Sherlock Holmes Fic - No Me Without You
Pairing/Characters: Holmes/Watson
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~2300
Spoilers: None
Notes/Warnings: This was originally just called "Chair Porn," so yeah there's that.
Disclaimer: I don't own, it's all ACD.
“What in London is taking you so long?” Holmes asked as he stepped into Watson’s bedroom. The doctor was leaning over his dresser, looking into the dirty mirror and attempting to tie his tie. It proved rather difficult as the mirror was covered in soot and grime.
“Trying to get this,” Watson managed as he squinted into the mirror. Holmes, however, did not hear this reply. He was instead too busy taking in the lithe form that was bending slightly, roving his eyes down the good doctor’s shoulders, tracing his spine, to his arse where Holmes’ eyes less than reluctantly stopped.
“Holmes, could you...would you...” Watson pulled himself upright to face Holmes which snapped the man out of his fit of staring. “Sherlock?”
“Yes, dear?” Holmes answered, drawing his attention back to the equally gorgeous face of his lover.
“Would you be so good as to stop staring at my arse to tie this for me?” Watson answered taking a step toward the detective. Holmes could not be bothered to look embarrassed at being caught. Instead he raised an eyebrow and motioned for Watson to come closer, which the other man obliged. Instead of helping with the tie, Holmes instead took Watson by his arms and maneuvered him to a nearby chair.
“Holmes, what are you doing?” Watson asked in mild confusion. Despite knowing exactly what Holmes had been staring at and knowing a great deal of the rest of the man’s characteristics, Holmes still managed to surprise him. Holmes mumbled something about asking too many questions as he lowered himself unto Watson’s lap, straddling Watson between his legs.
“Fixing your tie, my love,” answered Holmes as he indeed began to tie a perfect Windsor knot. Watson watched the man’s face, how he concentrated on the task at hand, as though he were going about solving another case. Watson reached out and place a hand on each of Holmes’s thighs and felt Holmes’ fingers stuttered slightly in their manipulation of his tie.
“You are so adept at everything,” Watson managed to squeak out. There was something remarkably attractive about having Holmes straddling his lap, fixing his tie.
“Well, your appearance reflects on me as well, Watson. We can’t have other patrons staring and saying ‘Look at how ghastly the tall one looks and how ruggedly handsome the other one is,’” Holmes said as he tightened the knot and Watson laughed.
Holmes brushed off invisible dust or perhaps imaginary dog fur from Watson’s collar and straightened his suit jacket. The one thing Holmes failed to do, however, was remove himself from Watson’s lap. There was naturally no argument from Watson to do so. Holmes let his hands glide senselessly over Watson, over his clavicle, to his deltoids, and up his shoulder again until they rested on either side of his neck.
Watson unconsciously began to grip Holmes’s thighs as the hands clasped each other behind his head, just at the nape of his neck. Holmes circled his thumb in the dip at the base of Watson’s skull and for the first time Watson was actually able to watch as Holmes’ eyes grew darker than normal. He knew what that meant and he was fairly certain that at that moment Holmes could see his blue irises taken over by his pupils.
“John, I’m terribly afraid all my work is about to go to waste,” Holmes now spoke with a voice that was rougher than usual. Holmes moved closer until his chest was flush with Watson’s, the friction making both of them gasp and Watson’s approval of the situation was clearer than ever to Holmes.
“Then let it go to waste,” was the reply. For once Watson actually had to move upward to have to kiss Holmes, a fact that Holmes was more than aware of. As Watson moved up to do so, however, Holmes moved away playfully, taking a moment to enjoy the height advantage. This soon dissipated when Watson moved one of his hands up the thigh it had been laying on to trace the outline of Holmes’ erection.
There was a quick intake of breath and Holmes was quickly surging forward to capture Watson’s lips in a desperate kiss. Their lips fought each other as their words and their wit always did, and there was the same equality. When Holmes would press his tongue to the back of Watson’s bottom teeth Watson would reply by pushing his tongue down over the bumps on the inside of Holmes’ cheeks, over the roof of his mouth.
