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It was late in the evening, two months later, that Holmes returned with a flush
expression on his face, and a nervous look in his eye. He helped himself to
brandy, and lit a cigarette, sitting in his chair by the fire.
I had
stayed up to finish my novel, but now put the book down to better take in the
details of my friend, and make a few observations of my own.
The most
startling was the fact that I could smell sex on him.
Part of me wondered
if he always came home, stinking of his sin, and I had never bothered to notice
it. Regardless of his past behaviors, I could smell it on him now, that
unmistakable scent of man’s release, mingling with the smell of his sweat, and a
musky scent that was all Holmes.
Looking at him more closely, I saw that
he no longer wore the cufflinks that he had left our suites with. His cravat was
obviously tied in haste. And there was a richness to his red lips, a swollen
quality, that suggested strenuous oral activity.
My own body flushed at
the very thought of it. Those lips, Holmes’ lips, sucking upon a man’s erection,
the idea was so absurd, and yet so delectable, I squirmed in my
chair.
Holmes looked over at me, concerned. “What are you doing,
Watson?”
I stared at him sternly. “I am wondering if you used enough
lubricant this time.”
Holmes’ mouth gaped open in shock. I suppose that
for a man who was so good at discovering other people’s secrets, he believed his
own to be impenetrable. And yet I had apparently hit close to the mark, for he
looked as though he were going to be sick, studying my face as if I were a
wizard. In any other circumstance, I would have smiled, justified in giving
Holmes a taste of his own medicine.
Instead, however, I just sighed,
shaking my head. “Holmes… Why can’t you treat your body with more
respect?”
Holmes flushed a bright red and looked away from me, staring
into the fire. He smoked silently for a long time. And then finally he threw his
fag into the flames, and narrowed his eyes at me.
“What I do with my body
is my own concern,” he told me coldly.
“Not your concern alone,” I said,
closing my book firmly and sitting up to glare at him. “You and I have a
partnership together here at Baker Street. I would be sorely put out if you
contracted a fatal disease.”
Holmes snorted. “That is your concern? I
catch a venereal disease, and you are out half the rent?”
“You know that
is not what I mean,” I said lowly. “I would be devastated if anything happened
to you. But you are taking risks that far outweigh even your deplorable cocaine
addiction.”
“Stop lecturing me,” Holmes spat. He stood to
leave.
“I will not!” I shouted, standing up with him. I was suddenly
furious, furious that he would pleasure street urchins, mindless of the dangers,
ripping his body apart in his desire for rough play. “I am your doctor, as well
as your friend, and I cannot stand by and watch you destroy
yourself!”
Holmes’ eyes flashed dangerously. In two steps he crossed the
room to me, glaring at me. “Are you worried for my reputation?”
“I’m
worried sick for your physical well-being!” I said angrily. “God, Holmes,
fornicating with prostitutes who physically hurt you as they sodomize you is
absolutely awful!” I cried, not realizing how hurt I was by his actions until I
said this out loud.
“You have no idea how it feels,” he said.
I
took a deep breath. “On the contrary, Holmes, I do. I do know how it feels. And
I STILL advise you to be gentler.”
Holmes jerked back. He stared at me in
absolute shock.
“You?” he whispered, aghast.
I nodded.
“When?”
“In boarding school. And with a few chaps in the
army.”
Holmes gagged on unspoken words. When he regained his composure,
he narrowed his eyes at me. “I would never have guessed. You seemed the
quintessential ladies’ man.”
“I am,” I said. “I love women. But that
doesn’t mean I didn’t experiment in my youth. After all, I had read medical
texts which were mildly suggestive.”
I moved towards him, calming the
torrent of emotions throbbing in my breast. I gripped his arm.
“Holmes. I
am not a complete dullard. I understand why you engage in this activity. I
myself have fallen prey to the lure of such delights. But if you continue to
treat yourself so deplorably, and with such unseemly partners, you could lose
everything. Your health, your livelihood, and yes, as you have pointed out, your
reputation as well.”
He looked petulant. Almost like a child, I thought.
I had seen the carefree bohemian side of my friend, but never this side,
pouting, childish.
I sighed loudly. “Holmes, do not—“
He kissed
me. Suddenly, my words were pushed from my mouth by his tongue, plunging inside
of me, all of my thoughts fleeing with my words. I stood frozen, wrists held by
his stronger hands, and he kissed me long and hard, and I did not resist. In
fact, when he finally did pull away for a breath, my body was flush, aching for
more.
