Enhancing The Taste 2
Pairing: Holmes / Watson
Word count: ~ 500
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Warning: Tiger rug stumbling. Cat bashing.
Summary: A sunny Saturday morning, toast and honey…
A/N: Something, that came into my mind, unbidden… And, before anybody argues: I love cats more than dogs.
Sitting comfortably in his chair, newspaper in front of his face, Watson studied the latest results of the horse races, when a loud curse and a clatter like spoons on a tray startled him out of his reverie. He said nothing, only smirked. Holmes. He’s been bustling around him like a bee returning to her hive. He wondered what the detective had in mind… Straightening the newspaper once more he inclined himself into an article about a venous disease and forgot about the incident.
The door opened, he heard Holmes thanking Mrs Hudson for her kindness, the door closed again and after a moment a second curse made him look up. Holmes. He had stumbled over the head of the tiger rug, nearly falling, thereby catching the tray one hand underneath the other on top, dipping it into the honeyed toast lying on it. Cursing under his breath Holmes sat the tray down onto the table, he slumped into his chair and started licking at his fingers. Suddenly Watson felt a hot bolt racing through his chest. He laid down the newspaper and watched fascinated, not able to look away. The black hair in disarray, only wearing a pair of black trousers and his half open bathrobe Holmes looked like a kind of a ragged doll.
“Damn rug! I will get… rid of it… as soon… as possible…” The disheveled looking detective swore, licking at his fingers like a cat.
“Yes, damn the cat…” Watson stated absentmindedly.
“What?” Holmes stopped licking. Watson blushed under the sparkling, joyous, questioning look of the dark eyes.
“Yes… I mean… get rid of it…” He took his newspaper up again and tried to hide behind it. The detective snapped it out of his fingers and settled over into Watson’s lap.
“What about cats, my dear Doctor? Didn’t you complain enough about our dog that you have to discriminate cats also?” Staring wide eyed into his beloved’s face Watson wasn’t able to utter a single sound. One hand gently splayed in his hair, the honeyed one close to his lips, Holmes smiled wickedly down on him. Watson licked his lips. He could hardly breathe anymore.
“I mean… I wanted… just…” A finger touched his lip, he froze, unable to move. Holmes wriggled in his lap, feeling his raging hard on on his arse. He loved the adoring look in the cerulean eyes, the look of love…
“Do you know, what you did to me, last night, Holmes?” Holmes face were only inches away.
“I do know. I stabbed my tongue into your open heart…” He could feel Watson shivering under his touch.
“You nearly killed me…” Hot breath against his finger, his face, moist lips, begging to be kissed.
“It nearly killed me, too… Watson…” He whispered. Closing his eyes he felt Watson’s tongue licking hesitantly at his finger. First at the tip, around the first segment, and then, suddenly the pliant lips closed tightly around it. He felt the soft tongue caressing, swirling around. He nearly fainted.
“Watson…” Was all he could say.
“More…” Answered the coarse voice. Instantly the ragged bathrobe flew away, Holmes grabbed a toast from the plate and smeared the honey all over his chest. Growling deep in his throat he grabbed the doctor’s head and gave himself over to the pleasure of feeling the hot tongue on his bare skin. Sucking greedily Watson licked around the hardening nipples, through the sparse hair around them. Holmes tasted wonderful. Arching into his touch he sighed and abandoned himself. Watson got the impression of holding a great cat in his arms. He smiled and licked deeper, causing Holmes to groan loader. He picked him up and making his way to the settee he licked sweet traces of love over burning skin. Holmes slung his legs around him, taking a deep breath as Watson’s tongue finally reached his navel. Watson licked into the tiny crevice. His face was full of honey, also. He reveled in the taste of honey combined with Holmes and pure Holmes. He found traces of salt and something different. Slowing down he traced the scars from the Punchbowl. ‘Here’s his hipbone,’ he thought. ‘His chest, ribcage… his heart underneath his skin… it’s beating…’ He took his time and Holmes melted under his touch, rocking gently against him.
“Holmes!” The answer was a choked sobbing sound.
“Watson… Is this… a kind of… revenge…?” Watson smiled.
“Revenge is sweet, old cock.” And licking Holmes’ throat he tickled him with his mustache.
“Oh my God! Watson… don’t…” Holmes cried out, increasing his gentle rocking against Watson’s body. Their lips met, devouring each other, grinding against each other, they finally found completion. Holmes let out a long, deep sigh. Licking gently at Watson’s moustache he lowered his legs and said:
“I’m hungry. I think there’s some toast left…” Watson cradled his head in Holmes’ neck and smiled.
“It’s your fault. Who brought the tiger rug in here?”
“The rug laid here when I took domicile. I think Mrs Hudson shot him…” Answered Holmes, both hands in Watson’s hair. Watson chuckled.
“I didn’t know she dislikes cats.”
“No. Only the rounder from the streets. Like me.”
“Holmes. You are a consulting detective, an English Gentleman... Not a cat…”
“Holmes! Sometimes you are incredible!”
“I know. Incredibly in love with you…” Watson’s head shot up. Black eyes met blue. An Angel passed by. A long eternal moment died away before Watson stood up, drawing Holmes with him, kissed him one last time and said:
“It’s time to feed the cat.” A wide smile appeared on Holmes’ face.
“You’re a hell of an incredible doctor, too. Know that?”
“Yes. That’s why I’m here. Someone has to look after you. Not that Mrs Hudson shoots you, too.” And with that they went back to the table, finishing their breakfast.