The first item of clothing to come off was the tie. Holmes spared no time, almost ripping it off Watson’s neck and throwing it to the floor next to the chair. It became apparent that going out that night was a bad idea as it meant they were wearing far too many clothes. Watson bit down on Holmes’ bottom lip as he simultaneously pushed back the man’s dinner jacket. Holmes had always admired Watson’s ability to multitask.
There were nimble fingers working on Holmes’ best dress shirt, which was actually Watson’s best dress shirt. As the last button popped open Holmes realized he had some making up to. He loosened the hands on Watson’s neck to cup the man’s jaw with one and to undress him with the other. Holmes tugged Watson forward in order to strip him out of his jacket, vest, and shirt.
“The bed, Holmes,” Watson spoke into Holmes’ mouth and against his prying tongue. In a sort of response, Holmes pressed himself down on the doctor’s erection.
Watson was moving to his feet in a moment, Holmes barely able to get his legs untangled and for a moment they stayed entwined around Watson’s waist. In his sudden haste Watson seemed to have forgotten where exactly the bed was and desperate for friction once again pushed Holmes hard against the dresser.
“Oof!” Holmes went crashing into the dresser, scrambling to brace himself with his hands on the top of it. He knocked over several cufflinks by accident, before purposely knocking them all off and leaning further back.
Watson took every inch of skin he possibly could, running a tongue down heated neck, biting an earlobe, an errant hand in hair, another running over muscled chest. There was a flurry of clothes that Watson discarded without hesitation or remorse. For a moment he stepped back to watch Holmes, the way his lips were full now and red, his hair in every possible angle, the deep breaths he pulled into his lungs.
“Do you have any idea how crazy you make me?” Watson asked, nipping at Holmes’s bottom lip. Holmes gave a charming grin in return.
“I dare say the feeling is mutual,” Holmes replied. “Besides, you would go mad without me.”
“You’re most egregiously wrong, my good man,” Watson argued, stripping Holmes of his braces and belt.
“Oh and how’s that?” Holmes asked as Watson finished unbuttoning his pants. However, Watson did not remove them. He left one hand on Holmes’ hip and moved the other to take the man’s chin between his thumb and forefinger.
“Because, my dear, there is no me without you,” Watson replied quietly. He left a gentle kiss on Holmes’ lips, who seemed near stunned by this confession.
“I see,” Holmes replied, completely taken aback. He was not one to reveal his hand or speak of his emotion. In his mind he had to choose his reply carefully. “It makes a considerable difference to me having someone on whom I can trust everything to.”
Holmes put particular stress on the word “everything.” This was to him the most important word he would ever utter. Because he meant it. As with all other words that passed between them, the entire importance of this one did not go unnoticed by Watson. Yet it was not enough for him.
Watson snaked a hand down Holmes’ trousers and wrapped it smoothly around his shaft. He pumped lightly, watching as Holmes threw his head back and his eyes glazed over. Watson bent to his ear and whispered, “I want you to say it.”
“Watson-” Holmes tried to protest, but this quickly became a stutter as Watson ran the pad of his index finger over the slit on the head of Holmes’ leaking dick.
“Say it.”
“You-”
“Yes? What about me?” Watson kissed the underside of Holmes’s jaw, licked the sweat that was now dripping from his hairline next to his ear.
“You are the only thing-” Watson bit him on his bottom lip and ground his hand into Holmes’ balls, “the only person-” Watson kissed his earlobe, “that has ever mattered to me-” Watson pushed Holmes’ trousers to the floor, “in the entirety of my existence.”
“Say the word,” Watson commanded, pulling away for a moment, his hands leaving Holmes’ body entirely. “I want to hear the word, Holmes.”
Holmes pushed himself so that he was standing completely instead of slouching against the dresser. He put his hands on either side of Watson’s face and kissed him desperately, his tongue pushing deep into the cave of his mouth. As he pulled away he whispered just loud enough for Watson to hear, “I love you.”
