The Lion's Den (post The Sign of Four - original story)
by Clonesgirl
On my way back from the library I decide that a celebration is most definitely in order and I take the liberty of booking a table for two at Simpson's. As I make my way back to Baker Street I anticipate the pleasure on his face when I announce that we are going out to dinner - and am not disappointed. His eyes light up at my invitation.
As the afternoon wears on to a begrudgingly grey twilight, I find myself occasionally observing him. Each time I do so he turns to return my gaze, though how he could have known that I was observing him I am unsure as he is not facing me and there is no reflective surface near him at the correct angle to admit my reflection... and yet he always seems to know when I am observing him.
The rain has eased off and we decide to stroll through the damp streets together, observing the panorama of life and simply enjoying being together as we have so often done before - only now there is something extra and my mind quickly analyses it.
As usual we are walking arm-in-arm and staying in stride with one another - and yet there is a closeness that was not there previously. Born of our new and intimate knowledge of one another, we walk slightly closer together - and I feel pride. Pride that it is he, my dear friend and handsome lover, who strides so easily by my side as we head for Simpson's.
At the restaurant we sip our champagne and partake of an excellent meal. As always we speak of anything and everything. Our table is a quiet one in the far corner by the window and the restaurant is not too crowded tonight. Also the tablecloth is quite a long one - sufficiently long for my purposes anyway.
As we discuss the latest West End play I stretch out my right leg until it touches his as he is saying, "I read Gardener's review and he was of the opinion that..." he momentarily pauses and gives me a penetrating look, "...that the performances of the two leads was... beyond reproach."
My dearest Watson gives me a knowing smile as I feel his leg rub gently against my own. How delightful! So he is willing to play along! I knew he would be. He is game, my Watson! I smile at him a little and we continue our conversation as normal, though I am sure that he is as pleased as I by our clandestine contact under the table. He would seem to be as sensual as I am. Strange that I am only now beginning to realise that. Why have I never noticed it before? Another disgraceful oversight on my part. Or perhaps I deliberately did not wish to notice as it would have only made me want him more.
All through our meal we gaze at each other. As I observe him I remember every kiss, every passionate touch that we shared last night as well as our sensual waking of this morning, and I know that there will be more tonight for I see it in his eyes. His desire is plain for all to see. Fortunately for him only I am aware of it.
Oh, my handsome and desirable doctor, tonight I shall plunder your mouth with kisses and touch you everywhere!
By the time we leave the restaurant and head back to Baker Street it is already after nine and the rain, which had earlier eased off, is back with a vengeance. As I hail us a cab and we climb in out of the rain we sit very close together. As he takes my gloved hands in his own I can feel my anticipation of our return to Baker Street growing and, for once in my life, I pray that there will be no client at our doorstep to deny us our mutual needs.
On our return I inform Mrs Hudson that we are somewhat fatigued and will be retiring early. The good lady wishes us a fond goodnight and after removing our outer garments I fetch my night attire from my room before we retire to my Watson's room for the night.
With blinds drawn and lamps lit, the desire that we have both suppressed all evening is loosed; is set free to light the room; his to kindle my own dormant fires and mine to ignite his - and we have not yet even touched!
My desire for him is such that I murmur his name and call him my dearest one, and it is he who comes to me; who wraps his arms around me and holds me tight against his warmth; holds me like there is no tomorrow and gives a long-drawn-out groan of pleasure.
"My dearest Holmes, I must confess that I have wanted to hold you all evening."
I can not resist teasing him. "How gratifying! But is that all you wished for? Merely to hold me?"
He chuckles and pulls back to gaze at me in a slightly reproving manner. "My dear fellow, do you think me lacking in imagination?"
I stroke his cheeks. "Hardly, after last night!" I rejoin.
His smile is one of satisfaction. "I am gratified to hear it!" he murmurs as our lips meet in tender passion.
Oh, his kisses! I have not partaken of their tender succulence since this morning and had not realised that I was already starved for them. As he parts his soft lips and invites my tongue to come and play in his sweet, wet warmth I know that I can not get enough of him.
Oh, yes, yes! So lovely to feel him caress my tongue in welcome, to be so remarkably intimate with him. I feel the sudden, blatant heat of desire as it throbs through me - and I feel his own lust, yearning and so wonderfully hard for me. Oh, my sweet John, how you have changed me!
As we kiss I press us together even harder, pushing against him; grinding my enlarged manhood against his own through our clothing as his hands grasp my rear, eagerly feeling my buttocks and squeezing them repeatedly through my garments. However, I have decided that I shall not be hurried. I shall take my time and savour this delicious warmth that courses through me like fire, and makes me feel so wonderfully, blissfully alive. This yearning of the heart and body is to be savoured; it is to be relished; it is to be memorised and treasured for the times when, of necessity, we may not be able to be together.
Please God, do not let me lose him! I have desired him for so very long, and what we now share is far too precious to lose. Do not let me lose it now!
