Watson's eyes closed for a moment under the feel of that hand on his thigh, where that hand was starting to lead, for a moment needing to consciously remember to breathe. Even like this, even when he appeared to have the upper hand, it seemed that he was still to a certain degree under the man's power; he wouldn't have had it any other way.

"Oh, I intend to," he murmured in a low voice. He seemed to be running out of honey, to his great disappointment. Watson spread a little more, concentrating on Holmes's chest, and set the bottle aside before resettling himself. Both his hands were at the back of Holmes's neck, his grip firm and possessive as he let his teeth touch Holmes's collarbone, biting very gently. From there he began to lick as low as he could reach, savouring Holmes more than the taste of the honey. That he knew every inch of Holmes's flesh made no difference in how eager he was to explore it again.