A/N: Wrote this at three o'clock this morning and I'm still a bit sleep deprived when I edited it, so sorry if it's crap. Still on my fic ADD kick so you might be getting a bunch of random one-shots from me for awhile. Sorry, I swear I'm trying to work on my other stuff too. This really has no connection to any of my other fics, it's just some Sherlock/John established relationship thing. Yeah. Might be more, you just never know with me.
Sherlock had been waiting for this. He'd always assumed John had one foot out the door, ready to leave, ready to make a life with someone else. Not Sherlock, never Sherlock. He should let him go, he knew this, he'd always known this. John deserved more and now he was going to get it.
That didn't mean he was going to though, he couldn't just let him leave. His bags were already packed, everything he owned neatly sorted away into two suitcases. It should be more than that. They had a life together here at Baker Street. How does a whole life fit into two suitcases?
Sherlock was on his feet before John even reached the door, closing the distance between them. "John." It comes out like a broken prayer.
"Sherlock, please." John sighed heavily, looking exhausted. He thinks Sherlock is going to put up a fight. Too much fighting already. The cause of all this. No, not true. Sherlock is the cause. He was always the cause.
"Don't." Sherlock begged, placing his hand on the door to keep John in, to keep John with him. They were happy here. Why can't they be happy here now?
"Sherlock, if you don't get your bloody hand off of this door –"
"You'll what?" Sherlock challenged. Anger was good. Anger wasn't indifference. Sherlock could deal with anger.
"Don't push me Sherlock." John said through gritted teeth.
Except Sherlock does exactly that, shoving John against the door, grabbing his face and kissing him deeply. He moved his hands down and secured them around John's wrists' holding them on either side of his face.
John tilted his face away, breaking the kiss. "Sherlock, let me go now." John spits out angrily.
"No." Sherlock responded, kissing along John's jaw and burying his face against his neck. "I can't."
"Sherlock." John said gently, caring, affection. He still cared. Sherlock let go of John's wrists, elated by this fact and John fisted both hands into the back of Sherlock's expensive silk shit.
"Please." Sherlock whispered, feeling the full extent of his desperation.
John put his finger under Sherlock's chin and lifted his face, his lips finding his. Sherlock felt as though he could drown in it, lost in the sensations of John's tongue teasing his. It was too much; it was not enough. Clothes. Too much clothes. Sherlock tugged at the bottom of John's jumper, too thick, too much. Hiding him, hiding John. Mustn't be hidden away. Not from him. Not from Sherlock. Never from him.
Getting the idea, John broke the kiss so Sherlock could pull it up over his head in one swift movement. Their lips came together again as John's hands fumbled with trying to unbutton Sherlock's shirt. Sherlock's hands pressed against John's bare chest, feeling the warmth radiating off him. Alive. Here. John. Mine.
John finally got Sherlock's shirt unbuttoned and slipped it off his shoulders. It fell to the floor gracefully while John ducked his head and kissed along Sherlock's chest. He flicked his tongue against one nipple, rolling the other between his thumb and finger, causing Sherlock's head to drop back as he moaned John's name.
Not enough, not enough. Sherlock grabbed the belt-loops of John's jeans and pulled him closer, pressing his hips against John's. John pulled away from Sherlock's nipple to attack his throat, kissing and biting and claiming. Yes, yes, yes.
Sherlock's fingers felt along the waistband of John's jeans until he found the zip, tearing it open. Heat. He could feel the heat of John's arousal. Needed to touch it. He slipped his fingers into John's underwear to curl his fingers around him, making John gasp. Still not enough. Mouth. Need to taste. Sherlock pulled away and dropped to his knees, tugging John's trousers and pants down.
Beautiful. Gorgeous. Hard. Mine. Sherlock growled before taking John into his mouth, feeling the hot flesh against his tongue. Hearing John saying his name above him. Yes, lips. You always like my lips. Said they were prefect. I can be perfect. Let me show you, Sherlock thought, sucking John off exactly how he liked. He bobbed his head back and forth, taking John as deep as possible, watching John's eyes flutter closed. He brought his hand up to cup John's balls, rolling them against his palm.
"Sherlock!" John yelled, frantically trying to tug him off by his hair. Reluctantly, Sherlock complied and pulled off with a wet sounding pop. He placed kisses along the inside of John's thighs.
"John." Sherlock glanced up at him through heavy-lidded eyes before burying his face in the nest of hair, inhaling the purest scent of John, the intoxicating aroma of his arousal. He kissed his way up the shaft then flicked his tongue against the tip.
"Come here." John requested, tugging on Sherlock's arm. Sherlock got to his feet, pressing his lips firmly against John's. He undid his own belt and zip, pushing his trousers down. The first contact of hot skin on skin was like an electrical current pulsing through Sherlock's entire body.
"Fuck me John." Sherlock begged, grinding his erection against John's stomach, feeling John's pressed against his thigh.
"Yes." John swallowed hard and Sherlock watched his adam's apple bob. He ducked his head down and licked it, tasting John's salty skin. Need to get closer, meld into one so John can't leave. He can never leave. Can't live without him. Need him. Necessary. Necessary for work. Vital. Vital to happiness. Vital for everything.
