The smut fairies came to visit me...
Altogether Rather Stimulating
"Holmes, what is this doing here?" Watson asked incredulously, holding out the black feather boa for the detective to take.
"I hoped it would provide me with much needed mental stimuli, I must confess I am having difficulty with this case, Watson." Holmes replied whilst absent-mindedly twisting said boa through his long, nimble fingers.
Despite himself, Watson felt the first flutters of exitement in his stomach and an unmistakeable tingle of arousal in his grion.
"Well if it cannot provide stimuli for your mind, perhaps it can stimulate your body?" the doctor suggests, his blue eyes twinking mischeiviously.
Holmes sighed loudly, "I have already tried stimulating my body down the in the boxing ring, it has not helped." the detective snaps, his frustration obvious. "How a feather boa could stimulate the body, I have no idea Watson." he adds, discarding the boa carelessly.
Watson's eyes follow it's descent to the hard, wooden floor of Holmes' rented room. He often retreated here when he wished to box but could not be bothered to return to Baker Street afterward.
"Then perhaps you could allow me to demonstrate?" the taller man inquires, his eyes slowly moving from the boa pooled at Holmes's feet upward, trailing up the detectives lean, trouser-clad legs, to his bared torso, still slightly glistening from his aforementioned fights in the boxing ring, all the way up to his handsome face, strong jaw set firm and deep brown eyes intense. He was, Watson thought, a god amongst men, though he knew Holmes would mock him for his romantisism.
The detective ran a hand through his already disheveled and slightly sweat damp hair, "If you must." he replied.
Without further ado, the doctor strides across the room and pushes the shorter man against the wall, one hand sliding up the detectives sweat-slicked body to his hair, the other gripping his hip, holding him in place. Their eyes meet for a moment, understanding and consent soften Holmes's usually piercing gaze and Watson takes this as a sign to continue. When their lips meet, it is not the soft, inquisative kiss Watson imagined would be their first, but a rough, unforgiving onslaught. The doctor roughly pulls on Holmes's hair causing the detective to moan quietly and Watson wastes no time in sliding his tongue into the hot, sinful mouth moving against his own with a surprising amount of talent.
Suddenly, Holmes attempts to pull away "Watson, we--" he begins but is cut off my the doctor's mouth reattaching itself to his own, plundering it thoroughly. He eventually pulls away for breath, both their lips red and slightly swollen.
"No Holmes," the doctor breathes, his voice slightly rougher than normal "Stop thinking, for once in your life will you?" he demands.
"Well, I was just going to suggest we lock the door? After all you are the one who lectures me on caution, mother hen." Holmes replies with a smug smirk.
Watson rolls his eyes but cannot hide his fond smile at his know-it-all detective. "Fine." he answers, and as Holmes heads over to the door to lock it, the doctor begins to untie his cravat, an idea suddenly occuring as the silken fabric slides through his fingers.
No sooner has Holmes slid the second bolt shut he feels Watson's warm body pressing against his back, he is just about to remark on Watson's eagerness when he feels the soft brush of fabric across his eyes and his world goes black. His heart immediately begins to pound, sending a jolt of adrenaline through his veins and his body stiffens, hands curling into loose fists.
"Relax, I'm a doctor." Watson breathes into the detectives ear, tying the cravat and effectively making Holmes blind.
As the brilliant man's mind races, he replay's Watson's words and focuses on slowing his breaths, marvelling at how his hearing has become so much sharper now.
"That's it, just relax for me Holmes." Watson says, turning the detective to face him and kissing him again. At the first contact of soft lips, juxtapositioned by bristly moustache against his mouth, Holmes feels his skin flush and his heartrate increase again, though for entirely different reasons. As the doctor continues to kiss him thoroughly, his hands travelling along the detectives strong shoulders and down finely muscled arms, Holmes finds himself going slightly lightheaded and leans back against the door for support.
"Alright there, old cock?" Watson asks, and Holmes can practically hear his smirk.
"I assure you I am completely fine, doctor." Holmes replies with mocking tone, slightly miffed at being so out of control of the current situation. He was giving himself over completely to another man, trusting him implicitly and that was something the detective had never done before.
Watson leaned in and murmured, "If it becomes too much or for whatever reason you wish for me to stop, just say Norbury."
Holmes has to bite back a sarcastic comment about 'Stop' being perfectly adequate, for fear of ruining the mood further.
Watson takes the shorter man's silence as permission to continue and picks up the forgotten feather boa. "I've always thought it rather intruiguing how loss of one sense can enhance the others. For example, I'm sure you've notice the improvement in your hearing due to your lack of sight." the blue eyed man states, his gaze raking over the detectives toned body.
