[personal profile] wave_of_sorrow
Title: The Taste Of Peaches, Part I
Author: [livejournal.com profile] wave_of_sorrow
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Holmes/Watson
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,075
Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't claim. No money being made.
Holmes invents flavoured lube. Don't ask. Just don't ask.
Spoilers/Warnings: explicit rimming
A/N: Fill for a prompt at [livejournal.com profile] shkinkmeme I can't write crack. Hence the porn.

Comments and ConCrit are the lube that keeps the slash coming, bbs! This is unbeta'd so please do point out any mistakes you notice!


Anyway, on to the porn!

Watson had thought nothing of it when Holmes had been experimenting for days on end, somewhat peculiar smells, curses and the occasional explosion were the only things Watson noticed. He had thought nothing of it when Holmes had started to raid Mrs. Hudson’s pantry on a daily basis. He had thought nothing of it either, when Holmes started tasting the various liquids in his test tubes.

At first.


In fact, Watson hadn’t thought anything until this very moment. He had simply enjoyed a nice evening in the sitting room, lounging on the settee and reading a novel. But then Holmes had huffed in frustration for the fifth time in one minute and stomped over to Watson, who had desperately been trying to ignore him.


However, as Watson found himself sitting up on the settee, a test tube held out to him with a “Here, you try it,” and a tousled, disturbingly determined looking Holmes frowning at him, lips pursed, several of his red flags were raised.


“Beg pardon?”


Holmes huffed impatiently and rolled his eyes, “Try this,” he urged, pushing the test tube closer to Watson, “Tell me what it tastes like. My tongue has gone numb from trying all of those…” he licked his lips absentmindedly.


“You want me to try this? With my tongue?” Watson asked with a raised eyebrow.


“Oh, don’t be such a sissy, just try it,” Holmes urged, clearly annoyed that Watson didn’t just lap it up like Gladstone would have.


Watson frowned at the clear, amber, almost ochre, liquid filling the tube. It looked somewhat like honey. It appeared to be thick and viscous. It also looked sticky and sickly sweet.


“What is it, precisely?” Watson inquired, still eyeing what he was expected to taste.


“Uh…” Holmes scratched his head and shifted from one foot to the other.


“It looks like some kind of…jam. Or honey.”


“…I guess you could call it that, yes.” Holmes bit his lip, “Yes, it’s a kind of jam.”


“Why are you making jam?” Watson asked incredulously.


“It’s for a case,” Holmes said, his impatience back, “Now,” he held the tube out to Watson, “will you do me a favour and taste it? I’ll even say please.” He smiled at Watson with false sweetness.


“Oh fine,” with an exasperated sigh and a roll of his eyes, Watson gave in.


Crinkling his nose, he dipped his finger into the concoction, coating it in awfully sticky, gooey slime. For a moment he eyed his dripping finger, face twisted into a disgusted grimace. Shooting a smiling Holmes a dirty, annoyed look, Watson put his finger into his mouth, licking it clean. His eyes, previously closed in fear of tasting something truly disgusting, flew open in surprise.


He hummed slightly around his finger as he sucked on it. Holmes’ concoction tasted surprisingly good, not sweet, but fruity, like peaches and something else he couldn’t quite identify. Even more surprisingly, it wasn’t sticky at all. Instead, it had an almost oily texture to it. Running down his throat like honey, only smoother, and leaving it warm and soothed, though he had not previously thought it needed soothing.


Holmes was watching him with dark eyes, tongue darting out to dampen slightly parted lips, a subtle blush spreading over his cheeks and neck.


“Holmes…” Watson narrowed his eyes at him, “This isn’t jam, is it?”


Holmes gave him a crooked smile.


“And it’s not for a case either, is it?”


Holmes pursed his lips, trying to hide a smile, tilting his head to the side.


“What on earth is it?” By now all of his red flags were not only raised, but being frantically waved around, a number of shrill warning bells accompanying them, a  panicking voice in the back of his head screaming, abort, abort. And as if that hadn’t been warning enough, a lecherous smile spread across Holmes’ features.


“Let me show you.”


Before Watson could do so much as protest Holmes was straddling him, forcefully kissing him, Holmes’ unique taste mingling with the residue of liquid peaches as their tongues tangled and slid against each other. Holmes hummed into his mouth, tilting Watsons head back to nip at his throat and the underside of his chin while still managing not to spill any of his mixture.


“Undress and get on your hands and knees,” Holmes whispered against Watson’s mouth before kissing it again.


“What?” Watson gasped between kisses, “You want to have sex now? It won’t distract me from wanting to know just what it is you made me eat, you know,” he couldn’t help smiling slightly as he bit at Holmes’ bottom lip.


“It’s not supposed to,” Holmes tilted his head back to give Watson better access to his neck, hips shifting minutely against Watson’s, unconsciously trying to rub their cocks together, “It’s…mmm…supposed to…explain…oh…”


With a last nip at Holmes’ pulse point Watson broke away, gently pushing Holmes away, having decided to just play along whatever crazy thing Holmes had come up with now. For a moment Holmes looked confused and reluctant to leave his spot in Watson’s lap, but quickly composed himself and, somewhat awkwardly, climbed down from Watson, taking a seat next to him. Watson took off his waistcoat, unbuttoned his shirt and laid it on top of his discarded waistcoat, both neatly folded. Holmes made an impatient noise as he waited for Watson to undo his flies and get up to take off his trousers and underwear, putting them on top of the rest of his clothes, neatly folded as well, of course.


Meanwhile Holmes had gotten up, retrieved more test tubes with differently coloured liquids filling them, – electric blue, deep crimson, acidic green, bright pink and even an unappealingly greyish one – put them onto the coffee table and sat back down. Beyond a raised eyebrow Watson did not comment. As he made to get onto his knees, Holmes stopped him by placing his hands on Watson’s hips, turning him around and making him stand between Holmes’ spread legs.


Watson was about to ask what Holmes thought he was doing, but Holmes bent his head and took Watson’s limp cock into his mouth, robbing Watson of the power of forming coherent sentences. Holmes hummed around Watson’s soft length, eyes closed and nose buried in Watson’s pubic hair. Watson was beyond doing anything other than gasp and moan and palm the back of Holmes’ head, his other hand resting on Holmes’ shoulder to steady himself.

On to the next part.

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