New H/W ~Vices~
Title: Vices
Author: moustache_wax from The Bachelors of Baker Street
Pairing: Holmes/Watson
Rating: NC-17 / Grown-ups only!
Summary: Watson finds pleasure where he can.
Thanks: october_9_1890 was nice enough to read this and share her thoughts with me.
Warnings: None. Unless hot, Victorian man-on-man action offends you, in which case you have been duly warned.
~*~
The dark mood that often haunts my friend visited me. Sherlock Holmes was busy with a case that did not require my assistance. While I had never admitted it to him, I felt more than a small amount of rejection when not invited. It is not that I am needed to chronicle every investigation, but I’ve grown accustomed to the excitement and companionship shared with him. Truthfully, it has more to do with the companionship. My friendship with Holmes transcends any other and, so much as I enjoy feeling needed when he calls for my aid, I am left dejected when he has no use for me.
When there is no case to stimulate his mind, Holmes reaches for his cocaine; when I am left behind, I find myself drawn to my own vices. Perhaps I am a hypocrite with my criticism of his seven percent solution, for my vice, in truth, was no less destructive than his.
Thanks to laws of society, and my own sense of decorum, I cannot have the sort of relationship that I crave most sincerely with Holmes-an intimacy beyond that we call friendship. Regardless, I doubt he would have any interest in that. His mind is too cold for even the affections of the fair sex much less more forbidden temptations. I settle for his company, but when it is ripped from me I turn to poor substitutions.
Holmes had been away for four days. I knew nothing of his whereabouts, and had no idea when I would hear from him. He only told me that the case involved the death of a young man and that it would require complete privacy for the sake of all involved. I suppose that is why there was no need for his Boswell on this particular assignment. As I sat that night in our quiet sitting room, alone and lonely, I felt the familiar need-the inaccessible itch that called for relief. I resisted it only briefly before putting on my ulster and grabbing my hat.
I took a hansom only so far as the London Bridge station, though that was not my final goal. From there I walked the short distance to the heart of Southwark. Walking darkened streets, I passed the theatres and even took a path through the more acceptable stews, though they held no interest for me. I turned down a narrow alley toward a single lantern that I knew from past visits. There stood a knotty doorway to a large house at which I knocked a pattern of three and one and four beats. This was required of anyone who sought entrance. I heard the heavy lock slide open, and a young man greeted me.
“Welcome to The Evening Inn, sir,” he said with a greasy and crooked smile. “May I take your hat?”
I gave him my bowler and made my way to the rows. Through the darkened parlour, on either side, there were two rows of men. For a price, any of these men would be available for companionship in a room upstairs. I did not pursue this with eagerness, nor did I feel shame. I simply felt a need to fill some terrible emptiness inside me.
I looked into their faces as I walked the room. Most were not worth considering, too young or too broken and sad. I would not take a man that would leave me feeling guilty or wrong. Just as I considered giving up and leaving, I saw one that might do.
He was near my age, perhaps a bit younger; it was difficult to tell in the dim lighting. And though he could use some time at the basin, there was some allure to him. He wore a short-cropped, dark beard and stood slightly hunched in a way that appeared to be more likely from fatigue than injury. When I tried to look at him more closely, he started and hid his face. This sort of shyness was most uncommon in this setting. I must say I found it almost charming.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Thomas.” He said just above a whisper, never meeting my eyes.
“Well, Thomas…” I hesitated as I found this part particularly distasteful. “What do you require?” He stood stiffly and said nothing. “Come now, you are here for a purpose, as am I. How much will you charge?”
“Ten quid.” He answered quietly.
The young man beside him laughed and called out, “Jeer ‘im? Ten quid! ‘At’s why ‘ee ain’t ‘ad no work. Sir, you’d ‘av me for a week for ten quid! And not a thing you couldn’t do for that!”
It was an absurd price-he seemed to be challenging me to ask so much. I think it was the challenge that sealed the deal. This place typically held none. It was not as though I could not afford his request; in fact it would be worth the extra if he brought such a spirit up to the room.
“Alright, Thomas. I’ll give you the ten. If you prove your worth, I’ll even throw a tip your way.”
