London was never completely dark, even in the middle of the night. The air was cool but pleasant at 3am, the sky a deep, smoky purple-grey, bruised but slowly healing.
John shifted with a contented, sleepy sigh, opening dark-blue eyes slowly. He was met with the sight of Sherlock very close to him, whose thumb nudged snugly between his cupid-bow lips, sleeping lightly, his pale eyelids flickering.
The doctor very carefully eased back and pulled his own discarded jeans close to him, retrieving his mobile as gently and quietly as he could. He grinned to himself, biting his bottom lip as he aimed the phone at Sherlock and took a photo for posterity and possibly future blackmail requirements.
Sherlock's eyes opened sleepily at the sound of the camera noise on John's phone. He pulled his thumb self-consciously from between his beautiful lips, and gave the doctor a warm, crinkly grin before yawning sweetly.
"You're becoming an increasingly oral being, Sherlock."
The detective grinned fiendishly before replying in a murmury baritone.
"Mm...give me something to suck on."
John's eyebrows raised, and he licked his lips, nodding faintly and moving in for a kiss. He was halted as Sherlock planted a hand against his chest, mischievously placed a sucking kiss on the tip of John's nose, then moved down and suckled hard on John's collarbone, before the detective rolled over with finality, yawning extravagantly.
"Sherlock, you can't lay that on me and then turn away. Not fair." John swirled fingers over the detective's bare shoulderblades affectionately.
"Well, where should I lay it?"
John chuckled quietly, hooking an arm over Sherlock's waist and taking him abruptly in hand, rewarded by a soft, surprised sigh of pleasure. He stroked the younger man gently, and immediately a delightful stream of intense moans greeted him in the gloom. He sped up, and Sherlock braced himself against the cool mattress, gasping desperately. In less than two minutes, he shuddered hard, coughing out a frantic warning.
"John…John I'm…"
The doctor shifted and abruptly rolled Sherlock towards him, taking him in his mouth and swallowing as the detective came suddenly, a coarse, pained groan reverberating into the night, his whole body convulsing sweetly from the forceful orgasm.
"…God, John…" Sherlock heaved, closing his eyes, licking his lips and panting in glorious relief. The doctor pulled back with a proud grin and cuddled up close to his detective, sighing with satisfaction.
Sherlock came down slowly, swallowing hard and shivering with tremulous aftershocks.
John rested his head on Sherlock's bare chest, the detective's ribcage a bony pillow where his quick heartbeat greeted him with soft little punches against his ear.
"…Thankyou," came the baritone murmur, as Sherlock rummaged through John's ash-brown hair gratefully. The detective let out one final, relieved groan, then relaxed totally, hugging John close to him.
They rested together in wonderful lethargy for many minutes, holding each other in the cool, brisk, inky night.
"…You do know how much you mean to me?" Sherlock murmured suddenly.
John grinned, then gave Sherlock a quick, affectionate squeeze. "Yep. And I love you too."
"Listen…John…About earlier – "
"Don't worry about it. We're all good."
"No, not that." Sherlock gestured dismissively with one long hand, frowning in irritation. "I'm talking about Mycroft."
John quirked his brows in a frown, before sighing resignedly and snuggling against Sherlock, allowing the eccentric detective to speak.
"My mother always said that when and if the time ever came, that I were to find somebody I liked enough to make love to, then that person would probably be the person I would spend the rest of my life with."
"Your mum…knew that you were a virgin?"
"Of course. I never told her, but she knew. Mycroft was just reminding me of her words."
John cleared his throat and shifted, a little awkwardly, as a rogue breeze ruffled his ash-brown hair, chilling him slightly, birthing baby goosebumps on his bare arms. Sherlock gave him a quick, comforting squeeze as he shivered, and pulled the duvet higher around them both.
"…So now your brother and mum are expecting a long-awaited happy announcement," John muttered, half to himself.
"Yes."
John went silent, and Sherlock frowned when he felt the tiny nervous twitches in the doctor's fingertips, as they rested on his abdomen.
"What's wrong?" He demanded, pulling back a little, features crinkling as he glared down at his doctor.
John took a deep breath, and spoke quietly, his words muffled against the detective's shoulder.
"Are you saying…that you want to spend the rest of your life with me?"
Sherlock sighed irritably and rolled his eyes. "Obviously."
There was another pause. Sherlock felt the fingers on his lean stomach tense fractionally.
"Sherlock?"
"What?"
John's next words were simple, his denotation blunt.
"I need to fuck you. Right now."
The detective's pale, alien face suddenly broke into a beaming grin, and he pulled John on top of him in one deceptively easy movement, his sensual baritone sending thrills through the doctor.
"Permission granted, soldier."
John seized Sherlock with a vicious kiss, grinding against him as one hand scratched and fumbled desperately for the lube. The detective grinned in delight and pushed the bottle into John's questing hand.
"Can…can you go again," John asked breathlessly in between violent bites and suckles of Sherlock's throat.
Deliriously, Sherlock gasped a giggly reply, hands on his doctor's backside, forcing him into sharp, hard ruts against his crotch.
"Al…Always…You must know that…by now," he heaved, shuddering pleasurably as John gracelessly pushed two slick fingers inside him, administering to his prostate with lethal accuracy and determined speed, his muscled arm practically a blur. In moments, Sherlock was begging.
"God…yes…now," he managed, even as John was slicking himself up. The doctor penetrated him in one forceful movement, groaning, before setting a frantic, noisy, inelegant rhythm, thudding into the detective as hard and fast as he could. Sherlock could do little else than hold on tight to John's cool arms, wincing and sobbing at the agonising pleasure.
"J…John…I…" Sherlock seethed, his whole body jerking and rocking against the squeaking mattress with every manic, aggressive thrust. His dark, glossy curls bounced energetically against his pale forehead, his throat bobbed with every laboured gasp of air.
John growled and pounded into him even harder, the detective's voice rising in pitch and volume as he suddenly spasmed hard, grey-green eyes opening wide in disbelief as he suffered a devastating climax, his mouth a shocked heart-shape, his baritone cries ragged and unrestrained.
The doctor allowed himself to orgasm, shuddering and snapping his hips forward in awkward, rhythmless thrusts, groaning breathlessly and squeezing his eyes shut as Sherlock's nails drew blood in little half-moons on his biceps and his yells deafened him. He attempted to hold Sherlock down, who was bucking out his aftershocks violently, his hands slipping on damp, wild hips.
It took a minute for things to finally calm down, both men sweating and panting, John disengaging himself gently and laying beside the detective.
"…Sherlock? Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" he asked cautiously, taking one of Sherlock's damp hands and giving it a squeeze.
Sherlock took an extremely large breath and let it out in a long, satisfied gust, his pale grey-green eyes hazy as he stared up at the sky.
"That was brilliant."
John chuckled, relieved. "So much for not making a mess."
Sherlock flung a hand to the discarded sheet and lazily wiped them both off, before tossing it away again.
"Good as new."
John grinned and pulled the duvet across their waists before giving Sherlock an affectionate peck on his arm, and settling back down to sleep, one of the detective's hands hooked possessively around him.
OXOXOXOXO
Might just be one more chapter, but I may continue in a sequel…I'm too fond of this fic and besides, we need to follow the adventures of Keith XD