The Lion's Den (post The Sign of Four - original story)
by Clonesgirl
Upon opening my eyes, for a moment, I gaze full into his hazel ones; eyes filled with affection for me, before his face once more assumes a neutral expression. However, it is far too late to pretend indifference. I have felt - and in my mind's eye seen - what he did not wish me to know. Or perhaps he did... No matter. My dear Watson, now you are surely lost for I shall have you this night! I shall embrace you and feel your masculine strength against my own and I shall taste your lips with endless kisses. And when I have worked my way down your handsome body I shall savour the delights of your manhood by swallowing you whole and relishing the life-giving essence of your loins.
I note the shock register on his face as he beholds my eyes on him. My wakefulness has momentarily startled him and he jerks backward, but it is all right for he thinks that I have only just awoken. He does not know that I experienced - and revelled in! - his earlier actions. I must acknowledge it, even though it will embarrass him. I can not wait any longer. I must speak now. I will speak now!
"My dear Watson, please do not desist on my account," I murmur in a deliberately enticing manner. "I was quite enjoying your tender ministrations and would beg you to continue."
He realises that I have been awake all along and is mortified, blushing most becomingly.
"I... " he swallows hard, "I thought only to relax you, to help you to sleep."
He is dissembling to save his honour. After all, did he not believe that I was already asleep and therefore oblivious to his actions? I shake my head in denial and smile at him in an effort to convey that I am not displeased.
"You...? You felt...?"
Poor dear, he is tongue-tied and still in shock. I must remedy that.
"Yes, my friend, and it pleased me - very much!" I take his hand and place it on my hair, gazing up at him most appealingly. "Dear friend, will you not stroke my hair once more? It is a most pleasing sensation." I smile my most engaging smile at him, manipulating him shamelessly.
Closing my eyes once more, I stretch a little, getting comfortable. His hand rests lightly on my head for a moment before once more beginning to stroke my hair.
Oh, lovely! So relaxing - or it would be if I were not so wretchedly stimulated! He is petting me as if I were a cat. Perhaps he enjoys the feel of my hair sliding through his fingers. Yes, I do believe that he does! Hah! My Watson is a sensual creature also, no less so than I, not that I would ever admit to it. I wonder what would he do if I asked him to kiss my hair once more. We shall see, but I shall keep my eyes closed so as not to alarm him.
"The touch of your lips is also most pleasant, my dear Watson," I whisper.
A sharp intake of breath. A pause as his hand freezes on my hair for a moment before he quietly resumes breathing again. His hand moves to my shoulder as I wait, my senses keenly alert for the touch of his lips once more.
Ah, yes, there it is! That lovely feather-light touch! Again! Oh, yes! Again!
Oh, my dearest Watson, my defences against you are gone and I can no longer resist!
As I once more open my eyes our gazes meet in most intimate fashion, mere inches separating our faces. Overpowered by his affectionate gaze, wordlessly, I tap my cheek twice with my finger.
He says nothing, but slowly leans down and presses his lips to my cheek for the first time.
Oh, wonderful! The feel of his soft, warm lips on my skin is indescribably sweet! He sees the pleasure on my face as I smile at him, wordlessly begging for more, and he does my bidding, pressing soft lips to my cheek once again. I feel the slight tickle of his moustache, but I am fond of it. It is part of him - and I am inordinately fond of every part of him. Oh, but my loins are on fire! I can not resist! Oh, now! Yes!
I reach out to hold his face in my hands, my fingers lightly stroking his cheeks, as slowly, inexorably, I draw his lips to mine.
Oh, that first soft touch! How beautiful! The catch of his breath matches my own. Oh, my dear, dear Watson, so very delicate! A tender lover's kiss! At last! At long, long last I have been given a lover's kiss, and by the one person in the world from whom I truly desired it! How I have wanted this! Yearned for it! Dear God, does he know how much I treasure him? How I treasure him!
