The Adventure at Baskerville Hall & Other Cases

requested, hurriedly loosening his waistcoat and shirt buttons. "Let me just–"
    I am embarrassed to say that I practically dragged the poor man over to his own bed by his open shirtfront, and kept a firm grip on him with one hand while I rummaged in his bedside table with the other. Quite why I felt obliged to hold on to him throughout I am not sure – the odds of him disappearing elsewhere at that moment were vanishingly small – but I think it excusable if I say I was not thinking clearly.
    I tore open his trousers and thrust my hand into his underclothes, my palm slick with the contents of the pot of Vaseline.
    "John!" Holmes grabbed at my wrist. "Easy, slow down, at least let me remove my–"
    "Now," I repeated, pushing his trousers down around his thighs and slicking his cock, "please, now, I cannot wait any longer."
    Finally he acquiesced. Shrugging off only his overcoat and jacket, he pushed me down onto the bed. I rolled onto my stomach and spread my legs, my muscles twitching and jumping in anticipation as he knelt between them. He tugged at my hips, encouraging me to get up onto my knees, and crowded closer when I readily complied. I felt the rough scratch of the wool of his trousers on my inner thighs, and then a slow wave of pleasure rolled up my spine as he gently eased the plug free of me. A scant few seconds later I felt the tip of him pressing against me, and we both moaned simultaneously as he slid into me, a long steady movement that left me with my head hanging down between my braced arms, panting for air and battling ferociously with the urge to sob aloud in relief.
    He flexed against me, and let himself slide free before gently pushing back into me. When he repeated the same agonisingly slow movement, it was enough to make me raise my head.
    "For God's sake, Sherlock," I hissed at him, "haven't you teased me enough this evening? What do I have to say for you to—ah!"
    He had taken me at my word. Kneeing my thighs further apart, he had shoved into me harder than before, and at my enthusiastic response his fingers tightened on my hips and he began to pleasure me in earnest.
    After a few hard thrusts my arms gave out and I fell forward onto my elbows. This had the fortunate side-effect of allowing him to sink deeper into me, and loosened my vocal inhibitions as the tip of him nudged more forcefully against my prostate and sent desire arcing through me.
    Letting go of my hips, he planted his hands firmly either side of my ribs and leaned forward, rather awkwardly, to kiss the nape of my neck before he groaned breathlessly in my ear. Underneath him, I twisted gracelessly, but before I could turn my head enough to reciprocate, he had reared back and his fingers were digging into my hip bones once more. When I glanced over my shoulder at him, I saw his gaze directed down, to where our bodies were joined. The knowledge that he was not only looking, but watching with undisguised appreciation where I was so blatantly displayed for him, was the last straw.
    I did not have a hand free to touch myself – one arm was holding a pillow to my face, in which I was muffling my passionate cries, while the other hand was braced against the headboard to stop myself shifting up the bed with Holmes's vigorous movements, which by this point were rattling the bed frame and making the headboard thump against the wall in a steady, unmistakable rhythm. It was all I could do to lift my sweat-dampened face from the pillow and gasp a single-word plea to him, but bless the man, for he understood me nevertheless.
    He stretched a hand around and took my cock in his fist, stroking me tightly as he pounded into me. It took only a few moments and then finally, at long last, after what had felt like an unending evening of torture, I felt my desire peak and I was coming, my entire body convulsing and my screams fortunately stifled by the fat feather pillow in which I had buried my mouth.
    Gradually the waves of intense sensation ebbed and faded, leaving me flushed and gasping, and my heart hammering against my ribs. Holmes was still buried in me, and moving with a force that told me he had not yet reached his own finish, but the small noises that had begun to escape from him told me that it would not be long.
    I stretched a little beneath him, closing my eyes and luxuriating in the sensually decadent feeling of being buggered while the last fading ripples of orgasm chased themselves through my body. Each thrust of his length into