Watson bit back a groan, bucking his hips up to meet Holmes's. He might come apart entirely but for Holmes's touch on him, and so he clung. He could hardly think to do anything else.

He slid a hand down between them, tangling with Holmes's fingers, both of their cocks sliding over his palm together. He turned his head to nip at Holmes's ear. It was hard to tell at this point where he ended and Holmes began, and touching Holmes was like touching himself: familiar, sensual, possessive. Mine.