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Summary
Holmes ducked his head to my neck and I felt the scrape of ceramic fangs across my skin, the puffs of breath as he spoke.
“One single bite and you would be mine.”
He softly bit at my throat again. I said nothing, but I tilted my head towards him, to feel more of his touch. Had he raised his head, I would have found it impossible not to kiss him. Holmes scraped his fangs across my throat one more time, and I believe I moaned at the sensation and a particular heat pooled low in my belly.
“Are you in my thrall, John Watson?”
Series
- Part 18 of Victorian Holmes/Watson coauthored fics
