'John,' groans Sherlock. He shoves the jeans and underwear down over John's hips and takes hold of John's cock. He begins to stroke it, fingers wrapped around the warm silkiness of the skin, feeling the blood-hot firmness beneath. He listens greedily to the noises coming from John's throat. [-'Yes, more.'-]
His left arm wraps around John's chest, pressing him against Sherlock's body. His left hand toys with John's right nipple, pinching and rolling it between thumb and forefinger. John cries out hoarsely. His right arm holding the mobile is shaking, fingers clenched and knuckles white.
'That's it, John, give me more.'
Sherlock bends his head, pressing his lips to John's left shoulder, then sucking hard. John's fingers clench painfully in his hair. Sherlock's hips are rhythmically grinding against John's arse, rubbing his erection against smooth skin and the slickness of pre-ejaculate. 'The way you sound, John.' His long body is curved around John's shorter one, surrounding him. [-'I've got to have you.'-]
'Oh god, god, god... '
Sherlock kisses John's rough jaw, feels the shape of it, traces it with the edge of his teeth. 'I want to bend you over that table there.' His hand moves faster on John's cock. [-'Is that what you would like, John? Tell me that's what you would like.'-]
John's voice is shaky, "Oh, Christ. Yes. Let me put down the phone. Fuck, yes, Sherlock. Oh! Slow down, slow down!'
'You can't stop using the mobile. You are the one who wanted phone sex.' Sherlock tugs on John's earlobe with his teeth.
John's laugh is a little frantic. "Fuck. No, you chose this fantasy. Oh Jesus. Oh!' His eyes are scrunched tightly closed, and the expression on his face reminds Sherlock of paintings of the rapture of mystics.
[-'Beautiful, you looks so perfect like this, John.'-] He swallows thickly. 'Put it on speaker phone then. Here.' Sherlock plucks the phone from John's trembling fingers, clicks the speaker button and puts it on the table. The sound of Sherlock's voice sounds from the little speaker. [-'There. Perfect. Now I can talk without even using my mouth.'-]
John's eyes pop open. 'What do you mean -?' Before he can finish the sentence, Sherlock spins him around by his hips and swoops in to claims his mouth.
[-'John. John.-]
John wraps an arm behind Sherlock's shoulder and uses his other hand to pull the taller man even closer, groaning. Sherlock is open-mouthed, devouring, and John is matching his ferocity. His tongue traces Sherlock's bottom lip and Sherlock's slides against it, tasting.
[-'I could spend months memorizing the textures of you, John. Your skin. Your hair. Everything. Years. Decades.-]
John kisses his way from the corner of Sherlock's mouth to his jaw. Sherlock hisses a breath, and tilts his head back invitingly.
[-'Do it, let me feel your teeth, mark me, harder.'-]
Sherlock's fingers tighten on John's hips as John does as requested, first using his teeth to gently bite the juncture of neck and shoulder, and then sucking hard and fast to bring up a bright contusion. John smiles against his skin, and lifts a hand against Sherlock's face, turning his head back so their mouths met again, more languorously, feeding on each other. His fingertips brush against Sherlock's cheekbone gently. Sherlock releases his tight grip on John's hips and lifts a hand to the back of John's head, burying his fingers in the short strands.
[-'Perfect. You are perfect. The things I want to do to you.'-]
'Do them, then,' John says against Sherlock mouth. Sherlock's lips curve into a smile.
[-'But you are entirely too clothed for this fantasy, John.'-]
John pulls back and looks at him, smiling and frowning together. 'Fine. Help me get these trousers and shoes off, and you lose the shirt. Better yet, just vanish them away. You idiot.'
Sherlock's answering smile is wide and bright. He chuckles silently, and draws off his shirt, leaning against the table. [-'Apparently with some things I require some verisimilitude.-]
John huffs a laugh, and toes off his shoes, dragging the remainder of his clothing off without further ado and kicking it aside.
[-'Get over here, John.-] Sherlock catches his wrist and tugs. John comes eagerly, smiling, stepping between Sherlock's legs. Sherlock's fingers cup John's head and angle his face up for a kiss, groaning. John closes the distance between their bodies, urgently pressing and begins to roll his hips against Sherlock's, their erections brushing and rubbing against each other.
[-'More, oh god. John...!'-]
John responds to the exclamation of pleasure by sliding his left hand between their bodies, firmly grasping their shafts together. Sherlock's breath catches at the sensation, and when John's hand begins to move, using his thumb to swipe over the glans to collect the slickness there, Sherlock's fingers tighten in John's hair even more. He can't help the involuntary movement his hips make into John's hand, growling, and he forces John's mouth open even more, kissing him deeply, tongue exploring silken heat within.
