amaraal (amaraal) wrote,

  • Location:
  • Mood:
  • Music:

Second Fight - fic

Second Fight


Author: amaraal

Pairing: Holmes / Watson

Rating: NC-17

Word count: ~850

Warnings: Fluff-mode, blood, alcohol.

Summary: Two warriors in a ring of delight.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: I don’t know if brandy bottles were corked at this time… Writer’s freedom. I imagined it to be a round bottle, so it rolled on the floor and stopped at the door. (Hmmm. That rhymes… *silly mood off*). The fandom made me do it *smiles*. Now – off you go!




I can feel my hard on in my trousers and with half closed eyes I follow his scent up the stairs – sweat, blood and smoke. I step in the moment before the door falls shut behind him, sticking my cane in the gap. Holmes, half naked, turns around and watches me surprised.

“Watson?” I throw him the bottle with brandy I brought with me and he catches it easily. He smiles, his eyes glinting in the dim light. I step closer to him, leaving my cane at the door, throw my hat carelessly on a nearby chair and start to fumble with this damned tight tie knot. My eyes never leaving his. He looks proud and vulnerable at the same time.

“What do you want?” He asks harshly. My coat and waistcoat flying the same way as my hat, and I lift the sleeves of my shirt, stepping closer to him.

“Taking care of you. I’m your doctor after all. Let me see… this…” I reach out and my finger traces the wound on his eyebrow, I let it wander over his cheeks, his jaw, his neck. He is hot and trembles under my touch, the bottle in his hand making him incapable to act properly. His beautiful eyes are wide, taxing me with an insistent stare. I grab the bottle from his hand, pull out the cork with my teeth and spitting it over my shoulder, taking a gracious sip. I swallow only the half of it, bend my self towards his face and… kiss his wound with my now disinfected lips. He growls low in his throat and leans into my touch. I swallow and lick the blood from his wound. Now it’s my turn to growl. He holds his breath, his hands running up my forearms. I taste him until the wound is clean. As I examine his face he looks crestfallen. His eyes flutter close, he sways a little on his feet.

“More…” He whispers. I take another sip and do the same to a small wound on his collarbone. He grits his teeth as the pain increases and slings his arms around me. He tastes deliciously. I suck on the wound drawing more blood, he winces, but doesn’t try to escape. He trusts the hunter, my doe-eyed Holmes.

I rip myself from him and look down on him. I have to smile. It always humors me to see, that I am a bit taller than he is.

“I always have a hard on when I watch you fight.” I tell him, my voice a coarse whisper. He stares at me without blinking.

“I’ll always fight for you.” He says. He snatches the bottle from my hand and takes a swallow. He closes the gap between our bodies and I can feel his boner too. My smile is reflected in his glowing face. I kiss him. And he doesn’t deny it.

“You need a man. Here I am.” I whisper into the shell of his ear. The bottle hits the floor with a dump thud, he swings me around and forces me to a small bed at the other side of the room. Sweat is still glistening on his skin. His hair is wild and sweaty, too. I revel in his smell. I’m with him, he is mine! He is over me in a second. I give in to his kiss, rubbing our erections together. He moans and I go limp. Dragging him with me I sink down backwards on the small cot. His hands are all over me. My clothes are gone in seconds. He kisses my throat, bites at my neck (and he knows what biting my neck does to me). I hold his face in my palms, licking his temples.

“Holmes…” He is hot, sweet and salt and smoke, the taste of brandy on his tongue. I want him! His hardness. In me.

“Holmes… please…” He growls, my cock twitches, he kisses me, roams with both hands over my exposed body.

“The door…” I mumble.

“Don’t care… ‘s protected…”


“Yes… Watson… want you… my man… Watson…” I smile against his lips. He has lifted my legs, his protruding length finds my hole, the tip slippery with his precum. He makes the connection and then I have to growl. He feels so good against and inside of me. His body, slick and strong in my arms drives me mad with want and desire. He pounds into me for several minutes, then he comes and bites my neck, unconsciously drawing blood.

I grip him tight, spent my seed between our bellies, he cries, curses, eyes closed and trembling heavily. I hold him close to my frantically beating heart, my arms around his head, his soft hair tickling me. I laugh, he shudders, looks up to me, eventually.

“What?” His pupils are wide and dilated, his breath evening out hot on my face.

“I love you, Holmes.” He kisses me again, his cock still hard in me, ready for a second round, my own cock twitching between us.

“My man…” He mumbles and starts rocking me again, slow, slow, slow motion, deep and determined. A can feel his bollocks on my buttocks. Both his hands are under my back, caressing my shoulder blades and the wound from Maiwand. His lips are at my throat, I can feel his eyelashes every time he blinks. Closing my legs around him I inhale his scent, sticking my nose deep into his black hair, caressing his neck, cradling his head. He hits the spot with every thrust, I arc into him, open and wide for him, begging, panting for more. We are lost… I in him and he in me.

The moon shines upon us, a pale yellow in the midnight sky. We finish together and lay panting and trembling afterwards before we share a cigarette, the smoke curling around us in circles.

He is calm now, sleepy even. We both are sated and content. I can see his eyes in the twilight, still glinting. I smile down at him. My Holmes.

“Holmes.” I say just to hear his name.

“We could sleep in here, you know? The owner doesn’t mind.”

“No. Want to go back. Baker Street. Your bed.” I trace the bridge of his nose with my middle finger. He tries to catch it with his teeth. We laugh and roll slowly out of the bed together.

“Where are your clothes?” I ask. He looks around.

“Don’t know…” He looks so puzzled that I have to grin.

“Come here.” I give him my shirt, and both half nude under our coats we kiss again. We find the bottle near the door and together, arm in arm, we go home, sharing the last drops of its content.





Tags: holmes/watson
  • Post a new comment


    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded