Thankyou to everyone who read Chapter 1, and an even bigger thankyou to those who reviewed: )
Sanguinary Tears: Thankyou so much! I did try and big up the romance, and yes I'm working on more. I think they're a lovely couple!
LA Suka: Thankyou! I'm glad it's not just me ) I'm rather addicted to the idea of Holmes on the bottom. Pouncing is goooooood!
Queen Shnoogleberry: Hehe, thankye kindly, hopefully here is the lurid detail you search for; it certainly wasn't easy to type though! ; I would certainly like to do a Holmes POV, but writing our beloved sleuth in character is no easy task I am hoping the inspiration fairies will visit soon.
Witty Sarcasm: Thankyou, I'll try! Great name by the way : ) Oooh, which actors? I've always thought Basil Rathbone to be the best Holmes myself, but I love Edward Hardwicke's Watson.
Nagisha-chan: Thanks so much! Hehe, innocence in sexy, usually bad-ass men is what I loves.
The Sierra Kaiba: Also a great name, are you also a fan of his royal shmexehness Mr. Seto Kaiba? ;P Anyway, thankyou! And yaaaay, steamy glasses are what I'm looking for!
To all of you who didn't review originally – here is a chance to redeem yourselves!
WARNING: This chapter will have explicit scenes that I was too much of a pansy to type in the first chapter, this is slash ie. Homosexual love – don't like, don't read!
Anywho, onwards!
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The patient in question has a mild case of-
My writing was interrupted as a certain detective began to nuzzle my face and neck with smooth cheeks, reaped of any stubble by his meticulous morning shave.
"Sherlock, please, how many times have I told you, it is essential that I complete these medical papers!" My agitation was evident in my voice - he'd been restless all morning, no doubt a product of the current drought in the criminal world and was relieving it by pestering me.
"But John..." he lowered his mouth to my ear and blew in a spoilt yet seductive whisper, "I'm bored."
"The quicker you allow me to finish these; the quicker we'll be able to move on to something more…interesting."
He resumed his nestling against me.
"What do you have in mind?" With his deft, dexterous hands, he began to slowly stroke my neck. "And I don't want to wait. I want to…" he bit me hard on my jaw, "now."
"Holmes…please." my words came out like gasps. I felt my resolve, dissolving…he was so persuasive when he wanted to be - no; I firmly told myself, mentally shaking myself from my stupor; you must stay vigilant; you can be the master for once.
Taking a deep breath, I closed my fingers around his wiry arms and resolutely removed his hands from me, squared my shoulders and picked up my pen.
"Holmes. I said no."
He paused, then, with a snort of feigned indifference; haughtily strode away from me and proceeded to collapse upon the sofa. I cast a gaze at him, which he blatantly ignored; instead sticking his nose in the air.
Well at least I can concentrate now.
But to my dismay, I found that I could not. My eyes kept leaving the paper in front of me and straying over to that lithe figure sprawled upon the easy chair, his long legs draped over the arm.
He really did remind me of a cat; a sleek, spoilt cat - charming and devious, with glossy black fur and penetrating grey eyes. Constantly the epitome of elegance, no matter how he sat, stood or lay he would always look so refined; with a grace that was natural to him.
He decided to meet my evaluative stare for a moment, and then looked away, his face an emotionless mask.
I will not let him weave his spell around me this time.
I resumed my writing with renewed effort, after an hour or so, I was done.
Holmes had barely moved an inch in the past sixty minutes. He had stayed with his arms crossed sulkily and his head held stiff.
I could tell now by his fixed position and perpetual glare at the ceiling that he was no doubt extremely affronted by my previous rejection and certain to be in a stubborn and unresponsive mood for the rest of the day.
Insufferable man! Damn his pride. Although it was I who had initiated our relationship, it was not long before he knew how to control it. He learned everything at an alarming rate - as was his nature. Soon he knew how to manipulate me and my emotions anyway he wanted - to get anything he wanted from me.
No wonder he was offended; his loyal little pet disobeying him.
He loved me, I knew he did, it was just that he had very little knowledge in the way of romantic relationships…or any relationships really! Also at times, he could have a very self-absorbed and childish mentality; I believe it must have stemmed from his childhood in some way. Of course I did love him dearly, more than I could ever love anyone else, but he did have his faults, and they would grate terribly on my nerves. His untidiness, his complete disregard for his health, (I must constantly nag the man to eat!) and most of all; his selfishness. It is probably because his merits of character are so magnified compared to the rest of the world that his downfalls are too.
Nonetheless, excuses cannot keep being made for him. He needs to learn a lesson.
And I would be the one to teach it.
It had been an unbearably long time since I had felt that lean yet powerful body quiver beneath my own much broader frame, to make him moan and clutch as I ravaged him senseless. I could easily take advantage of him if I wanted; physically I was much stronger; it was just that mentally he was so dominant and masterful.
Oh yes, a lesson was about to be taught.
It was strangely like that fateful day, our positions slightly reversed, me at the desk, and he on the chair.
With confident strides, I left my seat, grabbed his collar and claimed his lips in a crushing kiss. If he had expected it he would have shied away and kept his mouth clamped stubbornly shut; however, having caught him unawares, he gasped, I used the opportunity to ransack his warm moist cavern with my adventurous tongue; leaving him breathless.
I snaked my hands around him, and lifted him from the chair. He struggled.
"Watson, what are you-"
I cut him off, with a quick tweak to his pert buttocks.
He let out a small, shocked squeal. Grinning, I made a mental memo; "apply pressure to Holmes' rear more often".
"Shhhh, Sherlock. It's time for something interesting!"
