Crush
Their bodies were pressed hard against each other. There was so much need in their kisses. They needed each other. Earnest and lust and pure bliss exploded from their bodies. Pleasure escaped from their throats in groans and moans. They needed to touch each other, skin on skin. They ripped at each other's clothes, feeling the beautiful soft skin underneath. So much need. So much lust. So much passion.
I woke up with a gasp. I panted. The dream was still there, still in my body, still in my pants. I groaned. It was another one of those dreams with John. It was becoming ridiculous. Every night, every time I slept I had those dreams. They overtook my body in strange pleasurable ways. I arched my back, wincing at the pain from sleeping on the sofa. John had drugged me last night, forcing me to sleep. The drug was defiantly out of my system, but I was still dizzy from my dream. I opened my eyes and sighed. The dreams had started a month after John had moved into 221b Baker Street. With each night they went by, the dreams became clearer and stronger, so much that I couldn't move or breathe when I awoke. John had caught me once, having one of those dreams. He said I was making strange noises and he couldn't figure out what was happening. I told him I had been having a nightmare. I tried not to sleep, but the images didn't escape my mind. Every time I looked or thought of John the dreams popped into my head. If I let my mind wander I could continue the dream.
I jumped when I heard a thump noise coming from the direction of the bathroom, then a low groan and cursing. I pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapped my arms around my legs and rested my head on my knees. I relaxed my breathing, attempting to calm down my uncomfortable situation. That idea completely disappeared when John walked into the room. I looked up at him and my heart skipped a beat, my situation becoming worse. John was in nothing but his towel, dripping wet from a hot shower, looking all flustered from the heat. And he had the most adorable confused expression I had ever seen. I held my breath. I studded the little droplets tripling down his body. He had just the hint of muscle, still a bit fit from his army days. They slithered down every part of his body. The temptation to lick up those droplets from his body was overpowering. I almost did. Almost. I looked up at his eyes, trying to calm myself. It didn't work. I was as hard as a rock. I swallowed down the lump in my throat.
"Ah, Sherlock, have you seen my bathrobe? I can't find it," John frowned, scratching the back of his head. I stared for a little too long. I looked down at my feet, my toes digging into the lounge.
"Um…not sure. Might have used it for an experiment," I said. It was half true. I used half of it for an experiment, which was a success.
"For God's sake Sherlock! Couldn't you have just used your own?" John growled.
"I did, didn't work out as well as I hoped. I needed a different fabric material, and yours sufficed," I replied.
"Fantastic," John grumbled. He cursed and wandered into his room. A sigh of relief escaped my lips when he left. I relaxed my muscles, but there was still a bulged in my pants. I grunted. I had no idea what I was going to do, about my situation and the dreams. Sometimes it was all too much. I knew I had feelings for John, great wonderful feelings. But he was the straightest man I knew. He would never be with me, and if I confessed my love and lust to him, our situation would become awkward and he might leave, and I didn't want that. Or maybe it would be better if John left. The dreams might go away. I doubted that. I didn't know how to get rid of the feelings, and I didn't want to. I knew someday I would give into the temptation. Someday I would not be able to control myself around John. Strange thing though, I could not wait for that day.
