"Did that sound like a complaint?" Watson grunted. He was, in fact, rapidly losing the ability to form complete sentences, but also determined to hold out for as long as he could.

Despite his battle for silence, out of pride more than anything else, he let out a long moan, caught between exquisite sensation and the agony of drawing out the moment, teeth and fingers in dangerous places, and dear God he was going to repay Holmes for this next time he had him at his mercy. It was part revenge and part repaid debt, but he would have the man babbling and insensible before they were through.

"Bloody hell," he gasped, coarsely. "Would you get it over with and fuck me, for the love of God."