Author's Note: This is my original (albeit prompted) storyline. Should you see this anywhere besides here or on my AO3 account (also called Lunavere), please report it and message me!
To: JOHN WATSON.
From:
Staring at the card, John blinked in confusion. He had just come home to find a white box sitting on the doorstep, as if waiting for him. It had no other markings – nothing that would give a hint as to who delivered it – and John cautiously opened it to find a dozen red roses. Baffled, he stared at it a bit longer before bringing it inside. Perhaps it was just a joke. Possibly one of his old army bodies or former rugby mates sent it. After all, it wasn't as if he was dating anyone.
Heading inside 221B, John brought the flowers upstairs. He searched for a vase at first before realising they didn't own one. With that, he headed downstairs and nicked one from Mrs Hudson. As soon as he returned to the kitchen, he found Sherlock examining the roses carefully.
"Roses," he noted as he picked one up. "Rosa berberifolia. Red. Indicatingromantic intentions. You seem to have yourself an admirer, John."
John couldn't help but smile. "I'm sure that it was merely a prank."
"No, it's not," Sherlock stated without even looking up from them. "They haven't been stripped of their thorns."
Brows furrowing, John tilted his head. "Yes. And?"
"Most roses sent from florists do not have thorns," Sherlock stated. "It means whoever sent these made sure to specify that these roses have thorns. But why?" He set down the rose and began to scour the box. "No indication as to where this was sent from. Your secret admirer took time to ensure that you wouldn't be able to trace this back." With a grin, Sherlock looked up. "This is the first admirer you've had who I could possibly approve of as interesting enough."
John rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I think you're over analysing everything."
Sherlock gawked at John. Clearly, such a possibility had never crossed his mind. "Quite the contrary, John. You have a secret admirer. This is just the beginning."
With that, Sherlock turned on his heels and headed over to check his newest experiment – how different bacteria cultures destroy the human toe – and John stared at the roses a bit longer. If Sherlock was right – as he usually was – there was someone out there who was interested in him. However, this made no sense whatsoever. The only people in John's life right now were Mrs Hudson and Sherlock, and he doubted either of them would send him such a romantic present. John quickly filled the vase with water before placing the roses into it. He admired them a moment before setting them on the counter. Swiftly, he reached down and opened a drawer. He retrieved a slip of paper and pen. In large, capital letters, he wrote, NOT FOR EXPERIMENTS OF ANY KIND! Grinning, he taped the note to the vase and stepped back. He admired them a bit longer before opening the newspaper. In it, he found a small article about the cabbie he had shot the week before. John skimmed it and, after finding nothing incriminating for himself, quickly moved to a different article.
|–|–|–|–|–|
Exactly one week later, John headed down to the first floor to fetch the mail. He headed down to the first floor – as Mrs Hudson was always sweet enough to bring it in for them. On top of all the mail sat a jar of John's favourite strawberry jam. Gingerly, he picked it up and noticed a typed label on the lid. It read, "To: John. Enjoy."
"Mrs Hudson?" he called out.
"Yes, dear?"
As soon as she emerged from her flat, John held up the jar of jam. "Did you get this for me?"
"No, I didn't. It's funny, though. It was in the mailbox along with the rest of the mail," she informed him.
John hummed in acknowledgement before nodding and offering Mrs Hudson a smile. "Well, thank you for bringing everything in."
With that, he took it all upstairs. He spread the mail across the table, quickly sorting through it. Just as he ripped open a letter from Mike, he opened the door and reached in where the jam usually was. His hand met air. Looking up from the letter, John found that the jam jar was missing from the refrigerator.
"Sherlock?" he called out. "Did you eat the last of my jam?"
"Experiment, John!"
With that, John's eyes landed on the jar of jam sitting on the table. "Sherlock?"
Sherlock had clearly heard the concern in John's voice because he was in the kitchen within seconds. Immediately, his eyes latched onto the jam jar. He picked it up and examined the label. "Same font and size as the message left on the roses. Although your whole name isn't capitalised this time, I would still say with certainty that it was your admirer." He frowned as he gazed down at it. "It was bought and delivered today, going by the fact that the mail was an hour late and the fresh label on the jar. I used the rest of your jam at exactly six o'clock this morning." Pressing his lips together, Sherlock let his eyes slide out of focus. "How?" he murmured to himself.
