Sherlock awoke slowly, drifting up from the depths of slumber as gently as some prehistoric creature breaking the surface. His eyes of impossible color fluttered open and he stretched his long, pale body out with a contented sigh. His bedroom was lit by blue-white shafts of Saturday morning light that fell in casual disarray onto the floor and draped across his form. The bed sheets were rumpled about his legs, and the smell of a rainy day filled the air. He turned over slightly and was slipping back into unconsciousness when he heard a soft sigh beside him. The detective sat up slightly and gazed about him; John was sleeping next to him, curled peacefully in the blankets.
Oh. Yes. Sherlock lay back down and recalled the memories of last night, a light smile tugging up the corners of his lips.
John in his sleep could somehow feel Sherlock's presence. He rolled over until he found his form; he then wrapped his arms around him and began to sleep deeply once again.
Exhaling softly, Sherlock draped one hand over John's and slowly stroked the warm skin with his fingertips. His eyes drifted shut again and he slowed his usually racing mind to a relaxed, glowing state and traced the veins up his partner's arm every so lightly.
John felt his touch. This was the best way to wake up. He felt each stroke like a tiny shock. He sighed and opened his eyes; sure enough Sherlock's gorgeous, probing eyes were fixed on his.
"Good morning, John." The detective's voice was low and drowsy as he spoke, yet it still contained an undertone of the sultry growl he'd held the night before. His hand left John's and moved to muss his hair. "Did you sleep well?"
John turned his usual nervous shade of pink that he reserved only for Sherlock. Sherlock's voice always had that effect on him. He could still hear it, the passion from the night before. He ducked his face into the blankets, he felt as if he may faint. Last night was so out of character and wonderful. "Fine" he replied under the blankets.
Sherlock lifted his head and watched his flat mate for a moment, his dark curls sticking up in disarray. "Really John? Hiding in the blankets isn't your reaction to your other... lovers, is it?" He paused slightly on the word, testing it out. Hmm. He brushed his hand down the expanse of John's back gently, teeth pressing in to his lower lip as he waited for a reaction.
John's entire body instantly shivered, he felt as if he was freezing and on fire all at the same time and it was wonderful and so terrifying. John lifted his face from the blankets to meet Sherlock's questioning gaze. "No, I just...this was so different." He now was turning a lovely purple color.
A light smirk curled his lips. "And why's that?" he murmured, tracing one finger up John's spine. The detective was enjoying the lovely colors his partner was turning; they were so much like the ones patterning his skin last night. He could still faintly see a welt on John's neck from a gentle bite Sherlock had placed there. It was odd to be so... physical. He'd never been one for emotion in the first place, and then this strange doctor had come blundering into his life and making him care about things...
John sighed and took a deep breath. Mmn he could smell Sherlock all around him. He would have been content with lying in bed all day with the thoughts of last night turning in his head, however knew he couldn't stall. "You are completely different from my usual...lovers." John's voice caught at the end that was what they were now, lovers. It sounded so strange but in the best way. He, however, didn't want to be the only one affected. He hesitantly placed his hand on Sherlock's smooth muscular chest.
"Well, yes, I'm quite obviously male." Sherlock bit his lip again, trying to hide the way his breath hitched at John's touch. Damn. He could feel his pulse rise slightly, his temperature peak a few more degrees, and undoubtedly the doctor would notice. "And I suppose you didn't live with any of those girls, and I doubt you were the one whimpering." A wicked grin erupted and he gave John a teasing look. "Such delicious moans."
John sighed and let out a quick slight moan and ducked his head, not out of embarrassment but because he simply couldn't handle the way Sherlock was looking at him. He had noticed every slight change, the way his breathing became erratic, they way his pulse quickened, but his absolute favorite was they way his eyes began to smolder. His hands began to roam up to his prominent collar bone. It was a crime to be this beautiful. The way the sun shone on his skin. He couldn't stop himself any longer. He placed a gentle kiss at the base of his throat, "you weren't so quiet yourself."
He chuckled. "Mmm, yes, but I was shagging you. I still get to claim that," The detective shivered slightly as John's lips brushed his skin and one arm curled around his partner, holding him close, while the other moved to cup his tanned face gently. He gave John one long, searching look before brushing his mouth across the doctor's in the lightest of butterfly kisses. Sherlock pulled away slowly, keeping his icy eyes on John's face.
