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She’d been waiting for this. Sherlock shuddered underneath her, and not only because this damn house was the draftiest place she’d ever lived. The lovely original windows banged in their vintage frames with every strong gust, and it was blowing hard this night. For brief stretches they’d kept time with it, but neither they nor the weather followed a single rhythm for long.
The wind whistled and rattled, and the electronics hummed though the screens were all black, reflecting their bodies seven times in the dingy overhead light. They were wedged into the largest chair in the room, surrounded by boxes of case files they’d been sorting to pack away. Sherlock sat on the chair with Watson kneeling over his lap so that they were of a height. He’d suggested they move to her bed, might even have offered that ratty sex blanket if she hadn’t pressed her closed mouth against his lips mid-sentence.
“Here,” she said, and stopped pushing his waistcoat off to press it tight against his biceps. He froze his arms mid reach, elbows trapped against his torso and his hands outstretched toward her waist. His eyes flicked back and forth into hers for five heartbeats (hers) and one breath (his), and then his chin dropped in a stiff nod. She resumed, shoving the vest off behind him and starting on his shirt buttons. His fingers traced over her back, seeking the means to unfasten her dress. She slowed her own hands to give him more time.
“Here,” she said, because she didn’t know what this was or what it would do to them, and if it happened in a room where they worked then the rest of the house would still be home. Maybe he would deduce that, or maybe he wouldn’t care, but she wasn’t about to explain. Not now, and possibly not ever. She shuddered then as he drew her dress up over her head and the cool air chilled the sweat on the small of her back. Or possibly because the edge of his stubble had just ghosted lightly over the tip of her nipple.
Sherlock tilted his face first to press a kiss into the space between her breasts and then slid over to brush his bristled cheek over her nipple again, alternating light and firmer passes with licks and sucks. She didn’t want to explain and slid her hands through his hair to cup his head to her breast and surged hard against him when he added teeth. He hummed at her response and pushed his head back against her hands just enough to shift over and begin again on the other side, bracing her back with one forearm and holding the first breast in his other hand, squeezing and kneading and flicking in counterpoint to his mouth. Eventually she remembered she had two hands too and slid one between them to caress his chest, fingers seeking and scratching until they caught a nipple. Her thumb rubbed it back and forth, alternating the nail’s edge and the pad, and then pressing the heel of her hand to massage up into the muscle and scraping her nails back down.
All at once he leaned up with a groan and a wince, and rested his forehead against hers, hands on her shoulders. He kept his gaze down, watching his thumbs trace her collar bones.
“We’ve not discussed your preferences, Watson—”
“Or yours,” she interrupted, reaching down between them. His breath caught as her hand hovered over his groin. “I thought we were deducing.” Talking would not clarify anything. She tilted her face to drag her lips lightly over his and settled into a kiss. Sherlock’s mouth opened to her tongue tracing the inner edge and kissed back hard when her fingers finally made contact with his cock. His hands spasmed on her shoulders and began moving, one stroking down her front, the other her back. She pulled gently up his length with a soft fist and then opened her hand to trace back down with separated fingertips. His breath grew ragged, and he caught both of her breasts in his hands to massage, disrupting her breathing the same way. She arched into his hands, breaking the kiss as she lifted her head back, and he took the opportunity to nuzzle her neck and jaw. After a moment she pulled him into a close hug, full torso contact, her breasts and his penis squashed between them. Their hearts pounded in a syncopated beat that did not slow as they embraced.
Watson shifted her hips, edging them closer and higher until she could align her vulva against him. His mouth dropped open with a barely voiced “Oh!” when she started to move, sliding up and down his cock in slow, shaky presses. It only took a single raised eyebrow for him to move his hands to her ass to add leverage. She stretched one hand into the back of the seat cushion behind Sherlock and pulled out a packet of lube. She sat up and balanced against his hands as she tore it open and squeezed the contents into her palm. Out of the corner of her eye she observed at least half a dozen expressions flicker over Sherlock’s face as he processed what had just happened. He didn’t seem to be about to blurt out any commentary but just in case she simultaneously started kissing him again while covering his penis with lube and then stroking herself to distribute the rest. They resumed the glide and slide motion, moving more quickly now with the ease of extra slick. Sherlock remained silent, aside from the occasional gasp.
“Smart man,” she murmured against his lips. His eyes were closed, a faint crease of concentration shivering between his brows. He took a breath as if to refute her but just shook his head and and returned to request control of the kiss with a gentle nip of her bottom lip. Part of her wanted to hesitate and hold back, but the sudden bang of a window crashing shut startled them both, and she finally let herself let go against him after their shared whoosh of half-laught and shocked breath. Closing her eyes at last, she gave in to the feel of skin against skin, the tremors in their hands and limbs. She rolled her hips, dragging her labia up and down the underside of his cock to rock her clitoris against him. She clasped the back of the chair for more control and ground harder. Sherlock reciprocated, his breath loud in her ear after he’d broken the kiss to breathe hard against her neck as they continued to move together. Her orgasm flared abruptly and ebbed slowly, the final ripples coinciding with his last hard thrust as he came across her belly. She stayed where she was, and they pulled each other into a tight embrace once again as their breathing steadied.
She kept her eyes closed tight. It would be fine.
“Oh Watson,” he said so softly she wasn’t sure she heard it.