There was something beautiful about watching Holmes lose himself in his orgasm, about holding back to see it and appreciate it. Watson loosened his grip on Holmes, his touch growing soothing, though no less possessive, as he smoothed his hands over Holmes's skin.

He was still hard, of course, still desperate, but for the moment he was merely content to relish this moment for what it was.

He leaned his head forward, briefly resting between Holmes's shoulder blades, before kissing him feverishly.