Okay, a bit of a warning. The second part of this chapter might have slight tendencies towards an E-rating. If you don't like that, you better skip to the Epilogue.
Once John had checked Sherlock head to toe for injuries, he insisted that the three of them had dinner but in his doctor's eyes, Sherlock had seen it. The fire that had flared up after the fight.
If the Colonel hadn't been there, John would have ravished Sherlock right then and there. High on post-fight hormones charging through his veins, it would have been rough
Instead they sat in a diner next to the freeway, feasting on surprisingly good ribs that were dripping with sauce. While they ate, they regaled each other with stories about the case Sherlock had solved, how John and Douglas had met and relived the excitement of Sherlock's rescue.
When most of the food was gone and the sight of Sherlock licking barbecue sauce from his fingers became more interesting than the leftovers on the plate, John cleared his throat and suggested they tried their luck getting back to their hotel. A call to the Sheriff's office provided them with an escort and soon Douglas bid them good-night to retire to his own room.
Finally closing the door to their room, John sat down heavily on the queen-sized bed.
"You're okay?" he asked, studying Sherlock for more than the expected signs of fatigue.
Sherlock nodded and smiled softly before he first took off his coat and then bit by bit the rest of his clothes. For a moment he stood in front of the bed, slightly swaying on his feet but then John took his arm and guided him to the shower.
They circled through the bathroom with practised ease and before long climbed into the bed where they fell asleep within mere minutes.
oOo
Sherlock knew it was still early when he woke up but having slept next to his doctor left him more refreshed than when he slept alone. In the semi-darkness of the room he watched the rise and fall of the blond man's chest next to him before he quietly left the bed to use the bathroom.
When he came back he slipped beneath the sheets, determined not to disturb John but before Sherlock knew what was happening, strong fingers curled into his hair and soft lips pressed to his own.
"You're awake enough for a bit of fun?" John growled in Sherlock's ear, biting the shell playfully.
The detective couldn't even answer for he was rolled on his back and immediately pleasure speared through his body when a tongue was pushed past his lips. It was more a natural reaction than a deliberate act when Sherlock's mind opened wide to register everything that was John – his touch, his scent, his looks.
Although classically handsome and masculine, Sherlock was very aware of his own willowy body and the contrast to John's solid, muscular one. Especially now, that some ugly bruises decorated his own pale torso. But there was no pretence in John's eyes. All the love he felt for Sherlock came floating to the surface of his expressive face and the feeling made his deep blue eyes shine with adoration. If anything, the bruises made John feel more protective.
The totality of John's desire was intoxicating. Until John, Sherlock's body had been mostly transport, lust something he mostly handled himself. Not in his wildest dreams would he have guessed that the touch of another man could make him tremble almost uncontrollably with pleasure.
He pressed the whole length of his naked body to John's, wondering why even such close and intimate contact wasn't enough to rid him of his longing. Sherlock remembered the first time they had been intimate. One moment John had sat in his armchair, drinking tea, the next he had knelt in front of Sherlock, unzipping the expensive trousers and taking the rapidly hardening cock deeply into his mouth. This gesture of submission from the proud man had ripped a chocked sob from Sherlock's throat but then there had been only bliss.
Just like that evening Sherlock's body shuddered when John's blunt fingers ran delicately over his smooth, pale skin. The pain from the bruises bled from his body and was replaced with desire.
Hot lips kissed their way from the elegant neck to the dusky nipples and sharp teeth and a nimble tongue teased them into hard nubs. Without warning the base of Sherlock's cock was engulfed in a strong, perfect grip and in one deliberate stroke, John swept his tongue along the whole length, making Sherlock moan deeply in his throat.
For a while Sherlock enjoyed the skilful ministration before he pulled John up to kiss him thoroughly.
As always John was surprised by Sherlock's tenderness. The man's often harsh demeanour with no regard for other people's feelings was only the hard shell that protected the gentle soul that lay within. Now the long, elegant hands handled him like something delicate and the awe in the quicksilver eyes emphasized that Sherlock considered him as something very precious.
With an intense look Sherlock poured a generous amount of lube into John's hand before rolling onto his stomach, wiggling his artfully plush bottom invitingly. Unable to resist the offer, the doctor prepared his lover. And oh so slowly, wallowing in the sounds that tumbled from Sherlock's lips, he entered the man he loved with utmost care.
Moving together in unison neither man lasted long. Like an unstoppable force, John's orgasm approached with toe-curling strength. It flared up in his stomach and John cried out, gripping his lover's hips hard when the delirious pleasure peaked, threatening to drive him out of his mind.
Sherlock followed him over the edge just moments later, the sounds of John adding copious amounts of fuel to the flame that was already burning white-hot in his groin. The lean, sinewy body tensed and with a yell that probably resounded through the hotel all the way to the lobby, he nearly doubled over when the force of his orgasm hit him.
John didn't remember how he ended up cradled to Sherlock's chest but he really didn't care. Swiftly falling asleep again, all that mattered was the physical sensation of being close to his lover.
