Hello! So... I apologize for any spelling/grammar mistakes in the story. Let me know if I should get one beta. Apart for that, I hope you like it. Unfortunately, smut isn't something I can often write about (maybe because I write a lot while at school and I'd prefer not to be caught writing dirty scenes...) so I don't know if I did well or just wrote a piece of trash. Oh, the serious smut will arrive in the next chapter. Leave reviews please
John knew it. John saw it coming. Well, he didn't exactly saw it, but he knew something was up in Sherlock's head when he said "Well, I think I've got an idea but I cannot tell you it now". He knew it and he knew he should have stop Sherlock while he was in time. He didn't. And he didn't exactly regret what happened, despite the consequences. Well, maybe a part of him regretted it, but it wasn't the most important part.
Of course now, sitting in a chair giggling embarrassed with a strangely calm Sherlock near him he knew probably he would have completely forbidden Sherlock to even think about something like that if he knew it before. Sherlock probably wouldn't have listened to him, but John would've been prepared at least.
Sherlock purred, pushing himself to John's chest. John smiled and caressed his hair. He knew this moments of peaceful cuddling happened only after a good exhausting sex session, the ones even Sherlock, with his almost inexhaustible energy reserves, couldn't have without feeling destroyed. Give him time enough to recuperate, and the sweet moments will end. They've been together for only three weeks and John already learned this very well.
"What are you thinking?" John asked.
"Too many things to write a list, of which you wouldn't understand the majority" Sherlock mumbled pressing closer to John.
"I suppose it was a stupid question"
"Your question are almost always stupid"
"Thank you"
"You're welcome" John laughed.
"You know what I was thinking about?"
"Depend on when during the day" John sighed.
"I was thinking that maybe it's time to let someone else know about us" John said.
"Why? Mrs Hudson already know, and of course Mycroft discovered it too" Sherlock started to play with the short hair on John's chest.
"Yeah, but I want to make it clear that we... well, that we belong to each other" John explained.
"Is it something stupid romantic thing again?" Sherlock asked with a sigh.
"It is"
"Ok, first time you see anybody you want to tell this tell him" Sherlock said.
"It... It's not so simple" Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"Let me guess: after months spent declaring that you aren't gay you find strange to say that you actually are"
"More or less"
"Well, I think I've got an idea. But I cannot tell you it now" Sherlock smirked. John watched him confused. When Sherlock smirked in that way John knew that there was something dangerous and/or embarrassing and/or that John however wasn't sure he wanted to do but Sherlock would force him to do anyway.
"Have I to be worried?" John asked.
"Um... depends" Sherlock answered. John punched him playfully.
Sherlock and John were in a alley. They just captured a serial killer and now they were panting and leaning against the wall after the run. Well, John was panting, Sherlock wasn't even a bit red from the effort. Damn him, how could he never feel any kind of physical tiredness when he never eat or sleep and kept smoking when John wasn't there? And he wasn't exactly that strong looking. Something genetic, it had to be that.
Oh, and they didn't exactly captured the serial killer. Let's say they tried to shot his leg to stop him and accidentally the bullet hit him in the head. After all, they were running and maybe John's hand choose exactly that moment to shake a bit and he shot a bit higher than he thought. No one would believe to such a lie, especially since John was a trained soldier, but it isn't important now.
"Greg'll here in fifteen minutes" John panted, reading the answer Lestrade sent to his text.
"Fine" Sherlock said. John noticed the detective was staring at him with a strange look.
"Um... Sherlock, what's up?" John asked confused.
"Absolutely nothing" Sherlock murmured walking straight to John. John swallowed. Now he recognized the look in Sherlock's dilated pupils: lust. The taller man put the hands on the wall, one to each side of John's head, and leaned to kiss him passionately. John responded happily to the kiss, moving his lips and tangling his hands in the black, soft curls.
The doctor felt something wet caressing his lips and parted them. John's tongue wrestled a little with Sherlock's, before giving up and letting the detective take control of the kiss. Sherlock's wet muscle explored and savored every millimeter of John's mouth. John felt Sherlock's scent around him, that fantastic scent of nicotine, coffee and just Sherlock that always made his legs weak. He moaned in the kiss, his member starting to harden.
John let out a whimper when Sherlock's mouth left his. The taller man licked the spot behind John's ear seductively. John threw his head behind, actually bumping it on the wall. The slight pain remembered him where they were in that moment. In an alley, at 11.23p.m. with a dead body a couple meters away and a certain DI with probably also Donovan and a group of Yarders coming right there. Really it wasn't the best place to... To do whatever Sherlock wanted to do.
John tried to fight the urge of just tear the clothes off of Sherlock - who just started to licking his neck - and pushed a little the taller man away. Sherlock ignored him and moved a little John's jumper, uncovering a few inches of skin, some of which light purple with marks. The detective sucked the spot where the doctor's neck met the shoulder. John moaned, his hands running through his lover's neck by their own will.
"What are you... doing?" John panted.
"What do you think I'm doing?" Sherlock murmured.
"But we... we're in public, Sherlock... Lestrade will be here in a few minutes... aaah..." John moaned loudly and closed his eyes when Sherlock's thigh not so accidentally brushed against his erection.
"Didn't you want to let them know?" Sherlock whispered in John's ear. John opened his eyes. The bastard. He was about to tell Sherlock something, when the genius pushed their hardening erections together and let out a moan of pleasure, giving John a lustful look. And John knew he was lost.
