She's assertive, a confidence Sherlock hadn't thought to guess her capable of, and his fingers are tingling as they slide up into her hair. He's rapidly losing his grip on self-control, unable to reach for anything like a poker face while she's tasting him like this. Again his breath shudders in, and when it escapes him this time there's sound behind it: a short, rumbling moan.

His hips lift a little, tilting towards her.