He is leaning over me, one hand cupping the side of my face, the other resting on my shoulder as our lips meet again so very lightly. Oh, yes! I pull him closer and tenderly cherish his sweet lips. Oh, beautiful! I part my lips a little to encourage him to seek more - and he does! Oh, my darling! He responds to me immediately, giving a soft whimper of delight. Oh, my dearest Watson! Mm, such a kiss! Could a kiss from another possibly be as sweet? Surely not! I open to him more, mutely begging for his tongue.
Dear God, I can feel it! Tenderly, so very tenderly, he licks at my lips and I groan in anticipation of delight. Please! Oh, yes! Hesitantly, he pushes his sweet tongue into my yearning mouth and I stroke its wet warmth deliriously, treasuring these perfect moments of madness as I relish his kisses; sucking on his lovely tongue and drowning in his taste. Ah, sweet rapture! How very long I have waited for this sweet perfection, this luscious joining of mouths! Dear God, I want him so much it is agony! My dear, dear Watson, your kisses are delicious and your mouth delectable, and I do need you so! Oh, God, so much!
Both of us gasping now as I gently push my tongue deeply into him, drinking him, suffused with passion of the heart as well as the senses. Oh, but he is so open, so welcoming! Caressing my tongue with his own and sucking hard on it. Such warm, wet sucking! Oh, delightful! Would he open his sweet body to me as easily? I wonder. Oh, please yes! As I would to him. Lord, but I long to feel his prick buried to the hilt in me, both of us lost to the world. Tonight! Yes, it shall be tonight! I have waited long enough - and, if I am any judge, so has my dear one!
How long has my dear friend wanted me? How long? Now that I think about it, when did I first begin to feel his eyes on me when my back was turned? I can not put a date to it, nor even a month. It must have been at least two years ago. Probably longer. I took it for his natural concern for my health. How wrong I was! Oh, but I have misread him - a notorious error of judgement on my part! And I pride myself on my deductive faculties. Shameful! I am guilty of the one thing that I frequently accuse him of - I saw but did not observe. Well, it shall never happen again, not so long as there is breath in my body! If my dear Watson truly desires me, then he shall have me - convention be damned! Besides, in this case, it is positively delightful to find out that I was wrong!
Oh, my love, shall we conjoin here and now in front of the fire? Our rooms are cold and this room is so cosy and warm. Hah! Why should we not? It is late and Mrs Hudson has surely gone to bed. Barring some unfortunate client, or a permanently befuddled Scotland Yarder seeking our assistance, our time is our own.
With a final delightful kiss to his lovely lips, I pull back a little to once more stroke his cheeks. His expression bespeaks intense pleasure, his eyes hazy with desire. Yet now, as I continue to gaze into them, his expression changes to that of uncertainty.
Ah, but he is so easy to read! He is afraid that my sudden ardour is a mere whim and that I will later reject him or, worse, no longer wish to share rooms with him because he has betrayed himself by admitting his true nature. As if I could ever reject him! How foolish!
Smiling at him in reassurance, I run a finger over his moustache. "My dear, would you be so good as to lock the door?" I whisper.
As he rises to do my bidding I see the momentary expression of relief on his face. I also see something that makes my heart leap with excitement for there is a considerable bulge in his trousers! And of generous proportions too, if I am any judge - and I most certainly am! Most gratifying!
He locks the door and turns out the lamps as I rise and head to my bedroom. I also check that my bedroom door leading to the landing is locked before fetching pillows and blankets and a small pot of unguent, which I secret in the pocket of my dressing gown before returning to the sitting room. He has rearranged the furniture to accommodate our needs, pulling the settee back from the fire to make more room in front of the hearth. As I walk toward him he stands with his back to me, no doubt highly embarrassed by his stimulated condition. It is fortunate that I am wearing my night-shirt and dressing gown or I, too, would be in the same awkward predicament.
Together we spread out the pillows and blankets in front of the hearth and I purloin extra cushions. I see him glance toward the brandy and I nod. His hand shakes a little as he pours it and hands it to me. He says nothing, merely touches his glass to mine as our eyes meet. I sip at mine, savouring the rich taste, but he takes a considerably larger swallow. In fact, he finishes his in two gulps, so extreme is the state of his nerves. I take his glass and place it on the mantelpiece beside my own.
