Title: Mightier than the sword
Author: gothikmaus
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes canon/Granada!verse
Pairing: Holmes/Watson
Rating: R/NC-17
Category: PWP
Summary: "I think you need some assistance, doctor."
Author's Notes: Written for the following prompt at the shkinkmeme Lj community: Holmes is biting and sucking on a pen, thinking about a case. Watson is trying to hide his reaction to this from Holmes, but he can't do it.
Characters originally created by Arthur Conan Doyle. I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.
Holmes was working on something, a case or one of his latest experiments, I wasn't sure. He was sitting at his chemical table, surrounded by tubes and pipettes and newspaper scraps as usual, scribbling away on various stray pieces of paper. He hadn't uttered a word for more than an hour, like he was wont to do when he was focused on something, and I took advantage of the quiet to write about a case he had solved the previous week. I was re-reading my notes, satisfied I had all the important facts down, when I heard a light drumming sound coming from my friend's direction and looked up.
Holmes was staring right in front of him, looking at nothing in particular, thrumming restlessly on the table with his left hand. As I watched, he stopped drumming his fingers and lifted his right hand to his face, pressing the pen against his pursed lips, like he usually did with his index finger.
And then he did something I had never seen him do. He started nibbling on the end of the pen, drawing it into his mouth as if it were a cigar; I could see glimpses of his tongue as his lips opened and closed around it.
I couldn't take my eyes off of him. My mind instantly went back to what those very same lips and tongue had done to me just a few nights before, and I felt my cheeks grow warmer.
Holmes chose that moment to glance in my direction - more than once I had wondered whether he could actually feel people looking at him, for he always seemed to notice when someone did - and caught me gaping.
"Yes, Watson? Did you need anything?"
I realised my mouth was hanging open and closed it at once, sure that my expression must be one of utter idiocy at the moment.
"No," I managed to say, not without difficulty. "I was merely... thinking."
He narrowed his eyes slightly and I knew it was only a matter of seconds before he figured out what exactly I had been thinking about. Thus, I wasn't surprised when I saw him tilt his head to the side and raise an eyebrow, a gesture I had seen countless times. But I wasn't expecting what he did next.
"Indeed?" He commented in a tone so low and soft that it felt like a caress. Then he brought his right hand to his face and ran the end of the pen along his lower lip, his eyes never leaving mine.
I had to leave the room before I embarrassed myself even further. I stood up, but so did Holmes; he was in front of me in an instant, putting his hands on my shoulders and pushing me back down on the chair.
"I think you need some assistance, doctor."
He knelt down in front of me, placed his hands on my knees and spread my legs.
"Holmes-"
"Quiet."
I squirmed in my seat as he ran his hands slowly up and down my thighs, the bulge in my trousers more than evident. He looked up at me and his smirk made me shiver. I had a hard time believing the man kneeling between my legs was the same aloof and collected Sherlock Holmes who claimed the only thing that counted in his life was cold logic.
"You're rather distracted, Watson," he said and I almost jumped from my chair as he pressed his palm against my erection.
"You were thinking about the other night." Not a question, he knew I was. "Would you like me to perform the same act again?"
"H-here?" I stuttered. We were in the drawing-room, for Heaven's sake, Mrs. Hudson could have walked in any moment. But, God, did I want it.
"Yes, here," he replied and started unbuttoning my trousers, not waiting for an answer. I fervently hoped our housekeeper would be too busy in the kitchen to pay us an unexpected visit and didn't stop him as he took me out and wrapped his long fingers around me. I gripped the seat of the chair and closed my eyes.
"Open your eyes."
I bit my lip.
"Watson."
I took a deep breath and looked down at him. His face was not even an inch from my member.
"You wanted to watch," he drawled, and he was so close I could feel his warm breath on my skin. "Then watch."
He touched me with his lips, running them slowly down the underside and then up, flicking out his tongue when he reached the tip; I gasped as I felt the light graze of teeth. He smiled and drew me briefly into his mouth, just an inch, then released me.
"Holmes..."
"Hush."
He went on torturing me with his lips and tongue, occasionally sucking and stroking me with his hand, rubbing his thumb over the tip and gently scraping the nail along the whole length. All the while he kept glancing up at my face and smiling.
He was driving me completely out of my mind.
"Holmes, please..."
He sighed. "You have no patience at all, my dear." He pulled back and looked up again. "But you do beg rather nicely."
And then he took me into his mouth and began to suck.
I brought my hands to his shoulders, fearing I would fall from the chair if I didn't hold onto him. It was perfect: the warmth of his mouth, the feel of his tongue sliding along my length every time his head bobbed up and down, the way he was still looking up at me, his grey eyes all but twinkling.
I was panting, one of my hands sliding up to the nape of his neck, my fingers tangling in his black hair. I was close, so very close, and he must have sensed it, for he pulled back completely and started stroking me with quick, hard strokes. He straightened up, bringing his face only a couple of inches away from mine.
"Come on, Watson, show me how pretty you look when you come."
I only lasted a few seconds after that. I struggled to keep my eyes open but failed, letting them roll to the back of my head as my back arched, and my groan would have been much louder if Holmes hadn't pressed his lips against mine and muffled the undignified sounds coming from my throat with a kiss.
I was still breathing raggedly when I opened my eyes again. Holmes was still kneeling there, leaning against me with his cheek resting on my thigh, lazily running a hand along my calf. I put a hand on his head and he glanced up. He still had that insufferable twinkle in his eyes.
"I trust you're feeling better now?" He asked.
"Much better, thank you." I took in the state of my trousers and waistcoat and grimaced. "I had better go and change my clothes before dinner, I wouldn't want to scandalise poor Mrs. Hudson."
"Oh, I'm sure she's not so easily scandalised."
"Still, I'd rather not risk it."
He stood up and reached out his hands. I grabbed them and let him pull me to my feet. He looked as if he wanted to say something, then blinked.
"Of course!" He exclaimed, and rushed back to the table. He picked up the pen and searched among the scattered pages, striking out entire paragraphs and scribbling away furiously, not even bothering to sit down.
I shook my head and went upstairs, planning on returning the favour after dinner.
-----
November 2010