John wanted to know the same thing. How had this person known about the lack of jam? How could they have guessed that today would be a good day to send such a gift? Was it merely coincidence? Somehow, John doubted it. After all, he was a practical, logical man. What were the odds that his admirer would just happen to choose today to send the jam? So that meant this person must have known somehow.
After another long moment of silence, John pressed, "What do you think?"
"I don't think there is enough data to form a proper hypothesis. However, your secret admirer is particularly dedicated."
John took the jam jar back. "Do you think there might be something wrong with it?"
"The seal hasn't been popped, and the person clearly wants to impress you. Although I might not be fluent in social etiquette, I am sharp enough to know that murdering the person you're trying to court is counterproductive."
John chuckled as he heard this. "You're right with that."
"Of course," Sherlock answered, scoffing. "When am I ever wrong?"
Chuckling under his breath, John shook his head and popped the jar open.
|–|–|–|–|–|
One week after the jam incident, John was expecting something to happen. He headed eagerly downstairs. There was no jam – not that he needed any – and John was a bit discouraged as he grabbed the mail. As he returned to the flat, he found a letter with his name typed in capital letters on the envelope and a PO Box number marked as the return address. John dropped everything else onto the table carelessly before ripping open the letter addressed to him.
Dear John,
I must admit that I never expected to be so drawn in by you; however, you have captured my unwavering attention. Trust me when I say that not just anyone can do that. As such, you never leave my mind, and I find myself in the precarious position of coming off as a stalker – let me assure you that my admiration only parallels how extraordinary you are – or allowing myself to fade from your life – which, I admit, is not incredibly appealing. However, it is becoming more difficult to just watch you from afar, and I am afraid you might distort this admiration and affection I hold for you as something twisted and wrong. I assure you it is not. That being said, I understand that, although I know so much and yet so little about you, you know nothing at all about me.
Therefore, I have decided to extend you an invitation to exchange letters with me. If you are interested, you may send your letter to the PO Box number on the front of this envelope. I do hope you take advantage of this opportunity, John.
Yours sincerely.
P.S. I do hope you enjoyed the jam last week, as I made sure it was the freshest that the store had.
John read and reread the letter, shocked by it. A chance to chat with his admirer. Placing it off to the side, John decided that he needed to think. As he went through the rest of his mail, his eyes kept flickering back to the letter. Eventually, he snatched it back up and headed upstairs. He then grabbed a piece of paper and tentatively started writing his own letter.
|–|–|–|–|–|
Although John wrote his response the same day he received his admirer's letter, he didn't send it for another three days. He still wasn't sure of himself, especially considering just how ambiguous his admirer was being. As he thought about it more, he was grateful that his return letter was formal and courteous – a brief thank you for the jam, a show of gratitude for the roses, and a bit of small talk in order to fill out the rest of the page. Sure enough, a week after the first letter arrived, a second letter came along with a bouquet of a variety of flowers. After putting the flowers into a vase, John ripped open the letter and read it eagerly.
Dear John,
Enjoy the flowers. I know your roses have all died out, so I thought I would give you something to fill that vase your landlady told you to keep. At one point in history, flower giving was an art form. Each flower had its own meaning, and arranging a bouquet of them used to take time and effort. It was done with thought, not just as a quick gift that you picked up en route to somewhere else. After extensive amounts of research, I present you with your first customised bouquet.
Yellow chrysanthemums signify a secret admirer. I figure this one was the obvious meaning that only the most unobservant of men would not understand. Another flower is the forget-me-not, which is also remarkably obvious, and I will not offend your intelligence by explaining to you its meaning. However, rhododendron means beware. You have captured my affection and attention, John Watson, and that could be quite a dangerous thing. However, I believe you are remarkably attracted to danger, are you not? You were in the army, so you must be enticed by danger to some degree. Especially considering how many tours you served and your association with Sherlock Holmes. The sweet pea flower reflects my shyness at the chance of meeting you. I haven't found someone so fascinating in a long time, and I am afraid I would not be what you were expecting.
I do hope that you will keep in contact with me. I was quite excited when I read your letter. Normally, most people steer clear of me because I scare them off. I'm rather pleased to find you are interested in getting to know me more.