Oh, but this anticipation will be the death of me! I step closer and wrap my arms about his shoulders as he returns my embrace, his hands resting on my back, our faces so close now that I can feel his warm breath.
To stand in the circle of my dear friend's arms and feel his masculine strength as I hold him close to my heart is unutterable bliss. For long moments we embrace, our groins touching lightly. He rests his head trustingly on my shoulder, his hands pressing my back, an ear resting against my cheek. Eventually I touch my lips to his ear and as he pulls back to look at me our lips meet once more. I hear someone groan softly in ecstasy - and realise that it is me! How astonishing! But I have no time now for coherent thought for he is pressing even closer and, as our swollen groins come together, he gasps a little before pushing harder against me.
So desirable! Oh, but he is so utterly desirable how could I possibly resist his manly charms, even in the highly unlikely event that I wanted to!
The kiss deepens. Ardour rules. He opens to me, admitting my tongue and stroking it eagerly with his own as we share the taste of the fine brandy - delicious! Oh, but my good Watson is an intoxicating delight! Such kisses we share! How lovely and how I do adore him! Oh, I will never get enough of his kisses! I am surely a slave to them already! I almost think he could persuade me that Moriarty's the king of England with his kisses. Hah! I, Sherlock Holmes, ice-cold purveyor of logic and reason, enslaved by my partner's kisses. Oh ‘tis truly too absurd to contemplate - though never the less true I fear!
He is wearing far too many clothes and, silently, I beg permission to remove them. He nods, and I take a deep breath before proceeding to slip his suit-coat from his shoulders and drape it over an armchair. He begins to unfasten his tie but I insist on doing it for him as he obediently stands before me. I remove tie and collar before proceeding to unbutton his waistcoat. The buttons and cufflinks of his shirt are a simple task but in my excited state my hands seem to tremble a little. I observe him notice this but he makes no comment.
After removing shirt and undershirt my hands are free to roam over the firm, smooth flesh of his chest, to run playful fingers through the light sprinkling of fair hair there. His small pink nipples beckon me as, irresistibly, I run the palms of my hands over them. How pleasing it is to feel them react instantly to my touch, hardening before my eyes as he sighs with pleasure. However, the swelling at his groin draws me like a magnet and my fingers stray downward to caress, to press lightly, lovingly as he murmurs my name and whispers his desire, his face a mask of need.
As I open his trousers and underpants I can barely contain myself. As I draw out his burgeoning manhood and hold it in my hand for the first time - but I swear not the last! - I estimate its length and girth, testing its weight, feeling it's lovely warmth and gentle throbbing whilst I inhale the delightful musky odour of my dearly aroused Watson.
Such a wondrous sight! Truly, his state of excitement is remarkable to behold! After pushing back the foreskin a little I lightly stroke the soft, spongy surface of the tip. Oh, but he is wet! Seeping copiously! His excitement is palpable, the evidence of his state of advanced stimulation silky and glistening on my fingertip as I continue to stroke. Softly, he groans my name, pleading to be released from the delicious torment that I am wilfully creating.
Do not worry, my dearest Watson, I will not let you suffer the agony of unrequited excitation for I could not, even if I were of a mind to.
As one, we kneel down on the blankets. For a moment he hesitates before lying down, his head on a pillow as I remove his shoes and socks, trousers and underpants until at last he is naked before me, flesh glowing gold in the flickering firelight.
Such a very beautiful sight! His generous prick and swollen balls are crowned with shining, wiry hair that I cannot resist running my fingers through. Oh, my handsome Watson, do you realise that your whole body is a banquet laid out for me to feast on until my hunger is assuaged? Though I am not sure that it ever will be! What a wicked thought!
