Author's Note:
Honestly, for the most part this chapter makes me giggle like an idiot. As usual, thanks to those have been reviewing and to all the new subscribers!
After a few hours John's body had decided that he had spent enough time sleeping. He slowly opened his eyes and inhaled sharply. Had he slept too long? Had his patrol left? It was too quiet. He went to move off the bed and felt weight across his torso when he remembered. Sherlock. Christ, he was forgetting the fact that he was with his fiancé every time he woke up. He settled back into the bed instantly, gently tugging Sherlock closer to him, smiling softly when he noticed the other man was actually sleeping. He looked so much younger when he slept, something John always studied intently while he could. "I love you," he whispered into Sherlock's curls, kissing the top of his head.
Sherlock muttered, much a like a child refusing to wake, when he felt John pull away momentarily. Even in his sleep, he attempted to crawl closer to the body next to him. "Love you too." He murmured sleepily but didn't wake up. The time difference had wreaked havoc on his biological clock and the jet lag had finally caught up with him. He hugged John closer, his head nestling into his fiancé's chest before falling back asleep soundly.
It was endearing, really almost adorable, that Sherlock was sleeping in past him. Usually it was the opposite. He would have entertained the idea of staying in bed with his fiancé if his chest wasn't so sticky and tinged slightly from the artificial coloring. He shifted slightly away from the warm body next to him. "I'm going to shower real quick," he whispered softly, placing a kiss on Sherlock's forehead. "I will be back in five minutes. I guarantee you'll still be asleep." He smiled, taking one last look at Sherlock before extracting himself from the tangle of long and lanky limbs. The shower was quick, extremely hot, and John stumbled out of the sweltering room with a small cough, a towel wrapped around his hips. He glanced at the tile floor, slick with water, before moving back to the bed. He discarded his towel and climbed into bed, his hair sticking up at odd angles and his body hotter than it should be, but he pressed his chest against Sherlock's back anyway, wrapping an arm around his waist and kissing his neck softly, sucking at the skin just below Sherlock's ear.
Another mutter escaped him and without John there to cling to, he found a pillow and hugged it close to his chest. He became aware of something moist on his ear, his body squirming but not pulling away. It slowly brought him awake, with a groan. Was John sucking on his skin? God, what a wonderful thing to wake up to. He released the pillow and rolled over, so he can look at John. He smiled, reaching a hand up to run through the messy, wet hair.
John smiled in return, chuckling at the feel of Sherlock's hand in his hair. "Had to take a shower. I couldn't stand being sticky anymore," he whispered. Sherlock looked wonderful like this, just woken up. He got to wake up to this every morning for the rest of his life. Hopefully. John would have to work hard to get Sherlock to sleep and make sure he actually woke up before the other man. "You want to go back to sleep? I'm perfectly happy to just watch you." The arm around Sherlock's waist tightened fractionally. It was an overly protective movement, something John didn't feel often, but he suddenly wanted to make sure Sherlock was feeling alright, well rested. He smiled, reaching a hand up to run through the messy wet hair.
"No. I'm fine. Rather be awake with you." Sherlock said and then leaned forward and gave a gentle kiss on John's lips. "What do you want to do today? I could tell you more about what I read in those books." He smirked and brought his mouth to his fiancé's ear so he could breathe into it while he spoke. He continued to run his fingers through the damp hair, every once in awhile flicking a stray lock that was just long enough to do so, causing water to spray off.
John smirked and returned the kiss before Sherlock moved on to his ear. "I think I'll keep you in suspense all day," he muttered. "Y'know, because I'm in control." The last part was growled as his hand ran down to Sherlock's ass, squeezing it momentarily. "Don't want to ruin it either. Going to make you wait." He lowered his head, wiggled against Sherlock, and nipped at the hallow of Sherlock's neck. "Wouldn't be fun."
"Oh, so you think you get to be in control all day? We'll just see about that." Sherlock whispered into John's ear and then began nibbling on it. He rolled so he could straddle the army doctor, in hopes of pinning the other man to the bed. He moved his kissing down from the ear to the neck where he began sucking. After a moment he lifted his head so he could look down at John, a smirk on his lips. "I said you get one time to be in control. Not a whole day. If you want the whole day, you'll have to work for it. Prove to me you can handle it, make me." Leave it to Sherlock to turn everything into a game or challenge.