In any case, feel free to write me back. I do hope to hear from you soon.
Sincerely yours.
John bit his bottom lip. He knew he should be wary of his admirer, but he couldn't help but be curious. Never before had someone decided to dedicate so much time to woo him. He let out a soft sigh. Even though he had his warning, he knew that he couldn't stop here. Part of him enjoyed being pursued for once. Another part of him wanted to find out who his admirer was. Taking in a deep breath, John sat down immediately and wrote a letter before sending it out the same day.
|–|–|–|–|–|
Soon, exchanging letters with his secret admirer became a normal routine in John's life. As time progressed, the letters became more romantic in nature on both sides. John found himself falling in love with every word his admirer wrote. The articulation – the plays on words – the rhythm and way the words felt in his mouth when he read them aloud. Without even realizing it, John had fallen head over heels in love. The moment he realised this, he knew he had to meet his secret admirer. So that's what he wrote down, and an agreement was made to go to Caffè Nero on Cathedral Street.
"Who's the lucky lady?" Sherlock inquired as soon as John came downstairs. John was pretty sure Sherlock hadn't even glanced up.
"I have finally decided to meet my secret admirer."
Eyes widening, Sherlock looked at him and responded, "Remarkable. Has he really captured your affections that much?"
"He?" John echoed, baffled.
"Naturally," Sherlock answered. When John continued to stare at him, he clarified, "Did you honestly not know your secret admirer is a man?"
John blinked a few times. "How on Earth did you get that in your head?"
Sherlock let out a sigh. "Because I observe while you – and trust me when I say that it pains me to say this after all the time we spend together – merely see." Quickly, Sherlock plucked out a letter from John's admirer that John thought he had lost. Just as John was about to object, Sherlock cut in, "The first detail that should have startled you was the fact that he is still typing his letters. On a typewriter, no less. Rather remarkable, really. He has to take the time to ensure that he does not make a single error while writing, but that's beside the point. In any case, he refuses to handwrite even after you made your intentions clear. It's because he knows you are probably expecting for him to be a woman, and he does not have the proper handwriting to serve as a woman, who would most likely ensure that her penmanship was spectacular whilst writing her beloved."
"Could you give me back my private letter?" John snapped.
Clearly amused, Sherlock handed it over without any qualm. "I'm done with it anyway. Now, let's move on. There's also the fact that you have never known your admirer's name. Knowing that he is, in fact, a man, he must not have a unisex name such as Alex or Sam. He has a name that leaves no doubt as to his gender, so he has kept it hidden from you."
"How do you know that my admirer hasn't given me a name?"
"Because you always refer to him as your 'admirer.'"
John sputtered a bit before closing his mouth. "If it weren't so impressive…" he muttered bitterly to himself. Scratching the back of his neck, he sighed. "Well, I still have to go meet this person – man or woman – so I'll be off. Try not to talk to me too much while I'm gone."
Chuckling, Sherlock settled back in front of his microscope. "Have fun with him!"
|–|–|–|–|–|
John arrived at Caffè Nero ten minutes early. He felt nervous. After all, Sherlock had a tendency to be right. If his admirer was male, John would have to let him down easy. He wasn't gay, after all, and it wasn't as if there was a switch that he could just turn on and off. After getting a cup of coffee, he sat down at a booth next to the window and waited anxiously for his admirer to show up. He belatedly realised that he was chewing on his lower lip.
Just as he stopped, he noticed someone enter. Unlike everyone else, there was just something about this man with dark features that drew John in. His eyes were piercing, and they lingered on John for a moment before he offered a small smile. Raising a hand, he waved, and John felt himself flush. Either he had just flirted with some strange man or that was his admirer, and he was screwed.
As soon as he got his coffee, the stranger walked over. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, John Watson," he stated, his Irish lilt pleasing to hear. John pushed those thoughts back. "I'm your secret admirer. Jim. Jim Moriarty."
The last name sounded familiar to John somehow, but he couldn't place where. He probably knew a Moriarty overseas. After all, there had to be more than one Moriarty on the planet. Smiling, John offered his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well."
Jim slid into the booth across from John. "You look disappointed," he noted with a sad smile. "You weren't expecting me to be a man, were you? You hinted as much in your letters."
