awww yeah

[mustbethetruth]

continued from here

To be honest, he isn't sure what he'd been waiting for; perhaps he was trying to see how long he could last without kissing, or clinging, or betraying his desire in any overly forward way; or maybe he was waiting for the both of them to be bared to the waist, so that when he finally gave in, they could begin right away with the honey aspect of this.

Regardless of what he'd been waiting for, it appears as if the moment has arrived. Certainly he can't negotiate himself into waiting longer. He reaches for Watson, sliding his hand into his hair, and pulls him in for an unapologetically passionate kiss.

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[lightconductor]

For a moment, the only room for thought in his head was a quiet, vague, but very heartfelt thank you, although who or what he was thanking was quite beyond him. He kissed back, hard, with his fingers digging into Holmes's skin from behind, slipping down into the back of the waistband of his trousers.

Without breaking the kiss, he backed up a little, leaning back against the table, drawing Holmes against him.

[mustbethetruth]

He follows Watson's direction, not needing much persuading to press their bodies together, though he does have to somehow fit his hand between them and start to undo Watson's pants, sometime. For now he concentrates on eliminating the space between them as he grips Watson's back, his other hand still tangled in Watson's hair.

When he draws away finally, it's so that he can take several ragged breaths, rapidly attempting to regain that composure he'd been holding onto so well before.

"Are you an enthusiast of Greek desserts?" he murmurs breathlessly, attempting to still his hands by running them down Watson's side.

[lightconductor]

"Typically, yes." Watson's voice came out roughly, halfway between a purr and a growl. There was nothing intentional in it; that was simply the way his words emerged. "I am certainly fond of honey."

For a moment, a very brief moment which was very quickly forgotten, he considered just how much the table could take, would they use it in that way -- but indeed, the thought was very fleeting. He slid his hands around to Holmes's front to work deftly at unbuttoning his flies.

"I have rather a sweet tooth in general," he said in a murmur, speaking against the side of Holmes's neck.

[mustbethetruth]

As he reaches to undo Watson's flies, he has a very brief moment of clarity in which he can see their situation very clearly as if from an outside perspective. The freedom of living in their own home is nearly intoxicating; there is nothing stopping them from engaging in less than moral activities in their kitchen aided by honey. No matter what may have happened in their pasts, the fact that they are together now is undeniably incredible.

This moment of insight is, however, very brief; it lasts precisely long enough for Holmes to undo Watson's trousers and begin to push them away. Then he returns rather forcefully to his own mind.

"As do I, in certain circumstances," he says heavily, his voice still rough from their kiss. "This is most certainly one of those circumstances. Shall we get started?"

[lightconductor]

"Oh, dear God, yes," Watson said, emphatically. He was all to eager to help Holmes get him out of his clothes, wriggling helpfully out of them, kicking off his shoes to make the process a little smoother. One of them, he thought vaguely, skittered off below the sofa, and would have to be retrieved later; he did not care, very much, just then. Look at them, look at the two of them, hardly having finished eating before they had been diverted by their own conversation, barely managing to undress before indulging in... in ridiculous games, involving honey, of all the unlikely things.

He could hardly wait to start, in all honesty. If Holmes decided that now was a good time to toy with him, then Watson would have to... well, he was in no state to think of consequences. They would be dire, to be sure.

He reached for Holmes's hand and moved it to his hip, while he moved to kiss him, hard, impatient, hungry.

[mustbethetruth]

It's slightly more difficult to free himself of his trousers and shoes while he's busy returning Watson's kiss with equal passion and huger; he manages it however, and kicks aside the unnecessary articles and returns his full focus to kissing Watson thoroughly.

While sex has its moments, the first time two naked bodies touch is perhaps one of the most thrilling, and Holmes revels in it, gripping Watson's hips tightly. He nudges Watson back, encouraging him to sit on the table, before he finally breaks free of the kiss.

"Tsk, tsk," he says, almost too breathless for it to have its appropriate effect, "you are distracting a chef at work. How am I to start dessert with you behaving in such a way?" He recovers the honey and opens it, considering for just a moment on where to place it, and then opts for Watson's shoulder to start out with, squeezing out a small amount onto his skin. Leaning over, he slowly makes work at licking it up, his fingers playing over Watson's hip.

[lightconductor]

Oh, good. Oh, good. Now was past the time for games, for teasing, for anticipation. Perhaps this was another sort of teasing, but... an irresistable one, a desirable one.

The honey itself made for a strange sensation on his skin, sticky and heavy, and when Holmes's tongue added to it, hot and wet, it was entirely beyond his power to choke back the moan that built up in his throat. The table was an awkward place to sit, and he was suddenly not so steady, nor sure of his ability to keep his balance; Watson braced himself against the edge of the table with one tense hand, his back arching. Watson's other hand slipped from Holmes's hip, slowly moving up to rest at the back of his neck. His fingers buried themselves in Holmes's hair, taking a tighter grip than was strictly necessary, one to match the white-knuckled grasp he had on the table beneath him. Even just to watch Holmes at work was somewhat overwhelming.

