While bridges still burn : IV

Heat. Sweat. Anticipation. The sight of Watson walking slowly towards him, regarding his position on the bed. He was naked, his legs apart, his hand gently stroking his erection. He bit his lip. Watson began to undress, slowly removing his garments; so painfully slow. 


And then Watson was on top of him, one hand holding his jaw firmly and his lips capturing his own. He bit at the detectives bottom lip, he forced his tongue into his mouth, he  whispered curses when he broke for air. The doctors other hand was dragging nails down Holmes back. The man arched in pleasure, his cock so hard it was almost unbearable.


Watson kissed along his jaw line, licked and nipped at the lobe of his ears, sucked at the skin on his neck. He smoothed his hands over the muscles on Holmes' arms and then down over his stomach. 


"J-John." Holmes moaned.


Watson took both their erections in his hand and began stroking them and rubbing them against each other. He too moaned, his breath coming in short and shallow bursts. They were both so hard, so wet with pre-cum and sweat. 


"G-good Lord!" Holmes gripped Watson's waist and brought him closer ,"S-so good." 


"Quiet, Sherlock. No talking." 


The doctor slowed his movements, he licked the skin around Holmes' nipples before biting down. Holmes yelled out and bucked up into him. 


"Christ! John, John just fuck me!" 


Watson pushed him down on to the bed, he released their cocks and held Holmes down. He watched every movement the detective made as he slowly licked the pre-cum from his fingers. Holmes shuddered, his cock twitched against his partners. Watson ghosted his fingers along Holmes' stomach, down along his groin and then around over his buttocks. He began to prepare Holmes.


When the first finger was slid into his tight hole, Holmes almost screamed. By the time the second entered,  Watson was kissing him, distracting him with his tongue. He could feel them stretching him, moving much to slowly but hitting every spot; except one. 


"D-deeper." Holmes moaned. 


"Quiet!" Watson bit his shoulder, making him scream out. 


And, then, pleasure. Holmes' whole body shuddered, blood rushed to his cock. He was almost there, he could feel it in his belly. The small details, like the shuffling Watson made as he moved, escaped him. Only the moaning and the breathing and the feel of Watson's cock were all he could register. And then there was thrusting, hard and then slow. Watson crying out, the bed shaking, his hands tangled in sheets. He could feel it rising, he was almost ---


**


Panting.

Holmes was tangled within his bed sheets and his night shirt uncomfortably wet. He groaned ;  realising the truth of the situation. His cock was achingly hard, his belly and sheets covered in pre cum.  As if it weren't embarrassing enough to be suffering withdrawal in front of the man.

"Lord." he lay back onto the mattress and brought his arm up to cover his eyes.

These dreams of he and Watson's sexual experiences haunted him for the months after he left. He always found himself waking up hard or his sheets wet. Each time he hated it.  It only was there to remind him of what he had lost.

However, presently, everything was aching; not just his cock. He was shaking, his muscles burned beneath his skin and the cramps in his stomach were almost unbearable. Holmes was surprised he even had the ability to get aroused. The depression he had experienced before his overdose had been nothing to what he felt now. It was heavy, so heavy he could barely breathe at times, it hurt to do anything and everything felt so alien to him.  The mere thought of reality was overwhelming.

It was fast and slow and everything in-between.

Sighing, and admitting defeat, he wrapped a hand around his erection.

"Breakfa-" Watson stood motionless in the door way.

Holmes yelped and quickly released himself. He pulled the quilt up to his chin and stared at the man, blushing a deep red.

"I - um - it wasn't - er."

The doctor placed the tray of breakfast on one of the small tables. He sat down upon his chair.

"I'm glad I didn't send Mrs Hudson up."

Holmes hid his head beneath the covers.

"Oh lord, I really can't apologize enough. I should have lock-"

"It's quite natural, old boy. It is your home after all; no harm done."

Holmes was more hurt than embarrassed. It wasn't the first time he had been caught masturbating by Watson, but it was certainly the first time he received such little reaction. It was needless to say his erection had been scared away.

"Still - my house or not - It's slightly embarrassing."

"It's not the first time I've seen you in the position. However, I am surprised you were able to achieve an erection in your current state. Must have been a good dream." Watson's voice was of even tone, no hint of disgust or desire, "I brought you up breakfast. You haven't eaten in days."

"I'm not hungry." Holmes replied from beneath the covers, "You eat it."

"You are much too thin. And weak."

"You're weak."

"Holmes, don't be childish. Just do as your are told and eat."

"I feel ill."

"That's the withdrawal. What else?"

Holmes sighed and crawled to the bottom of the bed. He stuck his head from beneath the quilt. Watson smiled at him and somewhere, deep within him, Holmes got butterflies.

"Do you feel anything else, old boy? Pain, anxiety, paranoia?"

His butterflies decomposed. The man only wanted to apply his medical opinion, it wasn't about caring, it wasn't about helping; he just wanted to show Holmes, again, what he had done to himself.

"I want you out." the detective growled.

"Mood swings."

"What?"

"It's evident. One moment you are hiding from me, then you are smiling at me and now you are putting me out. So many emotions in less than five minutes."

"Fuck off."

"Holmes-"

"No, just get out. I haven't done this.You have."

"By leaving? We have talked about this. It was for the best. I did not hold the needle to your arm and force you to inject."

"No, your abandonment did!"

 It was then that Watson noticed that the man was crying. The great Sherlock Holmes was weeping real tears. He was speechless and confused. Does he comfort him, link an arm around his shoulders and tell him it will all be okay, or does he leave him and reduce his chances of hurting him further.

"S-sherlock." The doctor decided upon the former and knelt by the bed, " I'm here now, isn't that at least something to be happy for? I have no notion of leaving until you are well -"

"B-but you will leave. I know it. And I can't bare it. I lost you once, I went through that once; I just can't do it again."

"You're a strong man -"

"I'm a liar. I have never been strong, I have just hid it well. I need you, when you felt the same way I thought I had finally found something. There was hope and I had no reason to want to die. But, you left and I have no hope. And, we all know, a man with out hope is a man without life."

Watson placed his hand on Holmes' only for it to be shoved away. Holmes' glared at him, eyes rimmed red and tears still coursing down his cheeks. Watson could not help but think how handsome the man was, how his tears brought out the blue in his eyes, how the scars on his lips suited him; how vulnerable he looked. Somehow, his breakdown was so beautiful.

There was a stirring in his chest, as if something was fighting it's way to the surface. But, as quickly as it had come, it left.

"Holmes - Sherlock, you have to find away around this. Many others have ; why not you?"

"Need I keep explaining how you were and always will be mine? My beginning and end. I was heartless before, I had never had love for anyone, not even my own brother, and then - then you made me feel things I never thought I could. I had always thought I was somewhat asexual, I had never had sex or anything like it before you.  How do I handle this now you, " he sighed, " despise me. "

"I don't despise you. I'm worried about you; hugely worried. This is new to me, seeing you like this is unnerving. Despite what has happened you are still one of my closest friends; in fact, my only close friend."

Holmes bit his lip. It looked as if he may cry again, but he didn't. He just watched the doctor with his big, doe eyes.  Watson gently patted his shoulder.

"I'm glad you are talking to me. Even if it is rather terrifying, I still welcome it." he got to his feet and retreated back to his chair, "Now, please eat."

Still, Holmes remained on the bed, curled beneath the blanket like a stubborn child.

"No."

Watson sighed. He lifted a cup of tea and toast and waved it in the direction of the detective mockingly.

"Fine! More for me."