The Adventure at Baskerville Hall & Other Cases

his arousal subsided slightly with the momentary discomfort of penetration, but I held steady and spoke to him. I do not now recall what I said to him and am not entirely sure I wish to, for it was doubtless the sort of romantic nonsense that would make me blush scarlet. But in this instance it was exactly what was needed, for it was barely a minute before he was arching up towards me and impatiently urging me on.
    That was another discovery I made that morning, with the pale winter sun sending tentative beams into the room – that Sherlock Holmes, even while taking a role that is usually considered the more submissive one, was quite capable of issuing terse instructions at me entirely throughout the experience. I should say almost entirely for, as I tried to make the act last as long as I could in deference to his stated wish, towards the end his commands deserted him and he was incapable of anything more than inarticulate moans. Working a hand between our bodies, I wrapped my fingers around his cock and stroked him tightly for a bare minute before having the supreme satisfaction of watching him shatter apart beneath me.
    For all his verbosity and imperious orders during the act, he was completely silent at its completion, a look of ecstasy on his beloved face and his thighs tightening around my ribs. When his hand reached down and found my wrist, stilling my fingers on his now over-sensitised flesh, I reared back and gripped both his hips hard, allowing myself to fully feel the last flutters of his body where we were joined. The physical sensations, and the awareness of precisely who I was doing this with, meant that it was not long before I was gasping and shuddering, and struggling to keep myself from collapsing entirely on top of him as I gave way to the pleasure coiling at the base of my spine.
    * * * *
    Once we had both recovered our composure, I should have liked nothing better than to remain in bed all morning, touching and learning that ivory skin that I had long admired from afar. However, Holmes had insisted that we assume our clothes and continue with our usual behaviour, and so we sat before the fire with our morning pipes. I had wanted to make use of the fire to finally burn the offending letter that had caused so much trouble, but Holmes would not hear of it and had snatched it out of my hands at my first movement towards the fireplace. He insisted that, as it was addressed to him, it was now his property to do with as he pleased. In truth I did not really object. Given what we had already done together, and what I was pleasurably anticipating doing with him again that evening, there was nothing contained therein that could seriously shock him. Furthermore I secretly rather hoped, if I was to be permitted to watch his face while he read, that the sentiments of affection might bring a flush to those sharp cheekbones.
    While I was staring into the fire in an exhausted daze, and marvelling at how drastically a fellow's outlook on life can change in the space of just twenty-four hours, there was a knock on our sitting-room door and Lestrade entered.
    "Good morning," he nodded affably to us both. "May I ask if you are very busy just now?"
    Holmes had risen to greet him and waved him into a seat with an air that was, for him, positively jovial. Lestrade removed his hat and pulled up an armchair as Holmes leaned against the mantelpiece.
    "Not too busy to listen to you," he smiled down at him. From Sherlock Holmes, this was a warm reception indeed, and I had to bite the inside of my cheek not to laugh at the startled expression that Lestrade completely failed to conceal.
    "Very well," he replied, a trifle confused. "You will not join us, Mr. Holmes?"
    "Thank you, but I prefer to stand," he said blithely. "There is something in the crisp winter air this morning that invigorates me."
    My urge to laugh was redoubled. I knew very well was that Holmes was not invigorated – in fact he was exhausted, having been up most of the night dashing all over London and then having recently engaged in rather energetic activities – but that he was unable to sit down without a small, fleeting expression crossing his face that betrayed exactly which illegal acts had just been perpetrated upon his person. The first time I had seen it half an hour ago, I had been struck with remorse until he kissed me thoroughly enough to reassure me that he welcomed the small reminder, but it would have been fatal to betray the clue to