John helped Sherlock out of his shirt as the taller man shrugged off his shoes. Reversing the action, Sherlock lifted and pulled John's ridiculous jumper up over his head, then proceeding to his shirt. Jeans, trousers, underwear all followed with increasing pace. Now that a path had been chosen, both were tightly focussed on reducing the amount of fabric separating them from the skin of the other.

Sherlock crawled up the bed, a movement which would have looked comical without the long expanses of muscle and skin that gave the movement a feline grace when undertaken by the man on the bed. John joined him, diving in for more service from a mouth that he was fast developing an unhealthy addition to. His hand returned to Sherlock's erection, enjoying the gasp dragged from the lips he was kissing.

"Sherlock..." John tried to break through the fog of desire to capture his partner's attention, "Sherlock..listen for a moment"

The eyes cleared, coming to focus on John, briefly kissing him again before pausing to listen.

"Sherlock, you need to tell me...you need to choose...you or me...which..."John knew what he wanted to say, what needed to be clarified and yet, when it came to putting the question into words, he found himself shy and stumbling. He'd assured Sherlock that he'd guide their path and keep them safe, he needed to do better, "which...Damn it, grow up John!...do you want to take...or give?"

Sherlock's face transformed, his mouth forming a small surprised "oh" as he considered the question, "I hadn't...considered." He briefly worried at his bottom lip uncertainly.

"Hey...hey. Look at me Sherlock," Eyes locked and held again, "There isn't a right and wrong answer here. There's just us, it's OK to be not sure. You want me to make this easier?"

"Please.."

"First time, let me take the lead. I know what needs to happen, what will help and to be honest, I'll probably have a bit more control which will make things easier. I just wanted to give you the choice."

"I just want you John, I want whatever will make you happy"

"Sherlock, finally being here with you makes me happy. You make me very, very happy"

"Then you'll be even more happy that there's lube in the top drawer"

"Really?" Unexpected

"I may be inexperienced John, but I'm not ignorant"

The arrogant yet self-aware comment, so like the Sherlock he'd known for so long seemed the funniest thing he could possibly say and John buried his face against Sherlock's face and laughed, deep reverberating chuckles that made all the odd, awkward hesitant progress somehow normal and OK. They'd seen each other at their best and worst, fighting together either with or against others, running toward and away from danger, building a strange, quirky and utterly unique life together and the words slipped out between snorts of laughter, almost muffled against the consulting detective's chest, "I love you."

The hand which had been fondling the scar on John's shoulder, paused only for a moment and moved to gently nuzzle amongst the short tan hair at the nape of his neck, "Yes, I suppose that's what this is. I suppose this is what love feels like. I certainly can't imagine ever being able to give you up."

That's enough for now. John hadn't expected an undying expression of everlasting love from Sherlock I hadn't expected to say it myself.

Having retrieved the tube from the top drawer, John squeezed a generous amount into his palm You can never use enough lube came the hint from drunken conversations with gay friends. John cupped the liquid in his hand for a moment, letting it warm, before slowly, and carefully bringing it down to Sherlock's groin, moving around his cock, balls to gently, ever so gently smooth a path along his perineum toward the tight pucker beyond.

"Here's how this is going to work Sherlock, I'm going to work you with my hand to give you something to focus on, and gently stretch you so you're ready. We'll take our time and you can call stop at any time." As John spoke, quietly and in reassuring tones, his finger gently circling Sherlock's anus, gently pressing and getting him used to the peculiar feeling. "I mean that Sherlock, ANY time. I might be on top here, but I don't want you to feel like you don't have control." John was gently stroking in time with the rhythm he was setting with his other hand, "If there's something you want, something you need, you tell me."

Being able to provide Sherlock the reassurance he needed was helping John maintain his own shaky control. A large part of his mind was screaming with the need to take what it wanted regardless of his partner but years of army and doctor training made the role of carer and leader an easy one to grasp hold of.

"Need...more" Sherlock's whine was plaintive, not knowing exactly 'what' he wanted, only that it currently wasn't enough.

