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It ought to be a shameful thing, Mary thinks, to be in this situation. However, shame is the last thing on her mind as she straddles John, careful about leaning her weight entirely on his leg, conscious of the scar there, a remnant of the Afghanistan war.
He cards his fingers through her hair and settles his hand at the nape of her neck, fingers tightening in the soft threads in a way that makes her gasp. His other hand rests on her thigh, fingers slipping over the ribbons holding her stockings up and under the top of the stocking to brush against the warm skin and soft hair. Kissing her gently, his lips fall lightly against hers before moving down her neck, pressing feathery kisses to her fluttering pulse. Mary’s hands cradle the back of his head, her fingers curled in his short hair, encouraging his kisses. He pauses as the door to their bedroom creaks, and her breath catches in anticipation.
Mr Holmes approaches all of this very differently in a way that both thrills and frightens Mary. He runs the back of his fingers down the laced fastenings of her corset, down the elegant curve of her back, and she knows John is watching him.
Something passes between them, for John slides his hands from her body and begins to slide backwards from the edge of the bed towards the centre. Mary moves to follow until Holmes’ fingers play across her smooth shoulders and she freezes, pulse racing. Her hair has fallen forward due to John’s attentions to it, and Holmes gently pulls it back over her shoulders, fingers trailing between the soft mounds of her breasts pushed up by her corset, in a way that makes her eyes flutter closed. She moistens her lips and opens her eyes to find John watching Holmes with a hungry expression, and something inside her chest pulls in a way that is neither pleasurable nor painful.
John moves to sit on his knees and begins to undo the cuffs of his shirt, as casual as if he were sitting down to take tea. As he undoes the fastenings of his shirt, Holmes mirrors his movements by slowly undoing the ties to Mary’s corset. Mary feels the slow, teasing slide of the lace ties being pulled through the eyeholes of the corset, and she cannot help but tremble in anticipation. Holmes lifts her arms when he has untied it fully, pulling it off from the front. He tosses the corset aside with no consideration for neatness and slides his hands up her now bare front, cupping her small breasts between his elegant fingers. She shudders as he brushes his thumbs over her nipples until they peak and presses himself against her back. He feels different to John in so many ways; he is lithe and wiry, more slender than John and more muscled. His clothing is coarse where John wears more expensive fabrics, and he smells of pipe smoke with a strange undertone of chemicals.
These differences should be a reminder of the terrible sins that Mary is committing, but instead they fill her with more passion than she thought possible. Holmes’ clever fingers slide from her chest to brush the soft hair under her arms before skimming down her ribs. She can feel his erection pressed against her back. John clears his throat and it is as though the spell is broken. Mary falls forward to where he is kneeling, shirtless.
He pulls her to him and she presses her face and a kiss to the curve of his neck. He smoothes his hand down her back as though gentling her, and reaches out behind her with the other. The bed dips as Holmes climbs onto it and he is once again pressed to her back as John pulls him closer. She can hear the slick sounds of them kissing: their tongues sliding together, lips bruising as John kisses Holmes in a way he never kisses her. She licks a delicate trail down the side of John’s neck and she can feel the way that he reacts as he tries to pull Holmes closer to him, both men surging up against her. Holmes pulls away from John and hastily unbuttons his own shirt, pulling it off and tossing it behind him. John’s large, gentle hands on her shoulders turn her around to face Holmes before sliding down to her breasts, more sure and confident than Holmes’ had been. She settles between his legs, arching back against his arousal and extending a hand to Holmes.
She feels wanton and primal, dirty, alive and flushed with heat. Holmes kicks off his trousers and undergarments before gracefully moving towards her, brazen and uncaring about his nakedness. Mary feels light headed and giddy, between her legs throbbing almost painfully. She folds her feet under her and grinds down slightly to alleviate the pressure, leaning up to meet Holmes as he comes closer to her. He cups her jaw and kisses her hard. He sucks on her tongue and flicks his against her lips, biting at them until they are swollen and tingling, before he slides his tongue back alongside hers, curling them together. Mary whimpers high in her throat, twining her fingers tightly through Holmes’ unruly dark hair and sagging against him. Holmes is aggressive and messy with her, kissing her dirtily in a way that her fiancé never does.