Naturally. Of course John couldn't manage to get control for more than one promised time. He growled softly, arching into Sherlock's mouth before he pulled away. After their last experience his skin was, really, too responsive to Sherlock's mouth. John let his face relax, his eyes locked on Sherlock's face. If he wanted to get the upper hand then he needed to move quickly. He took a deep breath, smirked slightly, and lifted his hips swiftly off the bed, rotating at his waist. If this went like he planned he would have Sherlock pinned beneath him and John would be settled comfortably between Sherlock's legs.
Invariably, Sherlock fought to stay on top, but lost. Not terribly surprising, because John was much stronger than he was. Muscle mass didn't always matter, but it certainly helped in the favor of the army doctor this time around. He stared up at his fiancé, with a fake glare. He decided to cheat and reached his hand down so his fingers would lightly run along John's inner thigh. He smirked a bit, not quite ready to submit. He would make the other man work for it.
"Hmm, seems you're a bit-" John tossed his head back with a hiss at the touch to his inner though. "Stop it," he growled, opening his eyes and roughly grabbing Sherlock's wrist and pinning it above his head on the bed. There was a light in his eyes, a spark at having a sense of power over the man beneath him. He bent at the waist and licked slowly across Sherlock's right nipple, glancing up at Sherlock with a small sense of pride. "Don't move."
"Make me." Sherlock repeated, that cocky smirk still plastered on his lips. One hand may be pinned but he still had his other hand free. It too moved down, his fingers once more coming to glide along John's inner thigh ever so lightly. With effort and force, he bucked his hips into the man above him.
John's jaw tightened instantly and he grabbed Sherlock's other wrist, lifting it above his hand and grabbing with his other hand. He pressed both of Sherlock's wrists together tightly, slamming them against the bed for emphasis. "I said don't move," he growled. He shifted his free arm, pressing his forearm against Sherlock's cheek and forcing his head to turn. He pressed Sherlock's head hard into the bed. John pressed his hips harshly into Sherlock, tilting his head slightly to meet Sherlock's gaze. "Understand?"
Jesus, John had never been this rough and sure of himself before and Sherlock loved it. He couldn't admit that out loud though. He wiggled his body, trying to move any part available to him. All he had accessible at this time were his legs and feet. He bent his knees, and he drew his foot up at an awkward angle and managed to find John's thigh once more, his big toe running along it this time. Looked like learning capoeira, a form of Brazilian kickboxing martial arts, had finally paid off.
Wonderful. Of course Sherlock had lanky legs that could bend at awkward angles. John's forearm shoved harder into Sherlock's forearm and, for a moment, John worried that he might leave a bruise on Sherlock's pale skin. "That's an order," he barked harshly, his eyes flashing dangerously for a moment. His dog tags dangled from his neck, something he was sure would help to further intimidate the man beneath him. He shifted against Sherlock, looking down, as his knee dug into the inside of Sherlock's thigh and shifted to press it against the mattress. "If you don't stop I'll be forced to show you what happens when you don't listen to your Captain."
When had John got so strong? Had his fiancé just turned this into one of the role playing things he had read about in his books? Sherlock most certainly wanted to see what would happen if he didn't obey. He struggled against John with the remaining of his strength but it was slipping with every second. He couldn't believe how turned on this made him. He always liked it rough, but with John asserting his authority it was like a whole new level of bliss for him.
For a moment a flare of anger shot through John. Sherlock would stop moving. He took several deep breaths and tried to calm himself down. All he could hear was the blood rushing through his ears and his rapid heartbeat. "Fuck," he whispered as he bent his head and bit down on an exposed tendon of Sherlock's neck harder than he knew was normal. His free leg bent, his knee digging into the mattress, as he pressed his thigh against Sherlock's penis lightly. This would be more fun than John thought. He pulled away from Sherlock's neck, his forearm still pressing against the other man's face, and smirked. "Mr. Holmes, we might have quite the problem if you decide to keep this up." He whispered, moving so he was in Sherlock's vision, a lop-sided smile on his face as his eyes narrowed.
