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After a Spell

I spent a somewhat restless afternoon by myself in our sitting room, answering letters, expounding on notes from our latest case, stoking the fire and paging through my latest medical journal. I cannot honestly say that my mind was ever completely occupied with any one task, for there was a growing spring of desire surging insistently within me, and my attempts to prevent my mind from fully engaging it were becoming increasingly difficult.

Holmes was off in some corner of the city following a line of inquiry that neither interested nor concerned me. It wasn’t unusual for him to take a case all to himself during the days when I had a considerable workload of my own with which to contend, though it had begun to wane following an unusually pressing couple of days. Rather than give way to fatigue, however, my body and soul had become concerned with satisfying a greater need that had been entirely neglected for the better part of a week. Holmes and I did not often take such long leave from our newest and mutually favorite pastime, but long days at the surgery for me and long nights at investigating for him kept us physically apart for what was amounting to an eternity.

I tried in vain to turn my attention to rendering a story from the last case we shared. It was an excruciating task. On the one hand, the details of the case had faded far enough into the past that the urgency to commit the experience to paper had weakened, and on the other, the portion of my mind that I relied on to generate compelling narrative flow for those faithful readers of the Strand had decided to conjure images that would both shock and corrupt said audience with their raw, sexual explicitness. More specifically, my thoughts continually turned to the last time Holmes and I held sexual congress, the memories of which clearly and perhaps unfortunately left a far stronger impression on me than the case of the engineer's thumb, strange as it was.

I finally placed my pen on my writing desk in defeat, sat back in my chair, closed my eyes and watched Holmes pound me into the mattress before ravishing me with his mouth. He had taken me quite by surprise that morning, for I had awakened to the sensation of a warm wet mouth on my neck and a firm hand on my morning cockstand before I reached full consciousness. Needless to say, I was thoroughly aroused and delighted, the first hours of the day being some of the best for a powerful sexual release, especially when one has had a restful and rejuvenating night. By the time he had me fully engaged in the activity, we were both so hot and well-stimulated that it took very little time and effort for him to come off in my backside, and for me to climax in his mouth immediately thereafter.

I had no idea when to expect Holmes that evening, and my arousal had reached an intractable level of urgency. I unfastened my trousers and took firm hold of myself. I could almost hear him panting and moaning behind me as I played and replayed his moment of release in my mind, and my hand moved rapidly across my flesh almost of its own volition before my hips began to follow suit.

Suddenly, the door to the sitting room burst open.

"Watson! Look at this! I've found the most singular--" Holmes shouted triumphantly as he entered the premises, waving a piece of paper in his hand. I quickly shoved myself back into my trousers and made haste to fasten them before he saw what I was up to.

"Indeed, Holmes, it sounds like a promising breakthrough," I stammered before realizing he had not said precisely this. But it was too late.

He grinned. "What are you doing, Watson?"

"Oh, I was merely jotting some notes from the Hatherley case before resting my eyes a bit. These have been long days as you know." I fought the blush that spread across my cheeks as I stood and faced him, doing my best to appear fully composed.

He rolled his eyes to the ceiling and sighed. "Oh please, Watson, do give me more credit than that. Even from here I can observe eight different facts, all of which lead directly to the conclusion that you were pleasuring yourself. Now, shall I name them for you, or shall we finish the task together?"

"Really, Holmes, that's not nec--" I protested, but he did not wait for my reply. Without shedding his coat, he crossed the room to where I stood near the hearth. His dark eyes were flashing with intense amusement, and he wasted no time in undoing my flies and reaching for my flesh. In one swift movement he turned my body so his back pressed into mine. His left arm held me tight while the fingers of his right hand danced playfully over my cock. I groaned.

"You're right, my dear boy," he breathed into my ear, "these have been long days."

He moved his thumb expertly over my tip to catch the seeping issue.

"Longer still without the much-needed relief of your hands upon my person, I am not loathe to admit," he confessed in a throaty whisper.

Just when I thought I might lose my grip on control, he grabbed the base of my cock and squeezed, causing me a flash of pleasurable pain and staving off my release for another deliciously agonizing moment.

"I have not forgotten the brilliant manner in which our morning started on Monday last," he continued, giving my prick a slight shake before gripping it once again.

"Your growing hardness," he murmured. I began to buck my hips.

"Your...eager...tongue," he said deliberately, making no effort to hide his own stimulated state. I groaned again as I felt his arousal pressing into me from behind.

"Your...delectable...tightness," he gasped, leaving off with a small moan of his own. He was fully thrusting into me now in tandem with the fast tempo of his tight grip. My cock wept freely and my climax was moments away.

"Is that what you were thinking of, my boy?" he breathed almost incoherently, knowing full well the answer.

