his eyes narrow as he brushed a hand along my waist. The sudden gesture made me start, and I at last pressed against him with enough force to propel him aside.
When he regained his bearings, standing now about a meter away, he looked up at me and laughed lightly. “Really, Watson. I would have thought that after all these years you would have become a more skilful detective.” He looked hurt, mildly confused, and angry all at once. He immediately turned on his heel and headed down the hallway.
Moments later I heard the front door creak open and close loudly, while I myself still stood in the living room trying to make sense of matters. I felt my gut twist at the strange sentiments that I had read on his face.
I sat down for a moment on one of the many chairs in the room. I wished that Holmes had not decided to bring me all the way out here. This ‘case’ of his was something that I would rather have avoided being involved with. His behaviour was rapidly becoming irrational, and I felt as though I could easily follow suit. Thoughts ran through my head, and I tried to tie the pieces together. Holmes had maddened me with his insult, but really his aggravation was quite justified. My queries had been unnecessary, and he must have taken my feigned ignorance as a sign of me pushing him away.
I like to tell myself that I’m not sure why I followed him outside. The air was brisk, and the wind nipped at my exposed skin. It was not particularly pleasant, and it occurred to me that a better response to our argument would have been to close myself in the guest room and to get myself back home as soon as possible. Better, of course, meaning less complicated. The fallen leaves broke under my footfalls, scattered twigs snapped. It was almost completely dark out. A light flickered not far away from the porch, and I headed towards it. I could smell the wood burning from a distance.
Holmes was lying on the grass atop a large woven blanket. I had seen it lying at the entrance of the house earlier, and he must have grabbed it on the way out. He had lit a fire within the circle of rocks, probably with the matches that he tended to carry around in his pocket. Firelight illuminated his face. His eyes were shut, and even as I approached they remained so. I stood for a moment, a metre or two away, before removing my shoes and settling down into a seated position on the blanket beside him, my body quite near his head. There was more than enough space for two, but I stayed near. I could feel the dampness of the grass through the blanket, and I placed my feet close to the fire for warmth. There was silence for several more moments, and the fire crackled, sending sparks into the night air. He eventually spoke.
“Really Watson, it is quite elementary.” There was another silence. His voice was almost a whisper, and rather hoarse. “Slight increase in blood pressure. Altered appetite, as could be observed by the remains on the silverware Mrs. Hudson brings up to our…my room. The thinning of my face, the growing signs of tiredness under the eyes. My particular pre-occupation with keeping certain keepsakes of our adventures near.”
“The increasing wear on my boots could only have been due to a certain quantity of meaningless wandering, as there were no travels that demanded my attention. And the scarf that I have been wearing ever since you left is not mine, but yours. Our barter system does have its advantages.” There was a pause.
“I appear to have contracted a fairly common sickness.” His eyes opened upon the last word and he fixed them upon me. His gaze filled me with nervousness and his words shot heat through me. I could see the firelight reflecting in his eyes and upon the contours of his face. I felt myself pulled toward him. His eyes narrowed, clearly trying to make our my thoughts as I gazed at him silently. He looked remotely frustrated with himself, pensive, and I…I just…
I gave into the tension that had been pulling at me temptingly for most of the evening, despite my protests. Propping myself up on one arm, I grabbed Holmes’s collar with my other hand and roughly pulled his face close. His startled expression sent thrills through my body, and could not stop myself from delicately pressing my mouth into his. A small sound escaped his throat and his lips parted as a result. All that was passing through my mind was that I was kissing Holmes, goodness, I was kissing Holmes and I was about to slip my tongue into his mouth…
His hands, which had before remained rather frozen at his side, reached up to the back of my neck when our kiss deepened. I felt his fingers brush against at the base of my hairline, making me inhale quickly. My whole body responded to the sensation of his lips against mine, and although I should have stopped it, rationalized away these passions, I gradually flipped myself around and on top of Holmes. I hesitantly knelt above him so as to prevent our bodies from touching even more, and broke the kiss so as to assess his response.
