mustbethetruth | (no subject)

"It has been too long," Watson breathed. He took being laid out like this, trapped under Holmes's body, with a certain amount of amusement, a certain amount of gratitude, a certain amount of relief. It was right, it was far more comfortable than such a position ought to be. He let his hand rest on the small of Holmes's back, very lightly, in what was he hoped was a casual and non-threatening way. He was worried of startling Holmes, in this strange and fragile mood he currently was in, but if he did not touch him in that small way, hold him to him with that (only faintly) possessive tenderness, he would go quite mad with being touched and not touching.

He closed his eyes, drawing in a long breath. He was feeling more at peace than he had been all week. "But I would have waited for years longer if necessary."

He's certainly doing better about having his space invaded, and while he's aware of Watson's hand, he doesn't feel as trapped as he did earlier. He's much too focused now on mapping Watson's chest with his lips, feeling out the familiar dips and marks, almost giving himself a pop quiz of Watson's skin. This may be the longest the two of them have gone without such activities as these, and while it wasn't a hardship for Holmes, he can't imagine Watson's side of things.

Suddenly struck with a thought, he glances up at Watson. "Have you been abusing yourself?" he asks softly. The image, he must admit, is undeniably sexy. He hopes Watson says yes, and then Holmes can't really ask when or where but he can fill in those details for himself.

Lost in sensation as he was, lost in the faint anxiety he always, always felt when Holmes began to pay any attention anywhere near his scarred shoulder (and true, that was a great deal less than it had once been, but it was still there, and still an issue, and possibly always would be), the question caught Watson off-guard. His eyes snapped open as he drew in his breath.

"No!" he objected automatically with all the horror of an embarrassed schoolboy, though he felt his face redden, felt the lie show all over his face. Of course he had. He was a healthy man with healthy appetites, and with Holmes unavailable Watson had had to do something.

"Yes," he admitted, rather reluctantly, shutting his eyes again. He only hoped he wasn't going to be mocked for it. "Yes, of course I did."

Watson's embarrassment is as alluring -- though for different reasons -- as the image of him engaging in such an activity. He can very clearly call to mind an idea as to how Watson looks when he's pleasuring himself in such a way, and it's certainly nothing to be ashamed of, especially not when the person in question emanates lust and passion while he's at it.

Cupping Watson's neck, he kisses Watson fiercely, almost hungrily; his lustful confidence is quickly returning to him, he's almost surprised to say. He really shouldn't underestimate Watson's ability to bring Holmes out of his doldrums.

"Terribly sorry you had to manage that all on your own," he murmurs, his voice thicker now. "Might I offer some reparations?"

Breathless after that kiss, Watson brought his hand to Holmes's cheek while he gasped and sought for words. He rubbed his thumb over the ridge of cheekbone.

"You might, yes," Watson managed. He lifted his mouth to Holmes's again, kissing him with a certain amount of desperation. The desire in him for more than simple kissing and touching was certainly being wakened now, and while he'd been faintly concerned that that sort of thing was not entirely welcome just then, Holmes's words now were reassuring and very welcome.

"It was very difficult. Traumatising, even." A ridiculous thing to say, but it was easy to joke about it, even in hoarse, half-whispered words.

After making the promise, he worries now that he won't be able to follow through on it, even though he doesn't think that too likely. The dominant positioning is doing its job to make Holmes feel more in control, even as Watson clings to him. Besides, taking Watson's cock in hand will complete the quest to reacquaint himself with Watson's body.

"Traumatizing?" he asks, not as amused at Watson's words as he ought to be, as he's too busy feeling aroused. He brushes his lips teasingly over Watson's, giving him the hint of a kiss. "What did you think of?" This question is serious, and he draws back enough to let Watson know that.

He hadn't expected that question. He hadn't expected curiosity into his fantasies -- but then, why shouldn't he have expected it? This was Holmes; what was Holmes not curious about? Still, it was a first; no lover before Holmes had expressed any interest in Watson might have been thinking of as he pleasured himself. It wasn't done, after all, to so much as acknowledge the habit.

He could manage to play this game.

"You," Watson murmured, his embarrassment still evident. "Your hands, your mouth, your touch." He spoke slowly, picking his words with care, trying to choose the best possible ones. "You inside me."

Holmes smiles for the briefest of instants and then kisses Watson heatedly, shutting his eyes tight. He could try to analyze why this is helping him not to feel so nervous, nor so skittish; maybe it's because now he's focusing even more on Watson, which had been the initial plan, exploring Watson intimately on a whole other level -- a level that's more important, in some ways. Perhaps it's reaffirming Holmes's confidence.

Regardless, he's quickly forgetting about his insecurities and beginning to have fantasies akin to Watson's. He doesn't think he's quite ready for what Watson had had in mind, but at least he can imagine them without feeling trapped again.

"So my being inside you has become traumatizing now?" he murmurs, teasing Watson, though it still seems slightly... off to be doing that. He doesn't feel the teasing spirit all the way through him yet. "I shudder to think what a longer dry spell might have caused. Is the damage reversible? We would have to start small, I think, and work our way back up."

It's not too difficult to come up with this cover story to make up for Holmes's inability to fully reverse Watson's trauma now, as it were.

Watson leaned into that kiss gladly, gratefully. "You are not traumatising," he murmured. "Going without you is what is so difficult. But," he continued, smoothing a hand down Holmes's arm, "if you think it best to start small, to ease myself back into your presence again... I shan't contradict you."

He was all too aware that things were perhaps still uncertain between them, and had concluded it was best to let Holmes set the pace and the boundaries of where this might lead. His trust in Holmes was, after all, absolute.

"The damage is certainly reversible, though. I feel myself improving already."