"YES…" I nearly shouted and came off with the force of a thousand volts of electricity as my entire body reached such a height of shattering ecstasy that I could not control the groans of pleasure that followed it. My cock seemed to shout, too, under the straining grip of Holmes's fingers, tossing thick strands of semen into the fireplace like confetti, as if to celebrate at last earning its release from a seemingly never-ending buildup. His hips crashed into my backside as I deepened my thrusts, generating answering moans that intensified my reaction for the suggestion of his own impending need.

I paused for only a moment to catch my breath when I finished, then turned to face him. I grabbed his lapels and covered his mouth with mine, while my hand grabbed the throbbing hot bulge between his legs. Such was the force of my attack that he nearly lost his footing as I propelled him backwards with my mouth until we reached his desk. He stumbled backwards and caught himself just in time, his fumbling hands sending more than a few articles crashing to the floor until he was almost fully seated atop a pile of papers. He was panting wildly when at last I lifted my mouth from his and in mere seconds I had his trousers open.

I squatted down to meet his groin, pushed my face into his hardness and with a closed mouth traced the length of it in order that he should feel the slight tickle of my moustache. I swirled my face around the tip, his erection bobbing over my lips and cheeks and nose before I captured it gently with my lips and slowly sucked it into my mouth. I felt him grow even harder as my tongue circled his long cock, knowing this was not destined to last much longer.

With both hands pulling my head to him, he leaned his torso backwards and grunted urgently while I worked every inch of him. He did not often speak while I ministered him until he neared his end, at which point it brought him an even higher level of gratification to explicate what was about to happen.

"Wat-son...I'm...going to...come...off...in...your...mou--" he did not finish the sentence, for he pushed all the way down my throat in his final thrust and breathed low, gutteral moans into his orgasm while I savoured the sweet salty taste of him and a renewed sense of satisfaction. I sucked and swallowed until he was fully spent, laved the tip of him in one last loving curl of my tongue and stood to face him with a triumphant grin.

He cupped the back of my neck and pulled my face to his, tasting himself in my mouth and sealing our activities with lingering kiss. When at last we parted, he gave me a slow, sated smile.

“Forgive me, Watson,” he said, and his normal speaking voice carried a shade of mockery, “Next time I shall knock first.”

Comments

( 12 comments — Leave a comment )
(Deleted comment)
charlotteyonge
Nov. 5th, 2009 07:08 pm (UTC)
Thanks, I'll be here all month. :)
ceruleanshipper
Nov. 4th, 2009 03:45 am (UTC)
Holy Christ. That "my boy" always gets me.
charlotteyonge
Nov. 5th, 2009 07:08 pm (UTC)
I know, right? It's canonical, too. Mmm MMM!
(Deleted comment)
charlotteyonge
Nov. 5th, 2009 07:09 pm (UTC)
Oh good. I hope you had pleasant dreams.
janeturenne
Nov. 4th, 2009 03:30 pm (UTC)
I think the only appropriate word is "mmmmmmmm..."
charlotteyonge
Nov. 5th, 2009 07:09 pm (UTC)
That'll do. :)
eyebrowcocked
Dec. 11th, 2009 11:30 pm (UTC)
This is gorgeously, delightfully filthy stuff. Love the slight shiftiness - I always like the idea of the interupted secret. On ot the next - feeling distinctly cheered up after a long day!
(Deleted comment)
charlotteyonge
Jan. 2nd, 2010 05:54 pm (UTC)
*giggle*

Well, come on in and enjoy yourself!
tiwtin
Jun. 12th, 2010 04:01 am (UTC)
*fans self*
*Grins*
anonymiss731
Oct. 14th, 2010 06:00 am (UTC)
I'd like to thank you for helping me get over two of my most stupid squicks. Firstly, the incredible accuracy to the period language you have hear. Plus the perfect tone of voice has made it possible for me to hear Holmes say boy in my head without going EWW and clicking away. Everytime I would see it I would go running for the hills. I guess it's mostly because it felt so starkly out of place. And when it was out of place it felt the same as when I see a girl say daddy during sex it freaks me out. But it came out so naturally here I just kept reading then later realized hey he said boy and you didnt vomit. Secondly, Facial hair. The vast majority of characters I like are clean shaven. But there are a few favs that aren't and for the most part I rather have the author not mention it so I don't have to think on it. It just seems weird to me for no reason. Like people afraid of pennies and shit like that. But again. You're writing was so well done that I couldn't help but just go along with it. So thank you very much. For excellent fic and helping me stop being such a baby about those things.
charlotteyonge
Oct. 14th, 2010 12:26 pm (UTC)
Goodness. Er--I'm glad I could help. Thanks for reading and sharing your thoughts about it.
firthivated
Oct. 11th, 2012 02:50 pm (UTC)
Oh MY.... that was just smouldering HOT!!! YES!!! *heads off for a cold shower*
( 12 comments — Leave a comment )