Chapter Two
John relaxed instantly. It was as if Sherlock had known exactly how to calm both of them down, how to take them from desperate to aroused and yet contented. Sherlock's thumbs were gently rubbing against his own, his heartbeat slow and steady now and his breathing deep and calm, even with John's weight on top of him.
"Sherlock?"
"John?"
He couldn't say anything; he was not even sure why he had said his name. With a smile he pressed his face against Sherlock's neck, feeling his curls tickle his forehead. "Can you maybe turn around?"
Sherlock sighed, but it wasn't his usually annoyed sigh. No, this sigh was distinctly happy. He stretched out his fingers to free John's hands from his grasp and John pushed himself up high enough so that Sherlock could turn around. As soon as Sherlock was on his back, John reattached himself, making Sherlock giggle and wrap his arms around him.
"You know, when I came back from Canada, I so badly wanted you to touch me," Sherlock admitted with a small smile. John raised an eyebrow and kissed his throat, smiling as Sherlock swallowed underneath his lips. "I'm glad you waited," Sherlock continued, making John wonder why he brought it up now.
"Why?" He felt his heart speed up just by thinking of that kiss they had shared and the first obvious confrontation with Sherlock's arousal.
"Because it meant more that way."
John didn't quite understand what he meant with that, but if that was how he felt, he would certainly not try to talk him out of it.
"But it might have kept you from having the nightmare," Sherlock continued wistfully. "I hope you will never have a dream like that again."
John remained silent, his lips still attached to Sherlock's throat. It was strange to be in this in between state. They were both still aroused, but neither of them felt impatient to do anything about it. For all he knew he could fall asleep like this.
"Am I too heavy for you?" John asked, wanting to make sure that Sherlock was as comfortable as possible, considering he was carrying his whole weight.
"No, I like you like this. Like I said, it makes me feel safe."
John pushed his hands into Sherlock's hair. He could understand why Sherlock ruffled his own hair when he was frustrated or bored. If he had hair like this he would constantly be touching it. Well, if Sherlock wouldn't be too annoyed by it, he might just do that anyway.
"Are we going to do something about ... you know ..." John pushed his hips playfully against Sherlock's.
"Hmm," was the moaned answer, and he could feel both of them growing completely hard again.
"Sherlock, you know that I hadn't had sex this frequently in ... years, really."
Sherlock grinned and kissed his forehead just to drop his head back in breathless laughter.
"What?" John asked, propped his chin up on Sherlock's collar bone right next to the love bite, eyeing him suspiciously from below. He really did like to feel Sherlock laugh like this while he was completely attached to him.
"I don't know. I'm happy I guess."
John smiled and frowned at the same time. "Well, I'm glad that you are."
"Are you? Happy, I mean?"
"Are you kidding me? Of course I am, you daft bugger."
"Interesting choice of words," Sherlock replied with a grin, moving his hands to John's arse.
John just grinned and playfully bit his chin. "So, anything you want me to do? Any more body parts to touch?"
"Well, I guess I would like for you to ..." he bit his lip, knowing that John was enjoying this immensely, "you know ..."
"Yes?"
"I want your hands on ..." The blush was back. John almost couldn't believe it. Sherlock always said what he meant. He did not get embarrassed and he certainly had no problems expressing something he wanted, especially when it was John that he wanted it from.
"Sherlock," he pushed himself up with both hands but pressed his hips down, blinking rapidly a few times to stay focused while Sherlock shuddered underneath him. "I know this might be a bit of a turn off for you, but I really need to say this to you."
Sherlock looked at him skeptically; clearly unsure of what he was going to tell him. John did not give him the chance to guess. "You are so freaking adorable sometimes. And I mean it. I have never met anyone who is as utterly adorable as you are." He couldn't help but grin at Sherlock's blank expression.
It took him exactly three seconds to process what John had just said. His eyebrows moved very close together and his narrowed eyes would have made John uncomfortable in any other situation, but not now; not when a single well executed roll of his hips made Sherlock lose focus, if only for a second.
"I am not," he protested, actually sounding offended.
"Yes, you are. You can protest all you want but it's not something you can control. I know you try to not be like that most of the time, but recently you have been so very adorable that I can barely take it."
"John," Sherlock whined, obviously adamant in proving him wrong but achieving the opposite. "I am not adorable." Stubborn now, John thought while he shook his head grinning.
"No? Not even a little? Because I could have sworn that just a second ago ..."
"No." Sherlock replied, pressing his lips together in a futile attempt to look affronted.
John raised both eyebrows and bit his lower lip in order not to burst out laughing. "No?" he asked again when he trusted his voice enough.
"John, stop that." He knew Sherlock would have crossed his arms in front of his chest had they not rested on his arse. Apparently, Sherlock wasn't upset enough to stop touching him just yet.
"You know," he started carefully, trying to make Sherlock see that it was nothing to be ashamed of, "it's actually one of the things I like most about you."
Sherlock clearly had not expected that. His expression reflected his confusion and he was obviously intrigued despite himself.
"I am not," he tried again, sounding unsure now, re-evaluating the new information.
John smiled and leaned down to kiss him, but Sherlock moved his head so that he kissed his chin instead of his lips. "I am distinctly not adorable, or cute, or whatever other terms you might come up with."
"Okay," John said, clearly meaning the opposite.
