It was a cold october night in Baker street.
I was sitting in my chair near the fire, with a brandy and a good book. I took a sip of my drink and felt the hot alcohol going down my throat when he entered the room, making as much noise as he could.
"Ah ! Dear God ! It's so cold out there I thought I was really going to die frozen." Holmes yelled.
"Nice to see you too old fellow." said I, grinning as he took of his coat and waist coat. He let them where they fell, right on the floor.
Two or three years ago this would have maddened me and would have asked him to pick up his clothes and hang them somewhere. But with all the patience I could, I learned to live with Sherlock Holmes and his strange habits. His lack of care did not bother me anymore.
He stepped forward to be by the fire and started pulling of his his tie and threw it on the floor. I felt my heart beating faster in my chest as he began unbuttoning his shirt.
I drank the rest of my brandy and looked at my book, pretending I didn't care about the bare skin of his torso, or his muscles, or his hand rubbing his shoulder, or the simple fact that he was standing in front of me. I could feel his gaze. I tried not to look at him, to keep pretending I was reading, even though he knew I was not. I couldn't resist those damn grey eyes of him. Do not look at him. Do not look at him. I thought.
I looked. He was still watching me, his eyes locked in mine.
"Are you quite alright, Watson ? You look pale." he gave me the 'what's wrong ?' look. His eyes were so deep into mine, I thought he could see through me."
"Y- Yes Holmes, thank you." I managed to answer and forced myself to smile.
He smiled back. Alright then." He turned away, went to his room and almost instantly came out with a clean shirt and trousers. All his clothes were wide open. I realized how aroused I was when he arrived in the sitting room, buttoning his pants.
I pretended I was reading, again, while I watched him dressing over my book. I watched his long fingers sliding up to button his shirt. I followed those fingers with great attention when I saw the scar next to his right nipple. I seen it many times, I even cleaned the wound myself when he came back home one night, his shirt soaked with his own blood. He just had a fight and his opponent apparently had a knife.
Anyway, I seen this scar many times but it would still just madden me.
I realized I was not even hiding myself with the book anymore and Holmes stood right in front of me, staring at me with a most enigmatic smile on his face. He never stopped buttoning his shirt, and never stopped looking at me. I knew I was blushing furiously. I was sitting there, trying to hide the obvious bump in my trousers with a book. That was one of the most grotesque situations of my whole life.
Holmes reached for his pipe and started stuffing it. As he was not looking at me anymore, I caught myself staring at his backside. Suddenly he turned around, throwing his glance at me. "Are you enjoying your book, Watson ?"
"Holmes I-" I managed to say trying to explain myself, for he obvioulsy knew what I was staring at.
"I know." He answered. Something was strange on his face. Indeed he wasn't looking at me in the eyes. he was staring at my- Oh God ! I could not believe it. Holmes was staring at my trousers and obviously trying to imagine what was growing harder and harder in it.
He lit his pipe and continued staring at me there. I was aroused. My eyes went from my trousers to his slight smile then back again when I saw it, the thing going down his thigh. It wasn't there two minutes before. At that moment I could have destroyed his pants with my teeth to get him naked. I didn't.
He sat in his usual sit, next to the fire, in front of me, looked into the flames for a moment and undid the first two buttons of his shirt. I was dying to rip of that damn shirt and throw it in the fireplace. That would be a start to prevent him from ever getting dressed again. I thought.
We just sat there for a few minutes, not talking, not moving. As I calmed down I felt I could start reading again even if he was still observing me, my face, this time. He finished his pipe and stood up before climbing the stair to his bedroom. By the noises I heard, I deduced he was searching for something.
"Aha !" He cried.
"Oh. So you found it ?" Said I loud enough for him to hear me from his bedroom.
"I did, Waston !" he said, coming down the stairs.
"Good. May I ask what it was ?"
"That you will know soon enough my dear Watson." What did he meant by that, I did not know, and hated not knowing what he was thinking, as usual. I couldn't read his mind but he could perfectly read mine. That amazed me, but the question was : Was he really reading my mind or was he deducing from my attitude ? And was he doing it just now ?
"Of course I am !" He said with his usual cheerfulness. I just stared at him.
How can he possibly do that ?
"You see, Watson, you don't know how to hide your thoughts. That can be quite a problem, I must say it-"
"Holmes." I snapped
"Watson." He answered, mimicking me.
"What am I thinking just now ?" I asked
"You want me to stop." He said. His eyes were unreadable.
