Despite his own impatience, his own eagerness, he forced himself to reign himself in. The last time Watson had seen Holmes so... so... so near to falling apart, coming apart at the seams like this, Watson had had him bent over the table with his cock buried inside him. That he was in so similar a state from what comparitively little they had done here and now spoke volumes, and all the strength of Watson's lust was tempered somewhat by compassion and concern.

He would go at the pace Holmes set for them, and no faster.

He gasped at the feel of Holmes's teeth on his earlobe, leaning into it a little. Slow, he reminded himself, slow. He continued stroking the back of Holmes's neck, slow and gentle and calming, while his fingers toyed over Holmes's cock with the same sort of careful rhythm.