"It's not that," John answered. "My – um – my flatmate actually guessed that you were a man. It's more of the fact that I had rather hoped he was wrong as I'm not… well…"
Deflating, Jim nodded. "I had figured. Even so, I figured it was worth a shot. Thought maybe there might be a chance of ambiguity, what with you being in the army and all."
John offered a smile. "If there is one thing I learned while in the army, it's that I'm not homosexual," he informed Jim. He felt horrible even as he said it. This was the person he had fallen in love with, after all, but John wasn't gay. He wouldn't be able to be with this man as Jim wanted him to be. That in and of itself made it impossible to pursue a romantic relationship. "But that doesn't mean we can't enjoy a perfectly good cup of coffee together, does it?"
"I'm afraid it might," Jim answered gently. When John started to object, he quickly continued, "Which is alright, by the way. I didn't exactly come in with high hopes that perchance you wouldn't mind the fact I was a man and not a woman."
Frowning, John pressed, "Then at least tell me one thing."
"What?"
"How do you know me? Or how do we know each other. Your name sounds vaguely familiar, and you stood out from the crowd when I first saw you, but for the life of me, I cannot place when or where we ever met," John answered.
Jim nodded and remained quiet for a long moment as if collecting his thoughts. "Let's just say that we haven't ever really met. It's more like I noticed you while you were in action, so to speak, but you wouldn't have noticed me. But don't feel too bad about it. Most people don't."
"Even so, I'm sorry," he murmured. "For all of this, I mean. But if you're ever interested – perhaps maybe one day we could be friends?"
"Mayhap," Jim responded. "But I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you. This is going to take me quite a bit to get over, after all. I really had fallen in love with you over these last few months. It just hurts to know that if a different sperm cell had reached my mother's egg first, I might have been able to have you after all."
John smiled sympathetically, although he found it curious just how pragmatic Jim's brain was. "At least let me walk you home. Or ride with you home or whatever," he insisted. "Let me make sure you get home safe."
Jim shook his head. "You don't have to do that just because the date went sour," he stated.
John insisted, "It's not because I feel obligated to but because I want to. Sincerely, Jim."
They held each other's gaze for a long moment. Jim searched for something deep inside John's eyes, and John allowed him to search. After all, there was just something about Jim's gaze that made John freeze. It was so piercing, so calculating, that John felt pinned down. Somehow, it reminded him of Sherlock's gaze, and he felt remarkably vulnerable. After some time, Jim was clearly satisfied. "Alright then. You may escort me home."
John actually let out a relieved sigh as he heard that. Silently, they slid out of the booth and headed out of the store. "Do you live far from here?" he inquired.
Shaking his head, Jim answered, "Not too far, no. That's why I chose here. I figured if it didn't work out, I would want to get home as soon as possible. Same for if it did work out."
Both of them remained silent for a long moment. "For what it's worth, I loved the bouquet. It was the most thought out gift I have ever received."
"I'm glad you could appreciate it. Most don't understand how difficult it is to create a bouquet that is both aesthetically pleasing and meaningful."
John took another drink of coffee to stall for time as he tried to think of something proper to say. "It's just unfortunate that flowers die so quickly," he offered, still feeling slightly awkward about the whole situation.
"Such is life. Nothing can live forever," Jim pointed out. Another moment passed, and John couldn't help but feel awful. Just as he was about to say something, Jim continued, "It's alright. I'm just used to getting what I want, and I'm not sure how to handle this. Because I want you, John. I want you badly. But you don't want me, and that's what matters."
Nodding, John swallowed hard and ducked his head slightly. "You're a nice guy, Jim. I'm sorry that this couldn't go anywhere."
"What if I get a sex change?" Jim joked as they crossed the street.
John let out a laugh. "Then maybe we could work something out," he jested in reply.
Grinning, Jim turned down an alley, and John instinctively followed. "Lovely day out," he noted, motioning towards the sun. "I forgot what it looked like when there was actual sunlight."
John chuckled. "Indeed. We're lucky to be graced with it. Although, to be honest, I think I got my fill of sun for a lifetime while I was overseas."
"I can imagine you got quite the tan over in Afghanistan," Jim concurred, rounding a corner without warning.