My dear one smiles at me as he slips my dressing gown from my shoulders and throws it onto the settee. Then there is only my night-shirt and underpants. I lean closer so that he may undo the buttons at the neck and I kneel beside him lifting it from around my legs as he tugs it over my head and throws it, too, onto the settee. That leaves only my underpants and I watch his not-quite-steady hands open them. As I stretch upward to assist him, he slides them down my thighs and removes them, tossing them onto the settee.
As I sit beside him I observe his eyes slowly travel down my naked flesh all the way to my toes and pray silently that he finds me as attractive as I find him.
He gazes into my eyes once more and smiles.
"My dearest Holmes," he murmurs, his tone dulcet and admiring, "you are a most handsome specimen of the male sex." He strokes down my chest. "Skin smooth as pale marble. Body supple. Agile." He allows his warm hands to roam over my thighs. "Do you realise how very attractive you are? Statuesque and graceful. Wiry and muscular." He feels my calves. "You are manly beauty personified." Gazing on my balls, he reaches out to fondle them with gentle fingers. "Yes, a splendid and virile specimen of manhood." His hand moves to my prick and it jerks uncontrollably at the slightest touch of his fingers. "But this? Ah, my dear, dear Holmes, this wondrous object is surpassing splendid!"
Thank God he finds me pleasing to the eye! "You flatter me, my dear, but we are of a kind, are we not?"
"Oh, indeed! I should say that we were very well-matched," he agrees.
"What a singularly delightful discovery!" I remark.
"Yes, indeed! But you already knew that, did you not?" His smile is positively sly.
"Well, yes," I am forced to admit, realising that he knows that, what with sharing a bathroom for all this time, not to mention our regular sojourns at the Turkish baths, I must have observed him a great many times before now in varying states of undress. "However," I continue, regardless of my somewhat embarrassed state, "knowing from observation and deduction is never quite as satisfying as actually touching the evidence to hand - so to speak!"
He chuckles aloud. "A new Sherlock Holmes maxim! I must remember to record it."
I have always found his company to be remarkably stimulating, seeming to bring out the best in me. Now more so. As his eyes meet mine in a moment of supreme intimacy, I once more feel my hunger for him growing.
Observing the change in me, he reaches to caress my cheek.
"Oh, my dearest Holmes!"
Leaning forward, he begins to cover my neck and throat in kisses - oh, lovely! - as I toss my head back in abandon, wordlessly begging for more. He strokes the length of my arms as he kisses my shoulders and glances up at me, smiling, before moving lower, his sweet lips bestowing kisses to my chest and - ah, yes! - my nipples. At first he licks playfully at them, occasionally glancing up at me to gauge my reactions. Yes, yes, yes! I smile at him, running my fingers through his soft hair, silently encouraging him as he fastens his mouth on one and gently pinches the other with thumb and forefinger. They harden deliciously, becoming almost painfully tight as I moan hearty approval.
Oh, the remarkable sight of my dearest friend sucking on my nipples, mouth fierce but tender! Beautiful! Oh, but I am on fire! His hard prick is pressing against my own and I push upward, grinding against it, making him momentarily pause in his loving ministrations.
When my stiff nipples are almost painful he finally moves on to my ribs and belly, kissing and stroking, his moustache tickling me a little.
"Oh, yes! Yes, please!" I beseech. "Oh, lower, my sweet! Lower!"
"Hush, my dearest, and calm yourself," he soothes. "I will not make you wait."
So saying, he takes my heavy prick in his hand and presses his tongue to the wet tip - and I think that I truly am very wet. Helpless with pleasure, I call out his name at the touch.
"My dear, dear Holmes, your need is surely exceeding great," he whispers fondly. "Come, let me taste you!" So saying he licks at me again and again before taking me deeply into his mouth.
Dear God, my beloved Watson is adoring my member with his mouth! God, yes! Oh, heaven, he is pressing my balls! Oh, sweet, loving joy! Mm, but I could die like this with no regrets!
Inadvertently, I thrust upward to bury myself deeper in his marvellous, sucking mouth, but he grips my hips firmly to prevent me from thrusting and choking him. Forgive me, my sweet, I would never hurt you! Never you!
