Chapter Text
William leaned in, only to stop a hair’s breadth away from Sherlock’s lips. From below his lashes, he looked at him expectantly. The corners of his mouth hinted at a smile.
“Come and get it.”
Through half-closed eyelids, he saw Sherlock giving him a questioning look in return. The other cupped his cheek with his hand, his thumb brushing over the blond's lips tentatively.
William blinked in silent agreement and closed his eyes.
Their mouths brushed against each other lightly; their lips set for the briefest of moments.
Before he could savor the sensation lingering on his lips, though, their mouths met for another kiss. One more daring and ready to take a risk.
William tried to pause for breath, but Sherlock caught his bottom lip between his teeth to keep him from drawing back. A surprised gasp escaped William’s throat, a noise which Sherlock captured with his mouth. Taking advantage of the open lips, he ran his tongue across them.
Placing his hands on Sherlock's shoulders, William closed the last bit of distance between their bodies, pressing him flush against his chest. He tilted his head towards his lover's to align with him. When Sherlock nibbled on his bottom lip delicately, he opened his mouth with a sigh.
William seized the opportunity and slipped the tip of his tongue into his mouth, brushing his upper lip with it coyly. Promptly accepting that advance, Sherlock nudged the tongue with his own to invite him in further.
William's mouth filled with the taste of craving. A sting of alcohol still clung to Sherlock’s lips, paired with a hint of cigarettes. Undeterred by the ashy aftertaste, he never thought he would eventually acquire a taste for them.
As they moved in unison, a tender, almost playful pushing and receding, they used their mouths to trace all the words they couldn't say openly. Heat coursed through William's body, setting in his most sensitive spots as a tingling ache. Though it was a curious feeling, it was a welcome one.
Sherlock's hand slid to the back of William's neck where he grasped at his hair. A gentle tug made him expose his throat and drew a subtle moan from him. The sudden harshness fanned the embers smoldering in the pit of his stomach.
Breaking the kiss, Sherlock's lips followed the trail of his hand, leaving a chain of shallow kisses along William's jaw. He stopped by his ear and grazed its shell with his teeth. Hot wisps of air tickled William’s nerves. Enchanted by Sherlock's soft panting, he placed his hand on the back of his head to guide his lips lower. Following the lead, Sherlock planted kisses on William's neck as he fidgeted with his bow tie.
William sneaked a peek at the detective’s face, relishing the sight of him being weak in his arms. A sight more exquisite than anything he has ever witnessed. He could get used to it.
Sherlock rested his lips where the cold glass had touched earlier to give that place special attention, kissing and sucking at it thoughtfully until William rewarded him with a stifled moan. Satisfied with that reaction, he continued his descent and undid the top button of William's dress shirt.
William bit his lip to muffle his voice. He wasn't ready to let himself go – not yet.
When Sherlock attempted to undo the second button, he caught his wrist through his sleeve.
“I do not recall giving you permission to have your way with me.”
“Oh, yeah?” His partner ceased to tease his neck. “And what's required to get that permission?” he derided, cheekily leaning in for a kiss.
William turned away, eyeballing him warily. The corners of his lips raised to a smirk.
“Being a gentleman who knows his place.”
He grabbed Sherlock by the shoulders and coerced him into taking a few steps back. As he did so, William slid the detective's suit off his shoulders.
Notwithstanding his compliance, Sherlock lifted an eyebrow in spite. “From my observation, I'd say you need someone to put you in your place.”
His hands moved to William's torso where they worked on getting rid of his suit.
With small steps, they made their way across the room to the sofa.
“Trust your observational skills at your own discretion.”
They came to a halt. Nose tips less than a finger's width apart, they stared at each other defiantly, feeling each other's breath on their lips. Neither of them wanted to cave in.
“However, you might want to tread carefully if your wish is to not get burned.” Saying those words, William shoved Sherlock onto the sofa and straddled him.
He has picked his poison, and now that he has gotten a taste of how sweet it was, he was willing to drink it to the very last drop.
Caught in a web of rousing kisses, one more intoxicating than the last, a storm unleashed between them. Swept away by the tide, their tongues met like waves crashing together as they captured each other's gasps with their mouths to play them back and forth. Their hands moved of their own volition, searching for a way to undress.