As he heard this, John stumbled. "How did you know about Afghanistan?" he inquired.
"It's not too hard to look up someone's military records with the internet nowadays," Jim said dismissingly. "And I wasn't about to hit on some bloke I knew next to nothing about."
John pressed his lips together. "You're right. I do apologise for my outburst. I'm just not used to people knowing things about me when I don't even recognise them."
"Yes. Well, I do my best to not stand out too much," Jim answered before stopping and throwing away his coffee.
After doing the same with his own coffee, John continued, "Even so, I'll make sure not to forget you again."
"Good." Suddenly, the two of them stopped at the top of the steps to a posh apartment building. John wasn't even sure when they started to climb up them. "Well, this is me."
"Nice area," John noted. It appeared that they were remodelling the area, but what was currently there wasn't shabby or decrepit.
Jim offered a smile. "Thank you," he murmured. Looking back at John, he shuffled a bit. "Actually, could I ask you for one thing?"
"What is it?"
"Could I just get one kiss from you?" Jim inquired. "Just one. It doesn't have to be passionate or anything. I just think that if I didn't at least ask, I would regret it."
John hesitated. He wasn't gay, he had made that clear on several occasions. Even so, he did feel terrible about everything despite the fact that it wasn't his fault he couldn't reciprocate. Biting his bottom lip, he nodded. "Just one," he murmured in response. Jim looked surprised and excited by the answer.
Slowly, John took a step forward. It was no different than kissing a woman, he reminded himself. Nothing would come of this anyway. Leaning down, he hesitated before pressing their lips together. For a split second, it felt awkward as John gave Jim a chaste kiss. However, Jim clearly had a different plan. He laced his fingers in John's hair and began to suck on his lower lip. John gasped in surprise, and Jim took advantage of his confusion. A warm, wet tongue plunged into his mouth, and John instantly went to fight it out. Their tongues slipped past one another as John's defence was broken again and again by Jim's assault. Soon, the rhythm became second nature and even erotic.
John pushed Jim back into the wall before slotting their body together. In response, Jim retreated and began to bite at John's lips. The roughness of everything served as a turn-on for John, and he was shocked by his physiological reaction to it all. Never before had he experienced such a feeling with a man. But sure enough, John was starting to get hard. He forcefully lunged into Jim's mouth with his tongue, wanting to explore on his own terms as well. Jim moaned as he did so, and John grinned before rutting against him. Suddenly, the hands in his hair became demanding, and John was forced to break the kiss when Jim yanked his head back. They were both panting.
"Down boy!" Jim chuckled. "I'm not about to let you shag me out here, you know."
Startled, John murmured, "I'm so sorry. I've never…"
"Shush…" With that, he kissed John chastely. "I'm just pleased with the result." He reached down and kneaded John's half-hard cock through his trousers, and John bit back a moan. "Want to come upstairs?"
John swallowed hard as his head reeled. He knew what the next answer would lead to. He knew that if he went upstairs, he would wind up sleeping with Jim. And he knew that if he declined, he would go home and regret it but never contact Jim again. Even so, his mind was trying to reconcile with his heart. Never once did he think that a man could have an effect like this on him. But it was his admirer. The same person who wrote him all of those letters. Who took the time to send him a customised bouquet. Who sent him his favourite jam. Who knew him better than most others. Who had fallen for him. And even though Jim was a man, John still couldn't deny that he felt something for him. John wanted to be with him.
"Yes," he breathed out.
Jim's grin widened, and he quickly dragged John into the building. They headed up the stairs and down the hall to a flat. As soon as the door was open, Jim yanked John inside and began to kiss him once more. John barely managed to kick the door shut behind him before Jim pulled him forwards. Staggering, John kept their lips together as he kissed Jim deeply. Jim tugged up on John's jumper, and John pulled back enough for Jim to remove it. Just as John caught a breath, Jim's lips sealed his mouth once more. Suddenly, they bumped into something, and Jim wrapped his arms around John's neck before pulling John down on top of him. Their kiss broke again, and John sucked in large breaths of air.
"You just entered the danger zone," Jim warned jestingly.
John couldn't help but grin as he heard that. "I think I can handle a little gunfire," he joked right back before pulling up on Jim's shirt.