He had a mischievous glint in his eye. “Now I know how to shut the
esteemed Dr. Watson up.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. I intended to sound
cross, but the waver in my voice gave away my true feelings. “Holmes! You cannot
just kiss me and imagine that the argument is over! I still wish to
discuss—“
He kissed me again. I groaned into his mouth, but let him claim
me. I had forgotten the heat of holding another man, the power. Mary had been
small, warm, and soft. Holmes was burning, his flesh igniting mine where we
touched, and he was all muscle, his lean body pressing against mine. He took
several steps forward and I was pressed back, stumbling as we continued to kiss,
until he pinned me against the wall. His arms locked around my head and he
braced himself with his hands against the wall.
“Do you like that,
Watson?” he purred in my ear. I had never known his voice to be so velvety, so
dark and arousing. Holmes had changed before my very eyes, from cold and
calculating to hot and passionate. I felt dizzy from the revelation.
My
voice shook as I spoke. “If you think I’m going to pleasure you moments after
you have had some street urchin inside of you, you are sorely
mis—“
Holmes crouched and palmed the outside of my trousers with his
hands. My head lolled back and I moaned. He silently and deftly unbuckled my
trousers and unbuttoned my flies. Before I could stop him, my member was free,
large and bright red. I had no moment to think, to question, when he suddenly
engulfed it in his mouth and swallowed me down.
I moaned as though I were
dying. I had no idea fellatio could feel this good. Holmes, a master of all he
studied, had perfected his art, and pulled me deep into his throat, using his
throat muscle to constrict around me in rhythm, pumping me with such ecstasy I
believe I may have even started weeping.
And then, with the same speed as
his lips had fallen upon me, he withdrew. I groaned in disappointment, and
reached out for him.
His features were tinged pink, eyes wild, lips swollen.
Without saying a word he grabbed me by my arm and forcefully led me into his
bedroom. He kicked the door shut behind him and locked it.
“Holmes,” I
began shakily. I had to regain some control over the situation. This was
spiraling out of control. My mind was foggy, stunned by the power of his mouth
upon me. “Listen to me. Before we—“
Once again, my words were consumed by
his lips. He pressed me hard against the locked door and kissed me with such
ferocity I could taste blood. My mind was swirling away from me, I could think
no longer, only feel, my need engorged, heavier than it ever had been, prick
standing at attention above my lowered trousers. As he kissed me, Holmes reached
down and unbuttoned his own trousers, kicking off his shoes, pulling his legs
free of all clothing. He thrust his tongue so far down my throat I thought I had
momentarily consumed him. And then he pulled away and moved to the bed,
crouching on his hands and knees before me.
I was not thinking. I could
no longer think. I moved behind him and spread his cheeks open, looking at his
tight hole, his heavy, warm balls, the thickness and heat of his erection. The
sight was so tempting I had no choice but to rub my cock at his entrance,
wetting his flesh with my pre-cum.
“Fuck me,” Holmes whispered hoarsely.
He pushed back against the tip of my prick.
“No.” Saying so was as
difficult as cutting off my own arm. I wanted him so badly I felt as though I
would die if I didn’t plunge into him. But I had seen this very delectable sight
before me ravaged, and I was not about to do the same.
“Fuck me!” Holmes
growled. He reached behind me to guide my prick into him. For a moment, I could
feel the tip of my prick slip into the confines of his muscle, and I groaned.
But I used all my strength and will power to pull back out.
“Lubricant,”
I hissed, pulling back. I was desperate now. I scanned the room for anything,
cursing myself for not having my medical bag nearby, cursing the world for not
conveniently placing lubricant every ten feet or so.
Holmes face
contorted in frustration. “Damn it!” he hissed, furious, and then suddenly he
scrambled from me and fumbled frantically in his bedside drawer. He pulled out
some cream that he used for removing his disguises. “Use this. Hurry,
Watson!”
I did not need his command to comply. I opened the jar with
trembling hands and coated my member evenly. I then coated two fingers and
pressed the first inside of him. The moment I did, Holmes thrust backwards,
impaling himself on whatever he could get on. He moaned.
“More!” he cried
out. He sounded strangled. I pushed two fingers inside of him, gently and first,
and then faster, deeper, even though I could tell by the size of his opening
that he did not need such careful preparation. But I had to regain control of
the situation. I would not abuse him, no matter how he forced his
hand.
“For God’s sake, Watson!” Holmes cried. I could no longer hold
back, and I thrust into him, hard and all the way, moaning as I could feel his
skin stretch and accommodate my width. Oh god, it was so tight, and so warm. I
could feel the soft burning of Holmes’ insides in my groin, through my chest, in
my head, the heat of his core radiating through my entire nervous system. I
plunged into him recklessly, spurred on by his bucking movements. He pushed and
twisted himself against me, and he had stopped talking altogether, his eyes
closed in bliss, sweat beading on his forehead as he took me fully inside of
him.
I reached down to stroke his shaft and he hissed between his teeth.