"Far be it from me," he gasped, his gaze unfocused and fixed firmly on Holmes's mouth, "to interfere... with your enjoyment of dessert." Even if, especially if Watson was the dessert in question.

[lightconductor]

Watson let out a satisfied sound, not quite a groan and not quite a sigh, but a very comfortable expression. To be entirely truthful, he was feeling more than a little pleased with himself just at the moment.

"I'm sure it is your fault," he said, shifting comfortably between Holmes's legs, "but I think I have it in me to forgive you." He dipped his head to splash some water over his face, trying to scrub the honey away from the corners of his mouth and out of his moustache with his fingers. The honey in the coarse hair there felt rather... peculiarly uncomfortable, after all. He took another drag from his cigarette in his other hand. "Actually, to be entirely honest, I think I could forgive you even without the help cleaning up, but you're very welcome to continue." He leaned his head back to grin at Holmes, his expression teasing and very fond.

[mustbethetruth]

Holmes has to kiss that grin, and the kiss becomes lingering and tender despite his intention; once he starts kissing Watson, sometimes it's simply difficult to stop. He sighs comfortably when he finally draws away, giving Watson a very relaxed smile. The process of washing Watson is very soothing, very appealing, probably because Watson is so intensely his right now.

"Of course, since I am being so helpful, I may as you to return the favor," he teases in return, then takes a drag. "Have you gotten all the honey out of your moustache? That was a very peculiar sensation, by the way." His lips quirk in a smile.

[lightconductor]

"Not half so peculiar as it was for me, I can assure you," Watson said wryly. "And I believe so." He gave his face another thorough scrubbing. "You can let me know if I'm wrong."

He settled into being throughly cleaned, enjoying it more than he had thought he might. Really, the only experience he had of being washed by another, during his adult life, had been during his time in the hospital in Peshawar, when he had been simply too ill to tend to the task himself. This was a far cry from that experience.

"It would be my pleasure to return the favour," he murmured.

[mustbethetruth]

Having cleaned Watson's chest, he turns his attention to Watson's stomach area, moving progressively lower to his thighs. "I'm glad to hear it," he murmurs as he presses soft kisses to Watson's neck, happily busying his mouth with a further appreciation of Watson's body. "I wasn't going to take no as an answer." He grins against Watson's skin, tenderly washing over his thighs now.

[lightconductor]

"Oh, aren't you considerate and charitable," Watson laughed, rather throatily. "Fortunately for you, I would hardly consider it a chore." He leaned his head back onto Holmes's chest, briefly managing to remember his cigarette under the attention of kisses on his neck.

He had been worried, vaguely, that their... their fight, their disagreement, their... whatever it had been... had been some sort of bad omen about their life together in this new house. Watson wasn't even sure he believed in omens. That fear was long gone, now.

[mustbethetruth]

He maybe takes a little longer than strictly necessary to clean off Watson's thighs, and if he accidentally loses track of the sponge and winds up touching Watson's skin here and there, well, it's clearly unintentional. This is another of those moments where Holmes can find such peace, such welcomed stillness, that he can hardly believe there isn't an orchestra nearby, playing the finale. To know that their evening started the way it did, and now they're here is reassuring.

"We need to synchronize our bathing schedule," he murmurs against Watson's skin, trailing his mouth up to Watson's ear now. "You're perhaps more alluring in the bath than out. I'll have to pay attention when you get out this evening."

[lightconductor]

"I should like to see anyone stop us," Watson said, and then laughed, although not without a trace of nervousness. He shifted in the bed, moving onto his knees, cupping Holmes's face in his hands to kiss him again. "As it is, we have yet to see what the neighbours say. Perhaps they might object to a pair of maryannes, married or not, living in this previously presumably respectable set of cottages." Another kiss, warm and loving and deep; Watson wrapped an arm around Holmes's waist, to draw him close and kiss him better.

"But even if that is the case," he continued, his forehead against Holmes's, speaking nearly into his mouth, grinning wildly, "then I think we shall be able to hold them at bay. You arm yourself with your riding crop, and I shall have my revolver, and in the unfortunate event that there will be casualties, I shall sew them up again afterwards, and so win them to our side in the end."

[mustbethetruth]

Holmes laughs heartily, delighted at Watson's sudden turn (and his sudden new position). His hands automatically fall onto Watson's upper thighs, which is a very agreeable place to have them, and he kisses Watson again through his grin.

