The tickle of that initial warm breath summons every hair along the back of his neck to rise unceremoniously to attention, every nerve beneath that small patch of flesh suddenly bursting to life awake & aware. He freezes, merely blinking as the mathematician lingers for far longer than expected, an ocean of time which still felt impossibly short to exist within. A quick inhale through the nose would have sufficed, yet the other man lingers.
“So wha–”
He starts to speak, ready to hear the deduction from this most charming of strangers, but the words are plucked from his throat as lips make contact with it, as if the man sought to plague him with silence. Was he trembling? Could he taste apprehension on his skin? Did intigue and desire blooms upon where lips and flesh met, in the small expanse between jaw and collarbone?
He gulps.
Naturally his body begins to relax and his fingers find themselves toying with the other man's tie, wrapping it absentmindedly around his fingers as he tils his head back further, exposing more of himself for tasting.
Lips become tongue become teeth, William sucking gently at the skin before grinning against it, proud of his mini canvas of rose & blooming lilac blemished upon Sherlock's skin.
“Just as I suspected” The man finally whispers to himself, drawing an inch or so away so as to look up at Sherlock from beneath pale lashes. Crimson eyes sparkling with mischief, Sherlock commits the image to memory.
“Your skin tastes of ash.”
#sherliam #ivywrites #yuumori
sherlock should have added perfume 🤭
