Title: Messy
Author: Lyrical Soul aka Private Stash
E-mail: lyricalsoul@gmail.com
Feedback: Yes
Archive: Sure, just tell me where
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Holmes/Watson
Fandom: The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes
Spoilers: No
Disclaimer: I do not own Holmes, Watson, or Lestrade.
Notes: While in the middle of humiliating Watson, this popped into my warped mind. It is a trifle, really, and a response to a Challenge post on Holmesslash. There was a song, and the lyric said something about getting messy. Coupled with the lyrics from the cd I'm listening to now: "I'll put it where you want it, long as you need it"... it's no wonder I'm thinking smutty thoughts.
So, here's my take on the "This could get messy" Challenge. All talking. Bring your own imagination.

***

"Surely you are joking."

 

"I assure you, I am not."

 

"Are you aware of the... ramifications, Holmes?"

 

"Do tell, Watson."

 

"It could get messy."

 

"Messy?"

 

"Quite."

 

"In what way?"

 

"Was that rhetorical?"

 

"Not at all. Merely curiosity."

 

"Ah, well, then... at scratch, there is the inevitable mussing of one's clothing. You do not like to be mussed."

 

"Correct. However, mussed is a far cry from messy. And clothing can be easily removed."

 

"That is true. So then once your clothing is dispensed with, there is the matter of your hair."

 

"My hair?"

 

"You are quite the dandy when it comes to your hair. Impatient fingers would cause it to be awry."

 

"A dandy? Hah! And this thing about my hair is hardly worth mentioning."

 

"Hands would roam about your person, causing more dishevelment."

 

"Indeed?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Still not quite messy. Watson, you are doing quite badly at explaining this to me."

 

"A tongue might be emboldened to press itself against various parts of your body."

 

"Progress, at last."

 

"I'm pleased you're beginning to understand the concept."

 

"I am an apt pupil, Watson. Go on."

 

"Teeth may be compelled to mark your fair skin..."

 

"Where?"

 

"Your fine neck, for certain."

 

"Yes...?"

 

"Perhaps that spot just above your breastbone would be a good place to start."

 

"A good choice."

 

"As would be your inner thigh."

 

"Scandalous, certainly. But not messy, Watson."

 

"An oiled hand may caress your intimate parts."

 

"Which parts, specifically?"

 

"I am certain your rather vivid imagination can fill in the blanks, Holmes."

 

"I am more interested in where your imagination should take us..."

 

"Very well. An oiled hand on your long and tantalising cock, for starters."

 

"Mmm..."

 

"An interesting response."

 

"I did not succeed in conveying noncommittal?"

 

"Aroused would best describe that response."

 

"That is what you wish to hear. Do go on..."

 

"The other hand would seek out your nether regions."

 

"There? My dear Watson..."

 

"A finger would gently bury itself in your inner warmth."

 

"Oh."

 

"Yes. An easy rhythm would be set between the two touches. One hand sliding along your generous cock, while the finger inserts itself deeper inside you. Your head would fall back, and your breathing would turn harsh, causing you to perspire. Heavily."

 

"Hmm... that is... keep going, Watson."

 

"The finger inside you would move aside to make way for another, along with more oil."

 

"I... ahem..."

 

"Yes. Those fingers would seek out the pleasure gland hidden within. And would brush against it repeatedly, causing more perspiration."

 

"Watson..."

 

"The caressing of the gland within would also cause your cock to release an abundance of clear fluid. This would be gathered up in the hand that is stroking your cock to cause a better sensation."

 

"Surely that is... Watson... continue..."

 

"The duality of the sensations would become too much. You may be compelled to bite at your tormenter's person. Or scratch."

 

"Oh, indeed, I should...!"

 

"Then the warmth of a mouth would encompass your cock, and your hips would thrust upwards, uncontrollably. You would do this again and again and again. The mouth would accept your length with pleasure, and create a tight haven for you."

 

"Good heavens!"

 

"Another brush across your gland, and you would be undone. The little death would overtake you, and you would slump back, a mass of oil, perspiration, and bodily fluids."

 

"My dear boy... that was..."

 

"Inspirational?"

 

"Quite so. If you would move aside so that I can remove my trousers..? I fear that I have gotten them quite..."

 

"Messy?"

 

"You have a way with words, Watson. I shall return the favor immediately."

 

"Of course, Holmes."

***