John closed his eyes. He was being tortured in such a delicate way. His breathing caught again, he was completely intoxicated. He opened his eyes. Sherlock's bright questioning eyes were now smoldering and glazed over with lust. John had been noticing Sherlock biting his bottom lip in a most teasing way. He moved his face closer and took Sherlock's lower lip and bit it ever so gently.
Sherlock's eyes rolled back slightly and a small, quiet gasp escaped his lips. The arm around John tightened and the detective could feel his heart accelerate. Twice damn it. He sat up, pulling John onto his lap, and wrapped his long legs around the other an a strange embrace as he pressed a series of light kisses along his flat mate's neck and shoulder, even briefly touching the old wound from John's days as a soldier with his lips. Kissing was so intriguing to Sherlock; just a simple touch would incite such a reaction. He slowed his movements; pondering the rush of endorphins he was exciting in John's mind- No. He gave himself a mental shake and teasingly nipped John's shoulder. He'd made some sort of unconscious promise to himself to keep the science out of this. This was an exploration of emotion, not an experiment.
John let out a short moan. He loved when Sherlock took over, he was a complete natural. John couldn't help but to react to visibly and audibly. It almost embarrassed him. Some people preferred quiet lovers but he couldn't handle himself. John positioned himself so he could pay homage to Sherlock's beautiful neck. He left small delicate kisses along his collar bone leading up to his neck. He trailed kisses along the thin vein that was just visible. He began to move to the very right side of his neck, he then bit into the soft skin there.
As John's lips and teeth explored his skin, the detective found himself breathing more rapidly, but he grinned at John's own sounds of pleasure. He curled his long fingers in his hair and gently tilted his head, brushing his lips down the harsh tendons and trembling arteries. Sherlock placed another kiss to the hollow of his throat and gently bite just above the ridge of John's arching collar bone. His other hand slipped to slowly caress a path down his partner's side, stroking his hip, fingertips just brushing down to the sensitive areas of the leg and groin.
The doctor closed his eyes tightly and took in a sharp breath. He loved it when Sherlock pulled his hair; it was so dominating and wonderful. John began to run his hand over Sherlock's smooth back, he loved how delicate he felt and yet he was so muscular. He outlined every muscle and the curve of his spine with what little composure he had left.
With one sharp, sinuous movement, Sherlock pressed John flat on his back on the bed and put one hand on each side of him. He pushed back the blankets still covering their bodies and pressed himself down against the smaller man, being careful to hold his weight off but remaining close enough for their skin to remain in full contact from chest to thigh. "John, John, John..." He growled low in his ear. "You made such exquisite sounds of pleasure last night. Remind me again, what was it I did that brought about those cries?" Sherlock nibbled John's ear gently.
The doctor pulled the detectives face to his. He glanced into his eyes for a quick second before kissing him. He started off as gently as he could, he knew it wouldn't last but he tried to hold out before he completely lost control. His gentle nibbling became desperate biting; he ran his tongue gently across Sherlock's puffy red lower lip. He could taste Sherlock and it was so intoxicating. His body just on his was torture. He knew that Sherlock knew exactly what it was that had made him cry out before. "Sherlock!" He gasped; he could hardly remember his own name at that point, good thing he only needed to know one.
His lips pulled up into another grin as he watched John fall to pieces beneath him. He nipped at John's neck, pressing his teeth into a violet bruise from the night before and then pulled away, watching his flat mate with what could only be called "bedroom eyes". He lowered one arm to the bed and shifted his weight onto it, allowing the other to brush down John's chest and torso. He rested that hand on the doctor's hip, his long fingers reaching almost from his hip to inner thigh. Once more, Sherlock's mouth touched John's as he whispered something softly.
John was completely and utterly gone. He needed Sherlock just as he needed him last night, but he loved how Sherlock wasn't so eager. He took his time and the doctor loved and hated that about him. He left out another involuntary moan this one quiter and more urgent that ended in a gasp. He let Sherlock take complete control of him.
Sherlock buried his face in John's neck, kissing, biting, with an agonizing slowness while his lower hand curled around John's cock and gently began small, teasing motions. He could feel his heartbeat quickening further, his temperature peaking, and he struggled to hold on to the coolness his demeanor portrayed as he picked up on his partner's own surrender. It wouldn't do to let go now, would it? Would it be worth it to lose the minutes or hours of this teasing pleasure to hear the doctor scream his name now?
