John awoke to the sound of music drifting in through the bedroom door. He sat up and looked to his left, where Sherlock should have been asleep. It was empty. John rubbed his sleep clouded eyes and got out of bed, following the sound into the living room.
Sherlock stood facing the window looking down into the street, violin in hand, his fingers caressing the stings just so as he gently pulled his bow across them. The moon light that shone through the window gave him a slight ethereal look. He was beautiful, John thought as he approached him. Sherlock was always beautiful when he played, and he took care of that violin like John took care of him. Treated it as precious.
John stood behind Sherlock and ran his hands gently up his back and over his shoulders, coming back down to rest at his hips. Sherlock stopped his playing and stood still as John enveloped him.
"What are you doing up?" Sherlock asked, "Did I wake you?"
"Mmm, no, not really, but you were gone." They stood in comfortable silence for a while before John spoke again. "What are you doing up? It's..." John glanced at the clock on the mantel, "three o'clock in the morning."
Sherlock shrugged, "I couldn't sleep. Too much thinking. Playing helps."
John pulled Sherlock tighter against his chest and nuzzled the back of his neck. "Anything I can help with?"
Sherlock put down his violin and turned in John's arms, a slight smile playing on his lips. "What did you have in mind?"
John leaned up to kiss him softly. "Come back to bed and I'll show you."
Sherlock's smile widened. "Lead the way."
John took Sherlock by the hand and led him back to their room. John stood in front of Sherlock and pushed the dressing gown from his frame and began slowly unbuttoning his shirt, pushing it to the ground as well. He hooked his fingers into the waist of Sherlock's pajama bottoms and pulled him back toward the bed stopping when the backs of his legs hit the mattress. John sat on the bed and untied the string on the pajamas. Looking up at Sherlock he slowly pushed them down freeing Sherlock's proud erection.
John's hands traveled up Sherlock's chest, brushing over his nipples, eliciting a soft moan from Sherlock. John smiled, he knew what Sherlock liked. He brought his hands back down and took Sherlock's length into his hand and began stroking with slow deliberate strokes.
Sherlock closed his eyes and reveled in the feeling of John's hands on him. John knew his body like he knew his violin. Sherlock knew which strings to press to make the most beautiful sound, and John, John knew every place that made Sherlock come undone. There was no thinking when John touched him, only endless sensations.
Sherlock opened his eyes when John's hand left him. John was removing his sleep shirt and pants and crawling backwards up the bed, beckoning Sherlock to follow. Sherlock crawled up the bed to join John; he leaned down over him and kissed him soundly. John wrapped his arms around Sherlock, deepening the kiss. John moved his hand to Sherlock's hair pulling gently as the kiss became more passionate, forcing a moan from Sherlock's lips.
John flipped them over so he was sat straddling Sherlock. He knew Sherlock liked it best this way, like to see John as the pleasure over took him. Sherlock like to watch him as he prepared him, watch him ride his fingers as he adjusted for what was to come. And then, bliss, as he slowly sank down onto Sherlock.
Sherlock's eyes went dark with lust as he watched John lower himself, head bent forward slightly, face skewed up as he adjusted. Before long John was moving, setting a slow pace. Sherlock moved his hands up John's body as he thrust to meet John on every move. Soon the pace quickened as neither could hold out. Before either of them knew they were hurtling toward the end. John had begun chanting Sherlock's name like a mantra, and Sherlock groaned with each thrust.
Sherlock took Johns erection in hand and began stroking in time with his movement. John cried out at the added stimulation. Throwing his head back, "Sherlock!" John came, spilling his seed over Sherlock's hand and chest.
It only took a couple more thrust and the tightening of John's walls around him to pull his own climax from him, coming with a shout.
Both stayed as they were, trying to regain composer after the high. Eventually John rolled off Sherlock and lay next to him. Sherlock reached over the side of the bed to grab John's shirt and wiped them both off. They lay in the quiet for some time before Sherlock moved himself to lie in John's arms. Oh, how people would talk if they knew Sherlock liked to cuddle after sex.
Sherlock sighed with contentment.
"How do you feel now? Still too many thoughts?"
"Hmm? What was that?" Sherlock mumbled, halfway to sleeping.
John smiled, "Nothing. Go to sleep."
Sherlock let his eyes fall shut, and as sleep claimed him his last thought was how lucky he was to be John's violin.