Oh, that noise. Oh, that was exquisite. It all was, the failure at stifling moans, the hand on his thigh, the taste of honey, the inevitable stickiness. There was honey in his moustache, for goodness sake. He hadn't considered that consequence, although it bothered him very little indeed. It was a lucky thing honey cleaned up easily, sticky as it could be.

"Sometimes," he said, licking behind Holmes's ear; there wasn't really any honey there to lick, but he was enjoying the excuse to explore that spot with his tongue for a moment. "When I am in the mood for sweets, I do like to induldge."

He shifted backwards a little, bringing his head down to Holmes's collarbone again, working on cleaning up the honey that had dripped over his chest.