"Yes." Holmes replies simply, focusing on Watson's voice and the deep, rich timbre it had suddenly aquired.
"Indeed. I believe touch is also much more sensitive in your current state." the doctor adds, then trails one end of the boa from just below Holmes's belly-button, up his sternum and across over his collarbone.
The reaction was instantanious, Holmes's knees went weak, a shiver wracked through his lean body, goosing his flesh along the way and a soft, breathy moan exited his lips before he could stop it. "Oh."
"Yes, extreme sensitivity to touch by the looks of it." Watson remarks, and Holmes cannot help the spark of excitement and arousal that ignites in him at being so objectified, like one of his experiments, scrutinizing every reaction and every outcome. Only this time he was the experiment, Watson's experiment, and that thought alone set arousal tingling down his spine, pooling in his groin.
Watson braced himself by placing one hand on the wall, to the side of Holmes's head. He then pushed one of his long, lean legs between the detective's, encoraging him to widen his stance slightly and pressing his thigh against the smaller man's clothed groin. He then slowly trailed the feather boa down the side of Holmes's face, down his neck and shoulder, his chest - passing over his nipples several times and delighting in the way Holmes squirmed and writhed against him, hips grinding his rapidly hardening cock against Watson's clothed thigh. "Uh, christ..." Holmes gasped as Watson's mouth attatched itself to his neck. Unable to see, his touch sense worked overtime to provide him with extra stimuli, and the effect was profound indeed.
Watson smiled against Holmes's salty skin, then licked a path down his neck all the way to a peaked nipple, nibbling and sucking until it was red and sore, then soothing the abused, sensitive flesh with the boa.
For Holmes, all he could do was writhe and moan, his now painfully hard but still annoyingly clothed erection pressing and rubbing against Watson's thigh, whilst the doctor moved his talented mouth and tongue across the plains of the detectives chest, occasionally licking and kissing his way upward to lave at his neck, up his jawline to his ear, all hot, moist breaths and teasing tongue.
At last the detective's resolve crumbled "Fuck, Watson! Get on with it will you?"
"Patience, Holmes." Watson chided gently. All the same he takes pity on the writhing detective, quickly and efficiently removing his trousers before gently gripping the shorter man's throbbing erection. All the air seems to leave Holmes's lungs at once, caught between a sob of relief and a gasp of pleasure. "Relax." Watson tells him again, and begins slowly pumping the hot, hard length in his hand. Holmes's hands fly up to grip Watson's shoulder's for stability, his lack of sight putting him even more off balance. Though the touch had been a relief at first, Holmes was soon becoming impatient. Watson's grip was too loose - teasing, his tempo too slow, and the doctor chuckled when Holmes told him so. "We wouldn't want this all over too quickly would we, old boy." he replies, with an unseen smirk.
Much to Holmes's dismay, the grip on his erection disappears entirely, and there is a shuffling and rustling noise - Watson retrieving something from his Gladstone bag, Holmes quickly deduces. "Watson! Is this really the time to be--" Holmes begins, but his exclaimation is cut short by the overpowering smell of linseed oil.
"Ah, sense of smell is hightened too, I see." Watson remarks, as he slathers the middle and index finger of his right hand with the oil.
"Watson, what are you doing?" Holmes asks, suddenly nervous.
"You trust me, dont you Holmes?" Watson asks sincerely.
"With my life." the detective replies instantly.
Watson smiles at the remark and places his middle finger at Holmes's puckered entrance. "Then once again, relax and if you want me to stop-"
"Norbury, I know." Holmes states with a nervous laugh.
Watson smiles again and leans in to kiss his detective, their tongues meeting and sliding over the other's with sensual strokes, this time more a dance than a battle. Watson gently and slowly begins circling his finger around Holmes entrance, getting him used to the feeling of being touched there. As his breathing becomes heavier and his hips start to rock slightly, Watson slips the slick digit inside him, up to the middle knuckle.
"Nngh, Watson..." Holmes moans, throwing his head back. The instrusion is both pleasurable and unusual, and it's setting his nerves on fire.
Watson's own erection is throbbing, pushing almost painfully against the inside of his trousers, but he does his best to ignore it for now, focusing on Holmes's pleasure.
"Please..." Holmes breathes out, his hips rocking more fervently now. Watson slides his finger in fully, his other hand closing around Holmes's cock, now steadily leaking precome. Watson licks his lips, imagining the taste of Holmes's hot, hard shaft along with the salty bitter precome sliding over his tongue. He instead swipes the pad of his thumb over the swollen head and Holmes arches his back and moans loudly.