"Should we go about our home armed for a few days just in case we might suddenly find ourselves under siege from some displeased neighbors?" He moves his hands to Watson's hips, squeezing tenderly. "Though they may need longer than a few days to prepare their attacks, so perhaps we ought to try and stir them out of their nests so as to speed up any potential attempts at our removal."

[lightconductor]

"Stir them out?" Watson asked, looking pensively up towards the ceiling before returning his attention to kissing Holmes's face leisurely. "A very interesting idea," he said, between kisses. "Did you have some notion of how we might do so? And may I inquire as to what it might be?"

He let his fingers curl against the back of Holmes's neck, and he kissed him deeply again. Oh, let the entire island population raise protest against the two of them -- just then, Watson felt capable of taking them all on.

[mustbethetruth]

He relaxes against Watson's ministrations, though his hands are wandering from Watson's hips to his thighs slowly, occasionally sliding back to Watson's lower back.

"It would have to be something that unmistakably marks us as a pair of degenerate inverts, and it would have to be something that ensures an immediate flare up of righteous indignation at our wild ways." He pauses thoughtfully, a falsely innocent smile on his face, and the innocent look melts away as he starts to smile wolfishly. "A good bout or two of some unapologetically loud sex might do the trick."

[lightconductor]

"I thought your plan might be something along those lines," Watson smiled. He bent his head to Holmes's neck to kiss and bite the skin there, none-too-gently. "Was there a time frame in mind for this? Shall we announce our presence at once?"

The smile he turned on Holmes was faintly amused, faintly abashed, and very lustful. "Because I think I might be able to accomodate you, if that was the case."

[mustbethetruth]

He inhales sharply at the bite, his grin turning predatory. There's little doubt about Holmes's luck in discovering Watson. Not only is his flatmate-turned-husband ridiculously handsome, but he's just as energetic as Holmes is in bed. It's quite a winning combination.

"I think we had better get started on this task. When would be a better time to do it then around bedtime but before it's likely that people are asleep?" He catches Watson in a playfully rough kiss, nipping gently at his lower lip before he draws away.

[lightconductor]

Watson woke, reluctantly; he had slept extremely soundly after their exertions the previous evenings, and he still, he found, ached a little from the... vigorousness of their activities. It was a pleasantly satisfying sort of ache, no great discomfort at all, but it was enough that he was reluctant to be woken, and reluctant to wake.

Without opening his eyes, he felt for Holmes's face and laid his hand along the side of his neck, his touch gentle. "I love you," he murmured, "but I don't understand why you insist upon waking me up."

[mustbethetruth]

"An accident, I promise," he mumbles sleepily, turning his head so that he can kiss the inside of Watson's wrist, his own eyes still shut. "I thought my touch light enough so as not to bother you." He shifts onto his back and stretches a little, suddenly noticing some stiffness in his muscles now that he's slowly gaining more awareness.

"I love you too," he says as he settles again, turning his head to rest it against Watson's shoulder.

[lightconductor]

Watson stroked his fingers gently along Holmes's skin. "How does it feel," he asked, his words still slurred with sleep, the edges of his consanants softened and lazy, "to wake up after a night spent in a proper marital bed?" He opened his eyes finally, wanting to savour the image of Holmes sleepy against him, like -- well, like a big cat, to return to an old metaphor.

So, appropriately, he continued stroking the nape of Holmes's neck.

[mustbethetruth]

"Mm, strangely proper. Thankfully we're inverts, otherwise the lack of illicitness would leave a very bad taste in my mouth." He opens his eyes finally to give Watson a sleepy smile; the touch at the back of his neck is very comfortably soothing and he keeps still, hoping Watson may continue it a little longer. Lightly he brushes his fingers against Watson's hip.

"Please tell me there's no reason to leave it anytime soon," he drawls, his eyes falling shut again.

[lightconductor]

"Very well, I shan't." Watson tucked himself in around Holmes, enjoying the warmth and cosiness of being in bed together. If he could somehow have informed himself of ten years ago how affectionate Holmes could be in bed, he doubted his younger self would have believed him in the least. His fingers stayed at Holmes's neck, gentle and loving.

"I'll also refrain from pointing out that eventually we shall have to get up," he sighed. "Coffee would not be amiss, though."

[mustbethetruth]

"That's true enough."

He sighs, truly regretting that he and Watson will have to quit the bed and get dressed and return to the world. He hadn't really thought about it before, but this is his first official night in a marital bed, though it isn't Watson's. Presently the thought isn't bittersweet, merely factual, and he finds himself wondering at that. They share so much, are presently at their most intimate, but here they are on unequal footing.

He's too content and too drowsy to give the thought much attention; he pushes it aside in favor of pressing close to Watson and kissing the nearest patch of skin.

"All we lack now, you realize, is a housekeeper who wouldn't be scandalized to bring us our coffee while we lounge in bed like the newly newlyweds we are."