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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[mustbethetruth]

The kiss is perfect for the moment and Holmes lets himself be embraced, not that he's particularly eager to do anything that doesn't involve being near Watson. He closes his eyes, enjoying being still and tucked safely against Watson's chest.

"I thought you knew better than to play to lose," he murmurs when he manages to get his breath back and speaking seems possible.

[lightconductor]

It was another long moment before Watson found the breath to answer. He was wonderfully exhausted, perfectly so, and answering seemed a good deal less urgent than simply continuing the moment.

"Typically," he said at last, "yes. When it's horses or dice or cards, certainly. But sometimes there's more benefit in losing. Now, for example." This was almost an immpossibly long speech, in his current state, and it was more than a little slurred. He rubbed his thumb gently against the nape of Holmes's neck.

[mustbethetruth]

Holmes is rapidly feeling the pull of sleep get tighter, which means he ought to situate himself on the bed, which means summoning up some effort. He takes a deep breath and lifts his head enough to brush a kiss across Watson's lips, and thus strengthened, he shifts sideways. Stretching out beside Watson, he wraps his arm across Watson's chest and presses close.

"That was a mutually beneficial competition," he murmurs contentedly, lightly kissing Watson's shoulder. "Mm, darling, you have worn me out. Shall we say good night?"

[lightconductor]

"You'll forgive me if I'm not up to a third round," Watson murmured.

He shifted, stretching, settling automatically into a position that would not cause undue strain on his bad leg and one that allowed him to lie close to Holmes, an arm draped lazily over him. He reached for the blankets, and pulled them around both of them.

Watson pressed a kiss to Holmes's throat, a very gentle one. "Good night," he said.

[mustbethetruth]

"Forgive you, indeed. Good night, my dear."

It isn't long until he falls into a comfortable sleep, content and safe in the arms of his husband, nestled in their marital bed. Sometime once the sun's come up he stirs awake, but it feels early and he's far too warm and comfortable to think about getting up yet, so he throws his arm around Watson again and huddles close, managing to doze off for another couple of hours.

By the time he wakes again, he knows it must be time to get up, but the thought is far from desirable. Making a soft noise of complaint, he shifts closer again and softly kisses Watson's shoulder, shutting his eyes once again.