[-'Fuck, yes. Yes. John.'-]
His hands drop to John's arse, fingers digging in, relaxing, squeezing. John makes a half-choked noise and thrusts against him three times in quick succession. 'Nng!. Sherlock, go on. I want to feel you.'
Quickly Sherlock fumbles with the bottle of lube, smoothing the liquid over his fingers. Reaching again, he traces a trail of cool slickness between John's arse cheeks, circling the hole teasingly. He taps it, and John's hips jerk in reaction. He licks the corner of John's mouth. 'Is this what you want?'
In reply John cants his pelvis back in invitation. His voice has a slight tremor. 'Don't play around. You want it, too. Ah, god.' He release a shaking breath as Sherlock eases one finger into him, slowly moving it out and in, shallowly at first, then deeper. 'Sherlock.'
[-'John.Let me in. Open up for me.'-] A second finger gently insinuates its way past the ring of muscle, and John's hands reach for Sherlock's waist, gripping hard, fingers digging into flesh hard enough to leave marks. His face turns blindly into Sherlock's shoulder, breath coming faster. The fingers twist and press, withdraw. Sherlock's left hand clenches and relaxes on John's buttock in the same slow rhythm. His breath is hot on the back of John's head, in between soft kisses over John's neck, his hair, his temple.
'Sherlock. Sherlock. God. That's it, that's it, yes. More.'John's grip tightens bruisingly on Sherlock's waist when a third finger presses in, widening the entrance, gently twisting and loosening.
'I want to be inside you, John.' His lips brush John's ear. The mobile echoes his husky whisper, [-'I need it, to be close as flesh will allow. John, please let me.'-]
'Yes.'
Sherlock withdraws his fingers and they switch positions, John leaning with his forearms resting on the table next to the mobile, legs spread. Sherlock rests his left hand on John's hip. With the other, he traces a hand down the strong back, the dip of the spinal column, splaying his hand at the base of the spine. Turning his head, John looks past his shoulder back at Sherlock. His lips are swollen and soft red, his pupils dilated. 'Don't make me wait.'
'I won't,' Sherlock promises, and the voice on the mobile adds in a low tone, [-'God, the sightof you. Yes, look at me, John. I long to see you.'-]
'Soon. Please, soon, Sherlock.'
[-'Do you know what you do to me? It pushes me to the edge, seeing you like this. Wanting me.'-] Sherlock slicks up his straining penis, the glans shining and crimson. 'Tilt your arse up more. Good.'
He parts John's cheeks, rests the head of his cock against the slick hole and presses slowly in. John's open hands clench, and trembling open flat against the table. "Christ. Yes. Yes.'
Sherlock's mouth is open, his dark lashes trembling on his cheeks at the sensation. His hands trace patterns on John's back as they hold still, not moving, just feeling. [-'So long. It's been so long.'-]
He grasps John's waist and quickly leans in to drop a kiss on John's shoulder, rolling his hips forward as he does so. John cries out and spreads his legs a bit more. 'Jesus. Do it. Oh, god, more, Sherlock.'
Sherlock bites his lip and begins to thrust, long slow smooth strokes, hands squeezing John's waist.
[-'You are so right for me John. When I have you under me, everything is quiet and good. I hear you, I see you writhing under me, I want to touch and taste and take.'-]
John is panting hard, tilting his hips to meet each thrust.
[-'So alike, so right. It will be so good. Perfect, John, you are perfect.'-]
'Christ, Sherlock,' groans John. 'More.I need you.'
Sherlock's fingers clench hard and he snaps his hips forward. John's head jerks, and drops against his bicep. 'Please, please,' he begs. Sherlock obliges, his thrusts becoming shorter, sharper.
[-'Look at me, John Watson. I want you to look at me, I want to see you.'-]
John turns his head, and his dark eyes meet Sherlock's over the muscle of his arm. 'Sherlock.' His voice is muffled but the plea is clear. Sherlock bends lower, chest brushing the skin of John's back, and grasps John's straining penis, working it in time to his thrusts. John's hands are braced against the movement, his voice hoarse. 'Oh, oh, god Sherlock...'
[-'John. John, I'm getting close. Oh god, thinking of my cock in your arse... Your voice...'-]
'Nearly, oh Christ Sherlock!Almost...'