The men around him gasped. Thomas said nothing but merely walked to the stairs, leading the way to what would be our room. In this establishment the owner made his money by charging the men who worked there a daily room rent. I wondered what sort of berth Thomas had secured for himself.
No gas ran to the rooms, so he used candles to light the way. As we entered, I was relieved to see that he had acquired one of the nicer suites. It was small but very clean and equipped with a fireplace. The fire, already lit, was an unexpected treat in such a cold place. The room contained only the bed, with a basin to one side and a highboy to the other, and an armchair by the fire.
Keeping his back to me, Thomas made his way to the basin to clean himself. I took the seat in front of the fire. It was warm and with the help of a swig from my hip flask, it eased the nerves I typically felt in that environment.
I did not realize Thomas was standing behind my chair until his hand reached out in front of me holding a long strip of black cloth. “Mind if I cover your eyes, sir?” His request startled me. A blindfold is the sort of thing one might use with a trusted partner, if at all, but this was not a situation for trust.
“For what purpose? What assurances have I that you wouldn’t rob me and leave?” I questioned.
“The owner would take it out of my hide if I robbed you. If you’ll give me a chance, sir, it’s just something I do. Let me earn my pay.” He said all this in the same shy, endearing voice of his.
Surely I was a fool to go along with it, but there was a benefit if all went well. During these encounters I did my best to imagine a different partner, one of my choosing. The truth be told, I imagined my dear friend Holmes. The blindfold, for all its risks, was sure to aid in that endeavour.
I noticed it as soon as he bound that soft, black band around my head. Thomas was gentle and courteous in his handling of me. These were not the ways of a man leased for service. For a moment I wondered what poor row Thomas had sown to lead him to this life. With no want of sadness, I pushed that thought aside in an effort to fall into the experience before me.
I heard his light steps as he rounded the chair. It felt like minutes that he stood before me without acting. I did not dare ask him to hurry. The blindfold triggered a sense of mystery that I wanted to maintain. I longed for the surprise of his first touch. Finally his cheek brushed mine and I heard him suspire, as if he had drawn deeply of my scent and exhaled in pleasure. Lord knows it helped my charade greatly. He sounded so much like Holmes appreciating a fine new tobacco.
Thomas opened my shirt, keeping his warm face pressed against my flesh while his hand explored the hairs of my chest. There was a slight trembling to his touch. The sensuality of our exchange was more than I had come to expect. I was taken aback when I felt his tongue trace my nipple before sucking it and tugging with his teeth. No lover, man or woman, had ever given attentions to this part of me. I had no knowledge of how deeply erotic the sensation could be. It was as though it lit a fire along a nerve connecting directly to my member. As he repeated the process with my other nipple, the ache of desire set in earnest. Blindly I reached for his face, cupping his cheeks as I pulled him up to my mouth.
It was never my habit to kiss a man in this sort of establishment. A kiss seemed to be the last vestige of intimacy that I was unwilling sully there. This time it was different. Thomas had become Holmes to my mind. The facial hair only bothered me little when I tasted his lips and felt his eager tongue enter my mouth. I felt nothing but the passion of my dear friend. I even imagined a faint taste of his tobacco. Though I had never heard a whimpering sound from Holmes, I felt certain it would have matched that which I earned from Thomas.
He squeezed my shoulders as he drew back from the kiss. It seemed a reluctant extrication. I could hear him breathing roughly; his breath and the crackling fire were the only sounds in the room. It was long moments before he touched me again. This time I felt his hands work to pull down my trousers and under garment. Then I heard what I figured to be his hands rubbing together briskly followed by his muffled breath. When his thin fingers encircled my manhood, I realised that he had warmed them to bring me more comfort.
He squeezed and pulled at my length, and then, when I had no expectation of it, his mouth descended upon me. The warm, moist heat surrounding my member was more gratifying that I could have imagined. In my mind I saw Holmes crouched between my legs with raven hair gleaming in the glow of the fire. I would have been satisfied with no more than this, but then I felt his arm brushing rhythmically against my calf. It occurred to me that he was pleasuring himself while bringing me such delight. This played well to my fantasy.
