Watson shut his eyes again, marvelling a little. In some ways, this was not so different from being with a woman, but in others, it was quite different, and the difference -- the sense of sheer masculinity he was faced with, attractive in all its own ways -- was exciting, to say the least.

But as his buttons came undone, the question of his scarring came to him again. What if Holmes found them distasteful? They were rather ugly. It would not be long until they were perfectly visible. And yet to protest, to draw attention to them now, ahead of time, was unthinkable.

Watson couldn't think of it, tried desperately to stay in the moment instead, and truthfully, he was greatly enjoying the moment. He fisted his hands in Holmes's shirt, and kissed him, hard.