mustbethetruth | awww yeah

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."

Watson chuckled. "You're not very transparent in your motives," he observed. "You're also apparently inexhaustible. Do you always plot out future carnal encounters while still in the afterglow of past ones?" He paused. "Actually, that might explain a lot, if you do."

He reached for the sponge, shifting as necessary to take his turn in gently scrubbing Holmes clean.

"Mm, not always," he murmurs, drawing on his cigarette and watching Watson at work, rather satisfied with himself. "Tonight, I confess there was a convenient sequence of events that fell into place once the initial idea was conceived. I could hardly argue with reason." He smiles and starts to trace his fingers over Watson's skin.

"Currently I'm in a curious state of active afterglow. I don't often have you at my disposal when we're not working toward sex, but here you are now, pliant under my hands, and I can leisurely explore you. It's a different sensation entirely." After another pull on his cigarette, he reaches over to stub it out.

"Mm, well. You hardly need to wait for this sort of situation to have me pliant under your hands," Watson pointed out, a crooked smile beneath his moustache. "Although, I suppose that being assured that sex is not going to be an immediate goal of mine might help."

Scrubbing gently around Holmes's neck, Watson paused to kiss him gently, following the path of the sponge. "But I do like you like this," he observed. "I like you most ways, to be honest. But this 'curious state' has some charm to it."

"I'm glad to see you approve," he says warmly, "as I'm rather fond of this mood myself." He catches Watson's chin and pulls him in for a kiss, slow and tender. As he draws away, he gives Watson a gentle smile and lightly runs his finger over his moustache.

"I think you managed to remove the honey." His smile grows slowly and his hand wanders down Watson's neck and shoulder, tenderly exploratory and appreciative. This man is his husband.

"You're quite certain about that?" Watson scrubbed gently another moment, unnecessarily, and then kissed Holmes, moving from shoulder to mouth. His movements were lazy and unforced. "I would hate to jump to conclusions on this count... but I think you might be right, today."

His scrubbing was very gentle, very loving, but by this point there was little purpose to it. He was more interested in simply soaking and relishing the moment. They were clean enough.

"Allow me to investigate closer?" He cups the back of Watson's neck and pulls him in for a leisurely, long kiss, exploring Watson's mouth freely. Satisfying himself, he slips his hand down Watson's back and gives him a lazy smile. "My initial conclusion stands. I declare your moustache mercifully honey-free." His smile quirks brighter, more playful, and he lightly traces the line of Watson's collarbone.

"We are doing a spectacular job of breaking in our new home, you realize. Sex in the kitchen and our first bath together all in the first night. How long will it take us to break in the rest of the house, I wonder."

"Not long, I imagine." Watson reached to one side to dispose of his cigarette properly, and settled himself comfortably against Holmes. It was not the most natural position, and slightly awkward, but the bathtub allowed for it, and just then, he was going to settle like that. "At the rate we go, love, we shall run out of that particular novelty very quickly. We don't seem to really... ah, pace ourselves in that regard."

He chuckled, low in his throat, and he laid his hand over Holmes's stomach. He was glad to be clean, glad they were warm and together. He would not have been surprised to discover he was glowing with happiness, in a literal sense. "There's also not that much house to go through, either. The bedroom is a given, and boundary between the kitchen and the sitting room is tenuous at best. That only really leaves the study, and I'm sure we're up to that."

"You are quite right there." He settles easily against Watson, chuckling in response as he leans over to leave a trail of kisses against Watson's neck and across his shoulder. "The idea of bending you over your desk is not something I would wish to put off for too long."

Of course they would have to do something about Mary. He isn't sure he could take Watson in the study with Mary watching, however inanimate she may be within her frame. He'd suggest his desk instead but with the chemical table... that may not be the best idea. He'd like setting their house on fire or inflicting chemical burns even less than Mary's unreal gaze.