As I run gentle fingers through the short hair at the back of his neck his lips move to my cheeks to cover them in hungry little kisses. I slip his suit-coat from his shoulders and stroke him through the thin material of his shirt, feeling the firm muscles in his shoulders and upper arms. How often have I relied on that strength to back me up when there is danger? My dearest companion, how very desirable you are!
Bit we remove each other's garments until he finally stands naked before me in the lamplight so that I may admire his masculine beauty. God has been kind to him and his body is firm and smooth. The light sprinkling of fair hair on his chest draws me to run my fingers through it, to touch his dear little nipples and watch them respond almost instantly, stiffening as he gasps a little. Leaning over, I take them in my mouth, tasting them, loving the hard, eager feel of them against my tongue as he whispers endearments. How eagerly he responds to a minimum of stimulation.
How pleasurable it is to experience the touch of his hands, stroking my stomach, my hips, my back, my arms, everywhere he can reach to touch - everywhere but the one place that yearns so badly to be touched; that burns and consumes me with lust and aches with anticipation. Ah, sweet John, your touch inflames me!
Lips meeting again. I think I am in love with his moustache! Hah! I seem to be enamoured of every part of his gorgeous self.
As we kiss and touch I remember how it felt to be full buried in the heat of his flesh only last night ago and, dear God, but I want that again! Or do I want to feel his lovely hard-as-steel member plunging in and out of me as we strive for the summit of perfection? Yes, oh, yes! Anything! I want both! I want everything! Anything he wants. Anything to please him, to love him, to be permitted to adore him.
Dear God, I think my balls are on fire! I reach to feel his own full ones and he moans softly. I am enchanted by them and kneel in front of him, at first fondling them before bending to lick at them as my fingers run through the fair curls of surrounding hair. He thrusts his hips out a little and parts his legs more so that I may take them in my mouth to suck with utmost tenderness, feeling the twin jewels within. Oh, but he is gorgeous, the taste of his balls slightly musky to my tongue, his distended manhood standing proudly out as I gaze on it from beneath, marvelling at its hungry length and impressive girth. How lovely! And how I desire to feel it within me, once more filling me to capacity and touching that certain spot that simply makes me wild. Yes! Anything for that! Whatever he wants he shall have!
All the time I stroke him, his warm belly, powerful thighs, lean, muscled calves and lovely, rounded buttocks that fill my hands with temptation. Truly, my handsome Watson does not realise how utterly desirable he is as I allow my wandering tongue to travel higher to the root of his member, before slowly licking my way up it in most lingering manner as he groans his desire.
Observing the pearl of moisture at the tip, I find myself yearning for it! Inexorably, I am drawn to it and could no more resist its tempting allure than a moth could resist the light from a flame.
Lightly and very tenderly, I press my tongue to the spongy tip, and immediately am inundated with his smooth-as-silk wetness. My hunger for him knows no bounds as I lick there, worshipping him. My mind lost in rapture, I savour every salt-sweet drop of him, squeezing him a little and sucking like a man dying of thirst in order to procure more of his sweet nectar. How very delicious he is and how I ache for him! My dearest John, I shall possess this unique and lovely instrument of pleasure and hold all of it within me tonight!
"Oh, Holmes! Oh God, my dear, dear Holmes! Oh, you make me wild for you! Need you so much!"
Pulling back, I look up into his eyes. "Then do not hesitate to take me, my dearest John."
"God, yes!" he sighs most fervently, pulling me to my feet and leading me to the bed. He reaches for a small jar of unguent he has left on his bedside table. As I lie down he coats his fingers with the slippery stuff before spreading it around my entrance, probing gently to deposit it deep within me.
His fingers are driving me wild as he circles them inside me, stretching me, tormenting me with thoughts of a harder, deeper, fuller penetration that will fill me, that will assuage my dire need. Oh, yes! Oh, please!
Desperate for more, I grab him, pulling him down for a kiss so hard that our mouths are seared together, his tongue invading me, claiming my mouth in a kiss that unites us in animal heat. All thoughts are concentrated on desire and I am mindless with an all-consuming lust for my dear friend's possession.
"Kneel for me, my dearest," he whispers.
Yes! Anything he wants!
We separate momentarily as I turn my back to him and kneel, facing the bed head, my legs parted for him. Taking his place behind me, he strokes my back in long, firm caresses, trailing kisses down my spine as his hands rove freely over my rear, pressing and squeezing it.
"You know your rear is really most attractive," he remarks conversationally, covering said rear with warm, enticing kisses before nibbling on it greedily as though he would devour it.
The pleasure he is bestowing is exhilarating and I can not help but wriggle a little in sheer delight.
"Am I tighter than a woman?" I dare to inquire.
"By far..." he gives a long swipe with his tongue, "...for you are male..." followed my another delicious lick, "...very..." another lovely, wet touch, "...very..." and on the other side now, "...male..." oh, his lovely tongue! "...and very..." a delightful nibble of his hard teeth, "very," a lovely lick and another nibble of playful teeth, "...beautiful, my darling Holmes."
