John smiled down at the beautiful baby in his arms. "I love you Hamish." he cooed.
Thin but muscular pale arms wrapped themselves around John's waist.
"Happy birthday, Hamish." Sherlock said as he kissed John's neck.
"I can't believe he's already one year old." John said. "Seems like yesterday we brought him home."
"Yes it does." Sherlock murmured, stroking back his husband's tousled blonde locks.
Hamish smiled and giggled happily, wiggling his plump arms in the air.
"Aw, does someone like all the attention they're getting?" John said with a grin.
Sherlock glanced up and saw how late it was. As if on cue, Hamish yawned and blinked his icy blue eyes sleepily.
"I think it's time for Hamish to go to bed." Sherlock muttered while taking him out of John's arms and smiled. "C'mon. Let's go put your pajamas on." John grinned as he watched them leave the room. His eyes slid down to watch Sherlock's butt sway as he walked. He licked his lips and turned around to make some tea.
He'd just finished pouring it into two mugs, watching the steam of Earl Grey curl sweetly around his face in wisps, when he felt Sherlock's breath, hot on the back of his neck. He smirked and turned around. Sherlock placed his hands on either side of John, pinning him where he was, with a broad smile on his face. He had a mischievous look in his eyes and he leaned forward, trapping John's lips in a kiss. He started to trail kisses across John's jaw so that they ended up at his ear.
"How about you go tell our son goodnight and we'll finish this when you get back?" he smirked. The smile lit up his pale face, sharpened his prominent cheekbones, and sparkled in his ever-changing eyes.
"A-alright." John said shakily. Sherlock stepped back to let John through, lightly smacking his butt as he left. John chuckled quietly to himself as he ran up to Hamish's room. He stepped up to his crib and took a minute just to watch his son sleep.
"Goodnight Hamish, my love." he whispered and bent down to kiss him lightly on his head. "Sweet dreams."
Now, he thought to himself, to Sherlock. His pace quickened and a small smile appeared on his lips. His smile broadened upon his return to the living room.
Sherlock sat in his chair drinking tea, his features graced with a calm air. He turned his head and John froze. His husband looked so beautiful. Sherlock's head was framed by the firelight glowing from the hearth behind him. His dark curls glistened like obsidian in the sun, and his blue eyes were bright. He's mine, John thought to himself. That's my Sherlock. Sherlock stood and stretched, his form-fitting shirt getting tighter around the seams as his chest rippled. John just about groaned out loud. Sherlock smirked, obviously enjoyed the tortured look of desire in John's eyes, and took his time walking over to John. At last, John couldn't stand a moment longer, and met Sherlock halfway. He put his arms around Sherlock's neck and pulled him in violently for a kiss.
Sherlock chuckled a little. "In a rush are we?" he mumbled against John's lips. He drew back, smirking at the doctor.
"Yes I am." John growled back and leaned in for another kiss. They kissed roughly, but Sherlock slowed the pace.
"We've got all night, love." he said into John's skin. John smiled and moved to kiss Sherlock's neck. He found his sensitive spot, sucked on it lightly. John smiled at Sherlock's moan. He felt Sherlock's knees buckle, and grinning devilishly, he moved his arms so that they're around his husband's waist to support him. He teased the skin with his teeth; if he wasn't holding Sherlock, John is sure the consultant detective would fall to the ground.
He kissed from Sherlock's throat to his ear, whispering huskily," I like you like this. I like it when you lose control in my arms." John smirked at Sherlock's moan, louder this time.
"Shh, Hamish is sleeping." he whispered and grinned at Sherlock.
Sherlock stared back evenly, his breathing ragged. "Let's see how you handle it." he shot back, sounding almost experimental. The younger man leaned in, capturing John's lips, taking them captive with his own. The taller man ran his tongue along John's bottom lip. He smiled when his blogger opened his mouth obediently, Sherlock's tongue invading the opening, exploring every inch. John groaned softly, Sherlock bringing his hand up to John's neck, keeping him in position. His other hand pulled out John's shirt from his jeans, with the men separating quickly so John may finish its removal. Sherlock trailed his hands up and down the doctor's chest, admiring his muscles. He was rewarded with a satisfied smirk in return.
"Why don't we go to the bedroom?" Trailing off, he took Sherlock's hand and pulled it gently, leaving the shirt on the floor and the tea, now forgotten and cold, on the counter.