Alright, I have read tons of five times one time stories lately and figured that I wanted to get in on it. If anyone knows how these started, I'd love to hear about it. Because I have loved every single one I've read. :P
This is Johnlock. That means MxM for those of you who didn't know. Don't like, don't read.
Without further ado, here is Five Kisses! The five times Sherlock kissed John and the one time John took matters into his own hands! Enjoy!
Allons-y!
-Rayne
John was sitting at the bar, nursing a beer. Sherlock had disappeared somewhere into the writhing mass of male bodies on the dance floor, leaving John with a brief nod and his most sultry smirk. John had just rolled his eyes and watched as his best friend forced his way into the crowd.
They were looking for someone. A man, a murderer, who hunted for his victims, gay men between 18 and 28, at this very bar. John had been told to stay at the bar and keep his eyes peeled while Sherlock braved the masses, mostly because John was more opposed to being groped by another man than Sherlock was.
He took a swig of his drink, scanning the edge of the dance floor, looking for either a man that fit the suspects description or a man in a purple shirt. He spotted the latter, much to his surprise.
Sherlock didn't look like he was looking for anyone. His eyes were shut, his hands were raised above his head, the buttons on his shirt straining dangerously against his chest and stomach. He looked as though he didn't have a care in the world as he moved in time with the music, hips swaying to the beat. His lips were slightly parted and his hair looked as though someone had been running their hands through it. He looked like sex walking.
John nearly choked as that thought passed through his mind. Sex walking? Sherlock? No. First, he was a man. John didn't find men attractive. And secondly, this was Sherlock Holmes. Talking about sex made the man uncomfortable. There was no way this sensual creature was Sherlock.
Glancing up again, though, John realized that there was no denying that it was Sherlock. A man a bit shorter than the detective had joined him and had his back pressed against Sherlock's chest. Sherlock's eyes had opened. John watched, mesmerized as the other man began to grind his arse against Sherlock. A slow and easy grin crossed Sherlock's lips. One of his hands came down to the man's shoulder before trailing down his chest and resting, splayed, over his stomach. Sherlock guided the movements of the smaller man. He pressed his body closer and Sherlock's second hand fell, lifting the man's untucked shirt. John felt warmth spread through his stomach as he watched Sherlock's hand stroking the bare skin of the man dancing in front of him.
"Sexy thing, isn't he?" a man asked John, startling him out of his thoughts.
"Which one?" John asked.
"The one in purple. Never seen him here before. Real pity; he looks like he'd be one hell of a shag. I mean, just look at that body! He is the image of sin, really."
John watched Sherlock as he turned the man around so that they were dancing chest to chest. Sherlock's hands, now pushing against the small of the other man's back, guided his hips forward until their thighs and groins were pressed together as well.
"You know, I bet you look just as sexy on the dance floor," the man said. He had leaned in closer to John, making the doctor turn with surprise. "I'm Dave. Let me buy you a drink."
"I've already got one, thanks."
"Something stronger."
John shook his head, frowning at the man. "No, thanks."
"Then let's dance."
"Not really in the mood."
"Come on, baby. Just you and me and the music."
"What part of no doesn't make sense to you?" a new voice asked from behind John. He turned and breathed in relief upon seeing Sherlock glaring at Dave.
"We were talking about you, sexy!" Dave said, his eyes widening as he gave Sherlock a lingering once-over. "Maybe you'd dance with me?"
"Not likely," Sherlock growled. "I don't waste my time with guys like you."
"He's taken, anyway," John said suddenly, without thinking. Dave's eyes narrowed and Sherlock's widened.
The detective played along, though, wrapping an arm around John's waist and grinning. "By this wonderful man here, I'm afraid," he practically purred in John's ear, just loud enough that Dave could hear. His voice sent shivers down John's back and the feeling of the detective's lips ghosting over his ear and neck made him forget how to breath.
"You didn't look too committed a moment ago," Dave said, motioning to the dance floor.
"I am," Sherlock insisted.
"Prove it."
"Why should I need to do that?"
"I think you're just over here covering for him. You two don't actually know each other, do you?"
It was then that John felt a hand on his chin, turning his face up. Sherlock was suddenly there, leaning down and pressing his lips to John's.
John tried his hardest not to think about the fact that he was kissing Sherlock Holmes, his flatmate and best friend, but the way that Sherlock's soft lips moved against his own made it difficult. Sherlock kissed him with the same amount of passion that he'd been dancing with and it took John's breath away. His lips were teasing John's open and Sherlock met no resistance, much to John's dismay. It's just your body reacting to being kissed, he told himself. It has nothing to do with the fact that you're kissing Sherlock. A gentle and inquisitive tongue breached John's mouth, startling him and making him pull back. He could have sworn there was a glint in Sherlock's eyes when he managed to open his eyes again.
Dave had already gotten up and left. John groaned and brought his drink up, taking a few gulps.
"He isn't coming here tonight," Sherlock announced.
"How long ago did you determine this?" John asked. He couldn't bring himself to face Sherlock. He knew that as soon as he did, he'd blush more than he did when he'd missed the lips of the first girl he kissed on the first try.
"About an hour," Sherlock said, sounding much too pleased with himself.
"Then what the hell are we still doing here, Sherlock?"
"I was dancing. You were drinking. I saw no reason to leave."
John stood, grabbed Sherlock by the arm, and dragged him out of the bar.
Neither of them ever brought up the kiss.