Sherlock kicked off his trousers and got on the floor on his hands and knees. John knelt behind him and started kissing along his spine. When he reached the small of his back, he kept going, further and further down. He licked one long stripe from Sherlock's perineum to his hole. He curled his tongue and dipped it in and out of Sherlock's entrance, making him gasp.
He reached up and spread Sherlock's cheeks before plunging his tongue in. Sherlock bucked in surprise, his head snapping back as he groaned. He started pushing back against the probing muscle inside him, feeling John's tongue working him open. "John. Oh God. John, John, John." Sherlock chanted his name as John's tongue pressed further inside him. "Fuck me." Sherlock moaned desperately. "John, fuck me."
With a few more swirls of his tongue, John pulled out. He grabbed the lube off his desk and slipped two fingers in easy. Sherlock rocked back against them, needing more, needing them to go deeper, needing John. His thumb rubbed along the perineum as the two fingers scissored inside him, stretching him. "John please." Sherlock cried out, dropping his head down onto his forearms.
John ignored him and slipped a third finger in, pumping them roughly, pushing them as deep as possible and then spreading them. Sherlock whimpered and pushed back again, impaling himself on John's blunt fingers. John crooked his fingers, stroking and teasing Sherlock's prostate, making him writhe against the floor. "John." Sherlock said in a broken sob, needing John to fuck him.
John finally slipped his fingers out and Sherlock closed his eyes. He felt John grip his hips and started rubbing his erection along the cleft of Sherlock's arse. "No John please. No more teasing. Fuck me." Sherlock begged, beyond ready.
He felt John line up and then the head was breaching him, pushing past the ring of muscles until it was in. Sherlock groaned and pushed his fingers into the carpet. "More." He said, face half buried against his arm. "More John, please."
John took his time, inching into Sherlock slowly, until Sherlock could feel John's hips pressed up against him. John pulled almost all the way out and then shoved back into Sherlock roughly. "Oh God." Sherlock gasped, clawing at the floor. John did it again and Sherlock felt like he was falling. He must be falling. End over end into an abyss, tumbling uncontrollably. John would catch him, John would always catch him. But John was leaving, this could very well be the last time. What was he supposed to do?
You're Impossible. Sherlock heard the words echoing in his brain, the one's Victor had spoken when he'd ended things.
You think I'm in love with you? Who could ever love you the way you are? You're like a child. Sebastian's words followed Victor's and Sherlock shut his eyes tighter. They were right. He was unlovable. But John was different. John was supposed to be different. Yet John was leaving.
You drive me bloody insane! We're in a relationship Sherlock. You can't just disappear inside your head every time I do something you don't like. You have to talk to me.
He couldn't. He couldn't just talk. All the emotion, all that feeling. Not his area.
You machine.
He wasn't though, was he? If he were a machine, this wouldn't hurt so much.
Talk to me, for god's sake.
"John, please!" Sherlock shouted, unsure what he was asking for. John gripped his hips tight enough to leave bruises and started thrusting in harder, deeper, faster, yes, yes ,yes. Mark me. If this is the last time, I want everyone to know I once belonged to you.
"Sherlock." John moaned, plastering his front against Sherlock's back and he slammed into him endlessly. He licked his way up Sherlock's back, making Sherlock groan. John's forehead rested against his back, the small contact making his skin thrum with excitement. John was here, now. He was still here, for now. Won't be soon. Still is now. Contentrate on that.
"John, John, John."
"Oh God, Sherlock."
"John please, don't go. Stay with me. I can be better. I can be more. I need you. I won't survive. Please John. I love you, please."
"Sherlock, fuck. Sherlock." John reached around and started wanking Sherlock. The moment he felt John touch his prick, he was coming undone, coming and coming harder than ever before, screaming John's name as if it were the only word in the English language. John pushed deep and followed him, emptying inside him with a few final thrusts. The world dissolved away to just that small point of contact, John's cock inside him and his forehead on Sherlock's back. Still there. For now.
John pulled out gently and collapsed on the floor. Sherlock waited a few moments and then crawled over, forming his body against John's with his head on John's chest. "Are you still going to leave?" Sherlock asked quietly.
"Christ." John swore, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I honestly don't know. You're unbelievably frustrating sometimes, do you know that?"
"I've been told." Sherlock shrugged, making lazy patterns over John's skin with his finger.
"You make it so difficult to love you." John let out a frustrated huff of breath.
"I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault, it's how you are. I just have the misfortune of being the twat who fell in love with you."
"I don't want you to be unhappy."
"I'm not, most days. It's just some days you drive me up the wall. Sometimes I'm afraid I might hurt you either by saying something or hitting you."
"I can hold my own."
"I don't want to hurt you Sherlock. That's the problem. I'm terrified I might do something, something worse than leaving."
"Nothing could be worse than that." Sherlock reached up and laced his fingers through John'. "So say anything you need to, do whatever you need to, as long as you're here when it's all over."
"I don't know if that's the solution Sherlock."
"Please, just don't go." Sherlock threw his arm over John possessively. John was unsure and Sherlock needed him to know for certain. He couldn't go through this again in a few more months. He needed John by his side always, always close, always there. He needed it to be unconditional and unbreakable. So Sherlock turned towards John and asked the only four words that came to mind. The solution to all their problems.
"Will you marry me?"