John urges her up onto her knees and slides her cotton drawers down gently, his hands lingering over the curve of her arse. Flushed and trembling, Mary feels like she may swoon at any moment as John presses his lips between her shoulders, the coarse hairs of his moustache tickling her delightfully. Holmes breaks the kiss and raises his head, watching John. He draws her bloomers down her thighs before pulling her back down between his legs, Holmes sliding the garments the rest of the way down and tossing them aside. John slides the palm of his hand along the soft swell of her inner thigh before dipping his fingers between her legs, skating through her wet pubic hair before slipping his middle finger into her.
Mary whimpers and Holmes’ eyes flick from John’s face to his hand with a strange expression flitting across his face. Mary arches up before slumping back against John as he withdraws his finger and slides it back into her slowly along with his index finger, carefully rubbing her clit with his thumb. She shudders as warmth slowly spreads through her and she leans her head back on John’s shoulder, watching him watching Holmes. Mary can’t help but pant a little as John’s clever fingers work in and out of her, and she curls her fingers on his thighs, nails digging in to the wool of his trousers.
Holmes moves gracefully towards them, totally unabashed in his nudity. He reaches out a hand and touches the tense tendons on John’s forearm. It seems to convey something that Mary doesn’t understand, as John murmurs, “Yes,” before withdrawing his fingers from Mary and trailing them across her thigh, leaving a damp trail. He grasps her gently by the hips and encourages her to rise before pressing in gently with his thumbs, willing her forward. With a small whimper Mary leans forward on her hands, back bowed. She is faced with Holmes’ erection and hangs her head momentarily, feeling flushed and thrumming with excitement. It isn’t the first time she’s been in this position with her husband and Holmes, much to her shame.
John draws his fingers down the dip of her spine, skimming over her backside before running over the garters that are holding up the stockings she still wears. He rises to his knees and Mary feels the brush of his trousers against her bare skin before he moves backwards, undoing the buttons of his trousers. Mary’s breath quickens as she hears the rustling of fabric and can’t help but shudder as she feels the wet brush of the head of John’s cock against her buttocks.
Mary glances up at Holmes who is still watching John, lips parted and cheeks flushed, eyes bright. He is knelt before her, and on a wicked whim Mary leans forward to lap at the head of his cock. Holmes’ hips jerk in surprise, and he glances down at her before he places his long fingers on her shoulders, thumbs smoothing across her skin. John grasps her hip gently with one hand, steadying his cock with the other as he moves forward and presses into her in one long, smooth movement.
Mary sways forward with the momentum and gasps, pushing back against John, Holmes’ cock brushing against her cheek. Holmes laces his fingers through her hair delicately, fingers gentle against her scalp. This is the only time that Mary has ever seen Holmes off balance and hesitant, as though he is unsure of what to do. He glances down at Mary before looking back up at John, who encourages Mary on with the slow, hot slide of his cock inside her.
She moves to lean on her forearms, resting her head against Holmes’ muscled thigh for a moment as John brushes against something inside her, causing sharp waves of pleasure to spark through her. Leaning on her elbow Mary carefully grasps Holmes’ erection before again lapping at the head. His fingers twitch reflexively in her hair, the veins and tendons that stand out in his wiry forearms the only indication of how much he is restraining himself.
Mary takes pity on him and carefully slides her lips down over his cock, careful of her teeth. She runs her tongue in a sweeping motion along the underside of his erection, enjoying the feeling of him, hot and heavy in her mouth. Holmes makes a deep noise in the back of his throat, loud and surprising in a room that is silent aside from their heavy, panting breaths. She slides her lips along his erection in imitation of the rhythm that John has set, letting Holmes slip out of her mouth and resting her cheek on his trembling thigh when John’s pace changes and she becomes breathless and feverishly hot. Holmes skims his long fingers across her shoulder blades and down her back, and she can feel where his fingers brush John’s, whose fingers are splayed across the small of her back. Holmes is hunched over her, his palms searing a brand onto her skin, but she can’t sit up to touch him. John thrusts into her in strong, measured strokes and it’s all Mary can do to take it, small, involuntary sounds being ripped from her with every movement of her husband’s hips.