"OK Sherlock, greedy, this will feel a bit weird. Bear down a bit, I'm told it helps". John pressed a fingertip into the tight ring of muscle, feeling muscles clench, then relax reflexively. Inch by inch, pacing both their progress, John pushed as Sherlock arched first away, and then back toward his hand. Clearly fighting competing instincts to run and yet seeking more, his arm came up to cover his eyes.

"John...God John"

"You OK?"

"Yes." Sherlock's need to analyse every moment, every experience kicked in at the question and surprisingly coherently he continued, "...it's strange. Feels wrong, but good at the same time...different." That was apparently all the deduction required at the moment as Sherlock lapsed back into silence, taking deep, gulping steadying breaths.

"Ready for more? I don't want to hurt you by going too fast"

"I may be forced to hurt 'you' if you don't", a smile caught at the edges of his tense mouth.

The second finger was easier, He's getting used to this and once inside, he gently scissored the fingers, massaging and relaxing against the resistance. Knowing roughly what he was feeling for, he curled his fingers giving an exploratory prod in the area of Sherlock's prostate.

The dramatic reaction caught them both by surprise, spasming violently and almost pulling entirely from John's fingers, "Bloody Hell!" Sherlock's cock pulsed firmly and John's gave an answering throb.

"Prostate" John said simply, suppressing a wicked grin

"You're an evil sadist John Watson"

"I know"

"Do it again"

"Right" So John proceeded as before, enjoying the control and yet completely at the command of the man under his hands. We're a well matched pair. John toyed and played and drove Sherlock mad as he added another finger, driving them both to a place where pleasure overrode any nervousness or doubt.

"Sherlock, it's time. This will feel a bit different, but you'll be fine. You're ready, just trust me"

"Trust...you...completely"

"OK love," John tested out the word, it seemed the right one at the moment. "Stretch your legs up over my shoulders..." Dear God those legs go on forever "...that's the way" John squeezed more lube into his hand never enough lube and smoothed it over his almost unbearable hard cock. John had boasted his control, but getting Sherlock ready had pushed him to the limit.

He looked down at the space between themselves, aligned so close and pressed teasingly against Sherlock's prepared hole. "Breathe and push Sherlock, breathe and push." John pushed forward, steadying Sherlock's hits as he mewed and squirmed.

"John..John...John"

"So tight, God Sherlock, so different" A stream of noises filled his head some his own, some Sherlock's, some in English, others in a language he didn't recognise. Slowly, and gasping for control with each broken breath, he inched their bodies together as Sherlock whimpered and fisted sheets and looked utterly, utterly broken beneath him.

John rested his head against Sherlock's knee, considering that perhaps he'd taken on just a little more of the responsibility than he could actually handle. The need to surrender and pound against his partner threatened to overwhelm him and only opening his eyes and looking at Sherlock's impossibly vulnerable face gave him the strength to restrain himself.

"John" Sherlock had reached up to grasp his forearm, clarity in those bottomless blue eyes, "It's OK...I need it too. Show me, John. Show me the path."

With a groan John began to move, slowly and carefully at first, then picking up the pace as Sherlock adapted to his length and girth and began tentatively thrusting back. John adjusted angle once, twice and there watching with awe as Sherlock came apart under his gaze.

"Touch...need" The broken barotone barely able to string words together between rough intakes of breath.

John reached down to touch Sherlock and give him the extra stimulation that he needed and with a keening cry, pushed him over the edge, spilling over John's hand with an ecstatic wave of feeling, bringing John along with clenching muscles and a final push.

Catching his breath and gingerly pulling out, careful of tender skin, John helped Sherlock lower his legs, muscles strained from the unfamiliar position, and grabbed tissues to make themselves more comfortable. Neither was willing to abandon the bed yet, although on some level they knew there would be some physical necessities to take care of, it didn't seem compelling at the moment.

"I feel I should say something. Something insightful, but I find myself again lost for words. It's somewhat troubling John."

"Take your time, you'll think of something. I'm not going anywhere for a while."

Silence settled on the room and John had almost drifted into a light, satiated sleep when the rich, velvet voice broke through exclaiming, "I have it John...I know what needs to be said."

"Mmmmmm?

"You should try it from my end next time. That was brilliant."