After he stripped himself of his waistcoat and threw it on the floor, William wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s neck. “Hold on firmly.” He lowered his mouth to Sherlock’s ear, brushing his earlobe with his lips with every syllable as he spoke. “You would not want me to escape, now that you have caught me, right?” As he imitated how Sherlock kissed the slope of his neck, he drew in the fragrance of his hair and heated skin.
Sherlock placed his hands on William’s thighs and squeezed demonstratively. “Someone’s needy,” he mumbled amused.
“You should not project your character onto others.” William sank his teeth into Sherlock's neck, just a little, but enough to elicit a groan from the other’s throat that vibrated under his lips satisfyingly.
To get his revenge, Sherlock rolled his hips upwards, only once yet hard enough to make his partner wince.
An intense heat flared up inside William that reverberated right inside his core. That tantalizing friction haunted his thoughts as he tried to comprehend the fiery sensation that just hit him.
He wanted it to recur and get another taste of that most delicious torment and began rocking his hips, slowly grinding against his partner's lower body.
Sherlock breathed in audibly and tightened his grip as his body tensed. “Isn't anyone going to miss you at the party?” he asked out of the blue. It sounded like a reminder rather than a genuine worry. He tugged at the bottom hem of William's shirt, struggling with the garters that held it in place.
“I have taken care of that.” William quivered as Sherlock's hand crept under his shirt and over the small of his back. He inhaled deeply, his breath trembling, and pressed his body harder against the other. “Is anyone expecting you?”
“They can wait,” Sherlock said bluntly.
So his suspicion was right: their meeting had been planned from the start. Not that that detail was of any importance anymore.
“It is rude to make someone wait, regardless. We should wrap this up quickly.”
Sherlock’s fingertips crawled along William’s spine, gliding from his lower back under the waistband of his trousers. Another shiver. “I don’t want to make it quick,” he replied with a husky voice.
“I can tell,” William taunted. He lifted his hips just enough to slide a hand between their torsos and create some distance. “You said I needed to be put into my place, and yet… I cannot say I have seen you try so far.”
“Why, I just said I don’t want to make this quick, didn’t I?” Sherlock responded with a complacent grin.
“At this rate, somebody is going to walk in on us eventually.” William ceased the movement of his hips and played around with the buttons on Sherlock’s trousers. While hinting at his intentions, he wanted to keep the other man in suspense.
“Would it be so bad if someone saw us?” Sherlock leaned his hips into William’s hand.
“It would be unfortunate if someone were to disturb us before we got to the good part, do you not agree?”
“The good part, huh…” He chuckled. “If you put it like this-”
It happened so fast, William couldn’t follow how and where Sherlock grabbed him. The next thing he knew, he was kneeling on the sofa, his chest pressed against the backrest as he presented his back to the detective. Behind him stood Sherlock, supporting himself against the backrest with both arms.
“...that really would be unfortunate,” he finished his sentence.
“Quite full of yourself, are you not?” William gave Sherlock a haughty glance over his shoulder. His eyes met a ravenous glare. “Although I would deem the term ‘delusional’ more fitting.” He could not deny that the way those eyes seemed to stare right through him spurred his excitement. He pressed his bottom against Sherlock’s crotch; a loud gasp was the response.
“Heh. Still playing hard to get,” Sherlock murmured into William's nape as he nuzzled his neck. William acknowledged each bite with a soft sigh.
“Are you not going to find out what else I might have to hide?” He tugged at Sherlock’s sleeve and placed the hand on his chest.
“Didn’t you say you had nothing to hide?” Sherlock mocked as he blindly tried to undo another button.
“I did,” William whispered, wittingly playing with fire, “but can my words be believed, I wonder?” His impatience grew with each little bruise blossoming under his skin. “Maybe you have been my puppet all along.”
“Maybe I’ve cut the strings without you noticing.”
“Better be safe than sorry, Mr. Detective.”
As if on cue, Sherlock’s zealousness took over. He grabbed William’s waist with one hand, his other hand wandering under his shirt and around his chest. The demeanor of his touches had changed; where his fingertips had brushed over William’s palms with the lightness of a feather, the same hands now gripped and tugged, unable to contain his raw lust anymore.
As much as William enjoyed teasing Sherlock to get a reaction out of him, he savored the feeling of being at his mercy. It was temporary, but he would grant him the satisfaction of having the upper hand for a bit.
A jolt went through his body when Sherlock grasped his inner thigh and let his hand circle. Rather than practicing obedience, Sherlock's fervor caused his possessive side to surface.
William liked that side. It showed potential.
