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Watson moans as their hips rock, slow, the hard curve of Holmes' cock pressing between his ass cheeks.
"Oh God, Holmes please-"
"Shh…" A gentle hand cups Watson through his trousers, stroking with a quiet scratch of nails over tweed. Watson writhes, his head rolling back against Holmes' shoulder as he softly whimpers. His cock is hard, but slowly softening as the pressure between his legs grows more insistent. He's desperate for relief, not just to orgasm, but to empty his heavy bladder.
"Holmes, please, please- oh MERCY-" His desperate plea is cut off by a gasp. Holmes' hand presses and rubs soothingly over his abdomen. Watson's eyes roll back in his head as he trembles, panting. Sweat trickles down his back as they continue to rock and groan, kneeling on the floor in the hall near the water closet.
Holmes' mouth works at his neck, moist lips and wet tongue, hot breath panting against his ear. Watson licks his lips and moans again. His body feels like a thousand hands are touching him; every sensation heightened. The tight cling of his trousers over his swollen member, the pinch of his tall, tight collar as his neck arches into Holmes' mouth.
Holmes' hand is warm as it wraps itself around Watson's member again, pressing at it through his trousers, keeping it hard. Rocking his hips into Holmes' hand sends a wave of heat through Watson's body, his full bladder protesting, aching and pulling another whimper from his mouth.
"Please Holmes, make me come or let me go, I can't take it anymore!"
"You look so beautiful like this," Holmes whispers into his ear. Watson shudders, his hips twitching involuntarily. It makes his bladder ache and he writhes, gritting his teeth and groaning. "So full and aching in my hands. You won't let go, will you? Not until I let you…" Holmes massages Watson's stomach in slow circles, pressing, fingers seeking and stroking until Watson cries out again, his voice hoarse and broken with need.
"Holmes…"
"Such a good boy. You've held on so long, all day long. I can feel how swollen you are, so tender and firm…" Watson chokes on a moan as Holmes increases the pressure of his hand, probing with his long fingers against Watson's abdomen. Watson is beyond sense, beyond protest as he feels Holmes unbutton the front of his trousers and wrap his hands around his length. Holmes' other arm locks strong around Watson's chest. Holmes' breath puffs against Watson's neck, hot and moist as the detective whispers, rutting against Watson's backside.
"I want you to come for me," Holmes moans, the speed of his hips increasing, thrusting Watson's hips into Holmes' hand. "Come for me like a good boy and then you can go. Let me watch you break open, John."
Watson thrusts, whimpering as every rock of his hips makes his bladder ache. But at last, finally he can feel release building, a wetness leaking from the tip of his cock and he can't say if it's urine or precum but he doesn't care at this point. It makes Holmes' hand glide smoother, his strokes quickening, fingers squeezing the tip as Watson gasps and shakes, so close to the edge.
Finally Watson comes, crying out as his hips thrust over and over into Holmes' hand, spurting forth until he's spent. The sensation of warm liquid is too much; he can't tell where orgasm stops and pissing starts, but his trousers and the bottom of his shirt are soon soaked and warm. He leans bonelessly against Holmes, whose hand never ceased its stroking and squeezing until Watson is completely empty, drained down to the last drop. Relief washes over him; he's senseless in Holmes' arms.
Holmes moves behind Watson, the hand around Watson's cock slipping away. Holmes holds Watson firmly around the chest, and Watson hears Holmes undoing his own trousers behind him. It doesn't take long for Holmes' breathing to grow ragged as he moans in Watson's ear, and soon he too is coming, jerking and releasing against Watson's back.
For a long time they do nothing but sit there, and breathe, and luxuriate in the high that comes with release. Slowly, Watson rouses, groaning and straightening himself on the floor. Holmes leaps to his feet, and steps inside the water closet to bring out a damp towel. He cradles Watson in his arms and cleans him, kissing him over and over, speaking soft encouragements.
"You did such a good job. Absolutely wonderful." Holmes kisses Watson's forehead, gathering the man into his arms, the towel resting between them. "I love you, dear John. You're absolutely wonderful." Watson clings to him, kissing him back as their lips meet, still floating up somewhere high up. Somehow through the haze they end up clean and in bed, where Watson folds himself into Holmes' arms and falls asleep.