“No!” he cried, slapping my hand away. “I’ll finish too fast. I want—“ I stroked
him again, wanting to keep control, and indeed, the second I pumped him in time
with a deep internal stroke, he cursed in French and came, his essence spurting
hot and voluminous in my hand.
I was only a second behind him. I felt as
though I was deep enough to reach his heart. I shivered and exploded, my body
trembling with the force of my release. It lasted far longer than I had
expected, longer than I thought my poor heart could bear. When it was over, I
pulled from inside of him and Holmes sucked in his breath. He collapsed on his
stomach with a groan, and I lay beside him, panting, trying to steady my
heart.
Holmes did not look at me. His eyes were closed, but he had a
sweet half-smile upon his lips, and looked as content as a cat in a sunbeam.
When I finally had my shaking under control, I sat back up. I did not like the
way Holmes had winced when I withdrew, and so I took advantage of his prone
position and knelt beside his backside, opening him up gently to look and make
sure I had not done any damage.
“There’s no need to be concerned, Watson,
I’m fine.” Holmes’ voice was muffled by the bedspread. He didn’t move an inch.
But I could hear the amusement in his voice.
Indeed, his opening, while
wide and wet with lubrication and semen, looked undamaged.
“I still plan
on having that argument with you,” I told him, laying back down on the bed
beside him.
Holmes’ body shook with his laughter, which was muffled as
well. “Wait until I wake up then. Sometime next week.” He yawned, and then
looked at me fondly. “For God’s sake, Watson, you are well-endowed, aren’t
you?”
I blushed. “I… that is, I…”
“You should have warned
me.”
“When? I couldn’t get a word in edgewise.” I closed my eyes. Other
than the overpowering smell of sex in the room, I was quite cosy and didn’t
really feel like moving until next week either.
Holmes lazily threw his
arm over my belly and nestled closer. His arm was heavy, a dead weight, and it
felt inexplicably marvelous.
I wanted to broach the subject of sexual
safety. After all, now, in a dimming glow of sexual release, I realized I had
just fornicated with a man who had been sleeping with prostitutes. I was worried
about infection, as I doubted that Holmes, in his urgency, ever thought far
enough to protect himself against sexual disease.
But before I could open
my mouth to voice my question, Holmes yawned again and moved his head closer,
his face turned so that his lips were right against my ear. “I did not have
intercourse with anyone else tonight, Watson, if that is what you are fearing.”
How he read my mind, I still do not know. He chuckled. “Although I will say that
I had some fun in other ways.”
“For all I know, you are full of
diseases,” I mumbled.
“Mm. Share them with me.”
“That sounds so
unappealing, Holmes.”
“Whatever I have, I have. I will not acquire new
ones, unless they are from you.”
I turned to face him, resting my head on
my hand, propped up on my elbow. “What do you mean? You are swearing off rent
boys?”
Holmes smirked. “Do you honestly think I will make do with
anything else once I’ve had this inside me?” To emphasize his point, he reached
down and fondled my large but wilting member.
I shook my head. “My
blushes, Holmes. I had no idea you were so crass.”
He barked in laughter
and then leaned over to kiss me gently. The taste of him drove me senseless. How
many years had we wasted, not kissing? I could have been kissing like this every
night.
“I will solely attend to my doctor’s wishes, from this point
forward,” Holmes said solemnly.
“Hm.” I didn’t believe him, but I was too
sated and tired to say anything else. But the slick feel of skin cream was upon
me, the stickiness of his release, and I realized we were both in precarious
danger of falling asleep with such incriminating evidence splashed loudly across
our persons.
I lifted up his heavy arm. “Well, come on then, attend my
wishes,” I said hoarsely, forcing myself to sit up.
Holmes cracked open
an eye and glared at me. “Again? Watson, I may be a remarkable man, but even I
have limits on stamina.”
I slapped his bottom. “No, you fool, let’s go
have a bath. You are decidedly messy.”
Holmes rubbed his hands over his
face. “I am indeed. I can feel you sloshing about inside me—“
“—Holmes!”
I cried, scandalized. I had no idea he could be so foul.
Holmes just
chuckled. “I am merely stating the obvious.” With a sudden burst of energy, he
sat up, and then pulled me by my hand into the adjacent bathroom.
“You
see to the hot water. I’ll fetch your robe and night shirt for
you.”
“Thank you.” As he turned to leave, I could not help but reach out
and run my hand along the smooth plane of his spine. He shivered, and stood
still. He then looked over his shoulder, his grey eyes gleaming, a smile
flirting along his lips.
“You will have your hands upon me shortly, my
dear.” He then smiled fully, beautifully, and left to fetch my robe.
I
smiled back at his disappearing form, and turned my attention to the water.
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