The Curious Case of Dr. Watson
by Lyrical Soul

Chapter Fourteen

I have often called Holmes a cold, calculating machine, and a brain without a heart.

After the events of this evening, I shall cease to do so. He is, given the right set of circumstances, a rather passionate, sensuous man whose feelings run quite deep.

It amazes me that the 'right set of circumstances' involve my tongue, and the filling of a mince tart spread about his person.

At that memory, my body tightens, and I press myself against him reflexively.

"You are insatiable, Watson," he whispers hoarsely.

"And you have incredible vocal range," I tease.

"A gentleman would not gloat so," he chides.

"Surely recent… events have served to convince you that my gentlemanly behaviour is a clever façade. After all, no gentleman would ever put his tongue-"

"Watson!" He throws the eider aside and sits up with a groan. "I ache from head to foot. Even my elbow... what is it you've done to my elbow?"

"Something I recalled from my time in India. Precise pressure, a discreet nip with the teeth, and an upward thrust produces an intense release."

I have the pleasure of seeing him blush again. "I bow to your skills, my dear fellow. Whatever shall I do when you discard me?"

"Why should I discard you?" I attempt to catch his eye, but he continues to look at the bedding. "Holmes?" I sit up and put a hand on his leg, rubbing in soothing circles. "What is it?"

"This is such an unfamiliar feeling, Watson," he says gravely. "I should like to... be... ah, I am dreadfully bad at this." He turns to look at me. "This morning, when you were so terribly distraught about your reputation, I found myself wanting to comfort you, to neglect my duty to the case, and sit at your side until you were better."

"Such is the way of a man who feels... affection for another, Holmes," I say gently, inwardly pleased that I could affect him so. I do not want to frighten him off from confessing his feelings. For all his confidence and bohemian ways, he can be like a new colt, skittish and nervous, especially when the topic of emotional attachments arises. "I am quite pleased that you held me uppermost in your mind."

"And now, after the events of the evening, you shall be even more so." He shakes his head ruefully. "You are a lover of the fair sex, Watson. You will make someone a fine husband, if only for the fact that your skills in the boudoir are extraordinary. There should be volumes written about your expertise, Watson. Were I not familiar with your particular style of prose writing, I would suggest that you are the author of that explicit serial that you keep taped to the bottom of your chest of drawers."

That he has discovered the place I keep my well-thumbed copy of The Pearl is a trifle, as I knew he would find it. I am amazed that he thinks me particularly skilled in things of a sexual nature. A high compliment, but surely an overstatement. "Holmes-"

He pats my hand. "I do not say so to inflate your ego, good fellow. I merely speak the truth. There are ancient legends that speak of men who were said to be the offspring of angels, and are extremely gifted in the sensual arts. They were said to possess legendary stamina, and were given secrets of love-making that cannot be obtained in any book."

"You think me to be a… relation to these beings?"

"I do." He sighs. "In the art of logic, deduction, and reasoning, you are no match for me. It is not a point of pride with me; it is merely the state of affairs. I am not really so untried in the ways of passion, Watson, but have never been... ah, made love to quite so thoroughly. I feel... inadequate."

"My dear fellow!" I exclaim, and pull him close. "You worry about inconsequential things. I find myself quite enamoured of you, and am loath to let you go. If you wish us to continue along this vein, I have no objections. If you do not wish it, we will speak no more of these events, and will content ourselves with the memories of this day."

"How could I not wish it?"

"I should not want to presume, nor impose."

He favors me with a quick smile. "Nor should I."

Recognizing that he has settled the matter in his mind and does not wish to dwell on the minutiae, I accept that we will continue on with our new-found feelings. My hand smoothes down his back, and I delight when leans into me. I pull him back to lie down, and hold him close. "You are a delight to wake up with," I say, nuzzling at the sensitive spot behind his ear. "And such a passionate lover. I would never have suspected you had such hidden depths. And that you would be so receptive to all that I asked of you. The memory of you taking me with such vigour shall ever live in my memory."

He shifts in embarrassment. "My blushes, Watson!"

"You've nothing to be ashamed of, Holmes. You are an exquisite creature. Making love with you is like fire and ice... outwardly so cool, yet so fiery in your passion. I am honoured that I am able to share such pleasures with you."

"The honour… and the pleasure is indeed mine," he says, moving back fractionally. "I, ah... am here to be used however you'd like."

"I would not want such an invitation to pass." I press forward, and groan as he moves back to meet me.

"Your astuteness is greatly appreciated." He turns back to meet my eyes over his shoulder. The look there is a wonderful mixture of devilment and desire, and I am determined that I shall see that look more often. "Now if you would hurry along..."

"The game is afoot then?"

"Oh, indeed," he moans, and tugs my head down so that our lips meet in a searing kiss.

***

I have often derided Watson for his lack of observational skills. But now, as he has made love to every inch of my person, I am afraid I will have to recant that sentiment. Even now, as he moves down the length of my body and nips roughly at my inner thigh, I am amazed at his uncanny knowledge of what I find pleasurable.

I groan as his moustache brushes against my straining erection, and cannot help but arch upward to meet his mouth. "Watson…"

"Positively wanton," he murmurs, repeating the light tickling. His hand grips me firmly, and he strokes me with perfect pressure. "And utterly irresistible."

I can count on one hand the times that words have failed me. As soon as Watson's tongue teases at the underside of my cock, I lose the power of speech. I gasp loudly at the intense sensation, and tangle my hands in his hair.

