/His/ shirt had buttons, which she busied her hands opening. It took a long time, in the midst of deepening kisses, maddening kisses, for her to even become aware that he was all but yanking on her shirt. She took advantage of a need to breathe to yank her shirt off over her head and abandon it, then part the sides of his and slide her hands underneath to meet as his back, fingernails striping marks. One leg hitched around his, and she threw her head back, baring her throat to him. “Please, Sherlock, god, please,” she panted.
His name escaped her lips breathlessly and even without his little problem, it would have pushed him further. Sherlock’s mouth moved down to her neck nipping at the skin there before dipping to her collarbone. His hard member was already throbbing against his thigh, pinned down by the pants he was wearing. He quickly pulled off his own shirt before his hands went to work at her bra. The first time was a bust, his hands tripping over the clasp in his rush but by the second time, it was unclasped and he quickly worked to remove it. Pulling back slightly, he took in the shirtless woman in front of him before his mouth dived down to start it’s attack on each nipple. His skillful hands cupped her breasts and kneaded them as his tongue swirled around her nipples and his teeth nibbled on them.
Summer dug her fingers into his shoulders, eyes falling shut at the sensation of his mouth on her skin. Her breath came shakily; it had been a long time and his magic-driven desire seemed to pulse in her blood. She wanted to kiss and caress in return, but if she let go of him, she would probably collapse to the floor. She managed to shift one hand to his hair, carding through the dark curls and clinging, and whimpered at the touch of his mouth on her breasts.