Deeper! Oh, God, he is taking me deeper! Sucking me. Such marvellous sucking! My member is swollen to gigantic proportions, every nerve in my body is on fire, blood thrums through my veins and my heart sings in sheer delight. Oh, God, can't control! Can't stop!
Through teeth clenched in ecstatic agony I find myself gasping, "John, stop! Oh, no..." But he only pulls me tighter, taking me even deeper into wonderful, wet warmth.
My prick jerks uncontrollably in his mouth. Oh, Lord, can't stop! Too late!
"John! My dearest! Oh, sweet glory!" I groan in ecstasy. My spine tingles as I am lost in delirium and I fill his wonderful mouth with my issue, coming gloriously in utter abandon. He sucks even harder, greedily consuming all that I have to give, whilst I... Oh, but I am lost, drowning in an ocean of rapturous fire the likes of which I have never known. My love, my dearest! My own dear John, how I love you! Adore you! Oh, my dearest, I will never let you go!
The final spasms of rapture fade away and I am left gasping and helpless, as weak as a new-born kitten, my body in a state of utter lassitude. My dear one gives a final lick to my manhood and rests his head on my belly. Where before I had gripped his head fiercely I now stroke him gently, running my fingers affectionately through his hair.
I do believe that he is afraid to look up at me! He is bashful! Perhaps embarrassed by his own boldness. Oh, how delightful!
"Come here, my dearest John!" I implore, holding out my arms to him.
He lifts his head from my belly and turns to face me. Although difficult to observe in the firelight, I do believe that he is blushing again. Reaching out, I stroke his cheeks and jaw, forcing him to look at me.
"It was glorious," I hasten to assure him, "and you were wonderful, my dearest Watson."
He smiles a little shyly as I pull him closer until our mouths meet - mm, what sweet lips he has! - and my arms are about him. With my tongue I explore his mouth, tasting abundantly of my own essence. It is curious, but there would seem to be something highly sensual in the act of tasting oneself in a lover's mouth.My lover! Yes! Yes, he is my lover now, as well as my friend - and, please God, he will always be my friend!
"Oh, my dear, I do hope that I did not hurt your dear mouth!" I whisper contritely between kisses.
"My dear fellow, you could never hurt me," he reassures, "and, besides, you know that I enjoyed it." There is a teasing note to his voice that is infectious.
"Did you? Truly?" I implore, not really needing to be assured that he gained a measure of satisfaction, if not pleasure, from the act for I know that he speaks the truth - the answer is there in his shining eyes and smiling mouth - but wanting to hear more of the deep affection in his voice. However, he sees through my ploy, smiling openly at me, and plays along.
"You know that I did, my dear. It was... wonderful to feel your ecstasy, and to know that I was able to bring you such pleasure," he adds a little shyly.
Suddenly, I become aware of the hard rod of his lovely manhood pressing into the flesh of my belly and realise that I have been so caught up in my own languor that I have disgracefully neglected my partner.
Oh, my poor Watson, he is in dire need and I have ignored him! I shall remedy it now! Tonight he shall have me! All of me! But first, I must taste him...
"Forgive me, dear friend. Your need is grievous and I have shamefully neglected you. Lie back now and let me take care of you."
He reclines a little self-consciously on the cushions and I stroke his hips and firm thighs whilst all the time my eyes ravish his prick, as my mouth will soon be doing. His balls are full in my hand and, as he parts his legs more, I lean down to mouth them with gentle solicitude, feeling the tender swelling of the testes and revelling in it. Carefully, I take each one in my mouth, licking them, enjoying the musk taste and lively feel of having another man's balls in my mouth - an act always to be savoured slowly - whilst all the time my nose nuzzles at the base of his prick and its throbbing rhythm entices me, goads me to seek further delights.
"Oh, my handsome Watson, what a remarkable and lovely prick you have, my dear! A truly precious and rare object!"
