"My dear, if you don't mind, I am the one who is in love with you, and who is currently observing your naked form. I think you ought to allow me to choose the words I would use to describe you." He smiles playfully and kisses him again, stroking his fingers down Watson's arm, following the lines of his muscles.

"And I am most certainly yours," he breathes, his nose brushing Watson's still. "Just as you are John, and you are mine." Much recovered from his exertions, he kisses the corner of Watson's mouth and his cheek, and neck, and the tip of his ear.

"Do you suppose we ought to carry ourselves to the bed without a name that's technically mine, but functionally ours?"