"Okay," Sherlock replied, his okay sounding very final. "Now stop grinning and touch me."
John laughed and moved his hips again, watching in fascination as Sherlock's eyes fluttered closed.
"Is gorgeous okay with you, then?"
Sherlock opened his eyes again, one eyebrow slowly arching up. "It might be," he said, cocking his head to the side as if considering whether his answer was enough.
"Well, you are," John said, and this time Sherlock let him kiss him on the mouth.
When Sherlock squeezed his buttocks, John grunted into the kiss and automatically started moving. Sherlock let him do that for the better part of a minute, watching his face intently all the while. When it got too much for him he rolled them over, John finding himself suddenly on his back and Sherlock on top of him. Just when he wanted to draw him closer, Sherlock moved away, lying on his side next to John, his arm thrown over John's chest.
"Touch me," he whispered, and John's heart fluttered.
"Okay," he said, sounding a little hoarse, which made Sherlock smile. Using his right arm and hand to stabilise himself, he carefully licked the palm of his left. Sherlock watched him, holding his breath. When John's hand moved to take hold of him, he released it in a shuddering sigh.
John smiled at the heat in his hand. These past days had been full of first times, and while he had not particularly enjoyed being stuck in that deserted elevator shaft or jumping into the Thames, he did enjoy every minute of exploration with Sherlock. And finally, finally he felt him properly. He wrapped his fingers around him, tugging playfully, gasping when Sherlock grunted and rocked into his touch. He started to move his hand up and down, first finding it hard to adjust to the unfamiliar angle, but after a while he found out how to pull and twist his hand in just the right way to make Sherlock utter little grunts. Every now and then he brought his hand up to lick it, making sure that he could move easily over Sherlock's heated skin.
Eventually, Sherlock couldn't keep his mouth shut and started to breathe harder, pressing his forehead against John's shoulder, his hands balled to fists as if he was afraid he might hurt John if he held onto him. "Sherlock?"
"Hmm?" he pressed his lips against John's arm, trying to keep himself from helplessly gasping.
"Look at me," John ordered, making Sherlock groan.
"I don't think I can," he answered breathlessly.
"Trust me, you can." John really wanted to see Sherlock's face when he came, because he hadn't, not really, not up close.
He pushed Sherlock onto his back, and pressing his own erection against Sherlock's thigh, started to move his hand faster. At this angle it was much easier, and he had to remind himself to look up and not down as to actually be able to see Sherlock when he came.
And Sherlock really tried, but even if he thought he was having a hard time given himself up to John, he was clearly not in control anymore and so he moaned loudly when John changed the pace and shouted when he ran his thumb over his head and John was sure that if he stopped now, Sherlock wouldn't even be able to complain about it.
And then he could see that Sherlock was close. His pupils were dilated, he was breathing even faster, a flush spread over his cheeks and chest and he had a hard time keeping his eyes open. If only he would be hungry afterwards, John would have been right in all respects in their conversation the day before. He grinned at Sherlock, who answered him by smiling the widest and happiest smile that John had ever seen on him. Blissful, John thought. Good God, Sherlock looked blissful and it was his doing.
He felt him buck into his hand, sharp gasps for air following the sudden movement and, trying to keep his eyes trained on John, Sherlock came. He blinked rapidly and John could see him fight for control. When he moved his hand again, just a bit, gently rubbing his thumb over his heated skin, Sherlock inhaled deeply and let out a shuddering sigh.
"S' good," he said, the blissful smile returning after it had given way to an expression that almost pushed John over the edge without any conscious action on Sherlock's side. If he ever looked at him like this when they were somewhere outside the bedroom and, God forbid, not alone, John wouldn't be able to guarantee for anyone's safety.
"Was it?" he asked, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.
Sherlock just nodded and then kissed him back. Just as John let himself be pushed on his back, he could feel Sherlock's hand on him. He had not expected for it to feel so very good. Sherlock didn't even get to start stroking him, because as soon as he started moving his hand, John came with a surprised shout. Sherlock watched his face closely and leaned back in to kiss him once more. John was breathless, but he did not want to stop kissing Sherlock. He felt light headed and happy and warm all over. When Sherlock moved away he felt immediately cold; not physically, but on a different level. He was just about to demand for Sherlock to come back and kiss him some more when he placed his left hand on John's cheek, his thumb gently stroking his skin. "I love you, John Watson. I never thought that I would say this to anyone, ever, but it's true. You make me feel like this and it is scary like nothing I have ever known, but it also feels so ..." he was fighting to find the exact word to express his emotion.
"Good?" John tried to help, his voice shaky.
"No, yes, I mean, it does feel good, but it feels right." He smiled, proud to have found the right word for what he wanted to say. If this happy pride wasn't the definition of adorable, John didn't know what was.
"I think we both need to shower again," Sherlock then said, lifting his right hand to his face, inspecting John's come a little closer.
"You will not look at that through your microscope, will you?" John commented, somehow dreading that this was exactly what Sherlock had planned.
"It would be interesting to analyse the consistency depending on the time of day, intensity of orgasm and nutrition ..."
"No," John interrupted him. "You will not do that."
Sherlock grinned and gave him a quick kiss before he fluidly moved off the bed and wandered towards the bathroom. John grinned as he sat up. Yes, Sherlock's arse was decidedly gorgeous.