Sherlock Holmes (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mustbethetruth) wrote2011-11-05 01:26 am
mustbethetruth) wrote2011-11-05 01:26 am
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Continued from here.
He has thoughts that are good thoughts to have, thoughts that Watson would approve of. They should go back to their house so that Holmes can tear Watson out of these clothes and drive him into the bed. Or the couch. Or the table -- wherever they manage to land themselves. But then that would require getting up, and walking all the way back, and there's no one here right now. It's far easier to continue kissing Watson, his fingers threading into his hair, and from there it's an incredibly easy leap to half-tackling Watson, pushing him back to lay on the sand.
But it's so wonderful to lie stretched out with his lover under the sun with the ocean whispering softly and the salty smell of sand all around them that he can't really be upset with himself, and he doubts that Watson really has many protests.
At the moment.
"You don't know," he breathes against Watson's mouth, his hand running restlessly up and down Watson's side. "Every time I gave you something to work out -- you scintillate -- " And then he kisses Watson again because talking only wastes time he could be recouping years of fantasy.
He has thoughts that are good thoughts to have, thoughts that Watson would approve of. They should go back to their house so that Holmes can tear Watson out of these clothes and drive him into the bed. Or the couch. Or the table -- wherever they manage to land themselves. But then that would require getting up, and walking all the way back, and there's no one here right now. It's far easier to continue kissing Watson, his fingers threading into his hair, and from there it's an incredibly easy leap to half-tackling Watson, pushing him back to lay on the sand.
But it's so wonderful to lie stretched out with his lover under the sun with the ocean whispering softly and the salty smell of sand all around them that he can't really be upset with himself, and he doubts that Watson really has many protests.
At the moment.
"You don't know," he breathes against Watson's mouth, his hand running restlessly up and down Watson's side. "Every time I gave you something to work out -- you scintillate -- " And then he kisses Watson again because talking only wastes time he could be recouping years of fantasy.