"I beg that you don't," Watson said, with a deep rumble in his chest that was half-laughter and half awkward-throat-clearing. That he liked the idea of being bent over his desk in that manner was undeniable. The pair of them were undoubtedly shameless, that was for certain.

"But, see? It shan't take us long to 'break in' the entire house, and then we can resume seeking novelty in other ways." He smiled at Holmes, innocently.

"Mm, yes," he murmurs appreciatively, smiling to think of just now novel the two of them will get in the coming days, weeks, and years, no doubt. He moves closer, leaning in to kiss Watson's neck, truly unable to keep his lips off him for any length of time.

"Thank God we are both such creative, innovative people." He kisses behind Watson's ear, his hand settling along the inside of Watson's thigh. "Just think of all the ways we'll discover to keep ourselves entertained."

Turning slightly towards Holmes, Watson pressed several lazy kisses against Holmes's jawline, his arms still loosely curled around his middle. "Thank God, indeed," he agreed. "Although, for the record, there are at least a few experiments we've made that I wouldn't mind helping you repeat." Again, that deceptively innocent smile. "In the name of science, of course."

"In the name of science." He loves Watson's innocent smiles; there are few times when Watson's less than stellar acting is allowable, and falsely innocent smiles over a completely corrupted attitude is a perfect example. He kisses Watson delicately, deliberately teasing him, and then starts to leave kisses against Watson's cheeks and forehead.

"What should we file our experiments under, do you think, my dear John? Chemistry? Social?"

Watson shut his eyes, smiling beneath the kisses and the sudden use of his Christian name. How was it that something as simple as his own name could be so inexplicably charming? Not to mention how incorrigible the both of them were, kissing and touching like this already.

"Biology, perhaps," Watson suggested. "Physics, depending on the nature of the act itself. It does seem to make for rather an odd list of possibilities. May we experiment with more than one thing at a time?"

"That isn't the proper way to do experiments." He smirks lightly as he trails his fingers along Watson's chest, pausing to trace his nipple. "But I suppose since we aren't really seeking any scientific answer, I don't see why we couldn't." Leaning in, he kisses Watson tenderly.

"I feel I should mention I love you," he says softly as he draws away.

Watson's smile turned distinctly tender. While the declaration was hardly anything he was unaware of, it gave him an indescrible thrill to hear it, right down to his toes. He stroked his hand down Holmes's chest, his touch warm and gentle.

"I love you too," he said, moving close to kiss him again. "Don't ever doubt that."

Smiling, he kisses Watson again and pulls himself away, sighing contentedly. "Well, now that that's settled, and we are fresh and clean, might I suggest heading to the bedroom? The bath water's rather lost its warmth."

He climbs out of the tub and retrieves towels for them both, waiting to hand Watson's over to him once he's ready for it.

Watson climbed out of the tub, somewhat reluctantly, and took the towel Holmes had for him gladly. After drying himself hastily, he wrapped it around himself, and reached to drain the bath.

"Bed sounds like a rather splendid idea," he agreed, smiling. He stepped very close to Holmes, and kissed him playfully. "Although it's rather early yet, too. Shall we read in bed like some typical boring married couple?"

He dries himself rather shamelessly watching Watson; he doesn't bother to wrap himself in a towel at all, so that he preses his naked form against Watson's when he steps in close for a kiss.

"We're neither typical nor boring, so you will have to amend your plans." He kisses Watson, holding him close for a hug before he steps away. "I could use some brandy and another cigarette," he says as he winds the towel around him now. "Amend your plans, and I'll be in shortly."

Smiling, Watson shook his head a little. He couldn't argue with the brandy, at least, although personally he wasn't sure he was quite ready for a second cigarette. Whatever the context was, sliding naked between the sheets with his husband beside him was a pleasant and desirable pastime.

"Very well, I'll be waiting." He finished drying and, after a moment's consideration, dropped the towel over a hook. The only reason to take it was modesty, as there was no need to cling to it for warmth, and what, he reasoned, was the point of modesty in front of Holmes?