Finally satisfied with this answer Watson grabbed Holmes by his biceps and dragged him to their bed, pushing him down on top of it. Holmes bounced slightly as he hit it. Watson turned back to the dresser for a moment to grab a vial of oil from the top right drawer. He stopped for a breath when he came back to the foot of the bed. He stood over the prone form of Holmes who was just then propping himself on his elbows. His hair was in every direction, his lips swollen and red, and his entire body naked and willing.
Watson quickly stripped himself of the remainder of his clothes, his usual cleanliness forgotten as he tossed them all about the room. Holmes watched him in fascination, tracing every scar and bruise that colored Watson, every untold story, along with every story Holmes already knew. Watson straddled Holmes’ legs and bent down until he was hovering over Holmes’ navel. He kissed just above it and felt Holmes grabbing at the short strands of his hair.
There was an impatient moan as Watson traveled small kisses along Holmes’ lower abdomen. Taking mercy Watson finally drew his tongue down the curve of Holmes’ left testicle. There was a hitch of breath and a shudder that rewarded Watson. Holmes began to breathe more harshly as Watson took the whole of his shaft into his mouth. The tip grazed the back of Watson’s mouth, nearly gagging him, but he hallowed his cheeks sucking on it.
“Watson!” Holmes whispered harshly. He tried to tighten his grip on Watson’s hair but found it too short and settled for grasping at the fine strands with one hand and dragging his short nails against Watson’s shoulder blade. Watson swirled his tongue on the base of the shaft, just near the testicles and felt a soft shiver run through Holmes. With one last kiss to the tip
Watson pushed himself up, flexing his biceps and crawled over top of Holmes.
“I love you, too,” Watson whispered against Holmes’ lips before pressing a kiss against the words. Watson took the stopper out of the vial with a loud pop that they both laughed anxiously at. Watson straddled Holmes just below his ribcage and reached an oil slicked hand behind him. One finger hesitated at Watson’s hole and he trembled.
“Let me,” Holmes volunteered, already grabbing for the vial.
“No,” Watson insisted, “I want you to watch.”
Holmes could not find his voice to argue with this, he could only lay and watch as Watson clutched his eyes shut as he entered himself. A moan escaped from both of them, mingling in the air. Holmes was mesmerized by the passing phases of Watson’s face as he opened himself wider, readying himself for Holmes.
“Now, Watson, now,” Holmes demanded, he was beginning to utterly and completely fall apart. This was what Watson loved the most, when there were absolutely no barriers between the two of them, when every pretense had fallen away.
Watson pushed two fingers against his prostate before pulling his fingers out. He moved backward over Holmes until he straddled the man’s lap. Holmes looked up to catch Watson’s eyes, dark in the fading light that filtered into the room through the window. Holmes ran hands up his slick chest until it reached to his face where Watson caught a finger in between his lips.
Sucking on the finger he lowered himself onto Holmes’ aching cock. Holmes let out a gasp that mixed into a moan. These moans turned into words that were the blending of Watson’s name and various terms of endearment and professions of affection. Watson smiled as he always did when he realized that he was the only one who would ever see Sherlock Holmes so vulnerable.
Watson planted the thought into the back of his mind, stored away in his memory, and began to move. He rocked up and down, pushing Holmes into him as far as he possibly could. To Watson’s surprise Holmes sat up in a flash and drew his arms around the doctor and pushed him to his back. As he fell flat Watson very nearly hit his orgasm as Holmes pushed into him at the same time. Watson released a string of profanities very unbecoming of a gentleman.
Holmes pounded into Watson’s more than willing body, sending waves of pleasure coursing through both of them. Holmes wrapped his hand around Watson’s cock and pumped almost savagely. Watson came with fingers digging into bed sheets as his rectal muscles closed around Holmes. With this new tightness Holmes pushed in and came deep inside Watson.
“You,” Watson said in a hoarse whisper into Holmes’s ear, “are the only person I will ever belong to.”
