The Adventure at Baskerville Hall & Other Cases

muscled chest, and to focus on the way his lanky frame was folded into the chair.
    "I don't think I believe you," I smiled, bringing my other hand up to push my fingers through his dishevelled hair. "You're so tall, my dear chap. You can't possibly be comfortable like that."
    Holmes looked up at me, eyes narrowed thoughtfully, before unfolding himself from the chair. But instead of returning to the bedroom, he knelt gracefully and tugged me down with him until we were stretched out on our hearthrug.
    "Yes, you were right," he agreed amiably. "This is much more comfortable."
    "Although not precisely what I meant," I countered, but without any real protest. He was lying half on top of me, with his head heavy on my good shoulder and one long leg draped over my own. Our hearthrug – a recent acquisition made of thick, soft fur – was soft under my head, and I wrapped an arm around his shoulders and resumed caressing his hair. I thought that he might doze off like this, with the fire warm at his back, but instead he was plucking idly at the buttons of my shirt and pushing a hand inside to stroke my chest.
    A cool fingertip slid across my nipple, and at my catch of breath Holmes leaned up on one elbow to watch my face as his nimble fingers danced back and forth. I bore his scrutiny as well as I could but when he stopped teasing and caught the nipple between two fingertips, I had to reach for him and pull him into a kiss. Our mouths were already open when they met and I could not help moaning softly, conscious of all that lean strength pressed up against my side, naked save for an exceedingly thin dressing-gown.
    After a few short minutes, I broke away to suggest, breathlessly, "Perhaps we ought to retire to your bedroom?"
    He smiled at me, his gray eyes sparkling with desire and – I was delighted to see – a touch of mischief.
    "Actually," he murmured, pulling the sides of my shirt apart before running his fingers slowly over my trouser buttons, "I thought we might christen the hearthrug."
    I have never been able to say no to Holmes, even when it would have been wise to, and I most certainly had no wish to deny him at that moment, not when he was indulging the light-hearted side of his nature that I saw all too rarely. I kissed him back enthusiastically, and my appreciation of his touch was heightened by our recent abstinence. His recent abstinence, I should say, since I had had the pleasure of his touch only the previous afternoon. When I tried to roll him onto his back, so that I could spread him out and take my time with him, he braced himself more firmly against me. He nuzzled soft kisses into my neck and I eased his dressing-gown off his shoulders and down his arms, running my hands firmly along his lean sides. He shivered slightly at my touch and I worked a hand between us to rub a thumb over his nipple. He raised his head, and I could see the beginnings of a flush all along his cheekbones but was distracted the next instant by his hand loosening my trousers in quick, economical motions.
    I buried my mouth in his dark, silky hair and murmured, "Dearest ... I thought perhaps you might let me – oh!"
    His fingers brushed the head of my cock, and I forgot what I had been about to say. He kissed me soundly as he reached farther into the gap he had made to cup my balls in his hand, and all I could do was clutch at his waist and attempt to return his kiss.
    At last he drew back, pulling his hand away to push at the waistband of my trousers and murmur, "Take these off," against my mouth.
    He did not need to ask me twice. I sat up enough to shrug my shirt off, and then lay back down to work my trousers off my hips and down my legs. The fur of our hearthrug was slightly ticklish against my spine and the backs of my thighs, initially cool but warming quickly. Holmes caught my chin for another kiss, smiling against my lips as he casually slung a leg over my own and pushed his half-hard cock against my hip.
    I gave myself over to his kisses and caresses willingly, revelling in the taste and feel of him, until his hand wandered down to my groin and once more curled around my erection.
    "You too," I gasped against his lips, incapable of greater articulation. "Let me touch you."
    In response he only pressed his hips harder against me, refusing to let me work a hand between our bodies to touch him.
    "After this," he insisted, leaning up on one elbow to watch my face as he touched me. He executed a deft twist of his fingers