"Why th... thank you, Holmes," he says, somewhat surprised, voice somewhat breathless with desire.
Fondling it in my hand, I nuzzle my way up it from base to tip - a delectable treat to be relished slowly, delicately... I take my time, working my leisurely way down once more to the base, then again slowly back up to the tip. My, but he is dripping wet, seeping copiously. Lovely! A rich confirmation - not that I needed any, of course - of his need. I must sample him!
"Holmes..." His voice is a long, drawn-out groan of pleasurable agony.
"Shh, my love. I know that your need is great, but let me first taste you."
I caress the lovely glistening-wet tip with my tongue. Oh, but he is so excited - for me! But he also appears to have excellent self-control. Good!
Moisture like satin! Mm, yes, so slippery! Addicted as I am to the taste of men, to the power it gives me over my partner, even briefly as it were, I know that this is far different. As I taste him for the first time I know that our roles have been reversed and it is now I who, far from being the one in control, as I should be, is already enslaved. Savouring his tart taste, I realise that this is what it is like to really make love with someone you care for; to co-operate; to actively seek to please your lover. ‘Tis pleasure beyond belief, beyond any previous couplings with others, to feel his gorgeous member filling my mouth! Why is it, I wonder, that all my accomplishments in the field of crime seem to pale in comparison to sucking my dear friend's delicious prick? And why is it that I seem to have waited my whole life for this singular moment of adoration?
Licking around the edge, I poke my tongue into the tiny hole, seeking out more of the taste of him. Dearest John, there are hidden depths to you indeed! How I adore you, my dear one, and I shall have this long and lovely prick of yours deep inside me tonight. What a wicked, wicked thought!
"Oh, Holmes, please!" he groans. "Please stop or it will surely be the finish of me!"
Reluctantly, I release my prize, vowing to taste all of its riches another time - and very soon! He is panting a little, his fine skin, now covered in a light sheen of sweat, glows in the firelight - and what an enticing sight he is! I sit up and reach for the pocket of my dressing gown and the small pot of unguent concealed there. Yes, it will do nicely, I think. I unscrew the lid and take a generous amount on my fingers.
In silence, I observe the quiet shock in his eyes as he perceives my intention. He is a man in every sense of the word, his prick heavy and swollen as I take it delicately in my fingers and proceed to coat him thoroughly whilst he sighs in bliss.
"Holmes?" he whispers.
"Yes, my dearest John." My fingers are gliding over the slippery surface as he sits with his legs parted, his gorgeous manhood pointing up at his belly and gleaming in the firelight.
"Holmes, I am not sure..." He sounds concerned.
"It could not be simpler, my dear. You shall have me," I explain.
"But, Holmes, are you sure...?"
"Quite!" I reply confidently.
"Holmes, I am concerned that there is a possibility of my injuring you. At the very least it will surely be uncomfortable."
He sounds uncertain. I must reassure him. "I am confident that you will not hurt me, my dear."
"But, Holmes, you don't know that..."
"Hush now and save your protests, my good Watson. This is something that I have desired very much to experience - with you. Now come, do not delay further for your need is exceptional."
It is fitting that he does not know that I have also desired this experience with other males. Let him think that I am virgin and he my first. Yes! Besides, I have never desired it more with anyone than I do at this moment with him. Yes, he shall have me as only a lover should.
"Never the less, my dear, you must let me prepare you," he insists.
So saying, he takes the small pot from my hand and dips two fingers in it as I lie back on the pillows and part my legs for him. It is a lovers' attitude, and my dear Watson is my first real lover - and my last! It is a position that leaves one most vulnerable and therefore requires an atmosphere of complete trust and, of course, the removal of all garments - impossible with anonymous encounters in the dark of night. Of course time is also a prerequisite; time to ravish with tender gusto; to savour the sweet delights of the other's flesh; and after, to proffer such kisses and caresses as will soothe an impoverished heart.