He was as light as air; it was no problem at all to transport his writhing body through to our bedroom. I threw him on to the bed, he bounced rather high. It really was an amusing sight; seeing the world's only consulting detective completely surprised, with his flailing form springing upon a mattress. Quickly, I kneeled on top of him, my legs pinning his sinewy arms down. I began to relieve him of his garments.
Squirming; he attempted in vain to free himself, when realising such efforts were futile he lay back and satisfied himself by glaring at the beige walls. He appeared to be rendered quite speechless; instead uttering small mutterings and splutters of astonishment as I de-robed him.
When he was quite bare I flipped him over on to his front. Clutching his cool, worryingly narrow wrists, I stroked the slightly warmer area where his cobalt blue veins ran like ink trails along the white paper of his skin.
"Watson." He said sternly, in a manner much like a parent scolding an unruly child. He only called me by my surname when he was annoyed with me for some reason or another – naturally I've always done the same.
But I was having far too much fun to take any heed of his tone. I lay myself down over his rangy figure, causing him to sink down in to the fabric. I traced the sharp contours of his bony back, (Lord, I really did have to make sure his meals were more regular!).
Languorously I licked his neck, making the strokes long and sensuous. He shuddered like an infant in the cold.
Raising myself up, I stood at the end of the bed and grasped one hand around each of his jutting hips; I'd learned from previous experience that they made the most perfect handles!
With one arm I kept him held down; the other I used to unbutton my trousers. As I went to resume my original position: - holding his hips; he tried to make an escape. I prevented this by quickly grabbing his slender waist and heaving him back on to the bed.
He struggled some more, but my hands thrust him down. His lower abdomen would no doubt be mottled with blue patches in the shape of my fingertips.
I'd try and be gentler from now on.
Scanning the room, I finally found the bottle of lubricant; it was on the floor by the bed post.
I knew Holmes would try and make a run for it if I relinquished my hold over him…I ripped my tie from my neck.
"Watson…"
A lightning flash; I whipped his tie from the floor.
He started as I speedily turned him over and bound each of his wrists to the wooden pillars of the head board.
"Watson!
As I proceeded to lubricate myself the smugness I felt must have been radiating from my face as; if it was even possible, the anger in his face increased.
"You're really enjoying yourself aren't you?!" he spat.
Oh yes. Oh yes I was.
"But of course darling, and soon you will be too!"
Grinning, my heart lurched as he began to mutter all the things he was going to do to me later. Ah, he could be so adorable at times!
Hitching his legs over my shoulders, I leant on the mattress and began to prepare him. Tipping a generous amount of the cool lotion on to my hand I massaged it in to him; feeling myself hardening in anticipation.
Realising it foolish to physically resist he had decided to try and achieve it mentally. His grey eyes turned cold and unfeeling. No spark of recognition flickered in them as I slipped one, two, three fingers in to him.
When I shot in the fourth, he made a small, almost un-hear-able, sound of displeasure. Probing my feelers further against the moist, muscular walls emitted more stifled sniffles.
Then I forced myself through his small entrance.
He was wondrously, deliciously tight; as always. It was all I could do to stop myself from coming right there as he swallowed me.
I filled him up to my hilt. Slowly I pulled back out.
I grabbed his length and pumped it, massaging the soft skin, feeling it erect under my touch. It is often said that a man's nose reflects his private regions – well I can honestly say that it is true in Mr. Holmes' case. He is certainly blessed when it comes to the size of both these areas of anatomy.
Keeping my thrusts even and controlled I pulled in and out. His loins now: standing to attention, created luscious friction against my stomach.
His moans filled my ears, gradually growing in volume, until shocked; I discovered that my own mouth was joining in.
His pale face grew flushed as sweet little patches of red flared upon his hollow cheeks, as his usually focused grey eyes became cloudy.
I tried to keep smooth and even and even pace, but that hot, engulfing tunnel was becoming unbearable. My thrusts soon became erratic as stars swam before me. The building pressure in my lower region: excruciating; threatening to explode at any moment. Feverishly I clung to the firm flesh of his buttocks; it was all I could do to keep me from collapsing as pleasure consumed me; blinding me. My brain was drowning in heat. I could feel my nails digging in to him. Sweat poured from me as I rammed; harder and harder; the pain spurring me onwards. Like a wild animal I rode him; pushing and penetrating and riding the waves of pure, primitive, physical ecstasy. Our yells bounced about the bedroom.
From the cacophony of screams I heard my name; my first name.
I roared his as I felt his hot, white seed erupt against me.
My own soon followed. Filling him with my essence; I bit his shoulder to steady myself against the flood, tasting the salty lacquer of his sweat. A magical relief from the imprisoned heat, next I; utterly exhausted, fell upon the bed beside him.
Lethargically, I lolled my head and kissed the nearest part of him, the hollow of his neck.
He merely closed his eyes.
Contented, we lay.
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A cry of "Confound it Watson!" bounced around the living room as, yet again, Sherlock had tried to sit down too quickly
Chuckling, I gestured for him to come over.
"My lap may provide a comfier alternative old boy!"
He strode over and lowered himself gingerly, and I may add; a little haughtily onto my thighs.
"There there, now my dear chap, tell your Doctor what's wrong and let him have a look."
He snorted disdainfully.
"It's nothing you haven't seen before,"
I smiled; a true statement indeed.
"Besides, you've done enough." added he, frowning deeply.
I bounced him lightly, but stopped as I noticed him wince, so instead I decided to embrace him, hugging his waif-ish frame. Leaning forward to breathe in that bitter aroma of tobacco and his own special scent that I loved so much.
"Can Doctor kiss it better?"
He relaxed his stiff posture and turned to face me.
"…well I suppose so."