Naked, he left the bathroom, and slipped into the bedroom, and naked, he slipped beneath the sheets of their bed. Their bed. What a splendid thing that was to think about. Watson settled himself against the pillows very comfortably, waiting for Holmes to rejoin him.

Holmes recovers the brandy and returns to the bathroom for the cigarettes, pausing to light one for himself. He sees, of course, Watson's towel hanging in the bathroom and so he leaves his there as well, walking naked into the bedroom carrying the brandy and the cigarettes.

He smiles at Watson from around the cigarette in his mouth, and he tosses the case onto the bed beside Watson. "There you are, if you want." He pours them both some brandy and then slides into bed, handing Watson's brandy over to him.

They're in their own bed. Their own bed. His smile grows at the thought as he reclines against the pillows, taking a slow drag and exhaling contentedly.

"It's still difficult to think of this as our bed. I keep feeling as if somewhere there's another bed where one of us should be." Leaning over, he kisses Watson's cheek softly. "I look forward to when that feeling dissipates."

For the moment content without a cigarette, Watson set the case aside, though he took the brandy gladly. "I do, too," he agreed. Looking up at the ceiling, which was unfamiliar yet cosy and reassuring, he felt remarkably comfortable. He settled himself against Holmes's shoulder, careful of the brandy in his hand. "I have the feeling it shan't take us very long at all. We're already quite at home, after all."

He stretched, his own naked leg alongside Holmes's beneath the blanket, and he sipped his brandy.

He shifts comfortably next to Watson, sipping his own brandy before lifting his cigarette to his lips. They've been married for a while now, and Holmes had certainly felt married up until this point, but there's something unusual about owning a home with only one bedroom, only one bed, that's changing that feeling of being married.

Geography and living arrangements can hardly be said to comprise a significant part of the emotional bond of marriage, but they do mean quite a lot in terms of presentation. Now they're unquestionably living as married men. Married men. It sounds so strange, something out of a fantasy. Their life now isn't far from a dream, but it's still their life, remarkably. He kisses Watson's hair, breathing deeply in contentment.

"We are, aren't we?" He smiles fondly, pulling again on his cigarette. "Tonight is quite different from our first official moved-in night in Baker street." He grins sideways at Watson and sips his brandy again. "At least there was brandy and cigarettes, then."

Watson smiled mildly. "Very different, indeed. I'm not sure I would have been quite capable of the sort of athletics I've discovered you enjoy, not then, even if I'd thought you might like them." Good lord, but he had been ill, then. Ill, and broken, and without any notion of the sort of fellow he had thrown his lot in with.

He gave a sudden laugh as a thought occurred to him. "Imagine it, if I had been free to say it. 'I object to rows because my nerves are shaken, and I get up at all sorts of ungodly hours, and I am extremely lazy. And also I am occassionally inclined to fucking men, although you needn't worry about my attentions if you're not similarly inclined.' Do you think that's what it's like, to share lodgings in the future?"

He chuckles at the idea, which diverts his thoughts away nicely from how thin and ill Watson had been when they first met. He could see this Watson beside him now buried underneath the layers of suffering, and to see Watson gradually get better over the course of those first months together was remarkable, in its way.

"I would think it is, actually. If it isn't so taboo, then that's the sort of thing you'd want your flatmate to know, just like anything else. And if you had been free to say that then, I don't think there would have been any delay in our moving in together, to be sure. My feelings toward you notwithstanding, to have such an agreeable flatmate who shared my inclinations would have been too good to pass up."

He sips his brandy thoughtfully, starting to smile softly.

"That isn't to say you weren't already intriguing. Whatever you were or were not capable of then, I could see your potential. There's a distinct air of danger around you, even when you are ill. As if any moment you might throw something at an offending person's head if they fussed over you too much." He gives Watson a sly smile.

awww yeah

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