Title: Warm To Me
Rating: R (for sexytiems)
Summary: London is experiencing a heatwave; luckily for them, Holmes and Watson have each other for company.
I kind of started off with the intention of filling a prompt (London's experiencing a dreadful heatwave. Holmes and Watson are hot, literally. Make them hot for each other!) over at the Sherlock Holmes kink meme (again, dear god I love it) but probably brought little bits of a few other prompts into it too! It's the first time I've written in this style (it's sort of like a short series of drabbles I guess), but I'm quite happy with the way this turned out so I hope you enjoy it. It was quite nice to write about hot sunny weather since much as I love the snow I'm getting a bit sick of it now- roll on spring! :3
Warm To Me
At the first glimpse of spring, Holmes informs Watson that the forthcoming summer will be one of the warmest they have ever experienced. He is, of course, correct in his assumptions, and by the first Sunday in July the weather is no longer regarded as 'gloriously sunny', but instead 'stiflingly hot'. The streets are surprisingly quiet, the people of London having for the most part locked themselves away in the hope that their houses should provide some much-needed shelter from the sun.
Holmes has taken to lounging around the house completely shirtless, but Watson has his suspicions that this has less to do with the heat and more to do with the fact that the man is an insufferably arrogant moron. He is of course entirely unimpressed with these displays; a true gentleman dresses with style and dignity no matter the occasion.
When Holmes appears shirt-free for the third day in a row, Watson decides that something really ought to be said on the matter; weather be damned, one simply does not walk around half-dressed. It is most unfortunate that whenever he opens his mouth to voice his opinion, his focus switches to the rich tan of Holmes's summer-bronzed skin and the way the muscles of his back flex as he sweeps his bow back and forth over the strings of his violin.
Perhaps he shall tell him tomorrow. It is very hot today, after all.
By Wednesday, the temperature has risen so much that even Watson is struggling to keep himself looking well-dressed and dignified; his jacket lies forlorn and forgotten in a corner and his shirt sleeves are rolled up as far as they will go in an attempt to keep cool. He has taken to sprawling in an armchair and fanning himself with an old newspaper, trying to block out the screech of Holmes trying and failing to tune his violin.
When Watson sighs exasperatedly for the fifth time in two minutes, Holmes places the instrument in its case and strides over to him, crouching between his spread legs and looking him straight in they eye.
"Perhaps, my dear fellow, the reason you are so hot is due to the fact that you are wearing entirely too many clothes."
Watson raises one eyebrow and regards him tiredly as though he really just cannot be bothered any more; he doesn't argue as Holmes gently unfastens the top button of his shirt, working his way downwards. The last button popped, Holmes leans in close, and Watson's breath catches in his throat as he realises that he is undoing the buttons of his trousers with his teeth. Holmes runs the tip of his index finger up the underside of Watson's cock, breath warm against the head.
"I thought you might welcome a distraction from this irksome weather," he states happily, taking him carefully into his mouth.
Quite, thinks Watson.
The next day, it is so hot and humid that they cannot be troubled to do anything at all; even talking seems like hard work, so they spend much of the day in irritable silence. Eventually the sticky heat is too much and they realise that the only way they can bear it any longer is by taking a cool, refreshing bath.
With the weather such as it is, it has not rained in over a week and to fill the bath twice would be wasteful, not to mention requiring a great deal of effort. The problem is, however, it doesn't seem right that one person should be allowed to wash first, leaving the other with the dirty water. The only fair way to do this, they conclude, is to bathe at the same time.
The bath is fairly wide but also rather short; the only possible way they can both fit is if one man sits cross-legged whilst the other straddles his waist and sits in his lap. It's not exactly the most spacious arrangement, but of course these desperate times call for desperate measures.
No one is exactly complaining.
By Saturday, the warmth has become a little more bearable; the streets of London are still unusually quiet in the sultry heat, and it is still too hot to consider doing any real work, but they are at least more comfortable than they have been in days.
They make love on the cool tiles by the empty fireplace until the sweat trickles over their skin in rivulets and drips from their glistening bodies, making them slide against one another in a way that isn't entirely unpleasant.
Satiated and sleepy, Watson lays his cheek on Holmes's sweat-slick chest and asks, "why must it be so relentlessly, inescapably hot?".
"My dear Watson," Holmes responds with a teasing smile, "you are relentlessly and inescapably charming, yet I don't allow that to dampen my spirits."
Watson laughs and turns his head in order to look at him properly. The floor is hard and unforgiving on their backs, and they are sticky and grimy with dust and perspiration, but Holmes is flushed and gorgeous and his eyes crease in the corners when he smiles and Watson thinks, there is nowhere I would rather be than here with you.
Reviews are always joyfully received, and rewarded with sexual favours and/or gratitude :D