The Adventure at Baskerville Hall & Other Cases

starting to rock up into my strokes before he clutched my forearm.
    "Wait," he groaned. Obediently, I slackened my grip, but this time I did not stop my caresses over his straining flesh.
    "Calm down, you're perfectly safe ... please let me do this for you..." I murmured into his ear, and he withdrew his hand from my arm with a resolute air.
    Sliding one arm around his waist, I snugged him to me and whispered loving words in his ear as I tightened my fingers once more. He was nearing his end, although I could see him trying to fight it, and his soft noises of pleasure had taken on a slightly desperate edge when he caught my forearm again.
    "Oh God, John, that feels..."
    "I know," I replied, tightening my arm around his waist and holding him tighter as his head arched back and his heels dug into the bed. He grabbed at my wrist.
    "I can't ... I think I'm–"
    "Do it," I groaned against the side of his head, for his breathless incoherence was almost my undoing, "oh God, Sherlock, do it, let me see you finish–"
    "I...," he stuttered, his hand re-doubling its grip on my wrist with such strength that I knew there would be bruises the next day, "I can't control ... I – Christ! – I don't know how–"
    In all other aspects of our life together, it is Holmes who commands me, and I am happy to serve the man I revere above all others. But I knew, with instinctive, unshakeable clarity, that unless I practically shoved him over his peak this first time, showing him the pleasure that had previously been hidden in his dreams, he would never be able to relinquish his control long enough to get there on his own in future.
    His soft noises had grown into breathless cries as he arched and twisted against the pleasure pounding through him and, almost near my own finish, I pressed my mouth roughly against his ear.
    "I love you," I whispered to him, my heart on my lips. "Let go."
    With a wordless noise that, in a woman, I should almost have called a scream, he finished. His head and shoulders curled away from me as his muscles contracted violently, and his release spurted through my fingers and onto his rigid stomach. He left stripes on his own chest and abdomen, and on my forearm where it was holding him to me. Looking down his body, I took a deep breath in sympathy with him as he struggled desperately for air, and was utterly enchanted to see that he was one of those people whose toes curl involuntarily during the throes of orgasm.
    I gentled him through it, rocking him as his instinct finally took over from his brain and his hips thrust freely up into my strokes, wringing every last drop of pleasure from my touch until his penis began to soften in my grip.
    When his head had finally fallen back upon my shoulder, and he had succeeded in drawing a full breath, I will admit that I did something slightly selfish. My own need was almost painful by that point, and so I released his flesh and thrust my hand between our bodies to touch myself. I gripped my cock hard, my hand wet with Holmes's pleasure, and brought myself off with only half a dozen strokes.
    Holmes gasped softly when he felt my knuckles rubbing against the small of his back, and he shifted to reach around and join his hand to mine. But before he could complete the aborted movement, I had found my peak and was pressing my mouth hard against his shoulder to stifle my own cries, and adding to the hot slickness of sweat along his spine.
    It took me longer than usual to return to myself afterwards, and so it was some little time before I realised that Holmes, instead of the post-coital languor I had been expecting, was rather tense in my arms. I moved my hands in gentle strokes over the taut lines of his chest and stomach, through the evidence of his passion, and queried softly, "Are you all right?"
    His only reply was a nod.
    "You are sure?" I was starting to be slightly concerned. "I did not hurt you?"
    A hoarse laugh was torn from his throat. "No, you did not hurt me."
    He sounded strange and my concern grew. "Turn over."
    "No."
    "Please, Holmes, turn over, let me see you."
    "It is quite unnecessary; I assure you that everything is fine."
    "Then it is of no consequence should you turn over and let me see your face."
    At last he consented to face me, but would not meet my eyes. I saw that his hands were shaking slightly, although the rest of him was held so tense as to make my own shoulders twinge in sympathy, and I gathered him into my arms and kissed the top of his