(Untitled)

[mustbetruth]

Continued from here"Oh, there absolutely must be some traditional deflowering," he murmurs back, his voice husky, and he settles easily into Watson's embrace. He's already shed his shirt, happy to be free of that layer, and he cups Watson's face in his hand to give him a long, hungry kiss. Maybe it's shameful that they are so eager to tear each

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[armydoctor]

Feeling a distinct lack of air, Watson merely tried to breathe a moment, nearly overwhelmed by skin on skin, by heat and sensation. Watson had always felt slightly guilty, certainly conflicted about his desire for his partners to be eager for the physical part of the equation, and it was a wonderful thing that Holmes could be so accomodating in this respect now, so gladly.

"There are other places more comfortable than the sofa," he murmured breathily. He caught Holmes's hand and began to kiss his fingers, long, leisurely, sensuous kisses, savouring and devouring kisses. He liked very much the idea of being deflowered, and wondered, as he sometimes did, if that made him less of a man in some respect. "And I believe that a marriage bed is traditional."

[mustbetruth]

"You are correct," he murmurs thickly, shifting his attention to Watson's neck so that he might watch as Watson pays such meticulous attention to his hands. He can't say why it pleases him so much that Watson finds his hands so alluring; perhaps it's because Holmes himself thinks there's something elegant about his hands, despite the chemical stains and the scars and scratches, and it's gratifying to see them so appreciated.

He traces Watson's lips with his thumb, first around the outside, and then along where his lips meet, and he presses in, seeking entrance.

"Shall I escort you to our marriage bed?" he asks, his voice considerably rougher.

[armydoctor]

Watson didn't answer right away. He opened his mouth enough to toy with with Holmes's thumb against his tongue, to hold it very gently between his teeth for a moment, closing his eyes with all the air of a gourmand savouring a delicacy.

Presently he did remove Holmes's fingertips from his mouth, giving him a rather smouldering sort of smile. "Yes. Yes, I think we should head in that general direction." Watson turned his head to kiss Holmes's palm and wrist several times, lingering and gentle, before moving to rise to his feet.

[mustbetruth]

Holmes can maintain his control fairly well, has used his control masterfully when it comes to Watson and the bedroom in the past, but right now he feels a small chink in his resolve. Watson's smile seems to cut right through him, and he allows himself to act on that impulse. He stands and kisses Watson hungrily, almost aggressively, and he pulls Watson in tight against him.

Yes, it's good they decided to do this now instead of waiting; Holmes couldn't imagine actually trying to talk about food and recipes and fruit when he could be kissing Watson like this, with some teeth and some (understood) tenderness as he maneuvers them back to their bedroom a few steps, without releasing Watson from his grasp.

[armydoctor]

With his hands warm and firm against Holmes's back, Watson followed, thinking this was almost like a sort of dance, a hungry and passionate sort of dance, perfectly skimming along the edge of violence while at the same time almost instinctually knowing exactly where each other's boundary was. It was not like his marital life with Mary had been; their relations had been far more gentle, far more respectable (or as respectable as these things could be, anyway), though no less enthusiastic or satisfying. This was a taste of something very different, indulging in Holmes's very essence, his personality, his streak of danger.

It was intoxicating, not to mention addictive, whatever it was.

He slid a few fingers under the waistband of Holmes's trousers as he urged them along, almost impatient for them to reach the bedroom while at the same time savouring every moment of this. His kisses were hungry and fierce and adoring, and as they went, Watson let his fingers slide along Holmes's waistband to toy with his flies, rather prematurely.

[mustbetruth]

If this really were a deflowering, all these rough touches and kisses would hardly be right; deflowerings require gentleness and tenderness. Holmes's default, however, when it comes to relations with men, is more about the biting, the pushing, the challenging. His first time with Gideon had been rough, not intentionally but because neither of them had much idea of what they were doing and they fumbled into it.

He has no regrets; he loves this, and he loves how easily Watson pushes back, demands as much as Holmes demands. Maybe they should be more gentle if they're playing at their first time in the marital bed, but through the rough touches and the possessive kisses, he can feel a strong foundation of love and trust and understanding. Maybe that's more fitting for them.

They're at the bedroom already, and Holmes pushes Watson back onto the bed, flashing him a dark smile as he drops to his knees, running his hands up Watson's thighs, reaching for his flies.

[armydoctor]

With a long, drawn-out inhalation of breath, Watson leaned back into the mattress, reaching up to run his fingers over Holmes's chest and ribcage. It was impossible to prevent himself from leaning up into Holmes's touch, from sliding under those fingers, from reaching to work to further undo Holmes's flies. His current position, as wonderful as it was, unfortunately made it impossible to do very much about this state of affairs.

He sat up part way, sliding a hand up Holmes's chest, over his shoulders, to the back of his neck, and drew him down enough that he could kiss him again, seeking out Holmes's mouth like a drowning man seeking air. His hand fisted in Holmes's hair as he took this moment to explore Holmes's lips and tongue with his own.

[mustbetruth]

There's affection shrouded in the way they are rough with each other; that's plain enough to Holmes in the grip Watson has on his hair, in the thoroughness of his kiss. It's perfectly fine with him to be affectionate like this, and he returns the kiss passionately, allowing Watson his exploration, but not being passive about it.

