Juliet asks, when she gets home after studying demons: [What, pray tell, are your findings, Sherlock?]
She has not put any blood in the microwave yet.
"Sure," says Sherlock. "Shall I?"
"Mmhm." She crosses her legs and plants her hands on either side of her in the sand and can't seem to decide whether to close her eyes or not.
It is, as promised, pleasant.
"Oh - oh fuck," she gasps.
Sherlock hugs her and sips at the wound in her shoulder, keeping the connection going, maintaining the pleasantness.
"Fuck, Sherlock." She's shuddering, head to toe, and one of her hands finds its way out of sand to grab at his back, shortly followed by the other. "Ohgod."
[You really are delicious,] he informs her. [Literally and metaphorically.]
"Nnnnnnng." Shuddering has turned to outright squirming, like she's trying to scratch an itch but can't reclaim her hands.
He fits his mouth more firmly over the marks made by his teeth, and sucks.
Her shaking peaks and then stops and she relaxes her hold on Sherlock and the noises fall to a low mmmmmm.
Sherlock snuggles her—gently, gently—and kisses the bite mark several times. The pleasantness fades out gradually.
"Fuck," comments Juliet breathlessly, snuggling up and tucking her head between his neck and shoulder. "'m I getting blood on my shirt...?"
"Just a little," he says affectionately, hugging her and licking his lips and kissing the top of her head.
Hugs snuggles hugs snuggles Juliet is in a very happy place right now.
A good long afterglowy snuggle ensues. Finally Juliet yawns and adjusts her shirt and says "Time to call Shell Bell?"
"Why not," he agrees.
"You're awesome," she says, sounding almost tipsy as she indulges one final nuzzle before sitting up straight, and she calls Shell Bell.
Shell Bell appears on cue, looking very amused, although apparently the need to wink has already been processed out of her system. "Triangle can take care of the stain," she says lightly.
"Oh, shut up," giggles Juliet.
Sherlock just grins.
Shell Bell snickers and teleports them all back to the brick place.
Where Sherlock, out of cheerful exuberance, scoops Juliet up and twirls her around and kisses her.
"Eeeheehee!" Juliet giggles. "Well, you're in a good mood. Either I'm contagious or full of ambrosia."
"Both," says Sherlock. "Both is also a possibility."