Sherlock couldn't help but yelp in pain from the bite, apparently he had his limits because he was no longer turned on by the recent turn of events. He stilled his body, his breathing increasing rapidly. He didn't trust himself to speak, so he didn't reply. That and John seemed to be enjoying it, and he hoped his sudden outburst hadn't ruined things for his fiancé.
A yelp. That was different. That was noise. Sherlock didn't make noise. John tore himself off of Sherlock as fast as he could, breathing hard as his eyes went wide. Shit. Shitshitshit. He moved to the foot of the bed and blinked several times. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." His mouth hung open, as if he's trying to speak again, and then his head drops. "Oh, God, Sherlock, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to- I thought." He swallowed hard and buried his head in his hands. He brought his legs up and quickly made himself small. "I thought you would like it."
Any hopes he had at things not being ruined were dashed nearly instantly. Sherlock cursed himself mentally, he hadn't meant to yelp like that but it had caught him off guard and well it had hurt. He resisted the urge to rub the sore spot, because he doesn't want John to feel any worse. He crawled to the foot of the bed and enveloped his fiancé in a hug. "It's fine. You just surprised me. I didn't think you had it in you…" He gave a small laugh and then placed a soft kiss on the top of John's head.
John managed a small laugh, it was forced but at least Sherlock had managed to make him laugh. "I've been working out," he stated the best he could. His body unfolded slightly and he shifted to bury his face into the side of Sherlock's neck. What had really scared John was that he had no idea that he had it in him. He had never felt like that, so aggressive and... violent, really. Not since going back to war. He opened his mouth, was going to tell Sherlock, but quickly decided against it. He wasn't going to worry his fiancé over little things like that. "I bit you really hard, is it okay?" He pulled away to gaze at the mark, his teeth still indented in the skin and the area turning pink. "Christ, Sherlock, I'm sorry."
Sherlock gave a small smirk and then shrugged. "Guess that'll teach me to mess with Captain John Hamish Watson again." He fell quiet and thought for a moment. "Those books I was reading, mentioned something about a safety word. I'm not really sure, I merely skimmed that part because it was pretty boring but I think I got the basic jest of it. Anyway, maybe we should have one…?" He trailed off, because he wasn't sure how receptive John would be. Apparently they were still learning the limits of themselves and each other. He couldn't help but idly wonder if every couple had this problem in the bedroom.
The use of his full name and rank made John smile. After a moment of hesitation, his mind taking in all of Sherlock's words, John nodded. "I wouldn't see a problem. I mean, we've been together for a bit but... y'know, we both seem to have discovered some things we might not like." His lips pursed and he glanced up at Sherlock. "It needs to be very different, not something we woul- I would yell. Any ideas?" He ended the sentence with a soft kiss to Sherlock's jaw, one hand wrapping around Sherlock to run along the nape of his neck.
"Hmmm, the book gave a list of good safety words to use but like I said I didn't really pay attention to that section. Guess I should…" Sherlock trailed off, easily distracted by John's kiss and touch. He tilted his head slightly, so their lips could meet and gave a gentle kiss. After a moment of tender kissing he broke it to look at John, a slight smirk on his lips. "You're the one in charge today, so you'll have to come up with it."
"Mmm." John kept his eyes closed for a long moment, licking his lips. He opened his eyes and met Sherlock's gaze for another long moment. "That's just unfair," he whispered with a grin. His eyes darted to Sherlock's lips for a long moment as his mind worked to try and find an unusual word. "Cheesecake?" He asked softly, his eyes lighting up almost instantly.
Sherlock smiled and nodded. He was about to move in for another kiss when he has to remind himself he had just given John control. He had promised his fiancé, total and utter control. He could play the part of submissive, right? He was a pretty strong personality he knew but he could play the part damn it. So, he committed himself to the role. He finally let go of John, his body going a bit slack and he averted his gaze from his fiancé to look at the bed.