Handing him a cushion, I raise my hips as he pushes it under me. Arching up to him, I feel his fingers stroking at my entrance, coating it with the slippery cream, before he slides one inside, letting it circle around, spreading moisture. He strokes over my prostate and my body comes alive once more, desire thrumming through me again and swelling my manhood. His gentle finger liberally caresses, then a second finger joins the first, stretching me, pushing in as deeply as possible as I open more and more to him, pushing up to meet him. Oh, but fingers are not enough! I want more! I need his lovely prick to fill me, to take away the ache inside me. God, yes!
"Oh, now, my dearest!" I groan. "Now! Your need is great! Wait no longer!"
"Yes, my dearest Holmes," he murmurs seductively whilst retrieving a handkerchief from his suit-coat pocket to wipe our fingers with.
As he leans forward I wrap my legs high around his ribs, imprisoning him, as he once again ravishes my mouth with his eager tongue and I suck madly on it - oh, delectable! His lovely member lightly bumps against my balls. Oh, how I adore him! But now it is time. Yes, more than time!
The molten steel of his manhood nudges against my body's entrance as he carefully positions himself. Oh, but it is swollen! I can feel it there, pressing at my entrance, begging admittance! Oh, yes, I will let you in, my love! It feels huge, but I know that I can take it.
"Please!" I implore.
He pushes hard against the entrance and I feel myself stretching to accommodate him. A little wider - and he is in! Only a little way, but he is in!
Oh, Lord, but his prick is generous! Even though I am not a virgin it has been a while, and I can not deny that there is some discomfort, even a little pain, but I treasure this moment and will do so all my life.
"More, my love!" I gasp. "Come deeper, my dear! Deeper! All the way inside!"
He pushes slowly, afraid of injuring me for, no doubt, he saw the momentary flicker of pain on my face, but I need all of him, and I have no patience left. Without warning, I thrust upward so that his full prick is pushed almost all the way inside me.
God, yes! Yes, yes, yes! His groan of sweet agony is music to my ears as I grasp him and pull him down hard into me, eagerly thrusting up to take all of him; wanting all of him in all of me; desperate for the deepest penetration possible. He glides into me until, finally, he is all the way in, buried deeply to the hilt.
Dear God, he is so far in, filling me so full, but, yes, I can take all of him, and he feels so marvellous inside me! I can feel him stretching me mightily, his dear member so hard, throbbing and alive. Oh, it feels as if he is touching my heart! Oh, yes, touch my heart, my dearest! Touch it for ‘tis yours! Oh, sweet, blissful joy!
"Oh, Holmes! My dear, dear Holmes, tell me if I am hurting you, my love," he gasps in breathless manner. "You must tell me."
Oh, he called me his love! "No! Oh, no! Your proportions are ample, my love, but you feel wonderful. Oh, move, my sweet, move!"
He pulls back a little, before gliding in once more and I feel him stroking over my prostate, stimulating me deliciously. Oh, yes! Again, again! He continues his gentle thrusts, over-zealous in his concern, but I want more. I want him to take me powerfully, vigorously. As he thrusts gently once more, I frantically push upward to meet him, gratified to hear his sharp breath as, without warning, he is immediately fully engulfed, held tight in my needful flesh.
"Oh, God, more, my love! More! You will not harm me! Let me feel you!" I implore. He thrusts a little harder, a little deeper. "Yes, more!" Harder still. "God, yes! Yes, yes, yes! More! Oh, more!" I shamelessly beg. "Harder! Oh, harder, my love, my dearest!"
He is thrusting so deep now and we are soaring ever higher. He was surely made to fit me. Oh, God, I want desperately to grasp my prick and stroke it to relieve the pressure, but more than anything I want us to touch heaven together. Oh, yes! To come to glory with my dear one thrusting deeply into me, filling me full to bursting, giving me his love, his heart, his essence. That is what I want! That is what I shall have - and now!
"Hard enough?" he gasps, panting as he withdraws almost all the way and shoves his heavy member back into me once more. Sheer bliss!
