With the taste of Holmes's semen in his mouth, and somewhere under his own distraction ridiculously gratified at hearing that little cry of Holmes's, Watson clutched at Holmes's thigh, gasping in small, short breaths. His muscles were all taut with tension, and for the moment at least there was no room in his brain for pain; his nerve endings were far too busy communicating deep, sensual pleasure.

With a long grunt, half a groan, he tipped over into his orgasm, and he clutched at Holmes's leg, his eyes squeezed shut through it.

At last, he opened his eyes, and slid his fingers lazily down Holmes's thigh in a wordless caress that spoke of vast tenderness; speech had not quite returned to him.