The rubbed pace against my leg increased and with it he moaned, sending shocks though me. It was as though he would consume me with the fierce suction he used when pulling up and then drawing me back into his mouth. I heard his moans turn into muffled cries and I felt certain that he was reaching his end. My own finish ripped through me and not once did his lips leave my flesh.
Small jolts of pleasure continued to ride through my body after it was over. I had no plan to say the name until it came forth, “Holmes.” Thomas, whose head had been resting on my thigh, stiffened at the name. I caught my mistake. “Thomas, that was remarkable.”
“Thank you.” He said, but his voice was somehow different-more polished, yet broken.
I reached up to untie the blindfold when his hand caught mine. “If you will, sir, let me leave first and give you your privacy at the basin.” His voice had returned to its quiet, sombre tone.
I felt there was no harm in letting him leave before removing the blindfold. As a matter of fact, I liked the idea, as it would allow me to linger on the vision in my mind. There was just one more thing I needed to mention, though I had rather not. “Your payment, Thomas?”
He had already made several steps away from me, and I could clearly hear him swallow hard before answering. It was as if he found the monetary exchange as distasteful as I did at that moment. “Leave it on the bed, sir.”
When I heard the door shut I removed the blindfold, and gave my eyes time to adjust to the firelight and candles. The sensation was like rising from a dream. Once dressed, I placed 10 pounds on the mattress, and then I pulled a bent sovereign from my pocket, placing it on top of the notes.
=====
When I returned to Baker Street, I quickly downed a brandy before going straight up to my room. I was sated and sure I could get a good night’s sleep, which had been rare since Holmes’s absence. Nine hours and many pleasant dreams later, I awoke to scent of one of Mrs. Hudson’s fine breakfasts.
I entered the sitting room, still in my sleep shirt and dressing gown, and was taken aback to see Holmes at the table. More accurately I only saw the newspaper, which obscured his form. “Shall I assume the case is concluded?” I asked.
He gave no response and in no way acknowledged my presence. I could only infer that the work had left him stumped and his mood was none the better for it. In silence I finished my meal of sausage and boiled egg. I lingered at the table enjoying my tea and Holmes’s company, such as it was. It was most unexpected when he flung the paper aside and looked at me pointedly.
It seemed ages before he spoke. “The case was concluded much to my satisfaction. An arrest was made just two hours ago.” He still seemed…not angry, but not of his usual manner. Something was amiss with my friend.
“Forgive me for saying, but your mood does not reflect your satisfaction. I usually find you in fine spirits after such a success.”
Again, his pause here was unnatural in length. “Watson, in my line of work, as you well know, I often find the need to deceive. Rarely does being forthright reward oneself with the secrets of others.” I thought he had more to say, but he stopped himself just there.
“True, but, your deceptions have always served the greater good of your case.”
“Indeed, but....” He reached into his pocket. “I find it pains to have deceived you.” Then he laid a bent sovereign on the table before me.
My face flushed as I recognised the coin I left in payment the night before. I dropped my teacup, spilling the contents on the table. I could think of no response. I sat frozen.
Just then there was a soft rapping at the door. It was Mrs. Hudson, come to clear the table. “Mrs. Hudson, leave and do not come back until you are called for!” Holmes roared. He then turned a softer face to me and said, “Allow me to explain. If you have not yet guessed it, I was Thomas.”
My mind reeled. The revelation was too much for me to process. My mind raced with the concept that I had already been intimate with the man I most desired, but with only him playing a knowing role in it. Why had he not told me? Could it even be true? It was not anger I felt, but such confusion as I knew no name for it. My instinct alone led me to make for the door. Just before I could reach it, Holmes dashed in front of me.
I tried to make my way around him, but he braced both sides of the doorway with his arms. No doubt he could see in my eyes that I truly needed to flee. I thought he was ceding to my wishes when he moved his arms, but soon his hands were grasping my shoulders. It was then that he pressed his mouth to mine.
It took a few moments for my body to stop the struggle it was prepared for and relax, as best I could, into the kiss. So long had I craved his mouth upon me, and, yet, I knew the feel and taste of him already. What a fool I was! His disguises always tricked me but this was beyond all measure. How could I have not known? I would have continued upon this line of thought had he not moved his arms to encircle my waist and deepen the kiss so distractingly.