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~2300
Spoilers: None
Notes/Warnings: This was originally just called "Chair Porn," so yeah there's that.
Disclaimer: I don't own, it's all ACD.
“What in London is taking you so long?” Holmes asked as he stepped into Watson’s bedroom. The doctor was leaning over his dresser, looking into the dirty mirror and attempting to tie his tie. It proved rather difficult as the mirror was covered in soot and grime.
“Trying to get this,” Watson managed as he squinted into the mirror. Holmes, however, did not hear this reply. He was instead too busy taking in the lithe form that was bending slightly, roving his eyes down the good doctor’s shoulders, tracing his spine, to his arse where Holmes’ eyes less than reluctantly stopped.
“Holmes, could you...would you...” Watson pulled himself upright to face Holmes which snapped the man out of his fit of staring. “Sherlock?”
“Yes, dear?” Holmes answered, drawing his attention back to the equally gorgeous face of his lover.
“Would you be so good as to stop staring at my arse to tie this for me?” Watson answered taking a step toward the detective. Holmes could not be bothered to look embarrassed at being caught. Instead he raised an eyebrow and motioned for Watson to come closer, which the other man obliged. Instead of helping with the tie, Holmes instead took Watson by his arms and maneuvered him to a nearby chair.
“Holmes, what are you doing?” Watson asked in mild confusion. Despite knowing exactly what Holmes had been staring at and knowing a great deal of the rest of the man’s characteristics, Holmes still managed to surprise him. Holmes mumbled something about asking too many questions as he lowered himself unto Watson’s lap, straddling Watson between his legs.
“Fixing your tie, my love,” answered Holmes as he indeed began to tie a perfect Windsor knot. Watson watched the man’s face, how he concentrated on the task at hand, as though he were going about solving another case. Watson reached out and place a hand on each of Holmes’s thighs and felt Holmes’ fingers stuttered slightly in their manipulation of his tie.
“You are so adept at everything,” Watson managed to squeak out. There was something remarkably attractive about having Holmes straddling his lap, fixing his tie.
“Well, your appearance reflects on me as well, Watson. We can’t have other patrons staring and saying ‘Look at how ghastly the tall one looks and how ruggedly handsome the other one is,’” Holmes said as he tightened the knot and Watson laughed.
Holmes brushed off invisible dust or perhaps imaginary dog fur from Watson’s collar and straightened his suit jacket. The one thing Holmes failed to do, however, was remove himself from Watson’s lap. There was naturally no argument from Watson to do so. Holmes let his hands glide senselessly over Watson, over his clavicle, to his deltoids, and up his shoulder again until they rested on either side of his neck.
Watson unconsciously began to grip Holmes’s thighs as the hands clasped each other behind his head, just at the nape of his neck. Holmes circled his thumb in the dip at the base of Watson’s skull and for the first time Watson was actually able to watch as Holmes’ eyes grew darker than normal. He knew what that meant and he was fairly certain that at that moment Holmes could see his blue irises taken over by his pupils.
“John, I’m terribly afraid all my work is about to go to waste,” Holmes now spoke with a voice that was rougher than usual. Holmes moved closer until his chest was flush with Watson’s, the friction making both of them gasp and Watson’s approval of the situation was clearer than ever to Holmes.
“Then let it go to waste,” was the reply. For once Watson actually had to move upward to have to kiss Holmes, a fact that Holmes was more than aware of. As Watson moved up to do so, however, Holmes moved away playfully, taking a moment to enjoy the height advantage. This soon dissipated when Watson moved one of his hands up the thigh it had been laying on to trace the outline of Holmes’ erection.
There was a quick intake of breath and Holmes was quickly surging forward to capture Watson’s lips in a desperate kiss. Their lips fought each other as their words and their wit always did, and there was the same equality. When Holmes would press his tongue to the back of Watson’s bottom teeth Watson would reply by pushing his tongue down over the bumps on the inside of Holmes’ cheeks, over the roof of his mouth.