His eyes fluttered open gradually and I felt his hands at my knees, grabbing at my trousers and causing the fabric to bunch. He had shifted off the blanket slightly, and his head was now upon the grass.
“Why…did you stop?” he breathily stated, looking rather honestly bewildered. Passion clouded his senses. It was something I had never seen before.
The reality of the situation hit me quite suddenly and I began to pull away slightly. This…this should not be happening. The sudden onset of panic made me remain frozen, rigid for a moment. Goodness, I was an engaged man! I loved Mary; I cared for her dearly, would never want to hurt her. I had committed to her, made my promises and was soon to make my vows, and here I was, here I was sharing my body with someone else, and I was doing such things with a man, with Holmes, no less. My mind was swimming as he stared up at me, and I felt my heart tug in multiple directions, loving the look of him beneath me, loving the flushed complexion of his cheeks, loving the feel of him against me…
Loving him. Oh. Oh dear. I had known this for a long time.
I saw the look in Holmes’s eyes change. He knew what I was thinking; he must have deduced it with facility. Fire flickered in his gaze.
He lunged at me. Grabbed at my hair and nipped at my lips, plunged his tongue into my mouth and attacked my own with his. I remained unresponsive at first, resisting slightly. He moved his hands up to my hips and pulled them down onto him. I bucked in response, not being able to stop myself, feeling his hardness through our trousers and knowing that he could feel my own brushing up against him in response. There was no hiding my desire.
I let out a light moan. “Holmes…we’re, we’re outside!” He did not seem to care. He kissed me into silence. The smell of his telltale pipe was intoxicating, mingled with the scent of the outdoors. I grabbed his hair, pulling at the nape of his neck, soon beginning to fight back with my own tongue despite my feeling rather exposed in the outdoors.
It was with a surprising facility that I suppressed my objections to what was happening. The dizzying fever made me grab at his clothes, push down his suspenders and reach for his buttons, undoing them one by one as I licked at his neck, making his head swing backwards as his hands tried to push my mouth even closer. I was quickly able to push back his shirt and soon his chest was exposed before me.
He shivered slightly as the wind swept across his chest. I ran my hands across him, revelling in its smooth yet mildly surprised by its foreign flatness. His skin was reacting to the cold, and I wanted to bring him heat. I tentatively brushed my fingers across his nipples and I saw him bite his lower lip, his sultry eyes focusing on me, filled with lust. I could not believe that I was having such an effect on the other man. He shamelessly used his thighs to pin me closer to him.
I felt him tug at my collar moments after and I sat up slightly, taking his cue and beginning to undo the top of my shirt. His hands reached for the bottom buttons and we soon made quick work of it, discarding it somewhere onto the grass haphazardly. For a moment I looked around us, afraid that we might be being watched, that there might be someone at the window of the house…
Holmes laughed. “I doubt that anyone could see this far out. It is rather dim by the firelight.” I was not thoroughly convinced, but he then pressed our chests together and ran his rough hands along my back, sliding across my now sweaty skin and pulling me closer.
I could not believe what was happening. It was too fast, too frantic, but when we kissed again and it was enough to make me mad. I needed to feel him against me now. A twinge of guilt attacked my gut, but at the moment I refused to think of what the consequences of my actions would be. Years of repressed desire flooded my senses.
My hands shook slightly as I reached for his belt. Holmes seemed nervous, for a moment, despite his previous aggression. I myself was wondering how I had the courage to do such a thing. It was clear, at this point, that Holmes was lying rather still and was giving me full reign to proceed at my own pace.
I swept a hand across his groin and felt his arousal pressed against me. His resulting moan incited me to proceed. It was with some difficulty that I unbuckled his belt, undid the buttons that confined him and, with the help of him rising his hips, pulled his trousers down. He kicked them off his feet and sat up slightly, reaching shyly for my own trousers that were nevertheless quickly removed. I resumed straddling him, and all that remained between us was our undergarments, which, for the moment, provided an enjoyable amount of friction. I could feel the roughness of the blanket on my knees, and I pressed into him with an ardour encouraged by my loss of body heat.