Sherlock locks his other arm under John's chest and thrusts harder, deeper. 'John. John. Oh, close. Come on. Come for me, let me hear you.' John is trembling beneath him, hips angled to take more. [-'Fuck, that sound, so wet, and listen to those noises, nothing better...'-]
'Oh.'John stiffens, his face suffused. 'Oh. Oh. I'm coming, I'm -' Under his palm, Sherlock can feel the twitch and pulse of John's penis, the heavy warmth coating his hand. Sherlock listens to John crying out wordlessly, his muscles clenching tightly around Sherlock's cock, and it tips him over that bright edge.
'John... John!'
"John. John! Oh! JOHN!" Sherlock shouts, voice echoing through his flat, blind and deaf. There is a clatter, and a knocking on the wall from the next flat, growing louder. He ignores it, gasping.
John...
John's arms have given way, and he is lying on the kitchen table with Sherlock draped over him. Both are breathing heavily. Sherlock's tongue darts out to taste the skin behind John's jaw one last time, and John shudders slightly. His fingertips brush against the mobile, which continues to murmur, a susurrus of sub-conscious speech - Sherlock's thoughts.
[-'...found you...want you with me, John...such things I'll show you...what I feel, it's just...we are so alike...perfect for each other...I've been so lonely, stay. Stay with me... couldn't bear it...'-]
A long pale hand sweeps the phone away and cuts off the connection mid-phrase. John shifts slightly. 'Sherlock?'
"...It wasn't important.'
Sherlock braces an arm and levers himself up, disengaging from John's body with a gasp.
John pushes up slowly. His back is ramrod straight, hands loosely fisted, shoulders tensing up. 'Not important.'
Sherlock stares. There is a sinking feeling in his stomach. 'John. It's just a fantasy.'
John turns to face him, and abruptly he is fully clothed - shirt buttoned, coat, jeans. His walking stick has appeared in his right hand, and he looks down and then leans on it. He looks up, his lips tight. His eyes have changed – have turned a pale grey Sherlock knows all too well from his bathroom mirror.
'Just a fantasy. And even then, even in your own mind you won't admit it. You can't say what you really want, what you really feel. Go on, then. Tell me.'
'John.' Sherlock takes a half-step, unsure of what to do. John shifts away from him minutely and Sherlock freezes. No. No. This is not what he wants. He wants to tell John about their suitability, about the things they will accomplish together. But he can't force the words out, in spite of himself. John sees, and nods grimly.
'Just what I thought.' He picks up his mobile from the table, and looks at it bitterly. 'This. This is one of the ways you can connect to me, Sherlock.' His icy eyes pin the taller man who stands silent. 'But you have to stop fooling yourself.'
Don't. Sherlock's lips form the word soundlessly, but John shakes his head, and tucks the mobile away.
'When you can tell me how you feel... when you want to connect, reallyconnect - call me. You know how to reach me.' He turns to leave, and Sherlock reaches out -
"Oi! Oi! Next time keep it down, wouldja! Or fuck Johnny boy more quietly, you wanker!'
There was a derisive laugh designed to provoke and another loud series of thumps from the wall he shared with the flat next door. It broke into Sherlock's fantasy, shredding his concentration. His eyes flew open. His face contorted with rage instantly and he leapt naked from the sofa. Snatching up Amy's discarded coffee mug, he slung it at the adjoining wall full strength. It smashed satisfyingly, china pieces scattering and a splash of coffee staining the wallpaper.
"If you minded your own damned business, you might see how your current girlfriend has been strangely misplacing your credit card statements and entertaining 'friends' with your cocaine stash when you are busy at the gallery pretending to be an artist!"he bellowed at full volume.
Silence greeted his outburst. Sherlock breathed heavily, then his chin lifted.
That had been... unexpected. Obviously his imagination was seething with strange images that were untapped. But that last scene had to be an aberration – a tiny doubt rising to express itself. Firmly he quashed it.
John, he thought. I will meet you. I have the best possible plan. Our similarities, the possibilities... It will work.
I'll make sure it works.
Author Notes: Yes, well. Not much actual plot movement. Sorry. Please, have some sexytimes instead. Sherlock is feeling pleased he's found John - what could be more natural? Except fantasies are so... off the leash sometimes, aren't they? Plot will resume next update.
I had epic plot fail going on - hence the long gap between chapters there. (Well not so much plot fail as a sudden horrible sense of misgiving about what I wanted to do with the story. After my Beta slapped me about, I decided that yes, my original plan was fine, no need to replot.)
Also, I keep ahead on posting on LJ, and I had resolutely promised myself that as I updated there, I would post an EQUAL sized update here and on AO3. So, I had had to throw down about 8000 words, and push through the plot fail, before I did this rather lengthy update here.