I got up to put my book on the desk. Suddenly his hands were on my shoulders. He pushed the right one to make me turn around. Soon I was against the desk, facing him. He was so close to me, I could feel his breath when he slid his hand from my shoulder to my lower back. I couldn't breathe and didn't know what to do. His hands on me, his eyes locked in mine, his thighs against mine, aroused me more and more, and soon he would feel it. I had to move, or to do something anyway.
"Do you know what I am thinking just now, Watson ?"
"I certainly don't Holmes, but if you could just let-"
"I think, that you are in a strange mood tonight, probably the same mood as I am, myself."
"What makes you think that ?" I asked, trying to sound as indifferent as I could.
"Well," He started. "Your heavy breathing says that something is wrong, the fact that you were constantly trying to avoid my gaze tonight says it has something to do with me." He said, slowly "Your heart is pounding and you pupils are dilated." He paused for a second and pulled me closer. "All those facts indicate one only thing my dear Watson, You are" he pulled closer again and nearly whispered the last word "aroused." His left hand was still resting on my lower back. He slid the right one from my shoulder to my nape and drew my face close to his. His lips brushed against mine.
"The good thing is -Don't look so scared Watson - I am in the same state as you are just now." Then he kissed me, with so much violence and tenderness at the same time. I could feel his tongue against my still closed lips, and opened them to explore his mouth. I wanted him so badly. His hands were going up and down my back. This was the most passionate kiss I ever gave or received.
I bit his lip. This caused a most satisfying groan from him. At that moment I wanted to discover every single inch of him using my tongue. I was trying to analyze and register every details I could, his musky scent and his taste, oh God, his taste, tobacco, brandy and, what was that... Mint ? His skin, so soft. He shaved that morning.
He was attacking my neck when I decided to take control of the situation. After all, I waited for this for the last six years, ever since I met him. I pushed him against the wall, quite violently. He gasped and I kissed him. In return he kissed the way down to my neck, again and started unbuttoning my shirt. He bit my throat, that sent shivers down my spine. Soon my shirt was completely unbuttoned and he was pushing it to make it fall on the floor. He kissed the scar on my shoulder then went back to my neck, slowly going down to my torso, tasting every inch of my upper body. He licked my nipple. I let go a groan and arched my back. A few seconds later, he was still sucking it and I did not want him to stop, but I pushed him back so I could face him. I pressed him against me and he thoroughly kissed me. I felt his manhood against my own. I couldn't handle it anymore. He grabbed me through my trousers.
"Are you alright ?" he asked, looking quite worried.
"Good, because I-"
"To my room." I ordered.
"No." He said. I was holding my breath. "To my room." he declared and kissed me. I Took his hand and we climbed the stairs to his room as fast as we could. We entered Holmes' quarters, he closed the door and pushed me against it. We kissed, for some time and did not stop until we couldn't breathe. I pushed him on the bed and climbed on top of him. He gasped. I never seen more passion in his eyes, even at the ending of the most mysterious case, or when his own life was in danger. He rested one hand on my neck, the other one slowly going down to my buttocks and pulled our lips together as I slid my hand under his shirt. I didn't take as much time or precaution to take of his shirt as he did for mine. I just ripped it of.
"You are right, this shirt did not look very good on me." He said laughing.
"Oh it did look very good, but believe me, you are better without it." I declared just before kissing his torso. Sherlock Holmes wasn't hairy at all, and there was only a thin line of hair on his chest.
"And I don't think you need your trousers either." Said I.
He bit my neck, just where my shoulder begins. I shivered and unbuttoned his trousers as he did the same to mine. Soon we were naked as the day we were born. His cock was standing proudly before me. I took it firmly in my hand, he exhaled a moan. I licked his incredibly flat stomach while stroking his shaft. He gripped the sheets when I swallowed him almost entirely in my mouth and used my throat muscles to make the caress more effective. "Aahh... John..." I don't know why, but to hear my christian name in his mouth aroused me even more and the need was almost painful. He must have felt it, for he suddenly was on top of me. How he got there without me noticing, I have no idea. My head was resting on the pillow, his hands were firmly holding my hips. He kissed the tip of my cock then took in fully in his mouth. I felt him, so hot around me. "Ah- Sherlock..."
"Don't call me that" he said. I don't know how, for he still had a part of my manhood in his mouth. You know my real christian name, my first name, don't you ?" -should I say my cock was not in his mouth when he said that ?- He smiled and returned his attention to my groin.