“Watson…” he mumbled as I slipped my thumbs under the remaining fabric that was restraining him. I was quite nervous about the matter, as he must have been, and he had certainly noticed. He pushed me back a little, catching me off guard and slipping out from under me. I bemoaned the lack of contact between us and sought to quickly re-establish it. It was not exactly warm outside and I wanted more heat. The firewood had begun to disintegrate into embers. I leaned forward again, confused at why he had pushed me back, wanting to shove him down and have my way with him.
He resisted quite formidably. “I think it would be best if I, if I placed myself like this…” he uttered, seeming to have given his words quite some thought. He rotated himself onto his hands and knees and leaned his head against the blanket. I could see the firelight reflecting on his skin and for a moment did not process the words, instead admiring his lean frame.
“Why?” I asked, when I snapped out of my daze.
“It isn’t as if you’ve shown any sign of, unnatural tendencies in the past…” he grunted, trying to sound dismissive, wanting to get on with things before I decided to back out.
I raised my eyebrow, wondering how he could not have picked up on the growing tension on my part when I was around him, and wondering even more why this should make himself position himself in such a manner. He must have noticed, in my silence, that the purpose of his actions still eluded me.
“It would probably be easier for you, less evident that I am a man if…”
I was struck with a mild shock at his assumptions. Although I had only been with women in the past, in this very moment there was no way that I could imagine anybody but Holmes before me. Holmes against my skin, Holmes’s raspy voice as I pressed against him, Holmes’s grey eyes fixed upon my body, Holmes’s sharp mind, focused entirely on me in this moment…
“God, Holmes…” I looked at him with a bit of a glare and lunged at him, gripping his hips and throwing him off balance, sending him onto his back. The blanket wrinkled beneath us, our movements almost sending us onto the grass. He looked rather startled, a little ruffled, and the fact that I had done this to him sent a jolt down me.
“How could I possibly imagine anyone else?” I almost sneered, and I felt the desperate need to prove it to him. I tugged first his and then my undergarments off in swift motions, finally exposing us completely. Any remaining thoughts of my fiancé evaporated as I laid my body over his, our fully naked selves pressing into each other for the first time, and I brought our lips together once again. Our eyes remained open for a while and we looked at each other as our mouths touched, until I ran my tongue along his bottom lip and he let me inside, moaning slightly. I bucked slightly in response, and I felt our manhoods slip against one another. He groaned and I was barely able to hold myself up with my forearms as we pushed against each other. When he brushed against my thigh I could feel his eager wetness, and when we slid together I am certain that he could feel mine.
Oh god, why had we never done this before? The feeling of him against me was glorious, and I wanted to get closer. Pulling myself back with a certain degree of regret, I made my way down his body again, kissing his chest as his hands brushed through my hair, and then kissing his stomach, his hips, the inside of his thighs. As I worked my way downward I found myself partially on the grass; it tickled at my skin, but it was only a minor disturbance. I flicked my tongue out tenderly against his skin and ran my hands across Holmes. The warmth made him grab at my neck, pushing me closer.
I do not think he quite expected what I did next, and my sudden daring even surprised myself. I was in a frenzy and I should have cared, but all I wanted to do was touch him, make him mine, have him claim me as his in return.
“Ah!” a moan ripped out of Holmes’s throat as I licked the head of his cock. Fluid lay at the tip and I began by lapping it up. It had a strange taste to it, but I did not mind.
“No…don’t do such a thing…” Holmes said, attempting to push me away slightly. His reaction only urged me on. I ran my tongue along the shaft several times, watching his breathing and the look in his eyes in order to try and gauge what he liked best. I tried to imitate what women had done for me in the past, and it seemed adequate, his resistance quickly declining. I flicked my tongue against his slit several times before I at last decided to slowly take him into my mouth. He pushed up towards me and I instantly had to hold his hips down, for fear of choking. I proceeded to thrust his hot erection in and out of my mouth. Holmes’s words turned to mumbling.