John slides his hand from her back and cups her breast momentarily before sliding down over her stomach and slipping between her legs. He slides his fingers over her, spreading her open where his cock is sliding into her. He makes a low sound of appreciation before slipping his middle finger between her folds and firmly circling her clit. Mary can feel her pleasure building quickly, and John slides out of her fully before sliding back in and thrusting shallowly, brushing against something inside her that rips the orgasm from her. She can’t help but cry out, throwing her head back and bowing her spine as she shudders through her climax, fingers curling in the bed sheets.
John’s fingers coax her through it and Holmes brushes his hands across her shoulders as she shakes, gentling her. John continues thrusting into her, the hot drag of his cock setting her sparking nerves alight and causing her to shudder. She rests her forehead on her arm, reaching back with her spare hand and clutching at John’s tense thigh, giving him permission to carry on.
His thrusting grows erratic as he drives into her as though he’s straining to bury his entire self inside her. He is almost silent apart from his harsh, panting breaths, and the grunt he lets out as he comes, head bowed. Mary bites her lip at the warm rush of his semen inside her, flexing her fingers. She’s almost surprised when they brush against Holmes’ leg; he’d been silent throughout the whole thing, his dark, long-lashed eyes still fixed intensely on John.
John pulls out of her with a quiet sigh, once again running his hands down her thighs and over her stockings. Mary sits up shakily and twists to face her husband, who runs his hands up her sides before cupping her face and kissing her gently. When he pulls back he traces her jaw, eyes flickering from her own to her lips, and back. Mary can smell herself faintly on his fingers. His gaze wanders to over her shoulder and Mary follows it. Holmes watches them, his face carefully blank, lips slightly pursed. He looks like the very definition of control as he sits there, his calm expression betrayed by his unflagging erection. He tilts his chin up slightly and Mary slides away from her husband, who extends a hand to Holmes to give him what Mary cannot. Holmes moves towards John as Mary reclines on the bed beside them, feeling her pulse beat heavy through her entire body, content to watch.
John looks relaxed and sated, his face strangely tender as Holmes approaches him. He runs his trembling hands over John’s thighs.
“Watson,” he says, voice low, and John’s fingers curl through the mess of his unruly hair and bring him in for a kiss. It starts off gentle, but it’s clear that Holmes wants more as he licks at John’s lips until he opens his mouth compliantly, kissing Holmes roughly. Holmes bites at his lip and jaw, running his hands across his body as though mapping him out forever in his mind. John slides a broad palm over Holmes’ leg before wrapping his fingers around his erection. Holmes huffs and tilts his head, and Mary watches as John slides his lips across his friend’s stubbled jaw, his fingers tightening in the unruly curls at the base of his neck.
Holmes tilts his head back obediently and Mary sees the white flash of John’s teeth as they grip the column of Holmes’ exposed throat momentarily before he slides his tongue along the skin wetly, as though soothing the bite. Holmes’ closed eyelids flutter as John sucks at the skin of his throat, marking it, his hand sliding mercilessly up and down Holmes’ erection. Holmes’ hands grip John’s arms, fingers digging into his flexing biceps. It doesn’t take long at all before his spine is stiffening as he spills over Watson’s hand, his own hands sliding from John’s arms to cup his face and pull him into a biting kiss as his hips jerk. He rests his forehead on John’s shoulder as he catches his breath, and John wipes his hand off on his and Mary’s bed sheet before he brings it up to trace delicate patterns across Holmes’ shoulder. Holmes sits back on his haunches and John presses a kiss to his forehead, lingering for a moment before Holmes pulls back and slides gracefully off of the bed, reaching for his clothes.
Mary sits up and, remembering her modesty, gathers the bed sheets about herself. John follows Holmes’ example and moves to the edge of the bed, pulling his trousers back on. Holmes is already dressed by the time John has fastened his trousers, his white shirt crumpled beyond help, silk cravat tucked haphazardly at his throat.
“I must thank you for your kind hospitality, my dear,” he says to Mary as he fastens his cufflinks, nonchalant as if the three of them had just taken afternoon tea. “I will return the same time next week?”
“Indeed,” John says.
Mary tilts her head slightly, her hair spilling over her shoulder.
“It’s always a pleasure, Mr Holmes.”
“Indeed,” Holmes replies, echoing John with a trace of humour lacing his voice, before nodding at the two of them and exiting the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him.