For a moment John was completely confused, his eyebrows knitting together before it dawned on him. Submission. He would know that body language anywhere. Sherlock was really giving him control? He bit his bottom lip, grinned slightly, and reached for the phone. The food in the room was a day old and he was hungry. "Yes, hello," a pause and a laugh. "Yes, that's us. Um, could I just get two large glasses of milk, eggs, toast, and perhaps some sausage, please?" The phone was set back down and John moved to recline against the pillows, his left arm spread out with just enough room for Sherlock to snuggle against him. "I'm hungry," he muttered softly as he turned the television on. It was all in Arabic. "So while I'm waiting... d'you think you could translate this? Tell me what it's saying?" He smiled softly at the man before him.
Really? Really? Sherlock kept his mental protest to himself. "I can try. I'm not particularly fluent in Arabic." He managed to reply without using a sulking tone. He fell quiet, brows knitting together in concentration as he listened to the television. "Some kind of propaganda news. Talking about the war. Not very American or Western Europe friendly from what I can gather." He didn't move from his spot, because it hadn't been requested. If John wanted control he had it. Sherlock wasn't going to do anything without being told or asked. He wondered how long it would take John to catch on to that and he fought the urge not to smirk at the thought.
John listened to Sherlock's voice for a moment before sitting up slightly. "Sherlock, c'mere," he stated it like it was basic fact. They were both in a bed so obviously they needed to be snuggling. He motioned with his hand for Sherlock to move next to him, glancing. "What're you doing? Seriously, sometimes I worry about you and your mind palace." His comment was low and playful. All attention to the television was lost and instead turned to Sherlock.
Sherlock doesn't argue even though he wanted to tell John he was just doing what he was told. He sat where his fiancé asked, but does nothing else. He doesn't move into snuggle. He doesn't reach out to take John's hand. He doesn't do anything. Once more he fights not to smirk. Perhaps he could have some fun with this too. He doesn't even look at the other man as he sat there wondering if by being too submissive John will want to give up the control, which would result in a win for himself.
What in the world was going on? Sherlock wasn't acting like himself at all. "Sherlock? Are you alright?" John sat up with a worried gaze, placing a hand on Sherlock's forehead to check for a temperature. Everything seemed fine. "What's gotten into you?" He grabbed Sherlock's hand and gave it a gentle tug, willing the other man to curl against him.
Hmmm, maybe he was playing the submissive role a little too well. Sherlock finally lifted his gaze when spoken to. "I'm fine," he finally replied as John took his hand. How to answer the second question truthfully? But without revealing his ridiculous childish behavior of refusing to do anything unless asked. He settled for, "I'm just doing what is asked of me." He curled against John finally, his head resting on his fiancé's chest.
Leave it to Sherlock to make a literal interpretation of John's control. "Y'know, I appreciate the act and all, it's endearing." He moved his head and placed a kiss on the top of Sherlock's head, "But you are free to do little things like snuggle with me." He finished his sentence in a whisper and wrapped an arm protectively around Sherlock's shoulders. "I love you." His stomach growled loudly and John laughed his hand rubbing down Sherlock's bicep and back up to his shoulder repeatedly.
Sherlock couldn't help but smirk ever so slightly at John's word. Oh he knew all right. "I love you too." He replied as his body shivered from the rubbing on his body. He snuggled into John a little more fully, an arm over his fiancé's stomach and his other hand finding the top of the army doctor's head so he could play with short hair.
Being this close to Sherlock was wonderful. It really was. Except now all John could think about was how warm Sherlock was, how he felt pressed against John's side, and all of a sudden he let out a soft moan. He couldn't help himself. A hand moved to tangle in Sherlock's hair and he gave it a gentle tug to pull his head back, swiftly moving to meet his lips. Anytime Sherlock was touching him, at all, John couldn't control himself. His tongue moved impatiently into Sherlock's mouth, running across the roof of his mouth as his other hand moved to squeeze Sherlock's hip.
Ah, so it had begun. Sherlock didn't fight a thing, he wasn't allowed to. He let John control the kiss, the pressure of it, the length. He merely followed his fiancé's lead. His body couldn't help but squirm at the touch on his hip. He wanted to straddle John here and now and with a force of will, he refrained from doing so and he was even able to still the squirming with a bit more effort. It was then he realized just how hard this might end up being for him. He would just have to have a little, well maybe a lot, of self control. He could manage that right?