“Watson…oh, oh yes…” his head thrashed back and forth as the heat coursed through him. The intimacy of my ministrations was breathtaking. I, John Watson, had the immense delight of pleasuring Holmes with my mouth. My hips pressed down into the blanket as my own arousal heightened. I increased the speed of my actions and allowed him to push towards me slightly. It was not long before I could sense the tension in him rising.
“It would…probably be…best…if you…” Holmes huffed, trying to push my head away halfheartedly, sensing the approach of his climax. I pushed his hands aside and increased the tempo even more, looking up at him as I did so. Our gazes met and he stared into my eyes as his back began to curve, but soon his eyelids closed and he leaned into me.
“Watson…” I felt his come stream into my mouth as he uttered my name, his body thrashing in pleasure. I swallowed it all, a little surprised at having another man’s fluid in my mouth, but revelling in how I had brought Holmes to completion.
It was several moments before Holmes regained mobility. In the meantime I had brought my hand to my own erection, finding it unbearable to remain unsatisfied any longer. Finding myself back onto the blanket, I lay across Holmes’s chest, running my hand up and down my length and kissing his body as I did so. I was close, so close, the previous actions having shot fire through my body. I did not want to pressure Holmes into touching me, and was myself a bit fearful of giving myself over to him. It was not long before Holmes regained full faculty of himself, though, placing his hands on my shoulders.
“I apologize for my distraction. If you will…let me try…”
He looked sympathetic, hesitant. I could not tell if his uncertainty came from his apparent inexperience or from the emotional implications of what we were doing, of me allowing him to pleasure me, to bring me to climax. But there was not a doubt in my mind that I preferred his hands to mine.
“Yes…please Holmes…” He still looked hesitant, clearly understanding the gravity of the consequences of our actions, although it was far too late to stop now. “Yes…” I mumbled and I pulled his hands towards me, guiding them to where I needed them most. I felt his thumb move across the head of my cock, and soon his fingers wrapped around me, holding me tight as I thrust into him.
“Ah! Holmes…” I shouted, my eyes closing. The tip of my erection brushed against his belly and I moaned. He claimed my mouth with his as he worked me, and our kissing was delicate but impassioned. My hands were sliding up his body, slipping through his hair. I felt myself rising, felt the tension in my limbs. I hung on the edge, feeling the wave bout to hit, eyes open, staring into his…
A most wondrous climax hit me and an incomprehensible sound escaped my mouth. I came hard, grapping at the blanket, splashing onto our stomachs and into Holmes’s hands as he milked me to completion. My limbs went weak and I no longer possessed the desire to support my own weight. My body collapsed onto his. For several moments we lay there, panting, thinking of very little else other than what we had just experienced. The sticky mess between us lay forgotten. I felt his hand trail up my side, but I soon rolled myself over, wanting to distance myself somewhat.
I saw his eyes watch me as I moved away, but I did not want to meet his gaze for fear of the emotions that I would read there. I was suddenly very cold. A quick glance at the fire made me realize that it had completely extinguished, by now. A small stream of smoke issued from the ashes, but there was very little warmth. I shivered slightly as the wind nipped at me. It was then that I turned to look at him, and within moments of seeing his forlorn air I had pressed the side of my body against his. The sides of our arms touched and I reached my hand closer, until I could feel his fingertips against mine.
The small sign of affection seemed to reassure him somewhat. I felt his body move as he reached over to grab an end of the blanket. It was large enough to not only cover the damp ground beneath us, but also to cover both of our frames. I smiled at the gesture. Although our bodies were still soiled, it seemed quite adequate to remain lying here for a while. Our clothes lay crumpled at our feet, but I found myself not caring about the creases.
“Holmes…” I started, unsure of what I was going to say next. His action of leaning onto his side and capturing my lips with his own prevented me from having to speak any further.