Читать книгу A Question of Time - Jamie Ashbird - Страница 8

‘You’ll not go back, Watson. do you hear?’ Sherlock draped himself blanket-like over John, head resting on his chest.

‘The army doesn’t need broken soldiers, dear boy.’ John brushed the hair from Sherlock’s face while slender fingers played with the bandages across John’s shoulder.

Sherlock scrambled to his elbows, a scowl storming across his sharp features, the bedframe complaining.

‘They’re desperate now. They’ll take anyone. They’ll take you, too, the moment your bandages are off.’

John burst into a hearty laugh.

‘Shall we run away then, my love? Hmm?’ He ran a hand down Sherlock’s neck.

‘Where to?’ Sherlock pouted like a child.

‘Norway. Let’s secrete ourselves in a fjord and solve cases of stolen sheep and burgled brunost.’

Sherlock tapped along John’s ribs and with a grin of dark mischief wriggled down between his legs. His fingers followed after him, along chest, belly, twisting in fine hair, circling, fluttering, teasing fattening flesh.

‘Capital idea, Watson, but I’ve a fjord right here I’m aching to explore.’

His fingers delved between John’s legs, stroking, pushing, begging admittance.

With one hand still pressing and circling, Sherlock took John’s cock in the other, leant in to kiss the member’s leaking head and slid his grip along warm silky skin.

John tipped his head back with a peaceful sigh. ‘You are truly brilliant, my boy.’