Fic: Golden Silence (Holmes/Watson, R)
Title: Golden Silence
Author: esteefee
Pairing: Holmes/Watson
Spoilers: None
Wordcount: 150
Summary: None, PWP
Disclaimer: They put them out there for us to play with.
Notes: My first tiny offering in this fandom.
Golden Silence
It is in that perfect moment of hushed waiting, when Holmes looks up to see Watson moving urgently within him, and the only sound, the only sound is the faint susurration Holmes can detect through his passion-fogged ears of Watson’s shattered breaths, that Holmes is once again struck quite dumb with wonder at how Watson achieves this. How he manages to push all the world, with its constant, grotesque cacophony of carriage wheels and catfish mongers and wailing infants and tolling bells to ten lengths removed until there is only this-the faint, gasping swell of breath in Holmes’ lungs and the tightening weave of muscles in his abdomen and loins as he spills between them, pleasure subsuming thought; and the bright glow of Watson’s blue eyes smiling down at him as he continues to thrust, prolonging the rapture so it abides in one perfect sphere of golden silence, silence, silence.
Author: esteefee
Pairing: Holmes/Watson
Spoilers: None
Wordcount: 150
Summary: None, PWP
Disclaimer: They put them out there for us to play with.
Notes: My first tiny offering in this fandom.
Golden Silence
It is in that perfect moment of hushed waiting, when Holmes looks up to see Watson moving urgently within him, and the only sound, the only sound is the faint susurration Holmes can detect through his passion-fogged ears of Watson’s shattered breaths, that Holmes is once again struck quite dumb with wonder at how Watson achieves this. How he manages to push all the world, with its constant, grotesque cacophony of carriage wheels and catfish mongers and wailing infants and tolling bells to ten lengths removed until there is only this-the faint, gasping swell of breath in Holmes’ lungs and the tightening weave of muscles in his abdomen and loins as he spills between them, pleasure subsuming thought; and the bright glow of Watson’s blue eyes smiling down at him as he continues to thrust, prolonging the rapture so it abides in one perfect sphere of golden silence, silence, silence.