He arched his back and pressed his lower body against Sherlock’s. Although he couldn’t help but feel slightly intimidated by the way the situation was headed, his interest was roused by what he made through the fabric.
Sherlock’s hand found its way to the hem of William’s trousers. With torturously slow movements, as if he wanted to give William time to make up his mind, he uncovered his skin bit by bit.
William was relieved he had not disposed of his shirt in the heat of the moment. Though the modesty it offered was useless, it made him feel a little better about offering his body up like that.
The rustling of clothes reached his ears and, shortly after, some liquid ran down his legs. It must have been saliva, or rather, he decided it had to be saliva since there was no way Sherlock would have come prepared for that.
To distract himself from the undignified poise of his body, he let his eyes roam the room. Despite how relatively smoothly the finger entered him, William hissed under his breath, more from surprise than anything else.
“Liam-”
“Quiet.”
His gaze rested upon the two masks on the desk. He pondered on how things would be once they returned to their initial roles of criminal and detective. Self-evidently, he could not simply give up the way he has lived his life until now.
He bit his lip as another finger entered him.
Still. If he could detach himself from existence as the Lord of Crime, perhaps he could find a way to atone for his sins one day. Perhaps he could even allow himself to touch the skin of the man for whom he yearned so much with these filthy hands.
...Like that would ever happen.
“Liam,” he started another attempt, “are-”
“You talk too much,” William interrupted him brusquely.
Sherlock must have noticed there was something on William's mind. He let out a disgruntled sigh.
“Mh!”
Startled by his own whimper, William held the back of his hand against his mouth as if some profanity just slipped his tongue. Just as he drew his breath to retort, Sherlock angled his fingers a bit more as he pushed them, sending another bolt through his body.
“Tell me if it hurts,” Sherlock finally said, his voice carrying something between a sulk and annoyance.
William couldn’t interpret Sherlock’s intonation. Neither could he tell, nor could he bring himself to waste a single thought on it. He clung to his prudence as it slipped out of his grasp and dispersed before his inner eye like cigarette smoke in white winter air.
“That’s enough.”
He moved his head to catch a glimpse of Sherlock's face. Uptight behind that facade of his usual presumptuousness, the other seemed to falter. It was a gratifying sight and William found himself wondering how many others might have seen that side of him.
“You act as if you were waiting for something,” he said, goading him on with a salacious stare.
Sherlock removed his fingers and snatched William’s waist. “I’m waiting for your permission to let me have my way with you,” he said with determination.
Leaning his forehead against the cool leather of the sofa, William hummed a laugh. “You can try.”
A few seconds of hesitation passed.
Sherlock lined his body up against William’s.
William forced himself to keep still, intent on keeping his composure. Then, he was overwhelmed by an alien sensation in his lower body. As strain merged with pleasure, he let out a long-drawn-out sigh.
As he took him in further, William winced - subtly, but obvious enough for his lover to notice. Sherlock stopped and remained motionless in his position, waiting for a cue. Breathless, William didn’t utter a word. Instead, he arched his back; Sherlock would understand that much.
With William’s permission, Sherlock resumed, slowly. As he pushed in deeper, gently and gradually, he adjusted his movements to the faint reactions he got, trying for a pace that pleased them both.
William listened to Sherlock’s mild panting. The thought of him receiving the same kind of pleasure from him roused his longing and, before long, his discomfort subsided. Something inside his mind has been struck, an emotion that had been lying dormant all that time. Something that Sherlock had awakened, and now he was the only one able to soothe his anguish.
“Harder…” William demanded, his voice coming out harsher than intended to.
An impish laugh, followed by a scoff. “Do you really think you’re in a position to give orders?”
Discontented with that reply, an irritated sound rose from William’s throat. It looked like Sherlock needed a reminder who had his hands on the reins.
He lifted his upper body and managed to reach behind Sherlock’s head to grab a fistful of hair, yanking him close enough to hush him with a sloppy kiss. Sherlock gasped but quickly reciprocated that gesture, indulging in the kiss when William rolled his hips to draw him in deeper, moving them rhythmically against Sherlock’s pelvis, savoring the sensation of skin on skin. Enveloped in his body heat, his scent, his light groans, everything felt like a feverish dream. Denial had surrendered to lust.
His eyes fell on the silhouettes dancing in the window, standing out against the dark night. As mute bystanders, the reflections captured their immoral ways and put them on display unapologetically. A caricature of himself writhed in ecstasy. The leading role of a play which was nothing less than a travesty.
