Matt gasps at the change in temperature.

"Incredible," he says against his skin.

"God ... that's ..."

There's one place he has to bite him before he comes. He'd taken note of the marks on Sherlock's thighs already, but now the idea strikes him as an irresistibly good one.

Matt kisses down his chest and over his stomach, nails raking down his side as he slides back, still balanced on his thigh.