The Adventure at Baskerville Hall & Other Cases

not to tickle. When I approached his groin, his muscles jerked as though he would clamp his legs closed, and I firmed my grasp.
    "Sherlock," I murmured into his hair, "turn your head. Kiss me."
    His face was flushed, more from embarrassment than arousal at this stage, I was willing to bet, but he complied. Our lips met and he murmured gently as I kissed him, touching his tongue with my own, and his taut spine relaxed fractionally against me. I ran my hands soothingly up and down his legs for some minutes and, when I no longer had to exert pressure to keep his thighs apart and he was lax against my chest, I cupped my hand over his erection. He gasped as it jerked under my palm – for all that his mind was unsure about this act, his body clearly had no reservations – and I curled my fingers around his cock and let it slid gently through my grip once or twice. He pressed back against me, seemingly unsure whether to push into my touch or pull away, but he did make a small disappointed noise when I removed my hand.
    "Patience," I smiled against his mouth. I fumbled blindly for the small bottle of oil he had shoved at me just minutes previously and liberally coated my right hand. When I returned my hand to him and stroked his member more firmly, his mouth left my own as his head fell back onto my shoulder.
    I saw his throat convulse as he swallowed, and I brought my other hand down to cup his sac as his penis slid easily in my grasp. With my thumb, I gently pushed the foreskin over the head of his penis, and allowed it to slip back. Abruptly he moaned, the sudden noise loud in the quiet room, and then jerked his head up, apparently shocked at himself.
    I nuzzled his ear. "Easy ... stop thinking about this, and let yourself feel it."
    Almost wildly he shook his head. "I can't ... I have never..."
    With the hand that was not stroking him tightly, I turned his chin gently and caught his lips for a lazy, sensual kiss.
    "Let me hear you," I breathed against his saliva-wet mouth, "don't fight your reactions."
    I brushed my thumb over the head of his cock again and he could not repress a small noise, half-gasp, half-cry.
    "Good," I praised him, releasing his chin and moving my hand back down to cup his balls and squeeze gently. It was something that most men found pleasurable and Holmes was no exception, if the soft moan and twitch of his erection was anything to go by.
    I had not expected he would last long, if this was his first sexual experience while awake and not dreaming. I remembered my own adolescence, when I spent a disgraceful amount of time lost in erotic musings and the smallest stimulus was enough to bring me off.
    But I had not counted on Holmes's all-encompassing need for control. I had been stroking him for some minutes, long enough for his head to fall back down onto my shoulder and the faint pink of his initial embarrassment to deepen to a hectic flush of arousal along his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, when his limp form suddenly stiffened and his hand seized my wrist.
    "Wait," he said, sounding suddenly panicked.
    Thinking I had hurt him, I instantly stilled my hand. "What is it? Is everything all right?"
    "Everything is fine," he muttered, sounding embarrassed all over again, "but I could feel ... I nearly ... I could feel myself starting to ... unravel–"
    He sounded annoyed at his failure to articulate, and his muscles were tensing, so I pulled him firmly back against me and kissed him again.
    "That is rather the point," I said eventually, when his grip had loosened around my wrist. "Stop thinking, and enjoy the physical sensations. You are quite safe, I promise you."
    I had meant my words to be reassuring, but he snorted impatiently. "Well of course I am. You are a doctor, my dear chap, you are forbidden by oath to hurt me."
    I began to stroke him once more (his body had lost none of its enthusiasm during our conversation) and was gratified to hear his shaky indrawn breath.
    "I am glad that you realise I would never hurt you," I said conversationally, as his eyelids fluttered closed and his legs fell open a little further, "but you also need to relax into the sensations and stop resisting this. It is something that humanity has been doing for centuries, and there is nothing wrong with losing yourself in pleasure for a few brief minutes."
    The next time I was permitted to stroke him until drops of pleasure were leaking from him, making my grip even slicker on his member, and his hips were