"Yes... William" I exhaled, not believing what I just said. For the first time, I called him the way I always wanted to call him. At that moment I just wanted to scream "William Sherlock Scott Holmes !" About 150 times in less than a minute. I felt him smiling around my cock and I realized how hard it must be to smile while sucking one of these. I decided his wet mouth around my prick was my favorite sensation ever. I felt my climax approaching as he cupped my ball sac with one hand and continued sucking my rod. I lifted my hips, I wanted him to take me as deep as he could in his mouth and was crying his name out loud. He pushed my hips back into the mattress with his strong hands and crawled on top of me just before my climax, ignoring my moan of frustration, he kissed me gently, almost chastely, on the lips and said
"I don't want you to come now love." he moved back so he could see me. Wait" he ordered. "Don't move."
He went to the other side of his room and opened a small wooden box. You remember, earlier, I was looking for something." He looked at me over his shoulder. I nodded. And i found it." He added. I nodded again, even if he was closing the box and not looking at me anymore. Well, John, it was for you- perhaps I should say 'us'." he declared, coming back on the bed, next to me, with something in his hand. "But if we do use it, I must ask you if you want to go any further." He looked at me. "Well, do you ?" he demanded, raising an eyebrow, playing with my nipple as if it was totally normal. I moaned "Don't make me wait more" I said, louder than I meant. I wanted him- No, I needed him. He put the small object he was holding in my hand. It was a bottle with 'lubricant' written on it. "Oh I definitely want to go further." Said I when I saw a big smile on his face. "Would you..." he said shyly. "Oh yes I would" I answered before he could finish his question.
I kissed him and went all the way down to his hips with wet kisses and love bites on his upper body, causing a symphony of moans and groans from him. When I reached his shaft, I carefully avoided it, kissed all the flesh I could around it, but never touched it. I wanted to see what his reaction would be, and it was rather satisfying, I must say.
"Ah, John, why are you doing this to me ?" He asked, his voice was desperate with need.
"Why, do you with me to stop ?" I teased him.
"No I-" I bit his thigh "Ah" he moaned. "Fuck me."
I loved hearing him saying that, and I was desperate to hear more. As he was putting a pillow under him, I deduced he wanted to face me. Not that he had the choice, I wanted to see his face when he would climax, but It was a lot easier if he agreed staying on this side. I poured some of the lubricant on my fingers. "Ready ?" I asked. He nodded. I slowly introduced one finger in his inviting hole. He gasped. I was trying to find his prostate when he asked "What are you searching for in th- Oh" His muscles contracted as I found it. When he relaxed I let in a second finger and he exhaled a little animal sound. He moaned every time I hit the spongy organ in him.
"John, I- Ahh..." He cried.
"I- I want..."
"What do you want ? Say it love."
"Take me" He whispered. I wanted to wait, I loved driving him mad like this. He was all mine and I could do anything with him. But my own need was to great, and I couldn't wait to see him contorted with pleasure, loosing his poor remaining of self control.
I placed the tip of my prick at his entrance and pushed hard.
"AH !" He screamed.
"Did it hurt ?" I asked.
"Yes. In a good way."
He was passionate, he wanted more of me and I wanted more of him. I stayed in him, not moving so he could get used to the sensation. then I began moving slowly. Soon the only real word he could say was my name. He cried it again and again as if it was the only word he knew. I started pumping harder and faster. He was so tight, almost painful. We were both screaming each other's name. His strong hands were gripping the sheets. Every single person in the house could probably hear us, but nothing mattered anymore. I took his shaft in my hand and stroked it. He shouted my name one last time, and came all over my hand and his stomach. It didn't take me long to follow him. I collapsed on him and stayed there for a long time, on him, and in him, his hot skin against mine. I didn't move, apparently he did not wish me to.
When I finally extracted my softening cock from him, he moaned. I rolled to be next to him, rested my head on his torso and listened to his heartbeat. We were both exhausted from our lovemaking. He took me in his arms and pressed me slightly against him. I looked at my dearest friend and he kissed my forehead. I felt his breath in my hair when I put my head back on his well defined pectorals.
"John ?" He said.
"Hmm ?" I answered as I moved back and tilted my head to see him. He kissed me and I could feel his smile on my lips. He put his head in my neck, kissed it and stayed there. Soon his breathing slowed down and the man I loved fell asleep.
At that moment, I knew I would never forget the sensation of his hair against my chin, his mouth touching my throat and his hand resting on my chest. Now I could fall asleep not knowing what would become of us the next day, or if he would still want me. But I didn't want to ask myself those questions, the moment was too magic to waist it.
I kissed him one last time and followed him in the depths of sleep.