The Adventure at Baskerville Hall & Other Cases

jaw and brushed my thumb over his lips, groaning softly when he drew it briefly into his mouth.
    "No," he said finally, releasing it. "I should dearly love to take you in my mouth, but you seem to be in something of a state and I suspect that you are going to need my shoulder."
    My desire-fogged brain could make no sense of this seeming non sequitur, but I did not spend much time trying as I felt him working at my trouser buttons.
    "For God's sake," I gasped, summoning my last rational objection, "we are nearly at Baker Street!"
    "Not quite," he contradicted me, spreading the flaps of my trouser front open and sliding his hand inside to fiddle with the fastenings of my underclothes, not incidentally rubbing his knuckles along my length in the process. "During the time we have been in the cab, we have not actually moved very far from Covent Garden. There is a spice shop just around the corner from the opera house that gives an unmistakeable scent to the evening breeze – the cabby is clearly taking us the long way around. Nevertheless, it would behove you to be rather quick about this, my dear man."
    I was in no condition to give this piece of exposition the attention or admiration that his observations usually drew from me, as he had loosened my underclothes and begun a fierce rhythm on my straining flesh that was calculated to bring me to a swift finish. At first I tried desperately to swallow my groans of pleasure, but when he guided my forehead gently but firmly to his shoulder I at last understood his apparently irrelevant comment. I buried my face in his overcoat and let his familiar scent overwhelm me as I moaned my desire against him, my mouth stifled by the heavy wool.
    I was shuddering on the brink of my peak, my hands clenched on the edge of the seat, deaf and blind to all else except the exquisite torment of Holmes's fingers and the imminent promise of relief, when suddenly the cab jerked to a stop and there was a sharp rap on the roof. Holmes swore viciously in my ear, and before I could comprehend what was happening, he had snatched his hand away and was hurriedly buttoning my trousers.
    "We are at Baker Street," he growled, in response to my soft cry of protest.
    "But you said ... the spice shop..." I stumbled, rather disoriented by the abrupt change of events.
    "Well, clearly someone has opened another bloody spice shop, much closer to Baker Street!"
    Holmes hated proof that his knowledge of his adopted city was anything less than encyclopaedic, hence his fit of temper, which was doubtless compounded by the fact that I could see, in the dim light, that his attentions to me had not left him entirely unmoved. Still dazed, I reached out a hand to cup him through his trousers and no sooner had I brushed him than he batted me away.
    "You are not thinking clearly!" He opened the door, sprang out and, after a brief word to the impatient cabman, leaned back in to address me in a low voice. "I will settle the fare. Get in the house, and for the love of Heaven do not let yourself be seen by any passers-by or by Mrs. Hudson. After one look at your face, even the most innocent person would not have any delusions about what you have just been doing."
    As usual, he was absolutely right, but even the sudden realisation that we had almost been caught in a rather compromising position did not help greatly in dampening my ardour.
    Clumsily, I hurried into the house, ascended our stairs and made straight for his bedroom. My own would perhaps have been more advisable, being farther from our landlady's quarters on the ground floor, but I could not wait even the few minutes it would take to get there. I heard his footsteps pounding on the stairs a few minutes later, by which point I had made an excellent start at disrobing, and the next instant he was in his room. He locked the door and turned to face me, the gleam of devilment back in his eyes.
    An instant later he was in my arms and kissing me fervently. I wasted no time caressing him, or stroking over the lean form that aroused me so much. I moved straight for his trouser buttons and belt buckle, and groaned loudly when his hands slipped below the waistband of my loosened trousers. He traced long fingers between my buttocks, and when I felt him nudge delicately against the cause of my torment for the last fifteen minutes, I thrust my own hand down the front of his trousers and grabbed his erection.
    "Now," I said desperately, incapable of elaboration.
    "A moment," he