"Let's hope so!"
With that, Jim's nimble fingers removed John's belt before tugging down his trousers. John had to shift awkwardly before pulling back entirely in order to get them off. As soon as he was in his pants, he descended once more and kissed Jim deeply. His tongue all but fucked Jim's mouth as he removed Jim's jeans. Although he might have never had anal sex before, it seemed relatively straightforward. No instructions needed, at the very least. He broke the heated kiss as he removed Jim's pants. Jim's cock stood at attention, and John shifted down. Something caught his eye, and he pushed Jim's legs towards his chest to find a butt plug in his arse.
"Optimistic, weren't you?" he inquired teasingly before pulling it out.
Jim grinned. "Realistic. I knew if I could just kiss you once, you wouldn't be able to refuse me." Honestly, John couldn't tell if Jim was joking or not, but he wouldn't be surprised if Jim wasn't.
"Condoms and lube?" John asked, refusing to think twice about this.
Reaching up, Jim opened the drawer in the nightstand and pulled out a lubricated condom. "Two birds, one stone," he noted with a giggle before pulling John back down for another kiss. "No foreplay?"
John blinked in surprise. He had been so eager that he forgot to take his time with his partner. He supposed it was just nerves. After all, this was his first time with a man. Carefully, he set the condom off to the side. "I just wanted it out so I could get it the moment we needed it," he lied.
If Jim knew that John was lying, he didn't say anything about it. Instead, he let John kiss him once more. Deepening the kiss, John caressed down Jim's sides. It was strange to feel the flat, firm angles of a man instead of the soft curves of a woman. Even so, Jim shivered the same way a woman would. John pulled back for a breath of air before carefully kissing down Jim's jawline and neck. Out of curiosity, he began to pinch and tease Jim's nipples. Jim gasped and moaned, arching up into the touch. Proud, John smirked before kissing down Jim's chest and stomach. Once he finally reached Jim's cock, he stopped for a moment.
"We don't have to go there yet if you don't want to," Jim told him after seeing how hesitant he was.
John nodded and pulled back. He was pretty sure he could figure out how to give a proper blow job, but he hardly wanted to ruin their first coupling by fumbling around. Kissing Jim again, he felt their erections rub against one another, and he bucked instinctively. For the first time, he realised just how much he ached to be inside of Jim. He pulled back and looked at Jim, who smiled in return before handing John the condom.
"Please."
Immediately, John ripped open the package and rolled it onto his cock. Jim quickly wrapped his legs around John's waist and lined them up. "Are you sure you don't-" John started to ask.
"If you don't fuck me now, I'm going to flip us over and ride your cock until I come," Jim warned.
John nodded before breaching Jim's body, surprised by how smoothly he was able to slid in. He groaned at how tight and hot Jim's arse was, and he couldn't believe it when he sank in to the hilt. Moaning, Jim writhed a bit underneath him.
Breathing deeply, John controlled himself. "How much can you handle?"
"As hard as you can take me," Jim responded.
"You challenge me."
Jim smirked. "If you do it right, I can come without even being touched."
John grinned after hearing that. After all, he loved to be challenged, especially in bed. It gave him something to work towards. Something to accomplish. "Brace yourself then," he advised.
Without hesitation, Jim threw his hands up and braced himself against the headboard. John gripped Jim's hips as he readied himself. Never before had he gone all out on someone. It always seemed improper if only because he couldn't imagine his previous partners liking such rough sex. With Jim, there was no question of how he was going to take him. The first snap in rewarded John with a moan. The second thrust gave him another. Digging his fingers into Jim's hips, John fucked him as hard as he could, not caring that the bed was slamming against the wall with the force of each thrust. Jim was a mess of curse words and praises as he took John again and again. Eventually, John began to yank Jim back onto his cock as well in hopes of adding more force and speed to the thrusts. Jim let out a high pitched whine before coming with a cry. Fascinated, John watched as Jim came onto his chest and neck with a scream of John's name. What turned him on even more was the fact that he never once touched Jim's cock.
As soon as he felt Jim's body tighten with orgasm, John knew that he wasn't going to be able to hang on much longer. With a low groan, he felt himself tip over the edge. The orgasm ripped through his body, overwhelming him immediately. For a second, his vision went white.
