Eye Candy
Eye candy: The phrase can mean several things.
To John Watson, in love with a beautiful man, it can mean seeing that man's long body tricked out in snug jeans and a button-down shirt that's a little too tight.
It can mean seeing him pad around the flat bare-chested when it's hot, or he's forgotten to do laundry again, or just because he knows John likes it.
It can also mean watching that man strut in black high heels, run a fingertip over his own nipple, or slide low on the sofa, legs spread, masturbating under John's unblinking gaze.
To Sherlock Holmes, who would never, not ever, not once use the silly phrase, eye candy might refer to the chocolate ganache at Café Concerto, the one with a pretty lace of brittle toffee.
Or it could mean the hot gooseberry compote from the Holly Bush, the one top-heavy with a dark and buttery crumb.
Or maybe it could mean the careful creation of cream and caramel the flirting barista constructs over Sherlock's coffee some cold London mornings.
Yes, eye candy can have a few definitions, really. Yet, no matter which resonates with you, the thing that unifies them is that you must come in close, very close, and you must taste, most definitely touch…and then, my dear, you must bite.
Written on the slopes of Hampstead Heath, because one should always write porn on the soft green expanse of the Heath's grass.