6. In which Sherlock and John spend all day in bed

It was just one of those days. One of those days where once, twice, three times was not enough; would never be enough. The urge to absolutely devour each other was frankly overwhelming.

It had all started when Sherlock had woken John up with those deliciously plump lips wrapped around his cock, and John couldn't think of any other way he would prefer to be woken up than by that truly excellent blowjob. They went downstairs for breakfast, but quickly realised that it was pointless and so returned to their bedroom, which resulted in John repaying Sherlock for his earlier favour.

After an hour of lying tangled in each other's arms, Sherlock found himself kissing and sucking at John's neck once again, which thankfully got the desired response. John grinned as he rolled on top of Sherlock, hot lips marking dark purple love bites into his marble white neck. Sherlock moaned luxuriously, trailing his nails lightly up John's back and rolling his hips slightly. John pushed down against him, his rapidly hardening cock sliding against Sherlock's. Their lips met again, demanding and insistent, their tongues dancing around each other, warm and wet and deliciously sweet. Their kisses turned urgent as they clutched at each other, their breathing becoming ragged with desire. John pulled away from a moment to grab the bottle of lube, and Sherlock whimpered at the sudden lack of contact. Then John was back again and was trailing kisses down Sherlock's neck while a lube-slicked finger pressed slowly into him. Sherlock's head fell back and a moan of pleasure escaped his lips as his body welcomed John back into him. John began to slide his finger in and out, watching his lover's face intently, at the way his full lips parted, and the way his eyes fluttered closed and then opened sharply as he added another finger.

"Fuck!" Sherlock cried out as John scissored and twisted his fingers inside him, stretching him further, and Sherlock began to rock his hips, fucking himself on John's fingers. Within a few minutes he was gasping for breath and clutching at John's hair, and John was sure he'd never been so hard in his entire life. With a quick nip at the inside of Sherlock's thighs, John he withdrew his fingers and crawled back up to claim Sherlock's lips again. The taller man tugged desperately at his hair and wrapped a leg around his waist and John groaned and quickly slicked himself up, then pushed into him in one smooth thrust. Sherlock's back arched upwards, his hips bucking as John started up a punishing rhythm, their bodies pressed flush against each other, Sherlock's cock trapped between them and leaking precome onto his stomach.

Sherlock groaned and sighed and gasped in pleasure, and John reluctantly kissed him to quieten him; they didn't need Lestrade or anyone else walking in now, and Sherlock really could be exceptionally loud sometimes. John sucked on his lower lip, rocking his hips faster and angling upwards, his breath coming in short, sharp pants now. Sherlock cried out, the sound muffled against John's mouth.

"Is that it? Is that the spot?" John managed to gasp out, his own climax fast approaching.

Sherlock could only nod, dragging John back down to his mouth again. John kissed him back, his teeth scraping against Sherlock's lips, and he moved one hand down to grasp Sherlock's cock firmly in his hand. Sherlock writhed and bucked his hips, right on the edge but not quite able to fall over, desperate to come. John tugged lightly at him, his thumb brushing over the head of his cock, feeling precome pooling in his hand. Sherlock jerked at his touch, pulling away from his lips to cry out. It was all too much, but at the same time, not enough. Sherlock was drowning in the sensations John was provoking in his body, unable to focus on anything but the feel of John and almost completely unaware of the sounds that were being wrung out of him.

With one final, deep thrust and a tight squeeze on his cock, Sherlock's vision went white as he came hard, coating John's hand and his own stomach. John followed him a few seconds later, Sherlock's name on his lips as he shuddered and spilt into his lover. Sherlock moaned at the feel of it, rapidly becoming oversensitive to any sort of touch at all. John slid out of him, collapsing onto his back on the bed, one arm covering his eyes as he reached blindly for a handful of tissues, quickly cleaning himself up and then handing them to Sherlock.

Once they were both cleaned up and the tissues were disposed of, Sherlock rolled onto his side, stroking the side of John's face lightly as their breathing slowly returned to normal. Sherlock inhaled deeply, smelling sex, sweat, and the slightly clinical scent of the lube they had used.

"We need to shower…" John muttered, pressing his face into Sherlock's chest.

"I think we both know that there's no point in that," replied Sherlock, wrapping an arm slackly round his waist.

"Are we going to shag like rabbits all day?"

"If you feel that way inclined."

John grinned. "Give me a while. I'm not as young as I used to be."

"No rush. We've got all day."