Chapter Text
Holmes straightens up. Watson glances down. Holmes’s cockstand is evident through his trousers.
“You enjoyed hurting me,” Watson says.
Holmes pauses, then nods.
“I can take care of that for you.”
Holmes narrows his eyes.
“You are allowed as many orgasms as you desire,” Watson says lightly. “Unless you have your own rules I am not aware of yet.” He offers Holmes a slight smile. “Besides, surely you took care of yourself last night once we had parted. I certainly did.”
Holmes frowns. “That seems to me rather like bending the rules.”
Watson shrugs. “So is what we have been doing these past days, as you well know.”
He can’t read Holmes’ expression. The detective says, slowly, “As a matter of fact, I did not achieve completion last night.”
Watson considers the implications of this phrasing.
“But you did touch yourself?”
Holmes nods.
“Hm.” Watson considers, then reaches out and undoes Holmes’ flies. He moves aside his underthings, freeing Holmes’ stiff prick. Only the smallest hitch in Holmes’ breathing indicates the effect this has on him, but it is enough for Watson to notice. Perhaps this…game of theirs is making him a better observer.
He bends his head forward and licks off the small bead of precome glistening on Holmes’ prick. Holmes breathes in through his nose. Watson laves his tongue around the head, closing his lips gently over it.
“Watson…” Holmes sighs.
Watson sucks. He takes his time, though, moving his head up and down, letting himself get used to the feeling of a cock in his throat. It has been some while.
He places his hands on the back of Holmes’ legs, below his buttocks, and pulls himself deeper onto Holmes’ prick. He swallows around it, managing not to gag, and Holmes shudders beneath his touch.
He stays there for awhile, sucking and licking, never with enough vigor to push Holmes over the edge. He thinks about what Holmes said about the results of his own experiments with pain (mixed) and grasps Holmes’ balls. He tugs. Holmes groans. He tugs harder.
“Watson,” Holmes gasps. Watson gives another sharp tug. Holmes’ cock twitches in his mouth.
Tasting an influx of precome, Watson pulls off. He wipes his mouth and catches his breath.
“There,” he says, smiling up at Holmes.
Holmes looks at him in disbelief tinged with amusement. “That…that is what you would consider ‘taking care of it,’ Watson?
“Well? Do you wish me to finish you off?”
Watson suspects he knows the answer, but this is Holmes, after all; he might be wrong, as he so often is.
“No,” says Holmes after a minute. “Not…yet.”