AU

[i_favour_you]

Follows this.

It wasn't until he found the beach that he realized they had made it to Cape May. Of all of New Jersey, this was possibly his least favorite place. It was so nice here. Cosy shops, happy people, and homes that cost far too much money.

Also, art supply stores. Sherlock purchases the needle, thread, alcohol, and some glue. Can't look too obvious, even with the blood under his fingernails and the tears in his tee-shirt. Not long after, he parks the stolen car in front of a chain hotel and goes in as calmly as possible to book them a room. His body is vibrating with panic. He can't remain this calm for much longer. Watson is bleeding. She's injured. He has to smile and wait in line and be bloody calm.

He pulls a coat out of the bag of clothes to put over Watson's shoulders once he gets back to the car.

"There's a vending machine and room service," he tells her. "We can get you orange juice and water for the blood loss."

Comments

[formersurgeon]

Her hand pauses, and she looks up at him, meets his eyes.

"No. You were right the first time."

She's been Watson to him through everything, through the struggles they've had and the victories, through every moment as they've become friends, then more. She's Watson. His Watson.

[i_favour_you]

He smiles, slowly but genuinely.

"Watson," he says. His dear Watson.

He leans down to kiss her again, and he puts an arm around her to turn them both over, to have her on top of him. In control.

[formersurgeon]

Her laugh is short, and a little strained by the flare of pain in her arm. It's not too bad, though. She kisses him, then pushes herself up to look down at him.

"Sherlock," she whispers.

She moves her hurt arm deliberately, and uses that hand to caress his cheek. Then she kisses his lips, then his chin, then his neck, working her way down.

[i_favour_you]

He lets out a little moan as her mouth touches a sensitive place on his neck, and then down his chest. There are fulfilled fantasies and then there are fulfilled fantasies, and then there's this.

[formersurgeon]

Oh that's a beautiful sound. She kisses her way down his chest, taking a slow moment to lick, kiss, then gently bite each nipple.

[i_favour_you]

He lets out a little sigh at her mouth, and her teeth against his nipples. They've never been particularly sensitive, but the sharpness of her teeth bring that out, followed by the warmth of her mouth.

"73 positions," he says. "I've just thought of another."

[formersurgeon]

"Mmm. What would that be?"

She continues kissing down his chest, slowly. As she gets to his belly, she starts undoing his belt.

[i_favour_you]

Anticipation curls warm in his stomach as she starts to undo his belt.

"I would much, much rather show you," he says.

[formersurgeon]

"When?"

She undoes the button, drags down the zipper, and starts to pull his trousers down.

[i_favour_you]

He wants to say now. There isn't time now. He wants to say soon, but he has no idea when they might have an opportunity any time in the near future. It isn't fair, he rarely allows himself to feel anything for anyone, and now that he does, he can't even act on it.

A quick shag isn't what Watson deserves.

He lifts up his hips to help her pull off his clothing.

[formersurgeon]

He doesn't answer, and that in and of itself is telling, that it's not now, and he can't say there will be a when. They don't know. They can't know.

So she pulls his trousers off, dropping them over the side of the bed. His boxers follow them. She sits back on her heels, and just looks at him for a long moment, taking in every line and curve and slope of his body, every scar, every trace of ink decorating his skin. If she had the time, she'd spend it examining him, discovering him, every inch. She knows he would do the same.

[i_favour_you]

He feels, oddly enough, vulnerable under her gaze. He's not overtly well endowed, and he has some scarring left from old injuries, including old track marks, and stretch marks from weight rapidly lost and eventually regained during his addiction. None of these things are normally visible, apart from the thin scar on his face from the day Bell had died.

She, conversely, is beautiful. She could easily have been a statue, with all of her perfect lines.

[formersurgeon]

To her, of course, he's beautiful. Every part of him.

She reaches out, touches his hip, and lowers her head to press her lips to the tip of his cock, then take him into her mouth.

[i_favour_you]

She presses her lips to him, but as she moves to take him into her mouth, he reaches out a hand to stop her.

"Wait," he says. "The---the condoms are---"

[formersurgeon]

She lifts her head, nods. He's right, she shouldn't be doing this without protection.

"In the bag. Lubricated, too, if I remember correctly."

[i_favour_you]

He half-rolls over to grab for the bag on the floor. The box is easily found within, but the little foil packet is, as always, annoying as all hell to open.

He tears it open with his teeth and produces the latex rubber.

[formersurgeon]

She takes it from him, leans down again, and in one smooth motion runs the tip of her tongue along the underside of his cock. Then she smooths the latex over him, and crawls up to kiss his lips.

[i_favour_you]

The sudden sensation of her mouth on the underside of him regains any loss the erection may have suffered prior to putting on the condom. Protection, while generally rather irritating, is far too important when it comes to Watson. He's not about to have her catch something because of his negligence.

He wraps an arm around her waist as she crawls up to kiss him. He pulls her close, focusing on the feel of her body next to him, the taste of her mouth.

[formersurgeon]

She knows it's necessary, that there's just too much risk considering Sherlock's history. And if they ever have the time for that long holiday she's going to make sure they have the proper condoms for her to pleasure him with her mouth.

She lingers in that kiss, taking the time to enjoy it, even though they don't have much time. Then she breaks the kiss and moves to sit, straddling his hips. She holds a hand out to him.

"Sit up with me."

[i_favour_you]

The kiss is sweet, and he focuses on it, on memorizing exactly how it feels before she breaks it. He'd almost say he would sooner continue kissing her than worry about making love---but he's a realist, not a romantic.

He follows instruction without question, taking her hand and sitting up, locking his eyes with hers. His gaze is curious, questioning.

[formersurgeon]

She smiles faintly at that expression.

"I want to hold you while we do this."

She rises slightly on her knees, lowers her eyes, and reaches between them, guiding him to her entrance. She looks up again, locks eyes, and lowers herself, sighing as he slides inside her.

[i_favour_you]

He, conversely, gasps at the sensation of her around him. He keeps one arm around her waist, holding her closely. Her eyes are dark, a ring of brown around large, dilated pupils. He wants to tell her he loves her as he lifts his hips up. He doesn't, of course. But he wants to.

"Oh, Watson," he murmurs.

[formersurgeon]

"Sherlock," she murmurs back, verging on a moan. She wraps her arms around him, holding her tight to him, gazing into those beautiful eyes. Her own are much the same, of course, dark with pupils wide.

She wants to tell him. Wants to tell him she loves him. She can't because she knows he won't take it well. The words burn inside her, though, even if she can't give them voice.

She starts to move against him. This is not a position of a quick shag, for hard thrusting and fast climaxes. This is a position for holding each other and letting the pleasure build until it overtakes them.

They have no time. But this is their first time, and who knows if or when they'll be another. She wants to do it right.

[i_favour_you]

She moves against him, and he lifts his hips up to meet each motion. She's tight and warm and god it feels amazing. He gasps again, and leans up to press his mouth to her throat, to taste her as well as feel her against him.

His Watson.

[formersurgeon]

He moves against her, inside her, and god, it's perfect, tangled up together, joined together. His mouth goes to her throat, and she moans, dropping her head back and moving one hand up to cradle the back of his head.