"Quiet, Holmes." Watson warns gently, and he's sure that if he were able to, Holmes would be glaring daggers at him right now.
"Easy for you to say." the detective remarks, his tone an amusing mixture of annoyed and immensly aroused.
Watson smirks and begins moving the finger within Holmes, slow and gentle all the while pumping the hard erection searing his hand, occasionally swiping his thumb over the head and feeling his own cock throb as he watched the effect it had on the detective, his long lean back arching away from the wall, his head thrown back leaving his throat vunerable to Watson's lips and tongue and the stifled moan that issued from the dark haired man's beautiful mouth. He could see Holmes getting more and more aroused, feel that he had relaxed around his finger, so he added a second.
"Ah! Wait..." the detective stilled as Watson pushed the digit into the unbelievably tight, slick heat. He then stilled his hand, letting Holmes adjust to this further instrustion, still pumping his cock slowly. He bent down to lick and suck at a peaked nipple and the detectives breath caught in his throat. "Kiss me." He demanded, and Watson was only too happy to comply, when their mouths met they were already open, desperate for the feel of the other's tongue against their own, slow and sloppy as they caressed each other, before Watson eventually pulled back, but not before suckling on Holmes's lower lip.
"Ready?" he asked the detective, his voice rough and low.
Holmes nodded and Watson began to move his fingers in and out of Holmes's now relaxed entrance, long slow strokes meant to stretch more than to please. Even so he could feel Holmes's body tensing, see his chest heaving, sweat tracing salty, meandering paths down his neck and chest, hips now moving in a staccatoed rhythm, he was close. Very close. It took every ounce of will power the doctor owned to not just make Holmes come right now, to just fuck him with his fingers and work his hand furiously on the hot, hard shaft in his hand - but he had better things planned for this sinfully beautiful man, so he stopped, just short of Holmes coming.
"No, why-- Why did you stop?!" Holmes demands breathlessly, hips still moving, desperate for his release.
"Shh, relax. I will give you what you need, don't worry about that." Watson reassures him. Then there is the sound of rustling again, but before Holmes can comment he feels something being pressed at his entrance again. But this time it's cold, hard and not at all like Watson's fingers.
"Watson?" Holmes asks, uncertain.
"Trust me." the doctor replies gently. Then the cold alien item begins to breach his stretched entrance, pushing inside him, filling him, almost too much. It's almost becoming painful when the pushing stops, and the thing just rests inside him, warming slowly from his own body heat. Watson takes Holmes's hands, "Follow me." he requests and Holmes allows himself to be lead to a nearby chair. "Sit, slowly." Watson instructs. The detective obeys and gasps, half in pleasure, half pain as the thing inside him pushes even further within. "Good." the doctor encorages. There is the sound of fabric rustling and moving, and that is all the warning Holmes recieves before his cock, slightly softened from the experience of being breached by the plug, is engulfed in the hot, wet heat of Watson's mouth.
"Oh!" Holmes exclaims, this back arching slightly, causing the plug inside him to move and press down on a spot that caused brilliant white fireworks to explode behind his eyelids. "Fuck, god yes!"
Watson pulls off him long enough to warn him to be quieter again, before swallowing the detectives cock again, ocassionally pulling back to just suckle on the tip, tonguing the slit and delighting in the noises this act elicited.
"God, please Watson, don't stop..." Holmes moaned, his hips rocking and the plug pressing down on his prostate with every thrust. Caught between the hot, wetness of his doctors talented mouth and the plug nudging that spot inside him, it feeling altogether too much, but at the same time not quite enough.
Watson hums his approval and it's all it takes for Holmes to grip the back of the doctor's head, throwing his own head back and damn near screaming his release, his hips loosing rhythm as he arches his back and comes in long, hot spurts into Watson's mouth, down his throat. Watson swallows it all, still sucking gently on Holmes's softening cock, causing the detective to shudder, the last of his orgasm being milked from him until he can do nothing but slump back in the chair, his chest heaving.
Watson stands slowly and leans down to remove his cravat from around the detectives head, revealing his eyes, glassy and unfocused, pupils blown wide. Leaning down he kisses Holmes's sweaty forehead and whispers with a sly smile, "Well it seems that was altogether rather stimulating for you, Holmes."
The only reply the detective can muster is to grab hold of Watson's collar, pulling him down for a long slow kiss... a kiss that promises later, when he's regained the use of his somewhat jellified limbs, he will show the doctor exactly how stimulated he can get.
Fin.