The first item of clothing to come off was the tie. Holmes spared no time, almost ripping it off Watson’s neck and throwing it to the floor next to the chair. It became apparent that going out that night was a bad idea as it meant they were wearing far too many clothes. Watson bit down on Holmes’ bottom lip as he simultaneously pushed back the man’s dinner jacket. Holmes had always admired Watson’s ability to multitask.
There were nimble fingers working on Holmes’ best dress shirt, which was actually Watson’s best dress shirt. As the last button popped open Holmes realized he had some making up to. He loosened the hands on Watson’s neck to cup the man’s jaw with one and to undress him with the other. Holmes tugged Watson forward in order to strip him out of his jacket, vest, and shirt.
“The bed, Holmes,” Watson spoke into Holmes’ mouth and against his prying tongue. In a sort of response, Holmes pressed himself down on the doctor’s erection.
Watson was moving to his feet in a moment, Holmes barely able to get his legs untangled and for a moment they stayed entwined around Watson’s waist. In his sudden haste Watson seemed to have forgotten where exactly the bed was and desperate for friction once again pushed Holmes hard against the dresser.
“Oof!” Holmes went crashing into the dresser, scrambling to brace himself with his hands on the top of it. He knocked over several cufflinks by accident, before purposely knocking them all off and leaning further back.
Watson took every inch of skin he possibly could, running a tongue down heated neck, biting an earlobe, an errant hand in hair, another running over muscled chest. There was a flurry of clothes that Watson discarded without hesitation or remorse. For a moment he stepped back to watch Holmes, the way his lips were full now and red, his hair in every possible angle, the deep breaths he pulled into his lungs.
“Do you have any idea how crazy you make me?” Watson asked, nipping at Holmes’s bottom lip. Holmes gave a charming grin in return.
“I dare say the feeling is mutual,” Holmes replied. “Besides, you would go mad without me.”
“You’re most egregiously wrong, my good man,” Watson argued, stripping Holmes of his braces and belt.
“Oh and how’s that?” Holmes asked as Watson finished unbuttoning his pants. However, Watson did not remove them. He left one hand on Holmes’ hip and moved the other to take the man’s chin between his thumb and forefinger.
“Because, my dear, there is no me without you,” Watson replied quietly. He left a gentle kiss on Holmes’ lips, who seemed near stunned by this confession.
“I see,” Holmes replied, completely taken aback. He was not one to reveal his hand or speak of his emotion. In his mind he had to choose his reply carefully. “It makes a considerable difference to me having someone on whom I can trust everything to.”
Holmes put particular stress on the word “everything.” This was to him the most important word he would ever utter. Because he meant it. As with all other words that passed between them, the entire importance of this one did not go unnoticed by Watson. Yet it was not enough for him.
Watson snaked a hand down Holmes’ trousers and wrapped it smoothly around his shaft. He pumped lightly, watching as Holmes threw his head back and his eyes glazed over. Watson bent to his ear and whispered, “I want you to say it.”
“Watson-” Holmes tried to protest, but this quickly became a stutter as Watson ran the pad of his index finger over the slit on the head of Holmes’ leaking dick.
“Say it.”
“You-”
“Yes? What about me?” Watson kissed the underside of Holmes’s jaw, licked the sweat that was now dripping from his hairline next to his ear.
“You are the only thing-” Watson bit him on his bottom lip and ground his hand into Holmes’ balls, “the only person-” Watson kissed his earlobe, “that has ever mattered to me-” Watson pushed Holmes’ trousers to the floor, “in the entirety of my existence.”
“Say the word,” Watson commanded, pulling away for a moment, his hands leaving Holmes’ body entirely. “I want to hear the word, Holmes.”
Holmes pushed himself so that he was standing completely instead of slouching against the dresser. He put his hands on either side of Watson’s face and kissed him desperately, his tongue pushing deep into the cave of his mouth. As he pulled away he whispered just loud enough for Watson to hear, “I love you.”
