Word Count: 1,658
Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't claim. No money being made.
Summary: Watson wakes up to find himself tied to the bed.
Spoilers/Warnings: bondage, I guess. But it's really tame.
A/N: Fill for a prompt at shkinkmeme Someone give me a decent title for this!!! D:
Having shared rooms with Holmes for many years, Watson had become a fairly deep sleeper and only very few sounds still triggered the old army instincts and made him instantly alert – explosions and gunshots that didn’t sound like Holmes was just experimenting, for instance. However, every morning when the first daylight peeped in through the curtains Watson woke up and, try as he might, couldn’t go back to sleep.
So, as he woke up to find dawn only just breaking and the room in relative silence, he was confused to say the least. He had every intention to roll over, bury his face in Holmes’ neck and go back to sleep. Upon trying to stretch, however, he found his arms and legs immobilized. Silk scarves were wrapped around his wrists and ankles, securing him to the head- and footboard. For a second Watson panicked, finding himself alone in Holmes’ bedroom, tied to the bed and naked no less, dreading what Holmes was up to. He forced himself to calm down and, craning his neck, inspected the knots securing his wrists, finding them meticulously tied and quite possibly impossible to undo ever again.
With a frustrated huff he let his head fall back onto the pillow and tugged at his bindings experimentally, finding them, unsurprisingly, unyielding. Just as he was in the process of trying to tug his feet free, Holmes sauntered into the room, gloriously naked and wearing a smug smile as he noticed the glare Watson was fixing on him.
“Oh, you’re awake,” Holmes grinned happily, walking over to the bed, absent-mindedly checking the ties at Watson’s ankles.
Watson’s leg twitched ever so slightly as Holmes ran his thumb along the inside of Watson’s foot. Closing his eyes and clenching his jaw, Watson willed himself to stay calm, “Holmes, what’s the meaning of all this?”
Holmes simply gave him a crooked smile, hip resting against the footboard as he began rubbing Watson’s feet, making a thrill run through Watson. Running his fingernails up and down the soles, kneading the balls, smoothing his thumbs over the top until they touched silk. Watson couldn’t help relaxing as Holmes alternated between massaging one foot with both of his hands and rubbing both feet simultaneously. By the time Holmes was running his fingers over Watson’s ankles, Watson’s eyes had closed again and decidedly pleasurable shivers were running down his spine. He sighed softly and let his body go limp, even as his cock stirred slightly.
However, when he felt Holmes’ hot breath on the arch of his foot, his eyes snapped open and his body went rigid.
“Holmes…” his tone had a slight warning to it.
Holmes looked up at him with mischief in his eyes, mouth still hovering just over Watson’s skin, “Shush. Relax and let me…” running his nose up and down the arch of Watson’s foot, he added, “You’ll like it, I promise.”
And so Watson let him. What choice did he have? He was tied up and naked and he couldn’t deny the subtle twitch of his cock as Holmes wetly kissed his ankle. He closed his eyes and let the sensations wash over him; Holmes hot, slick tongue sliding between his toes, occasionally sucking on one, sucking his way up to bound ankles, biting and licking until wet silk clung to damp skin. Watson was moaning low on his throat, biting his lip and clenching his hands into fists.
Holmes smirked slightly at him and, with one last nip to the sensitive inside of one foot, he moved up Watson’s body to straddle his chest. Far down enough to remain well out of his mouth’s reach and far up enough not to touch Watson’s now hard cock. Holmes took the tip of his own cock between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing and twisting gently. At first Watson tried to somehow bend his neck far enough to take Holmes into his mouth or at least reach him with the tip of his tongue. Holmes smiled smugly at him as Watson realized how accurately Holmes had chosen his spot on Watson.
Holmes slowly closed his fist around his cock, languidly stroking from root to tip, moaning softly. Watson licked his lips and resigned himself to watching Holmes masturbate, acutely aware of the wet, cool silk sliding against his ankles. Holmes seemed to be satisfied, for he squeezed his cock a bit more tightly, his testicles rubbing over the coarse hair on Watson’s chest, making Holmes keen and tighten his thighs around Watson’s torso. Watson took the opportunity to drink in the image of Holmes before him, trying to memorize all those tiny details he had never noticed before.
