John's lashes fluttered as he pulled back slowly from the kiss. His gaze took a moment to move upwards from Sherlock's lips to his pale blue eyes.
"What was that about, then?" he asked softly.
"Something that I have been wanting to do for a long time," Sherlock replied, just as softly. John could feel the tension inherent in Sherlock's frame as he waited for rejection.
John took a deep shuddering breath and absently stroked his thumb along the side of Sherlock's neck, using the hand tangled in Sherlock's inky curls to keep him from pulling away. The touch and gentle pressure seemed to ease some of the anxiety from the lanky form.
"How long? How long have you wanted to kiss me?"
Sherlock hesitated. He opted for the truth. "Since the pool. When I saw you in that bomb vest, I knew I couldn't lose you."
John nodded. "It took me a little bit longer. So what are we now? Boyfriends?"
Sherlock arched a brow.
"Lovers?"
The other brow raised.
"Partners?"
The brows lowered. "No, too formal."
John paused a moment, remembering. "I knew an American from Georgia while I was in Afghanistan. Apparently, the ladies there have a name for their gentlemen."
"What does she call him?"
"Her beau."