John smiled into the kiss and pulled away when he realized that Sherlock was really trying to give John control. He smirked, studied Sherlock's face, and turned his attention back to the television. Despite Sherlock's obvious struggle John had a feeling he was really going to enjoy this. He took several deep breaths to calm his racing heart so Sherlock wouldn't notice how affected he was already.
So unfair. Sherlock let his head fall back onto John's chest. He wondered how long he would have to wait for more intimate contact. Not long based on how fast the heartbeat was against his ear. Unless John was making him wait just to torture him. Waiting for, anything, wasn't his style. He was impulsive and brash in most things he did. Hopefully the cooks in the kitchen would be slow and wouldn't interrupt anytime soon. He needed to do something to occupy his rampant running mind. He lifted his head slightly so he could see John's head and concentrated on his hand in his fiancé's hair. The texture, the length, the color, every little detail he could intake.
John closed his eyes as Sherlock's hand ran through his hair, his lips parting slightly as he let out a relaxed sigh. Sherlock had to know what he was doing. Just touching him was driving John up a wall. He wanted to drag it out, to make Sherlock squirm and beg for it, but with the way Sherlock was touching him and studying him it was nearly impossible. After a moment of consideration John rolled to settle on top of Sherlock, settling between the other man's legs with a smug smile. "I've got a feeling you know exactly what you're doing," he whispered in Sherlock's ear, nipping at it with a breathy laugh. "Aren't you supposed to be submissive right now?"
Instantly, Sherlock dropped his hand from John's hair. He wanted to argue that snuggling was okay. That he always ran his hair through the other man's hair when snuggling. That really, he had done it to keep himself focused and hadn't meant it as a distraction. He doesn't say any of that though. "I'm sorry," is all he says in quiet but clear voice. Couldn't John see how much he was trying right now? Once more he kept his thoughts to himself, his body uncharacteristically still.
"I can see why you like being in control," John muttered, lifting his head to meet Sherlock's gaze. "I should try this more often." He lowered his head, nudging Sherlock's chin with his nose before latching on to his neck. His mouth worked roughly against Sherlock's skin, nipping and sucking as his hands tangled in Sherlock's hair to hold him still. "Is this okay?" He whispered against Sherlock's neck, freezing for a moment so he wouldn't go too far.
With a self control he didn't know he had, Sherlock didn't wiggle from the magnificent feeling on his neck. He doesn't want John to think he is trying to fight back. He gave a small smile. "It's fine my dear doctor. We implemented a safety word for reason, so no worries." There were so many things he wanted to do in retaliation but he willed himself not to. Would he be able to keep this up all day? This total submission thing was harder than he had realized.
For a moment John studied Sherlock, eyes narrowed and his mouth tilted to the side. He ran his hands down Sherlock's chest, following them with his gaze. "I dreamed about this a week ago," he whispered, biting his bottom lip before lifting his gaze back to Sherlock's eyes. "Except we just talked. Not about Afghanistan or the flat or cases... just life. Us." His voice was far off, happy, eager. "I woke up so disappointed when you weren't next to me." He bent down and gently met Sherlock's lips, pulling away with an amused smirk. "And you can move your hands, kiss me back," he chuckled before meeting Sherlock's lips again.
At first Sherlock was confused when he saw John's eyes narrow. What had he done now? He was about to go through every twitch his body had made in the last few minutes mentally, when he heard John speak. "Is that something you would want to do sometime?" He doesn't need to be told twice and he immediately returned the kiss, once more allowing his fiancé control it though. His arms wrapped around John's waist in a light embrace, his fingers interlocking together to prevent him from scratching.
It seemed that the underlying current of their two-day vacation was simple: do it now because this could be the last time. Unspoken, obviously, but it was there like an elephant in the room. John pulled away from the kiss. "Now?" He asked hesitantly, his voice soft and shaky. "We can do this later. We've got time. I just want to talk. To hear you breathe. Listen to you heartbeat. I just... I want to remember it all before-" he closed his eyes for a long moment and took a deep breath to try and calm himself. "This is the last night I've got with you. Tomorrow we've got a few hours... I just... Now?"