The way the cords in Holmes’ neck stood out when he threw his head back and bit his lip as he rubbed his thumb over the head of his cock. The way Holmes’ mouth formed a small ‘o’ when he jerked himself a bit faster. The way Holmes’ smooth, sweat-damp skin glistened and shone in the blue-purplish pre-dawn light. How Holmes’ taut stomach quivered ever so slightly when he trailed his thumbnail along the vein on the underside of his dick and how Holmes kept biting and licking his lips, mouth wide open, breathing heavily. How with every time Holmes slid the foreskin up and down over the swollen head of his cock, the bead of pre-come grew until it spilled over, beginning to ooze more steadily from the slit as it trickled down the shaft a bit before dripping onto Watson’s chest. How Holmes’ eyes darkened as he watched small drops of pre-come cling to the hair on Watson’s chest.
And then Watson started to figure out ways to touch Holmes without using his hands or his mouth.
He could still move and shift his body on the bed, so he began to rhythmically rub his chest and abdomen against Holmes’ balls, making Holmes moan loudly as rough hairs scratched over sensitive skin. He could tilt his head back, exposing the column of his throat to Holmes, who immediately understood the silent invitation, inching forward on his knees to rub his wet cock against Watson’s neck. Holding on the headboard with one hand, Holmes thrust against the junction of Watson’s shoulder, his throat, the side of his neck, groaning loudly as he watched the soft skin become wet with his own pre-come.
And then Watson discovered that he could manipulate Holmes with his voice.
It started with a soft, “Mmm, that feels good…” as Holmes rubbed the tip of his cock into the hollow of Watson’s throat.
Holmes’ breath hitched and he shivered slightly, biting his bottom lip. And after taking a second to recover himself, he breathed, “Say that again.”
Watson couldn’t help feeling slightly smug at this new discovery. So he kept talking while Holmes worshipped his throat and neck; oh yes, just like that, keep going, fuck my neck…
Holmes’ thrusts turned frantic, his groans grew louder and just as Watson thought Holmes would climax, he leaned back, squeezing his cock tightly, a surprisingly great amount of pre-come running over his fingers and onto Watson. Swallowing hard, Holmes opened his eyes and fixed them on Watson.
“Keep talking to me.”
A thrill ran through Watson at the words and he nodded jerkily. Holmes took the time to smile breathlessly at him and trail his fingers down Watson’s cheek and over his lips, letting him suck on them for a few moments. Watson’s own cock was painfully hard, pulsating and red, begging to be touched. In hopes of getting Holmes to touch him once Holmes himself had finished, Watson began talking again as soon as Holmes resumed stroking himself off, slowly now.
The initial awkwardness soon wore off as Watson lost himself in the sight, the smell, the feel of Holmes and the words came naturally, without any conscious thought. I wish I could touch you right now. Holmes head was thrown back, his mouth open and releasing a litany of groans and the occasional obscenity. You should see yourself, Holmes…I want you so badly…to feel you inside me. Holmes gave a full body shudder, hips bucking into his fist. Mmm…yes…like that…finish off on my chest… Holmes fisted his cock faster, his pace becoming almost frantic as his moans climbed in volume. It’s what you want, isn’t it? To come on my chest…do it, Holmes…come…come for me.
And with a last twist of Watson’s body underneath Holmes’, Holmes’ shuddered and jerked and with a low groan, let his come spurt onto Watson’s chest in thick, gooey streams. He stroked himself through it, moaning softly as his cock became over sensitive to touch. All the while Watson watched, enraptured by the sight of Holmes’ muscles flexing and his back arching, his cock jerking in his grip. Holmes’ come was hot on his skin, but quickly cooled and turned sticky in Watson’s chest hair.
The sensation made Watson’s cock twitch and jerk and he moaned desperately, humping the air in frustration. With a breathless chuckle Holmes slid down his body to lie between Watson’s spread legs. He expertly swallowed Watson’s throbbing cock down and it took only a few sucks, one push from Watson and the barest hint of teeth for Watson to shoot his release down Holmes’ throat, his entire body arching and struggling against his bonds.
After taking a few moments to catch his breath Holmes got up and got a damp washcloth, gently cleaning Watson’s chest, pausing to kiss languidly, drowsily, every so often. Watson hummed as Holmes kissed his neck and ran his hands up and down his cleaned chest. Holmes carelessly threw the cloth onto the floor and undid the knots binding Watson to the bed, taking the time to stroke the abused skin and check for abrasions.
By the time they curled up together, warm and cosy, satiated and sleepy, the sun had risen. But for once, Watson could go back to sleep.