His gasps had turned into cries and kept spilling from his lips as Sherlock’s thrusts rocked his entire body, letting him wreck it just as he had done with his mind. And William loved every single moment of it.
He glanced over his shoulder.
His eyes met Sherlock’s and they shared a smile.
“Liam,” Sherlock’s sudden words broke William’s reverie. He embraced him from behind and buried his face in his blond hair. “Move around, will you?”
“You better make it worth the interruption.” William didn’t want to get too comfortable with him. He couldn’t. He shifted his body and lay on his back, biding.
“Don’t worry about that,” Sherlock answered, poised to match his words with deeds as he worked on ridding him of his trousers.
As Sherlock towered over him, William had a gander at Sherlock's body. His eyes followed the trail of naked skin from his neck to his crotch, his shirt open and loose. Sherlock's lifestyle wouldn't suggest it, but, as stark as the contrast was, his build made his experience in martial arts obvious. He hadn't paid attention to it before, but Sherlock's brain wasn't the only part admirable about him. Wandering back over chest and sternum, William rested his eyes on the collarbones. What a delight it would be to dig his nails into them and mark him the way he did with him.
Nevertheless, all of his expertise didn't keep Sherlock from failing such a simple task as undressing someone.
“Is there a problem?” William wanted to know, openly revealing his amusement over the situation’s sheer absurdity.
Sherlock gritted his teeth. He struggled to get the trouser leg over William’s shoe; it had gotten stuck around his sock garter.
“Bloody- Why’s your clothing so damn complicated?”
William bent his ankle to help slide the garment off. He didn’t bother doing the same with his other leg. There were more urgent matters at hand.
“It serves the purpose of protecting me from prying eyes.” He closed his legs shyly, though the smirk on his lips gave the fake nature of his bashfulness away.
Sherlock placed a kiss on William’s knee. “Well, it’s doing a lousy job.” He proceeded to kiss his way down to his inner thigh.
“Not at all,” William said as he spread his legs little by little, the closer Sherlock’s kisses came to his crotch. “I simply prefer to let others see what I want them to see, not the other way around.”
“Guess I can consider myself a lucky man?” A confident smile played on Sherlock’s lips.
“Very much so.”
“Then, should we continue where we left off?” he proposed as he lifted his body and placed himself on top of William.
The corners of William’s mouth turned upwards in an inviting gesture.
“Please,” he whispered, hooking his arms around Sherlock’s shoulders. “Don’t hold back.”
Sherlock's smile turned wry in response. “I wasn’t going to.”
This time, Sherlock didn’t wait for William’s immediate reactions. He pushed inside him, quickly finding his pace. The way he pressed his hips against William's drew soft sighs from him in rhythm with the movement.
The first few thrusts didn’t feel as strange anymore. William allowed himself to give in and let the pleasure captivate his senses. He pulled Sherlock into an embrace, locking eyes with him. However, when the other leaned into a kiss, he denied his advance and didn’t grant him more than to brush nose tips.
“How pitiful,” he muttered sneering. His breath was short. “To fall like this… for another man…”
Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows and freed himself from the embrace by raising his body.
“Excuse me.”
He gripped William by his thighs to lift his hips and thrust into him as deeply as he could.
“Ah-”
“I can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making.”
Covering his mouth behind his hand out of reflex, William gave Sherlock a deprecating stare which he only answered with a smirk himself.
“What insolence-” William began in a deriding tone. He hardly managed to utter those words before he flinched, interrupted by another spark stunning him. Barely able to gather his breath, Sherlock thrust into him again and kept at it, hitting his sweet spot hard to the rhythm of his labored breathing.
Uncontrolled moans spilled from William’s lips. He pressed his hand harder to his mouth to throttle the noise, He should be taken aback by his own wantonness, but he found himself unable to feel ashamed. In lieu thereof, he rocked his hips against Sherlock’s thrusts, making him hit even harder.
They stared into each other’s eyes mutely as William sought out Sherlock’s hand on his thigh and dug his fingernails into the back of it.
Don’t let me go, his eyes said.
Sherlock’s features softened. He reached for the hand covering William’s mouth and took it, intertwining their fingers.
Don’t hide, was the silent reply.
Their voices resonated between ceiling and panels, goading each other on, mingling inside the room until they couldn’t be discerned anymore. The guests, the orchestra, the people waiting for them, whatever happened outside, it all didn’t reach them. There was no room for reality to intrude.