His mouth encases me fully, and I nearly faint from the pleasure of it. It is… "Oh, dear god!" I cry out, as he starts a rough suction. "Watson…"

He moans in response and continues this torturous pleasure. I move in time with the pace he has set, careful not to thrust too hard and inadvertently choke him.  I loosen my tight grip on his hair, and rest my hands on his shoulders. "Watson…" I feel the familiar tingling in my spine, heralding the onset of my completion, and pat him in warning. "I should like to wait for you."

With another moan, he slides my erection from his mouth, and looks up at me, licking his lips lasciviously. "No mincemeat tart can compare to you, Holmes." He slides up to lie beside me. "How shall you have your pleasure this time?"

I blush at his generosity. It is no wonder women flock to his side at social gatherings. He is not only a kind man, but an inventive lover, who delights in giving pleasure. "I… perhaps you should choose."

"Hmm…" He looks up and down the length of my body, his eyes ablaze with desire. "Perhaps I should continue to pleasure you with my mouth. You could move to the other end of the bed and do the same for me."

I nod enthusiastically. "I find that to be a grand idea."

"Or…" He rubs his moustache across my chest. "I could have you lie atop me so that our erections rub against each other until we reach completion."

"Ah, frottage!" I say with fervour. My cock seems enamoured of that idea, as it moves upward of its own accord. "Even better."

"But," he continues, his tone still thoughtful, "I should like to fuck you again. The feeling was exquisite, and your body very welcoming. Though I fear it is unwise to do so more than twice in a day."

I fight to keep from shivering with desire at his crude words, but fail. The memory of it is arousing, and spurs me onward. I roll over, pressing him to the bed. "Do not talk it to death, Watson… you are a man of action. Act!"

And act, he does. He moves upward, pressing our erections together, while his large hands hold my hips tightly. I moan, and press down to meet him. "Watson, this is exquisite."

"I thought of you… of touching you like this," he whispers, grasping my hands, and entwining our fingers. "I did not dare hope…"

"Shh," I say, silencing him with a kiss. The sensations coursing through are too much, and I am well beyond coherency.

Watson moans and wrenches his mouth away. "I cannot… it is too much..." With another groan, he moves us so that we lie on our sides, facing each other. He loosens his grip on my fingers, and grabs at my thigh, pulling it to lie atop his own.

"Oh!" I gasp, as this position put his solid erection between my buttocks. He moves against me, and the pleasure of it causes my eyes to roll back in my head of their own accord. "Watson…" He is incredible, and far better than anything I've ever experienced. I grind my teeth, determined not to release until he does. It is of no use; Watson is well-skilled, and could possibly delay his release for hours, and while I do not possess such skill, it is of no matter. The rapid sliding of his cock against my testicles is too much. I bury my face against his shoulder and bite him as my release rushes through me. "Oh, dear Watson!" I pant.

"Holmes…" His voice is a harsh whisper against my ear. He begins to move in a hard rhythm, his hand on my lower back, holding me in place. His glorious cock rubs across the entrance to my body once, twice, then he presses hard against me, holding me still as he releases his essence. "Dear god!" he moans, and crushes me to him, his arms as steel bands around me as he shudders again and again.

Finally, he releases me, give me a gentle kiss. "I shall never let you go, Holmes. Never."

"Nor I you," I say, surprised by my immediate acquiescence. I roll away, searching for my cigarette case, which is lost in the jumble of bedding and clothing strewn about.

"Here," he says, handing me the case and matches. He sighs, sounding deeply contented. "What shall we do for a bath?"

"There is a system that keeps water warm, there in the corner," I say, taking a long drag on my cigarette. "I am trying to convince Mrs. Hudson to install such, but she is concerned that I will shoot holes in it, and ruin her floors."

"As well she should," he teases. "Are you all right?"

I favour him with a satisfied smile. "I am, Watson. Very much so. Thank you."

"Thank you for saving my honour."

"Well, I should not want you to go about, unable to purchase sweets and leeches. That will not do."

"If only because you benefit from my purchase of marzipan." He takes my cigarette and stubs it out on the bedpost. "And a bath would benefit us both."

"I concur." I sit up with a groan, and immediately flop back against his chest. "I cannot move, Watson. You have undone me."

"There is much to be said of the therapeutic nature of a hot bath." He places a kiss on my forehead, and leaves the bed. "I shall fetch the water, and then help you to the tub. I should be ashamed for not taking more care with you."

"Every moment was pleasurable, Watson," I assure him. "And I am certain that with more… exposure to your… methods, I will become acclimated to being the lover of such one as passionate as yourself."

"And I you," he replies with a fond smile. He gestures at the outline of my teeth on his shoulder, chest, and neck, and the marks of my nails in random places. "I am pleased that I could evoke such passion in you."

I feel the heat rising to my neck and ears, and I look away. "I have never bitten nor scratched anyone before, Watson. In passion, that is."

"You were saving it for me," he says smugly. "I will see to our bath."

I lie back against the pillows, and watch him as he walks about the room. He is well-built, robust, and quite insatiable - all sterling qualities in a lover. I contemplate the depth of feelings I have for Watson, and allow myself a contented smile. Had he not become entangled in this affair, it is highly unlikely that we would have taken this step. While I am not grateful for this incident, per se, I am grateful that he is willing to share himself with me. Really, much more than I dared hope for.

"What are you contemplating, Holmes? You look… happy."

 "You, my friend." I find myself smiling at him once again. "I shall have to find a balance between passion and intellect. You are rather distracting."

"As are you," he says with a sly smile. "Your bath will be ready soon."

"You will join me?"

"Of course. A bath for two can be rather pleasurable." I cannot wait to sample your prowess in this area, Watson."

"And so you shall."

Needless to say, it was a while before we left the bath...