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Update: Hello followers! Alright since most of you know by now I am working on another fic that was requested by a friend of mine, so updates to this fic might be a little far between, but I promise I am not giving up on this fic! Thank you!

And apparently, that was all the answer John needed. He reached up, hesitantly skimming his fingertips against Sherlock's cheekbones. Sherlock stiffened but John did not pull away. He ran his fingers down and across to place feather touches to Sherlock's lips. Sherlock felt his eyes flutter shut at the touch, wanting to feel more of John against him. He was so caught up in this, and he was scared as hell, but he liked the warmth and touch, but he was confused and…

Lips. Soft, plush, warm lips tasting of wine and sugar pressed to his, effectively sending his mind into a spastic fit. He began to sort the sensations into folders: soft, warm, wet, the way John's breathing puffed against his mouth, the pleasure rushing through his body, the way John's hands were strong and steady on his face. In all the haze and confusion, Sherlock found that he was pressing into John, increasing the pressure.

John whimpered a little in the back of his throat and gently parted Sherlock's lips with his own. The rush, the haze of soft skin and wetness made Sherlock stop breathing. He felt as though he were standing on a stage somewhere wrapped in his sheet. He did not like feeling this venerable, so he slowed the kiss until it rested somewhere between fluttery breathing and impossibly sweet, slow caresses.

John rested the tips of his fingers on Sherlock's face, pressing himself against him, but not like before. This time it wasn't desperate need for heat and skin and the desire to rut against someone. This was heady and desperate in a way Sherlock didn't understand. It felt like drowning, like John was trying to pull him above the waterline.

It felt like dying.

And then the kiss became something even more confusing. Sherlock attempted to keep up while John wrapped his arms around his neck and clung to him, puffs of air feeling their way across his lips. It was unendingly…romantic. Almost too much, and Sherlock felt naked with emotion. He had never liked feelings. They always got in the way, and once he started, it was difficult to stop.

He didn't like the sudden rush of cold air as John pulled away either, but apparently the need to breathe had overcome him. Sherlock opened his eyes, even though he hadn't recalled closing them, and took in what kissing made John look like. His lips were puffy and shiny, his eyes over-bright with wine and lust.

"That was…" he started, not sure how to express exactly what was running through his mind.

John still had his hand on Sherlock's, gently tracing circles into his skin. It was extremely distracting. Sherlock struggled for several minutes before he was silenced with a tender kiss from John, who pulled away quickly and locked eyes with him, his hand coming up to stroke Sherlock's jaw.

"I know. You don't have to say it, it's just…I know." John told him, smiling a little.

And in that moment, that's all Sherlock needed to hear.