Upon The Black Tor,
by elfin
"It is exceedingly cold out here, Watson. Might I come inside without
you shooting me?"
Never before had I been so relieved to hear that beloved voice. "Holmes?"
His smiling face peered in from around the wall. "Holmes!" Holstering
my weapon, I reached out both hands to him and he grasped them. "How
long have you been up here?"
He was unshaven, a couple of days' stubble covering his jaw. He wore
a suit below a long, thick, grey winter coat. (I won't deny that I
noticed the way the colour set off his eyes.) His scarf was wrapped
around his neck, his gloves warming his hands.
"Three days at most, Watson," he assured me. "I had your reports
forwarded to Grimpen from Baker Street, and they've kept me perfectly informed.
I must thank you."
"It was my pleasure." He'd kept hold of my hands, his thumbs rubbing
the backs of my fingers. "You must be freezing up here, Holmes.
Why couldn't you come to the house?"
"Because I need our adversary to think me uninterested in this case for
now."
I sighed, concerned as usual for his wellbeing. But once his mind
was made up there was no one who could change it. Not even me.
"It is good to see you," I reaffirmed, stepping closer to him. "I
have missed you."
"And I you, Watson." Tilting his head a little, leaning in, he kissed
me.
That first touch of his lips was gentle, tentative, as if he expected me
to push him away. For all his professional prowess and his bewildering
intelligence, he was in need of constant reassurance regarding my love and
desire for him.
I opened my mouth under his and pressed my tongue between his lips.
But as was usual when I was with him, I needed more, I needed skin against
skin. Pulling one hand from his grip, I curled it around the back
of his neck. I stroked my thumb up and down the side of his throat,
tracing the line of his jaw. His skin was chilled, as I knew it would
be, and I endeavoured to rub some warmth into it.
He sighed softly, melting into me as he did whenever we made love.
For me, and me alone, he would be this person, this affectionate, nervous
soul. My other hand was released and his fingers curved around my
shoulders.
I, in turn, wrapped my other arm around his waist and pulled him to me
so that I could feel his arousal, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed,
the slight tremble in his limbs.
"Please, John." He always used my Christian name when we were like
this.
Absurdly, up here, bare to the elements, we were safer than we usually
were when indulging ourselves at Baker Street.
The elements wouldn't be kind, mind.
Looking around, I noticed a low stone bench at the back of the stone shelter.
"Come, Sherlock." I drew him back, keeping him close, and sat us face
to face on that cold seat.
I put my arms around him and kissed him, marvelling as his lips melded
to mine and his tongue sought my tongue.
Stroking his hair, his shoulders and his back, I delighted in touching
him, in having him back in my arms after so many days away from him.
His hands fumbled at my clothing, reaching under my blazer to find my fly.
When his fingers first touched nude flesh, a flash of exquisite pleasure
tingled along my nerves.
"The bed's so big," I told him, not really thinking about what I was saying,
"so cold without you." His fingers wrapped around me and before I
could stop him he'd scooted back on the stone, lowered his head and taken
me deep into his throat.
"Oh God...."
Leaning back slightly, selfishly giving him more room, I balanced myself
on one hand while stroking the other over his dark blond head. There
was something about having the mouth of the great Sherlock Holmes doing
that to me, something so carnal such that when he first did it, I climaxed
simply at the initial touch of his lips.
But the great Sherlock Holmes was, to me, my most intimate friend and my
lover. As I was teaching him to trust in his feelings, he was teaching
me that he was every bit a man with the basest desires.
"Sherlock...." I combed my fingers through his hair, mapping the
contours of his scalp in the loving way I always touched him.
He sucked in his cheeks around me and swallowed. The muscles contracting
around the sensitive head of my engorged cock pushed me to completion and
I came hard.
He drank me down, savouring every drop, before sitting up and kissing me.
I tasted myself in his mouth and told him I loved him desperately.
In the same moment, I pressed my palm against the bulge in his trousers.
He so enjoyed having my hand around him, he had told me, the constantly
changing pressure of my fingers, the way I pushed my little finger down to
the base of his cock, between his heavy testicles. With two hands I
could stimulate other parts of him at the same time, stroke his perineum,
press my fingers inside him.
I found the buttons of his fly and finally freed his erection. It
jumped into my hand and I received it gladly. The feel of him was exquisite,
silky flesh over steel muscle.
He moaned softly, his forehead dropped against mine. One of his hands
rested on my thighs, while the other lovingly petted my sated cock.
I knew him perfectly. I knew him intimately.
I knew his eyes would be closed as I kissed his temple. I could feel
his breath coming in short gasps against my face as I slowly massaged his
erection until he went very still and spilled his seed over my hand.
"John... what would I ever do without you?" he asked me seriously, for
once not talking of my assistance in his chosen career.
"You'll never have to find out," I promised in return.
Between short kisses, we tucked one another away gently and carefully,
and with the utmost respect.
Once dressed, our arms went around one another and we drew close.
This was the very best thing about the change in our relationship, being free
to hold him.
Before this, he would find his comfort in the needle he pressed into his
arm whenever he needed it. Now I could offer a comfort that went far
beyond a single hit. In my embrace - he said once - oblivion was an
easier place to reach and a better place to be.
He sat back, and I stroked my hand over his cheek and jaw. "How can
I leave you up here, Holmes?"
He smiled that wonderful smile of his, but I'd never hear his answer, for
the hysterical screams took us rushing out on to the moor to discover the
unfortunate Seldon's body.
Naturally, when it came to writing up this particular case, there were
details omitted from my account....
fin
elfin
(For Carmen)
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