John bit his lip at clenched his eyes shut, he wouldn't succumb this quickly. Oh but they way Sherlock tease him was more than enough yet he knew there could be so much more. He could feel the detective slowly losing his composure. John let out another moan this one louder. He felt Sherlock's slow teasing motion on his cock and it hurt, he was throbbing in agony. He unknowingly moaned the detectives name as he bit into a bruise from the night before.
The detective cried out slightly as John bit him, his back arching at the little tingles of pleasure that trickled down his spine. He could feel John's hardness and allowed his hand to slip away and he gripped his flat mate's thigh as he slowly moved himself lower. One hand flicked out and snagged the half-sealed container of lubricant tucked against the headboard of his bed and he slathered a portion out onto his hands before carefully moistening his own member. "You remember what I told you last night, John? Relax..." His voice was low again, almost as husky as the night previous.
Oh god, Last night. It had been so amazing and wonderful and new. The doctor never knew he could experience such pleasure, this time as the night before he was nervous, not enough to stop though. He wanted this so badly, he wanted this to be just as amazing for Sherlock as it was for him. The detective let out a quiet "yes."
Sherlock leaned down and pressed a series of light kisses up the doctor's thigh, pausing to nibble the sensitive skin. "You're still tense, John. You know what I said." He gazed down at his partner, slight disapproval in his smoldering eyes. He lined himself up slowly, his hands resting on John's hips for support. Even from there he could feel the rapid flutter of his heart, and the heaving of his chest.
John's breathing became harder and harder, he was so aroused to the point of pain. Sherlock's light kisses were so teasing it was down right cruel. John let out another moan as he felt Sherlock's hands on his hips. He only hoped that this teasing would soon be over. He looked into the smoldering eyes daring him to continue.
Sherlock sucked in a long, shaky breath as he eased himself into John. "Relax," he crooned again, pulling himself back out. Dear lord, this was beautiful. Not that sex had ever been his thing, but this was something he planned on experiencing again and again. His fingers dug into John's hips as he fell into a slow, easing rhythm of thrusts. A soft groan escaped his lips as one hand gripped his partner's knee and hitched John's leg around his back.
John leg out a sharp cry has Sherlock entered him. This was all so new to him, not just the sex but the feelings he had. Sure he had had other relationships had had other sexual encounters but nothing like this, he felt something so deep for the detective. As cliché as it was she had never felt this way before, he only hope this would continue. John took in a sharp gasp of air. He could feel Sherlock filling him up and it was so amazing. With each slow thrust his body ached and yearned for more. He felt as though they needed to be closer he needed more of him. He began to meet Sherlock's thrust. He wrapped his arms around the detective back and dug his fingernails in. "Sherlock!" He gasped." More!" He let out a small cry.
Another wicked grin formed on the detective's face as he heard John's cries and he began moving faster. It was so hard to keep control as he watched the man beneath him; the doctor's pleasure was so obvious that it made him melt inside. Sherlock was happy to comply to his pleads, and he turned his head slightly to press a kiss to John's raised leg as his thrusts quickened.
The doctor was in a complete state of bliss. He could no longer form logical thoughts; he only knew what he needed. He needed to come to his completion. Sherlock's quickened thrusts were greatly appreciated with loud moans, soft whimpers and the occasional grunt. Yet somehow within his drunken state he knew Sherlock was holding back. He met the detective's thrusts with more force at an attempt to get the detective to loose control.
Sherlock's breath caught; he was on fire, heat surging through his being. His fingers dug into John's hip, they traced over his stomach, brushed over his heart, curled about the base of his engorged cock as the detective let out a series of delicate moans. He thrust harder, his steady rhythm breaking off into a more disjointed pattern as he spiraled out of the pristine control he'd held moments before. The hand on John's leg dropped and reached of to take the doctor's hand as he leaned down, lowering himself against John's form to press kisses along his collar.
The doctor cold feel himself losing all composure, he knew he didn't have much longer. Finally Sherlock was letting go, his thrusts were now so deep at fast and completely out of rhythm. He let out many small cries with each thrust drawing him closer.