"Oh, yes, yes, my love!" I gasp. "Don't hold back! Give me all of you! Claim me for your own, dear heart. Claim me! Oh, now! Do it now!"
"Yes, my sweet! Oh, yes! You are mine, my dearest Holmes, as surely as I will always be yours!" he groans.
Both of us frantic now, so desperate for release that our bodies slap together repeatedly, his large and lovely member continuously stimulating my prostate. Grasping my needy member, he strokes it wildly. I know that I am close to the edge. Oh, God, so close! My dear one is out of control now, his thrusts becoming short and jerky, his prick throbbing and so enormous that I feel as though it will split me apart - and I don't care! I am on fire!
Helpless and inflamed with lust for my darling, I cry out his name and he grips my member hard, so very hard, as it jerks in his hands. My dear one gives one final thrust, burying himself as deep as possible in me, his prick throbbing, jerking. As my own release showers high onto my belly, I feel him come inside me - oh, God, sweet bliss! - and we are lost in such rapturous sensuality as I would not have believed to exist, his sweet prick giving me the bounty of his love, his groans testament to his own jubilation. Oh, a lustful delight to be sure! Such sweet, unadulterated joy!
My ribs are wet with my release, my prick lies spent and limp on my belly, my body once more listless with languor. My dear one collapses on me, head resting on my heaving breast, both of us gasping for much-needed breath. Sensually, he rubs his belly against my own, my moist prick trapped between us, my release now covering us both with moisture.
How utterly delightful to discover that my dear Watson is indeed a most carnal creature! A new element of his character for me to exploit to the full - and I shall! What a wicked thought!
"Such glory!" he whispers.
I smile at him. "Yes, my love, it was glorious, was it not?"
"Yes, indeed." A pause. "Holmes?"
"Yes, my sweet?"
"Let me up, my dear. I need to check you."
"Watson, I am quite all right!" I protest, unwilling for my current languid state to be disturbed.
"None the less, let me check that I have not injured you, my dear. It will only take a moment," he insists.
As I reluctantly release him, his wet member slides moistly out of me. I miss it already. He rises to fetch a candle from the mantelpiece and holds it close, parting my legs a little more and touching me gently with his fingers.
Nodding to himself, he rises once more to replace the candle. "I am relieved to say that you appear to be quite all right, my dear. There is no blood, though you are a little stretched, but that is only to be expected."
"If I am free of injury it is thanks to your tender ministrations and expert preparation, my dear and gentle physician," I assure him.
He gazes on me most fondly before lying down beside me once more. I embrace him and stroke him, endeavouring to convey by touch my love and my gratitude for his care while he runs gentle lips over my cheeks before quietly leaning back to look at me most seriously.
"I am sure that you have already deduced it, dear friend, but I want you to know that I love you," he murmurs. "I love you, Sherlock Holmes, very much."
Closing my eyes, I savour his words; words that echo through my being and touch resonating chords in my heart, making my spirit soar. Should I attempt to convey how much he means to me? Dare I speak the words it is in my heart to say? Should I let myself be that vulnerable?
Fool! I already am!
I run my fingers through the fair hair on his manly chest. "Oh, my dearest John, you must know that without you I am lost! It is you who tolerate my numerous indulgences and keep me sane; you who make me eat and unstintingly give of your time and your generosity. Your friendship, your companionship, your medical knowledge are invaluable to me." Unbidden, tears fill my eyes. "My dear one, you are the breath of my existence, the light of my soul. To say that I merely love you is a gross understatement indeed. I adore you, my dearest John - adore you! - and now that I have tasted the sweet delights of your body I shall never let you go."
Overcome with emotion, a tear spills over - to be caught on his lips!
"Oh, my dearest Holmes!" He, also, is overcome and hugs me unmercifully, covering my face in kisses. "My dear, dear friend, you must know that you own my heart," he murmurs.
Returning his hugs, I find myself repeating his name over and over. How could mere words possibly express how much this dear man means to me, and how very much I have come to care for him.
Covered by the rugs, I allow myself to drift in his arms. Such decadence!
*
