My first Johnlock fic. Also my first time writing smut, enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own BBC's Sherlock in any way, shape or form.
It has been seven months to the day since Sherlock had fallen and John was not expecting the sight that greeted him that morning. He stumbles out of Sherlock's room in search of a cup of tea and almost collides with the skeletal form of his love. Yes, love. Despite his constant protests to the contrary, John was most decidedly gay, but only for Sherlock. Well, what did you expect? Sherlock had changed so much of John, why not his sexuality as well?
"Sherlock?" he asks, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. He looks up and is met with ice blue eyes staring straight at him. "Hello John," his mouth falls open in shock. He reaches up and strokes his cheek, fingers brushing those high cheekbones he dreamed about. He starts slightly when a pale hand reaches up and takes his, "it's really me." John's legs give out and he falls to his knees, "why?" he croaks, Sherlock frowns and kneels beside him. "Moriarty, he would have killed you all. Mrs Hudson, Lestrade...you. I had to jump, to save you all." John nods, "your pulse?" "Molly. She helped me find a neurotoxin that would slow it down." John nods, still not meeting his eyes. "I'm so sorry John, I never meant to hurt you. I wanted to come back but I couldn't. Not until they were gone." John nods again, "Sherlock" "yes?" John raises his head, fixing his gaze to the other mans, "kiss me."
Sherlock grins and leans forward, capturing John's lips in a gentle kiss. When they break apart they stay close, just breathing each other's air until John reaches up and their lips meet once again. This kiss is different to the first. This one holds need and want and passion. Sherlock feels John's tongue brush his lip and he allows him access with a moan. They battle for dominance and Sherlock wins, taking John's mouth, tasting every inch. But it's not enough for him, for either of them. His hands travel down and slip up John's shirt. As his fingers meet warm skin he groans and the kiss increases in intensity. Sherlock's tongue is probing now, gently lapping at Johns before brushing across the roof of his mouth making him moan and rut against him.
"Bedroom" John gasps as he relieves Sherlock of his coat and scarf, lips moving down that white neck and biting hard, claiming it, marking him as his own. They scramble towards the door in a clash of tongues and teeth before falling onto the bed. John feels cold air greet his skin and breaks the kiss to let the t-shirt be lifted off, exposing his bare chest. "Beautiful," his lover breathes before attacking it with kisses and nips. He teases one nipple to hardness, biting down gently and smirking as John groans. His lips travel upwards to his neck and then he's biting and sucking, lapping gently at the marks he makes until John sits up. He rolls to the side and their positions are reversed, John straddling his waist and smirking down at him. "That shirt has got to go," he murmurs huskily and Sherlock feels his cock twitch at the sound.
John's fingers make quick work of the buttons and the shirt is soon gone leaving only an expanse of marble pale skin. John lets his hands trail down the taut muscles of his stomach, teasingly light fingers tracing patterns before they settle on the buttons of his jeans. Sherlock lifts his hips to accommodate him and the trousers are on the floor, followed closely by his boxers. John's eyes light up at the sight of Sherlock's cock, long and achingly hard, the head leaking precome. He locks their gazes before lowering his head and licking the slit. Sherlock moans as he feels John's mouth engulf him, tongue stroking the underside of his shaft. He tangles his fingers in John's hair and moans as he bobs up and down, humming and lapping. "Oh God..John" he gasps and thrust slightly into the wet cavern. John breathes through his nose to take him completely, swallowing to stimulate the head.
He's so close. John pulls his head up slowly letting Sherlock go with a pop and he laughs a little as Sherlock whimpers at the loss. He reaches across to the bedside table and grabs the bottle of lube there. He slicks up a finger and brushes his entrance, his eyes meeting Sherlock's as he silently asks to continue. Sherlock nods and he gently pushes in, surprised by the heat. He begins to stretch him, taking his time; he doesn't want this to hurt. He listens to Sherlock's gasps and begins kissing the inside of his thighs. "You're so beautiful...like this...Sherlock" he murmurs between kisses and adds another finger. He begins scissoring him and feels Sherlock move back on to his fingers, trying to get them deeper. He obliges and brushes his prostate sending sparks of pleasure through him. "Oh John, do that again." John does as he's told and Sherlock moans at the sensation. "More John, please." He adds another finger and increases his pace. The sounds Sherlock was making were doing wonders to his cock. He needed to be inside him, to feel the heat, the tightness. He needed to be with Sherlock.
John removes his fingers and grabs a pillow. He places it under Sherlock's hips and spreads his thighs. John slicks himself up and places his weeping member near his entrance. He stops and catches his eye again before pushing in slowly. He moans at the sensation, it was so much better than he had dreamed. He pauses once he is completely buried in Sherlock and gives him a moment to adjust. "Move" Sherlock growls and rocks against him making them both groan. He begins moving, slowly at first, but quickly finding a rhythm, hitting his prostate every other thrust. He feels his climax approaching and starts to pull out only to have Sherlock's legs prevent him. "No John, I want you to" John stares at his lover, "you sure?" He nods and ruts making John moan and resume at a faster pace, making sure to stroke Sherlock in time with his thrusts. "Oh...Oh...JOHN!" Then Sherlock is flying, his seed spilling between their bodies. John milks his climax and follows shortly after, screaming Sherlock's name.
They lie there panting for a short while, a tangle of limbs until Sherlock rises and fetches a wet towel from the bathroom. He cleans them up and then snuggles under the covers with his blogger, spooning him from behind. He presses a light kiss to his temple and murmurs, "I love you John Watson." There is a beat of silence before he hears, "and I love you Sherlock Holmes." John turns so he's facing him, "but, if you ever leave me again I will hunt you down and kill you myself, Moriarty be damned." Sherlock chuckles, "understood, love." Then he closes his eyes and drifts of to sleep without dreams because they had already come true.