When John opened his eyes again, he found Jim hovering over him. "John! John!"
"Wh-what happened?" John inquired, blinking as he came to his senses.
Clearly relieved, Jim melted into the mattress next to John. "You blacked out," he answered.
John sucked in a couple of deep breaths before carefully nodding. "I take it I scared you," he noted before smiling at Jim.
"I mean, I know I'm great in the sack, but I must admit that I've never had anyone just go unconscious like that before."
Laughing, John looked down at the soiled condom still on his cock and tried to recall the orgasm. "Well, I must admit then that I've never experienced an orgasm like that before."
Jim grinned at him. "Glad I could be your first in more ways than one," he teased.
Carefully, John reached down and gingerly removed the condom from his now soft cock. He tied it off and chucked it into the rubbish bin before collapsing onto the mattress. "Mind if I stay the night?"
"Only if this means that I get a second date." Jim looked at him hopefully.
John chuckled. "Yeah, you're definitely getting a second date."
Jim grinned broadly before planting a kiss on John's mouth. "Then you're definitely allowed to stay the night." With that, he clambered out of bed. "Get some rest. I'm going to go clean up."
Nodding, John shifted under the duvet and pulled it up to his chin. He let his eyes drift shut before gradually falling asleep to the sound of running water and his own breathing.
|–|–|–|–|–|
John felt a hand run soothingly through his hair, and he shifted into the touch only to find himself resting his head on someone's lap. Jim. It was the only explanation. Although honestly, John didn't mind so much. Just as he was about to go back asleep, he heard a mobile phone buzz. He thought for a moment that it might be his until Jim answered it.
"Yes?"
For a moment, John thought he must be dreaming. The voice that had just answered the phone sounded nothing like the Jim who John had been getting to know. Even so, he remained still and calm as he just listened. Jim's hand continued to run soothingly through his hair.
"I can't leave right now. I'm afraid my hands are a bit full."
John tried not to bask in the glory of it all. Obviously, Jim wasn't willing to leave him just yet. Somehow, that reassured John.
"I'm with John Watson," Jim explained before pausing. "Yes, that John Watson. Why? Because he wanted to go on a date with me, and I accepted."
John tried to give no indication that he was awake, but he couldn't help that his interest was piqued by hearing this. Carefully, he shifted a bit so he could hear Jim's low voice better. Jim's hand hesitated a moment only to resume once John had resettled.
"Yes, it's still going according to plan. And don't you dare start to lecture me as I was the one who planned everything!"
Honestly, John couldn't help but be surprised by the venom in Jim's voice, and it made him shiver slightly. However, the hand in his hair still felt affectionate, and he took some comfort in that.
"It'll be fine. You know me well enough, Sebastian, to know that I'm not the type to allow sentiment to get in the way. There is no reason to be concerned. Now take care of the mess you made. You should be competent enough to do that. Good night."
John sucked in a large, deep breath as Jim set his phone off to the side. Part of him wanted to confront Jim and ask him about everything he had just said, but another part of him was far too tired to do that. So instead, he fell asleep to the feeling of Jim's fingers gently massaging his head.
|–|–|–|–|–|
The next morning, John woke up to find himself in Jim's arms. He felt like he had dreamt of something important – something he wanted to talk to Jim about – but he couldn't place his finger on it. Instead, he nestled in closer to Jim. Obviously, it hadn't been important enough, and he wasn't going to worry about it when he could just enjoy his time in Jim's arms instead. Jim suddenly stirred.
"Good morning," John greeted, smiling.
For a second, Jim looked confused before realisation washed over his features. Quickly, he kissed John affectionately. "Good morning."
"How about some breakfast?" John suggested.
Jim let out a mocking groan. "You mean I have to feed you, too?"
"Well, that is generally what you do for your boyfriend."
Eyes widening, Jim stared at Jim for a long moment. "Are we…?"
"We are," John confirmed before kissing Jim chastely. "Now, do I get breakfast or not?"
Jim grinned broadly. "I'm sure I can find something for you to eat," he replied with a teasing sigh. "C'mon then."
John got out of bed with Jim. By the time they got something to eat, the feeling of foreboding had left John entirely. He was nothing but optimistic for his future with Jim.