Prompt 5: Winter weather


"This is the absolute worst place you have ever brought me to, including that haunted traveling circus."

"Are you ever going to let that go?"

"Never," Watson bit out savagely, although it was slightly muffled by the blanket he had wrapped about himself so it came out more as a low growl. "And I shan't let this one go either."

The drafty inn window let in another cold gust of air, causing Watson's shivering to increase tenfold. The room didn't have a grate and his clothes had been soaked after falling into an unseen semi-frozen creek bed during the nighttime chase of a silver thief. His current clothing consisted of one not nearly large enough or thick enough fleece blanket and a pair of under shorts, which had been leant to him by Holmes. The deal had been that Watson was allowed the one blanket they had found in the abandoned inn since Holmes retained all the dry clothing. The only reason why Watson was able to demand that particular piece of clothing was because they were his to start with.

As if on cue, Holmes reached down to scratch himself in the most unrefined manner.

"Oh! Must you do that?!" Watson demanded irately.

Normally it wouldn't have bothered him. They were both men, after all, but he was cold, tired, and sitting on a possibly larvae infested mattress in an abandoned inn in the middle of nowhere with no matches and it was Holmes' fault and he was determined to make the detective feel the full extent of his misery.

"What do you expect? There is a legitimate reason why men do not prefer to wear wool trousers over their bear genitals. I don't understand why you insisted on wearing it anyways. I very much doubt they are providing you with any additional warmth."

"They're mine. That's why, Holmes. Dammit!" Watson cursed as the shivers continued to wrack his lean frame. It was causing his muscles to cramp something awful and his thigh and shoulder were aching fiercely.

Holmes was next to him in an instant. "It's your wounds, isn't it? Let me warm you, Watson," Holmes whispered suggestively, moving ever closer.

"No." Watson held him off with one of his arms, causing the blanket to fall open and making him shiver all the harder, although it might not have been wholly from the cold.

"It's been too long, Watson. Do you remember how good it used to be?" Holmes continued to whisper, lips maddeningly close to the bare skin of his neck and shoulder.

"Yes," Watson answered, unable to lie while Holmes nuzzled his neck and cheek, a shudder adding to his already violent trembling.

"Then why would you want to stop?"

For a moment, Watson couldn't remember, but a deeper pain welled up from his chest and he turned deliberately away from Holmes' attentions. "I'm not your personal rent boy, Holmes, there only when you want it and discarded when you don't."

"I cherish you," Holmes breathed lightly along the shell of his ear.

"Then why," Watson ignored the tell tale burning in his eyes, "did I wake up alone last time?"

"Because you smelt like our client, our female client, and I was angry at you. Do you want me to prove it? Do you want me to prove to you that I cherish you?"

Watson held out for all of seven and a half minutes of Holmes' butterfly light touches along the fabric of the blanket and his breath coming out in warm gusts in his hair. Seven minutes and thirty-two seconds later, Watson turned and pressed his lips hard against Holmes', demanding entry into the warm cavern of his sometime-lover's mouth.

"Then prove it," he rasped, allowing the blanket to fall from his shoulders.

Its warmth was soon replaced by Holmes' own as he lay atop Watson's bareness. Holmes' lips fastened immediately on Watson's damaged shoulder, licking and sucking over the raised and puckered crisscrosses of scar tissue. His hand simultaneously went to pull down Watson's under shorts, which Watson obligingly wriggled out of, immediately rewarded by Holmes taking his semi-erect cock firmly by the hand. He cradled him with knowing fingers, pumping him slowly, but insistently, his thumb brushing at the tip with every upstroke and his fingers darting down to message his sack with every downward one. Holmes ran the length of his tongue over the expanse of his wounded shoulder, following the contours of the ruined muscle, his hot breath warming the thin layer of saliva he left behind. His tongue swirled expertly over the epicenter of the old injury, while he simultaneously swirled the pad of his thumb over Watson's left nipple.

Watson arched upward from the barrage of stimulation. True to form, he felt nothing of the cold that had plagued him previously. He now only felt the mounting need and warmth that suffused throughout his entire body as his desire soared.

Holmes slunk down the length of his naked chest and abdomen, leaving a wet trail in his wake, only diverting to deliver a few nips here and there. Teeth scraped agonizingly slow over his hardened nipple and the bottom of his left peck received a love bite, his bellybutton plundered with indecent and suggestive thrusts of the fastidious detective's hot tongue.

Just when his cock began to weep with scorching urgency, Holmes removed his hand and moved it instead to the inside of his thigh, his hands messaging either side as he paid the same homage to his pockmarked thigh as his splintered shoulder. Watson's hands fisted in the nearly forgotten blanket as Holmes' fingers crawled upward along his inner thigh and almost, just barely near the cleft of his buttocks. His tongue followed his fingers and Watson jerked and shuddered as that tortuously talented tongue made a steady trail up his perineum.

"H-Holmes, you—ahhh!" Watson cried out as Holmes' mouth descended around his unbearably stiff cock and began bobbing with quick efficiency.

Watson could feel the tip of his prick brushing at the back of Holmes' throat, but the man neither gagged nor slowed. Watson moaned with abandon, for the first time that night, blessing the fact he was stuck in an abandoned inn in the middle of nowhere with the man he loved more than the Earth and sky put together. He didn't trust himself to touch Holmes, lest he rip out a handful of that coal black hair or bruise those perfectly masculine shoulders.

He shouted Holmes' Christian name when he came, sunk to the hilt in Holmes' mouth, unable to stop himself from thrusting slightly as he felt Holmes' throat swallowing around his shaft. Watson pulled Holmes up as soon as he was able, kissing him hard and tasting himself in the other man's mouth.

"Here, let me," he whispered breathlessly, preparing to lower himself down, but Holmes stopped him by cupping his neck firmly in his grasp.

"No, this was for you." Holmes pierced him with an imperious stare. "Only for you."

"Holmes, you're—" It was obvious Holmes' own need was straining in the confines of his scratchy wool trousers.

"You said for me to prove that I cherished you and I intend to carry it out until you don't have a single shred of doubt."

Watson kissed him, gently, and buried his face in Holmes' neck, feeling the man's steady heartbeat along the bridge of his nose. "I believe you. I'm sorry."

Holmes moved as if to leave, but Watson held him tighter in his embrace.

"Don't leave. Stay with me," Watson murmured, his soft words belied by his arms that became like iron bands to keep Holmes pressed against him.

Holmes sighed and settled down beside him. "You only had to ask, Watson. You only ever had to ask. I cannot deduce everything, you know."

"So your ego does have its limits," Watson teased.

"When it comes to love, it does."

Watson felt another suspicious burning behind his eyes and he hurriedly busied himself on wrangling the twisted blanket from beneath him and over the both of them. He burrowed into Holmes as close as he could manage and bestowed another kiss on the beloved man's lips. "Then I have something to prove to you as well."

Holmes yawned inelegantly, resting his cheek atop Watson's head. "I only meant to retrieve your under shorts. Would you still like me to get them?"

Watson shook his head and closed his eyes. "No, if you are going to fuck me in the morning, it will only get in the way."

"That's my little renter. How much?"

"A decent hotel room next time."

"Are you ever going to let this go?"

Watson's arms tightened once more around his always lover. "Never."