He undoes the last of Watson's flies, but doesn't do anything to strip Watson of his trousers. Not yet. His hands creep up Watson's sides, claiming Watson's skin as they slide up his chest and around to his back. Once the kiss breaks, he's breathless, and he quickly lowers his mouth to Watson's chest, flicking his tongue against his nipple and exploring his skin greedily.

[armydoctor]

Watson inhaled, almost a moan, and he bent his head to press his nose into Holmes's hair, his hands gripping Holmes tightly, one hand just above his hip, the other over the back of his shoulder blade. His fingers were firm in Holmes's skin, holding him close with a certain amount of force. He stayed that way a moment, before once again becoming caught up in the raw desire of the moment, and he dropped his head down to press his mouth against the slope of Holmes's shoulder. He bit down into the skin there, not too hard, but possessively, and perhaps hard enough to leave a faint mark -- he wasn't entirely sure.

Then, turning his head, Watson moved his mouth to Holmes's ear, taking the lobe between his teeth with a hungry, far-from-satisfied hiss.

[mustbetruth]

He hopes that bite leaves a mark; for being so composed and meticulous about his appearance, Holmes relishes his scars and even more his love bites, proof of a side to him that not even Watson could have guessed at before Holmes chose to let it show. The hiss sends a pleasurable shiver through him, but it also stirs his hunger, and he pushes Watson back against the bed, shooting him a dark look.

He hooks his fingers in the waistband of Watson's trousers and removes them with little ceremony, revealing Watson from the waist down. Eagerly he nips at the skin of Watson's thighs, possessive and hungry, and he pauses to suck a faint mark high up on his thigh, just shy of where his leg joins into his body.

Finally he turns his attention to Watson's cock, and he drags his tongue up the underside almost reverently, his eyes closed; once he reaches the tip, he opens his eyes, dark with lust, and he takes Watson into his mouth, lightly moving along his shaft.

[armydoctor]

He did groan, then, twisting somewhat on the sheets. He could feel that mark on his thigh, could feel the blood rushing to it, relished being privately marked in this way.

Watson reached down, his hand running over Holmes's head, clutching rather desperately at his hair. The urge he was fighting was to thrust deep into Holmes's mouth, but he held back as much as he could, wanting instead to focus on every tiny motion and gesture of lips and tongue on his cock. Unable to touch him in any other significant way, he bent a leg, his good leg, and slid his bare foot over the back of Holmes's thigh.

[mustbetruth]

Of all Holmes's sexual partners, Watson is the only one that seems to turn into pure lust, pure pleasure and desire. Holmes is susceptible to peoples' moods; when Watson feels so strongly, Holmes can't help but to feed off it, becoming caught up in Watson, infinitely fascinated with him and his reactions.

He can feel the restraint in Watson's body, can guess at what he wants to do, and so Holmes decides to give it to him. He takes Watson all the way in, his nose brushing his skin, and he holds still a moment before he draws back. After a moment to regain his breath, he plunges his mouth down again, and he reaches his hand up to stroke Watson's chest.

The main purpose of all this is more to tease Watson, make him gasp for more, than to provide him with any lasting satisfaction, so when he draws away again this time, it's so that he can kiss his way back up Watson's stomach and chest.

[armydoctor]

With a groan borne of pleasure and impatience and thwarted satisfaction, Watson shifted underneath Holmes, somewhat ticklish and ridiculous aroused under the kisses over his torso. He took the opportunity to wrap his arm around Holmes and drag him up to kiss him, deep and hard. He could taste himself, faintly, in amongst the other familiar tastes of Holmes's mouth.

With one of his hands on the back of Holmes's neck, Watson let his other slide down to work into Holmes's trousers to take his cock in hand. His touch was insistent, lustful, not entirely gentle.

"Your trousers," he said hoarsely, "need to come off."

[mustbetruth]

He doesn't groan, but his breath stutters and gets caught in his throat when Watson takes hold of him. He does need a moment to compose himself, to kiss Watson fiercely, tugging his lower lip between his own and sucking at it. He doesn't resist thrusting into Watson's hand, but he pretends to be unhurried as he kisses his way back to Watson's neck, his lips still tingling from their kiss.

"So take them off," he murmurs huskily into Watson's ear and traces the shell with his tongue.

[armydoctor]

For a moment, Watson shut his eyes, savouring the sensation, making a small, incoherent sound in respoinse. He relished the challenge, relished the opportunity to rise to it, satisfied for the moment to be kissed and to be trapped underneath Holmes. But, if he were to do anything about Holmes's rather troublesome trsouers, then he would have to move

[mustbetruth]

This time, Holmes does groan, unable to resist when Watson takes control so beautifully. His lips feel red and swollen from their bruising kisses, and he relishes that feeling of being possessed and claimed. He prefers to be on top, but when Watson flexes his dominance, it's unendingly sexy, and Holmes relinquishes himself for the moment. The moment is made all the sweeter with the knowledge that soon Holmes will wrest control back, will pin Watson beneath him again.

He slides his hand into Watson's hair, arching into Watson's mouth but not thrusting; he manages to keep his hips still at least. His other hand finds Watson's shoulder and clutches, alternatively gripping and exploring.