Finally satisfied with this answer Watson grabbed Holmes by his biceps and dragged him to their bed, pushing him down on top of it. Holmes bounced slightly as he hit it. Watson turned back to the dresser for a moment to grab a vial of oil from the top right drawer. He stopped for a breath when he came back to the foot of the bed. He stood over the prone form of Holmes who was just then propping himself on his elbows. His hair was in every direction, his lips swollen and red, and his entire body naked and willing.
Watson quickly stripped himself of the remainder of his clothes, his usual cleanliness forgotten as he tossed them all about the room. Holmes watched him in fascination, tracing every scar and bruise that colored Watson, every untold story, along with every story Holmes already knew. Watson straddled Holmes’ legs and bent down until he was hovering over Holmes’ navel. He kissed just above it and felt Holmes grabbing at the short strands of his hair.
There was an impatient moan as Watson traveled small kisses along Holmes’ lower abdomen. Taking mercy Watson finally drew his tongue down the curve of Holmes’ left testicle. There was a hitch of breath and a shudder that rewarded Watson. Holmes began to breathe more harshly as Watson took the whole of his shaft into his mouth. The tip grazed the back of Watson’s mouth, nearly gagging him, but he hallowed his cheeks sucking on it.
“Watson!” Holmes whispered harshly. He tried to tighten his grip on Watson’s hair but found it too short and settled for grasping at the fine strands with one hand and dragging his short nails against Watson’s shoulder blade. Watson swirled his tongue on the base of the shaft, just near the testicles and felt a soft shiver run through Holmes. With one last kiss to the tip
Watson pushed himself up, flexing his biceps and crawled over top of Holmes.
“I love you, too,” Watson whispered against Holmes’ lips before pressing a kiss against the words. Watson took the stopper out of the vial with a loud pop that they both laughed anxiously at. Watson straddled Holmes just below his ribcage and reached an oil slicked hand behind him. One finger hesitated at Watson’s hole and he trembled.
“Let me,” Holmes volunteered, already grabbing for the vial.
“No,” Watson insisted, “I want you to watch.”
Holmes could not find his voice to argue with this, he could only lay and watch as Watson clutched his eyes shut as he entered himself. A moan escaped from both of them, mingling in the air. Holmes was mesmerized by the passing phases of Watson’s face as he opened himself wider, readying himself for Holmes.
“Now, Watson, now,” Holmes demanded, he was beginning to utterly and completely fall apart. This was what Watson loved the most, when there were absolutely no barriers between the two of them, when every pretense had fallen away.
Watson pushed two fingers against his prostate before pulling his fingers out. He moved backward over Holmes until he straddled the man’s lap. Holmes looked up to catch Watson’s eyes, dark in the fading light that filtered into the room through the window. Holmes ran hands up his slick chest until it reached to his face where Watson caught a finger in between his lips.
Sucking on the finger he lowered himself onto Holmes’ aching cock. Holmes let out a gasp that mixed into a moan. These moans turned into words that were the blending of Watson’s name and various terms of endearment and professions of affection. Watson smiled as he always did when he realized that he was the only one who would ever see Sherlock Holmes so vulnerable.
Watson planted the thought into the back of his mind, stored away in his memory, and began to move. He rocked up and down, pushing Holmes into him as far as he possibly could. To Watson’s surprise Holmes sat up in a flash and drew his arms around the doctor and pushed him to his back. As he fell flat Watson very nearly hit his orgasm as Holmes pushed into him at the same time. Watson released a string of profanities very unbecoming of a gentleman.
Holmes pounded into Watson’s more than willing body, sending waves of pleasure coursing through both of them. Holmes wrapped his hand around Watson’s cock and pumped almost savagely. Watson came with fingers digging into bed sheets as his rectal muscles closed around Holmes. With this new tightness Holmes pushed in and came deep inside Watson.
“You,” Watson said in a hoarse whisper into Holmes’s ear, “are the only person I will ever belong to.”