“Watson, quick! Behind the sofa!” Holmes hissed at me.
I immediately dropped the papers I was sorting through and closed the desk. I could hear footsteps in the hallway, and the voices belonging to the owners of the house we had just broken into.
Holmes had the grate removed from the crawl space in seconds, and without hesitation he flattened himself and slithered into the small recess behind the sofa.
“Surely there’s not room enough for two of us in there,” came my panicked whisper when I glanced into it.
“Watson, we’ve no time to discuss things,” Holmes furiously whispered back. “Hurry!”
I could hear Mr. Mayfel’s voice behind the door as the knob slowly began to turn.
I dove into the crawl space just before the door opened. I had not been able to replace the grate, but Holmes had taken care to place it out of sight. We both held our breath as the Mayfels entered the sitting room in a rush of exasperation.
“I told you I left the tickets on the table in the front hall, William,” Mrs. Mayfel’s crossly reminded him.
“Could have sworn I brought them in here…” her husband replied absently. The two of them began to search the room.
Meanwhile, a single bead of sweat trickled from my hairline onto my forehead. Holmes and I were pressed against one another and not a little uncomfortable. From what I could tell, we might be in here for a while. Sensing my discomfort, Holmes carefully nudged me onto my right side and I rolled towards him. This granted me a little more movement, though the length of his body still covered most of mine.
“We may as well forget this whole thing and just stay in,” pouted Mrs. Mayfel as she flung herself to the sofa in front of us. I felt Holmes grow tense.
Holmes turned his face towards me, but it was too dark in that crawl space for me to see his expression. I shifted my legs so as to see more clearly past the underside of the sofa. In doing so, I brushed against Holmes’s groin ever so slightly and he hastily tried to readjust himself once again.
“Our whole evening ruined,” Mrs. Mayfel continued to complain as her husband shuffled around his desk.
“I say, have you been looking through my papers,
I let out a small gasp. Holmes instinctively put his fingers to my lips.
“Oh, who cares, William.
Mrs. Mayfel rose from the sofa and went over to the wet bar to mix a drink. Her husband moved his search to the table at the other end of the room.
Holmes and I continued to struggle against one another for the ability to see past our feet into the room we had just abandoned. I could feel his breath against my forehead. But more than that I felt an unmistakable hardness behind his groin whenever I grazed it with my own. What was this?
“Capital,” said his wife, who took a moment to drain her glass before swishing out of the sitting room.
“Now, where did I leave my opera glasses?” he asked himself as he scoured the room once more.
Holmes brushed against me again, and this time I swear it was deliberate. He paused when his stiffening member pushed into mine, and his lips parted in a quiet moan. I was instantly much, much more intrigued with the goings-on in this crawl space than the parlor scene above me, and a flurry of pleasurable sparks brought a swelling to my own cock. I closed my eyes.
“William, do come along,” rang Mrs. Mayfel’s voice from the corridor.
“One moment, my dear,” he called out, making one last desperate attempt to recover his lost article.
Holmes’s hand reached around to my backside and gripped it tightly. His breathing quickened as he began to roll his pelvis over mine in an urgent rhythm.
“There you are, you rascals,” said Mr. Mayfel at last. I heard him grab a small satchel and rush out of the sitting room. Whether Holmes heard him I do not know, for he was lost in the pursuit of pleasure, his cheek pressed against my face and his legs pinning mine.
Finally, he tensed his body and pulled his head back. His mouth dropped open and he fought to contain the tremulous sigh that accompanied his release. Uneven vibrations wracked his body as he clung to me.
We heard the front door of the house open and close.
Holmes made no pause after his orgasm before reaching for me. He unfastened my flies, pulled open my trousers and took firm hold of my cock. I gasped, and clutched at his elbow as he stroked and rubbed my slick flesh. I could feel the cooling wetness between his own legs as I thrust wantonly into his grip.
I pushed and he pulled, our mouths nearly touching as we traded hot breaths, until the first wave of pleasure surged forth from the pit of my stomach. I grabbed his hand and squeezed it. Together we brought me to such a dizzying finish that the room momentarily faded from my sight.
I gasped and emitted a small cry.
A barely audible “Shhh…” tickled my left ear as Holmes slowed his rhythm and covered the tip of my cock to stem the tide.
I was still panting when he neatly tucked me back into my trousers and refastened them as quickly as he had undone them.
“Now,” he whispered, “I want you to back out carefully, for
I nodded, half wishing we could stay here where the bittersweet smell of fresh semen mingled with sweat and soot. It was both familiar and lascivious, reminding me of our own sitting room as well as the tangible fact that we had managed to bring each other off in the middle of a very precarious situation. But I knew there was no time to lose.
I exited the crawl space as instructed, and Holmes followed. When I glanced back at him, I saw that his cheeks were highly flushed, even though he had recovered his usual focused expression. We hurriedly buttoned our coats and fled the scene, sprinting across the sprawling lawn and into the dark autumn night.