“…inside,” William murmured with bated breath.
“I can’t hear you,” Sherlock said with a cocky grin.
Clutching Sherlock’s shirt, William dragged him close enough to press their lips together and wipe that grin off his face before he could irritate him anymore.
“Come inside me,” William purred into Sherlock’s mouth as he wrapped his legs around the other's body.
Sherlock hummed a laugh as their tongues teased each other. He ultimately lacked the willpower to object as he was at his absolute limit as well.
“Liam…”
Hypnotized by each other’s stare, they shared a longing gaze.
“…Now.”
William threw his head back with a loud groan as Sherlock buried his face in the blond’s shoulder. All their piled-up lust overflowed and cascaded over them all at once in quick succession.
Sherlock let his body drop onto William. Both remained in blissful silence safe for their exhausted panting as their climax faded away like ripples in a pond.
William's attention shifted to the black mop of hair resting on his chest.
“You are heavy.”
“Mmmh. Let me stay like this for a bit.”
“Mister Holmes,” William scolded him playfully. Dreamily, he ran the fingers of his free hand through the dark strands of hair.
“I thought we moved past the formality of calling me Mister…” Sherlock nestled up to him even more and caressed William’s hand with his thumb.
“Then, what do you want me to call you?”
“Just Sherlock is fine.”
William paused, considering.
“I think I will stick with ‘Mister Holmes’ for now,” he declared. “Until I can come up with something that is better than just 'fine'.”
Sherlock chuckled upon the vagueness. “You better come up with something that makes it worth the wait.”
“I will make sure to do so.”
William was glad Bond had been in the right place at the right time. Bond could keep a secret, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was the secret itself. Not to think of what might have happened if Moran had kept watch. Or, God beware, Louis.
Together, he and Sherlock decided to wait for the departure of more guests before leaving themselves. They wouldn’t take the risk of being seen by some passerby. If anyone asked, they agreed upon telling them a lie about William feeling unwell and Sherlock taking care of him. Which wasn’t a lie per se, as Sherlock commented.
“I wonder what Scotland Yard will have to say about you wandering off,” William said to distract himself from his thoughts. He had gotten dressed in the meantime and sat alone on the sofa. Sherlock stood by the window, about to finish his cigarette. He had only fixed his trousers and didn’t seem to be in a hurry. Neither was William, but beneath his clothes, he still felt the shadows of Sherlock’s touches all over his body. After cleaning himself – as much as the circumstances allowed him to, at least -, he had been quick to gather his clothes and put them on to regain control over the situation. The situation and, probably more importantly, his emotions.
“I’d say I’ve gathered lots of useful intel, so there shouldn’t be a problem,” Sherlock mused as he stubbed his cigarette out. He approached the sofa and, after plopping down, placed his head on William’s lap, using it as a pillow.
William parted his lips in protest but didn’t say anything.
“A bit late to get shy now, isn’t it?” Sherlock crossed his arms casually.
“I am not. I only thought that you did not strike me as a person who finds joy in that kind of closeness,” William said ambiguously.
“Only if I’ve grown fond of somebody,” Sherlock said in jest.
“I see.” William put on a pretentious smile. “Still, I would prefer if I were the only one to whom you get that close.”
Sherlock’s eyes widened with perplexity, words stuck in his throat.
“…Is that something you would have liked me to say?” William mocked him to conceal the fact that there was some truth to his previously spoken words.
“I’d hoped for something along those lines, I guess,” Sherlock admitted, laughing out loud.
Warmth spread inside William's chest and his heartbeat picked up its pace, but it was different from his earlier experience.
He got lost in Sherlock’s eyes.
What if he gave in just a tiny bit?
He rid himself of his glove and placed his hand on Sherlock’s cheek, who closed his eyes contentedly. Somehow, that little display of affection felt like it was the most intimate gesture they have shared so far.
“Who would’ve thought you had a docile side, too.”
“It is merely one of my many sides.”
“Can't wait to get to know your other sides.”
There was a pause.
“It would be better if you did not.”
Sherlock’s tone turned serious. “There’s still too much I can’t make sense of, but-” He grunted as if he couldn’t believe what he said. “I want to believe there’s a chance for us to meet in the middle one day.” He placed his hand on William’s. “Liam.”
“If you promise to catch me when that time comes.”
He decided to ignore the uncertainty of what awaited them and enjoy their togetherness as long as it lasted.