A/Note: If life gives you lemons... enjoy them! ;)

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14. ...For a Happy New Year

What was that look for? Why did he touch my chest? Was he about to say or do something? He wished - he couldn't say it, not even to himself. He desperately wanted to know what would have happened had his parents not shown up. Did I give myself away? Did I stare too long? Did I arch into his touch?

He didn't know how long he went around this constant loop in his mind, but was brought back to reality when he heard a faint sound at his door. Was that a tap? But before he could puzzle over the fact that he had heard it despite being inside his mind, his door slowly opened. He immediately sat up, eyes wide, heart hammering inside his chest.

John paused at the door, let out his breath, then stepped into his room. He closed the door and stopped, leaning against it, hands still behind him. In the dim light filtering through the curtains he could see John, wearing pyjama bottoms and a loose long sleeved t-shirt, his chest visibly moving.

They stared at each other. His panic was such that he couldn't speak.

John finally moved and approached the bed slowly, every step even more alarming than the previous one. The anticipation and hope made Sherlock's heart feel as though it was about to burst out of his ribcage.

Breathing loudly, John carefully put his knee on the edge of the bed and paused again, as if waiting for an objection or permission. Sherlock didn't utter a sound, afraid of breaking this tenuous thread that was bringing him closer and closer.

Seeing no objection, he slowly climbed onto the bed and, still giving him plenty of time to stop it, straddled Sherlock.

Sherlock raised his wide eyes to meet John's and then felt a hand on his cheek. Leaning slightly into the touch he closed his eyes and parted his lips in a breathy exhale. The touch was gentle, the hand warm and a bit damp. He felt himself melt into it, relishing on his scent and swaying at the contact. This touch was undeniably affectionate and intimate, beyond friendship, beyond his wildest fantasies. John's hand went up towards his hair, but his fingers got stuck in the curls. Sherlock was momentarily alarmed and embarrassed, he wished he could have combed his hair; had he only known this was about to happen-

John put both palms on his cheeks and, with fingertips reaching the back of his neck, tilted his head up for a kiss.

In the briefest second before it happened he panicked: What does one actually do when kissing? He had never bothered to research that. He just had never expected that this would ever happen to him. He kept his lips parted and eyes closed, afraid of doing something wrong, just feeling what John did to him. His own breathing pounded so loud inside his head, it left no room for anything else, blocking all reason. He thought he could still taste champagne. Slowly, Sherlock ventured into attempting to move his lips, copying John's moves and hoping this was right. For it felt right to him, in an overwhelming mixture of panic and pleasure.

His hands fell unintentionally on John's thighs and he couldn't help but move them, feeling up the warm muscles under the soft flannel. Relishing the touch, his hands moved up and down the thighs, then to the hips, towards the back. When he did that, his hands slipped under John's t-shirt.

His stomach dropped; he was finally experiencing what that bare back felt like. It surpassed his expectations and fantasies; it burned, smooth and solid under his palms. Now peppered with goose pimples.

John was also breathing hard with the kisses and his hands seemed to be all over Sherlock; his back, his arms, his neck, his chest, his sides. John quickly slipped his tongue against Sherlock's lips, a tentative probe, testing for reaction. Sherlock shuddered; there was the briefest contact with his own tongue and he had never imagined this could be so earth shattering. Yes, he could definitely taste the champagne, which somehow only added to the heady feel. If he had been dizzy with the bit of champagne he had tried earlier, now he was positively inebriated with the ghost of it. He felt a smile against his mouth; this must be good then, he likes my reaction. Yet, it took him by surprise how much more intense kissing could be. John increased the sensory overload - with his lips, his tongue, his hands -, enveloping him in a storm of heat and wetness. Sherlock was positively light headed, thinking it couldn't get any more intense, when John slid one hand towards his nape and the other around his back, pulling and pressing closer, mashing his hips against Sherlock's.

He gasped. John was hard. And so was he. He moaned into John's mouth as colourful flashes appeared inside his eyelids.

'Shhh,' John whispered, breathlessly continuing his sensual movements and kissing him.

If kissing had already been panic inducing, this was definitely heart attack material. With a strong pounding in his temples and chest, something took over Sherlock and he held tightly, surging forward in what was certainly a shamefully clumsy and desperate manner. His own kisses felt sloppy with too much saliva, and he worried John would back away anytime now, disgusted with such neediness and slobbery on his part. But his own body overrode any and all rational thoughts and his need for John moved him, bigger and stronger than anything he had ever felt.

