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His skin pulled taut as the wax cooled and hardened, leaving pale pink reminders long after Jim had peeling off the dried crusts.
He tipped the deep red candle again, this time hovering above the soft skin between hip and thigh.
Sherlock hissed as the burning liquid splashed and then groaned as that same heat dissipated and his skin tightened.
Jim waited a moment before picking off the cold wax and stroking tenderly over the affected area with his fingertips.
Tilting the candle again, he trailed a snaking river from navel to nipple. As the wax tailed off in small spots, Jim placed the candle on the table and leant over Sherlock.
"My beautiful Sherlock", he whispered, lips a mere hair's breadth from the consulting detective's ear, "Does it hurt, my love?"
Sherlock just stared into the consulting criminal's eyes. His nemesis; his Jim; his lover.
Pupils blown wide with hunger and desire, seeing that same want and need reflected back at him.
He couldn't think; couldn't speak.
"Please..." was the only word he could form from his confused and lust-filled mind.
Jim picked up the candle again, noting the fresh new liquid it held around its crown.
"Where?" he asked as he pressed their lips together.
Sherlock sucked in a shuddering breath.
"Anywhere." he replied. "I just want to burn."