Slash Fiction
Title: In One Ear...
Premise: Holmes experiments to see what kind of a reaction he can get out of Watson by sexing up his ear with his mouth.
Pairing: Holmes/Watson
Warnings: Sexual content, R.
+++One evening I found Holmes attached to the back of my armchair as I attempted to read the morning's paper, sadly neglected due to a sudden case. There had been nothing of interest in it anyway, and so the presence on the back of my chair was not altogether unwanted. Still, I had to keep up appearances.
"Holmes, what on earth are you doing now?" I said in an exasperated tone, lifting my face from my paper and craning my neck to see behind.
He reached around the chair without a word and plucked the paper out of my hands, tossing it to the floor in a maddeningly disorganized fashion that I swore he practiced. I gave him a bemused look as he walked around the chair, my breath catching in my throat at the devilish look on his face. I reached up to take his thin hips into my hands, but he grabbed my wrists and pinned my hands to the armrests. I allowed him to do so solely out of amusement. I became less amused and more eager as his breath ghosted against my ear and his weight settled into my lap, warm and heavy. I closed my eyes.
"Holmes…" I whispered softly, and I swear I could hear him smirk.
"If I already have you calling my name, we are in for an interesting experiment indeed." I shuddered at his prediction because I knew it could well be true, even if I hadn't a clue as to what "experiment" he had planned. I stiffened in anticipation as he let his mouth hover a hair's width away from my skin, the hair on the back of my neck rising as even his breath stopped, leaving me without any sensation aside from the sixth sense of knowing he was there. When his lips finally pressed against the ridge of my ear I cried out, electric shocks diving straight for my stomach.
He chuckled with satisfaction and adjusted himself in my lap, causing me to bite my lip as his hips twisted against mine. He mouthed my ear softly, with open lips and nothing else, his breath hot and as much a part of the sensation as his mouth. As chaste as the gestures seemed they were also filthy, and left me aching for his tongue. It finally came, long after I had expected it to, and I very nearly became undone just from the sensation of that slick muscle sliding like fire into my ear. I know my piercing cry was one of near agony, my hips pressing sharply up against the weight of him on my lap. I shuddered, my mouth and throat dry from panting.
"Oh God Sherlock!" I writhed, and he released one of my wrists, placing two fingers in my mouth, letting me suckle. I took to his fingers like a whore, lifting my freed hand to hold his wrist and keep it there. He gently stroked with his fingers as I burned beneath his hips, painfully constricted inside of my trousers and under the weight of his body.
I whimpered, my cries turning to pleas for release around his fingers as the devilish tongue continued making hot circles around my ear. I had no control over my body; all of my muscles had gone limp save for when a plunge of his tongue sent my body into a spasm of shivers. To add to my discomfort he began using his teeth, eliciting another powerful thrust of my hips, which sent me into another spasm of pain and pleasure.
At that point I began blindly grinding against him, no longer able to contain my need for release despite the hurt of being restricted. Breathlessly I rubbed against him, my head shoved hard into the back of the chair, a rough button in the upholstery going completely unnoticed even as it bruised against the back of my skull. My voice broke around his fingers in my mouth, wordless noises as my eyes rolled back in my head. So far gone was I at this point that I barely even complained as he slipped his fingers from my open mouth, reaching down and undoing my trousers.
He enveloped my ear in his mouth almost completely as his hand enclosed me below, the thrusts of his tongue in my ear drove me to completion in time to the rise and fall of his hand, moistened by my own spit.
I sat beneath him, sprawled against the chair, spent and as exhausted as if I'd just chased a suspect through half of London. He had reduced his ministrations to simply nuzzling my ear with his cheek, as if soothing it.
"A fine experiment if I do say so myself," he said with a quiet laugh. I whimpered instead of chuckled, but there was a smile on my lips.
Premise: Holmes experiments to see what kind of a reaction he can get out of Watson by sexing up his ear with his mouth.
Pairing: Holmes/Watson
Warnings: Sexual content, R.
+++One evening I found Holmes attached to the back of my armchair as I attempted to read the morning's paper, sadly neglected due to a sudden case. There had been nothing of interest in it anyway, and so the presence on the back of my chair was not altogether unwanted. Still, I had to keep up appearances.
"Holmes, what on earth are you doing now?" I said in an exasperated tone, lifting my face from my paper and craning my neck to see behind.
He reached around the chair without a word and plucked the paper out of my hands, tossing it to the floor in a maddeningly disorganized fashion that I swore he practiced. I gave him a bemused look as he walked around the chair, my breath catching in my throat at the devilish look on his face. I reached up to take his thin hips into my hands, but he grabbed my wrists and pinned my hands to the armrests. I allowed him to do so solely out of amusement. I became less amused and more eager as his breath ghosted against my ear and his weight settled into my lap, warm and heavy. I closed my eyes.
"Holmes…" I whispered softly, and I swear I could hear him smirk.
"If I already have you calling my name, we are in for an interesting experiment indeed." I shuddered at his prediction because I knew it could well be true, even if I hadn't a clue as to what "experiment" he had planned. I stiffened in anticipation as he let his mouth hover a hair's width away from my skin, the hair on the back of my neck rising as even his breath stopped, leaving me without any sensation aside from the sixth sense of knowing he was there. When his lips finally pressed against the ridge of my ear I cried out, electric shocks diving straight for my stomach.
He chuckled with satisfaction and adjusted himself in my lap, causing me to bite my lip as his hips twisted against mine. He mouthed my ear softly, with open lips and nothing else, his breath hot and as much a part of the sensation as his mouth. As chaste as the gestures seemed they were also filthy, and left me aching for his tongue. It finally came, long after I had expected it to, and I very nearly became undone just from the sensation of that slick muscle sliding like fire into my ear. I know my piercing cry was one of near agony, my hips pressing sharply up against the weight of him on my lap. I shuddered, my mouth and throat dry from panting.
"Oh God Sherlock!" I writhed, and he released one of my wrists, placing two fingers in my mouth, letting me suckle. I took to his fingers like a whore, lifting my freed hand to hold his wrist and keep it there. He gently stroked with his fingers as I burned beneath his hips, painfully constricted inside of my trousers and under the weight of his body.
I whimpered, my cries turning to pleas for release around his fingers as the devilish tongue continued making hot circles around my ear. I had no control over my body; all of my muscles had gone limp save for when a plunge of his tongue sent my body into a spasm of shivers. To add to my discomfort he began using his teeth, eliciting another powerful thrust of my hips, which sent me into another spasm of pain and pleasure.
At that point I began blindly grinding against him, no longer able to contain my need for release despite the hurt of being restricted. Breathlessly I rubbed against him, my head shoved hard into the back of the chair, a rough button in the upholstery going completely unnoticed even as it bruised against the back of my skull. My voice broke around his fingers in my mouth, wordless noises as my eyes rolled back in my head. So far gone was I at this point that I barely even complained as he slipped his fingers from my open mouth, reaching down and undoing my trousers.
He enveloped my ear in his mouth almost completely as his hand enclosed me below, the thrusts of his tongue in my ear drove me to completion in time to the rise and fall of his hand, moistened by my own spit.
I sat beneath him, sprawled against the chair, spent and as exhausted as if I'd just chased a suspect through half of London. He had reduced his ministrations to simply nuzzling my ear with his cheek, as if soothing it.
"A fine experiment if I do say so myself," he said with a quiet laugh. I whimpered instead of chuckled, but there was a smile on my lips.