The sound Watson made was deeply relieved and deeply hungry, and he leaned his head back as he groaned, long and low. "God, yes," he murmured. The fur beneath him over the hard floor, the feeling of Holmes inside him, the heat and the sweat and the smells of sex; it was all so much, and so intense. He neeeded this, desperately.

Matching Holmes's rhythm in a way that was quickly becoming second nature, he bucked up towards Holmes's thrusts. His eyes were closed, and he was feeling. It was so much, and it was perfect.