God, but I am burning up! He must take me now! I beg him in pleading whispers to enter me and put an end to this delicious torment before I end up in an asylum. Merciful God he complies, moving behind me.
Helpless, I cry out, imploring him to take me deeply as I feel his lovely prick push up against my entrance at long last. Oh, now! Please now! Oh, God, I need him so much! Tenderly he breaches me - and then he is in! Sweet God, he is inside me at last! He belongs there, deep within me, hard and hot and throbbing with life. His arms wrap around me and he strokes my chest and belly, his fingers playing with my stiff nipples, rubbing them, stimulating them as I lean back against him and cover his hands with my own.
As he moves his hands on me our fingers are intertwined so that both of us touch me, and I am filled by him and simultaneously being touched by him in every way. Our combined hands pause over my heart, caressing there with tender reverence, feeling its staccato beat.
"It beats for you, my dearest," I whisper. "It belongs to you. It is yours."
"Then I shall cherish it, my darling."
Using my internal muscles, I squeeze him hard, listening with gratification to his answering groan of pleasure. Strange how much satisfaction it gives me just to please him. Oh, I do want to please him!
He pulls back a little and begins to thrust in long, slow, tender strokes of his lovely member - and I am as a wild thing, pushing back against him, wanting only more and still more. Our roving hands, which have been wandering over my torso, I now push down to my rampant member. As his fingers enfold it, possessing it as he possesses every other part of me, I cry out his name in sheer unadulterated bliss as he pushes deeper and still deeper into me, opening my shuttered heart. It is at this moment that I open to him completely and, as fire coils through me, I give him my heart for safekeeping as he clutches me tight. He no longer thrusts now but throbs so deep within me, calling out my name in rapturous moans.
Oh, yes, my darling John, yes! Give me all of you as I have given you all of me! Give me your heart, sweet John, as I give you mine for now and for always! You are mine, dearest John! Mine at last and I love you, adore you! Oh, my dearest, I love you so much!
The final throbs of pleasure fade away, leaving only love in their wake, and we are left as shipwrecked sailors beached on a foreign shore. I am leaning back against my dear one, my head on his shoulder. His sweet prick is still within me and our hands, now soaked with my issue, still surround my manhood, though now they hold it gently, lightly stroking the wetness over it in gratitude for such incomparable bliss.
My dear one whispers my name and kisses my cheek. "Dear heart," I sigh as gently, our bodies part, his softened member sliding from me as I give it one last affectionate squeeze in parting. Ah, parting is indeed such sweet sorrow! Our legs are cramped as we stretch and as I try to stand I almost fall. He grabs me and we both sit on the bed for a minute to recover our strength before donning dressing gowns and slippers to head for the bathroom and some hot water.
When we return to the bedroom we immediately get into bed together, sans night attire for it seems that after spending one night together we have both become inordinately fond of the feel of naked flesh against naked flesh. I love to feel his warm body against me, to wrap my arms about him and feel his firm embrace. He does not seem to mind my fondness for sleeping with my head on his shoulder, indeed he seems more than pleased with it.
As we lie here in my dear one's bed with the wind howling mournfully around the eaves and blowing icy cold rain against the window, I can not help but reflect how very fortunate we are to lie so warm and cosy in bed together. I shiver slightly as I contemplate the poor, cold souls who do not have a roof over their head on foul nights like these. I am distracted from my melancholy thoughts as my dear one sighs and kisses my forehead, running gentle fingers through my unruly hair.
"My dearest Holmes," he murmurs.
"Mm, yes, my love," I answer in most languid manner.
He tilts my chin up to gaze into my eyes, his own hazel ones soft with affection as he leans down to kiss me, cherishing my lips with his own tender ones.
Mm, lovely! It is so utterly pleasant to kiss him. Such an intimate thing to do, to share a kiss. I am glad now that I chose not to share kisses with strangers. It seems as if I have always been saving them for my dearest friend, even if I despaired that he would ever want more than simple friendship.
"John, dear friend, I fear very much that you have worn me out," I sigh. "In fact, I feel as though I am at the end of a strenuous case and have energy only for sleep."
He smiles at my careless remark. "There is always tomorrow," he murmurs in most sly manner, "and, as a medical man, I can assure you that you will be fully recovered by morning."
"Yes, in the morning - if you are up to the task," I rejoin with equal slyness of tone.
"My dearest Holmes, I can guarantee that I shall rise to greet you in the morning."
I do not miss the emphasis on the word ‘rise' and can not help but laugh at his lack of subtlety. The erotic power of his words is almost enough to get a rise out of me now, but the morning will suffice, and his fervent expressions of ardour would seem to guarantee an enviable start to the day.
Fervent indeed! I had assumed that it was I who seduced my good Watson... but now I wonder - was it? I find myself pondering that very question and I am not at all sure of the answer. After all, was it not he who was stroking my hair most tenderly - and kissing it as well? Perhaps I only gave him the opportunity that he had been awaiting to seduce me.
Ah, yes, my dearest Watson! In the morning I shall be yours once more as you shall be mine, and we shall both rise to greet the new day with gladness in our hearts.
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