It was he who eventually broke the kiss. “Would you care for that explanation now?”
“I want to know, and I want to explain myself, as well but…” Though my curiosity was great, it was a weak thing compared to my desire now stirred. I answered him only by pushing him back into the door and kissing him again. He moaned into my mouth as I pulled his hips to mine. I allowed my kisses to stray from his mouth, first to his cheek, then the lobe of his ear. I licked and sucked at the pale flesh of his neck.
“Watson, I really must tell you how it all happened.” I could hear the great effort it took for him to speak so clearly. The sound of his control so challenged only served to excite me further.
“You may speak. You may explain everything to me, only do not expect me to stop what I’m doing.” I spoke this into his neck, making sure to breathe plenty of warm air onto his flesh during pauses.
He suppressed a chuckle. “Very well. My client’s son died a fortnight ago in the very stew where we met last night. He was a customer and I needed to know who had serviced him that night. I tried to get to know the other men there by posing as one of them.” His voice strained with that last line. I removed his cravat and unfastened his collar.
“I managed to avoid any actual work by seeming disinterested in the clientele, which worked well in all cases but your own.” A slight smile was revealed when he said that. “The unfortunate thing was that I could not gain the confidence of the other men. They told me nothing. That is, until last night.”
I unbuttoned his shirt. “What changed last night? Other than our involvement.”
“In due time. When you approached me, I very nearly lost my composure. Truthfully, it was a great shock to see you in such an place.” When he felt me stiffen at that, he simply caressed my face. “I understood your want for companionship of that kind. Your presence there requires no explanation. It’s just that you hid yourself so well from me in that regard,” he soothed.
“You hid yourself fairly well, too.” I said, dropping my head to his chest and biting gently on his nipple.
“Let’s say we were both adept at keeping our secrets,” his voice clearly broke on the last word. I was gaining the upper hand at last. “Last night, I was not prepared to show myself to you. It was my plan to send you away.” And here he groaned when I sucked at his other nipple, trying my best to pleasure him exactly as he had pleasured me the night before. “I-I thought my manner would put you off, but when you further inquired as to the cost, I was sure my ridiculous fee would do the trick.”
“I’d have paid a farthing more had I known it was you.” I laughed against his abdomen.
“Watson!” he said in mock anger, “let me finish. Knowing no other way out, I intended to reveal my identity to you when we reached the room. I even thought I might do it in such a way as to suggest that you had found me out and were there to offer assistance on the case. I thought that would save any embarrassment on both of our parts.”
I stopped the path I was licking around his navel. “That sounds like a reasonable plan. But that isn’t what happened. Why did you change your mind?” For the first time during this exchange I was more interested in what he would say than in his form before me.
He stroked my hair as he spoke. “I turned from the basin, and there you were, sitting in that armchair bathed in firelight. It was as I’ve seen you in this room so many times before, but this time you were waiting for me. Waiting for me to do things I had only imagined doing to you, for you.”
There was tenderness in his voice the likes I had never heard. He must have caught himself treading close to sentiment, for then he cleared his throat and proceeded with his story. I proceeded in my own way, as well.
“When I returned downstairs, I was the talk of The Evening Inn. Everyone wanted to know how I managed to get such a payment from you. Suddenly I had gained the camaraderie that I failed to earn in the past four nights of working there.” Here he let out some small, indecipherable sound, as I unbuttoned his pants. “It…it was only a matter of playing a game of words with the men before one of them gave me the…information I needed.” ‘Needed’ was spoken breathlessly, as though he needed something else all together. Kneeling before him, I brought his arousal into my mouth. “I was able to sneak into the suspect’s room…I found ample evidence…murder weapon…returned with the police…warrant for arrest.”
Quite some time passed before he said anything else, or at least anything that I could understand much less transcribe. In fact we spent the morning and a good portion of the afternoon rendering ourselves speechless through various means.
=====
It has been three months now since this all occurred. The bond between Holmes and myself is much as it always was. As we had both secretly harboured deep regard for the other since the early days of our friendship, there has been no need for change-other than our expressions of that regard. We are still the same, only now we have found new comforts in our friendship and distractions from our vices.
~*~