Oh, that's a relief. To be honest, he really hasn't done this very often in the past three years. For much of the time he was too stressed or too drugged to even get an erection, and then being tended to by Tibetan monks really doesn't leave one eager to engage in sins of the flesh, even on one's own.

He hisses in approval and squeezes Watson's thigh, grateful that Watson is ready to accept him back completely, that they can consummate this newly-named marriage of theirs. That he's about to be given an orgasm, to be crass.

This angle is still difficult, and he kisses whatever he can reach of Watson's skin, his tongue flicking out to taste him and his teeth nipping at him.

"God yes," he whispers against his skin, reaching up again to slide his fingers into Watson's hair. "I've also missed our fantastic sex."