Sherlock could've stayed like this forever, but soon John gently guided him down. He backed away just enough to move the covers between them out of the way and lowered himself. Sherlock instinctively parted his legs and John's hips nestled between them. The contact was so overwhelmingly pleasurable it drew out a raspy moan from his throat, muffled again by the hungry lips devouring his. John's body weighing over his felt so good, solid and heavy, moving back and forth in a smooth slide and push. With his hands still under the t-shirt, he ran them up and down John's back, just like he had fantasised doing for so long. With his legs bent and feet pushing against the mattress, he kissed back, his own hunger making him move and chase that intoxicating friction.

John now kissed his chin, his cheek, his jawline, moving down to his neck. Sherlock had never understood why people kissed each other's necks. Such a bony part of the body (mine especially), why would anyone want to kiss- A breathy 'Ooh!' escaped his lips. John was also sucking and licking it, adding yet another level to the multi-faceted pleasure he was experiencing.

John's body weight, the hardness of his muscles, the decisiveness in the push of his hips, his scent, his desire and his heat engulfed Sherlock. John had tackled all his senses and turned them into fire; their sweat soaking their clothes, their hair and the sheets underneath him. Like an insect on display, he was pinned to the mattress, shamelessly spreading himself for whatever was to come, this looming and scary unknown. Only the knowledge that this was John on top of him kept his panic at bay. There was so much pressure, so little oxygen, he would certainly pass out any time now. Yet, curling up his body he frantically pushed against John. In a flash he held tightly and buried his mouth into John's shoulder, muffling embarrassing sounds that escaped from his mouth as he exploded, convulsing and spasming, jerking and buckling under John.

He had never imagined it could be so different and so much - more - with someone else.

With one last shudder all the tension left his body and he sagged in bed, worn out, sweaty, panting, hands releasing the tight grip and falling next to his head as John raised himself a bit. He kissed Sherlock tenderly now, on the lips, on the cheeks, on the neck, then pulled away. Sherlock felt cold and wanted him back, it had felt good to have a John blanket covering him. John knelt back, just like in their wrestling positions, their thighs still touching.

Slowly Sherlock slipped out of his daze and became aware of the bed shaking and of some distinct sounds coming from above him. Opening his eyes a little he saw John kneeling between his legs. He had removed his t-shirt and was staring at him, panting, touching his own chest, while his other arm was moving fast. Sherlock's eyes travelled down and he saw John's left hand moving quickly in the dark patch that was his crotch, pyjama and pants pushed out of the way. He couldn't see the details in this low light, but he marvelled seeing John's desire and knowing that it was all for him.

John wrapped his free arm around Sherlock's thigh and rubbed his cheek against it, staying like this for a while, inhaling his scent as his hand kept a frantic pace. Then he let go and ran his hand up on Sherlock's stomach and chest, pushing the t-shirt out of the way. The touch was callused, light and stuttering with the effort of its twin. It made him shiver - he was still too sensitive. John played lightly with his left nipple, which made him throw his head back with a shuddering breath.

Seeing Sherlock's reactions proved to be too much for John. He quickly reached to the side, grabbed his own t-shirt and held it close, blocking Sherlock's view. Sherlock wanted to see it, feel it even, and was about to tell him so, but it happened too fast. John threw his head back, neck muscles and pecs straining. He was quiet, only his breathing coming out louder, in spurts. The idea alone of what was happening now was so erotic, it was enough to bring back his own desire. He was still too sensitive to be touched, but he was hardening again.

After a while, with his breathing more under control, John stared at him for a bit. Still using his t-shirt, he gingerly wiped himself and his hand and pulled his clothes back up. He lowered Sherlock's t-shirt back in place, got out of bed, pulled the covers to tuck him in and left quietly.

Sherlock was astonished but too knackered to panic or rejoice. In a daze, he pushed and kicked his soiled pyjamas and pants out of the way and took off his t-shirt, as it was a bit wet in some spots.

He slept well that night, naked, with John's smells enveloping him.

...

A/Note: Phew! People usually complain that I don't give much detail of these two together so there you go. And please let me know how I did. :D