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So here it is, Johnlock pure and simple, smut.

Chapter 36
Sherlock's POV
Before his mind can even process what had happened, first responders swarmed the pool and the surrounding area. With the first responders comes the detective inspector and his annoying brother. As the group swarms, those two are carefully helping us to our feet and out of the building to Mycroft's waiting car. Blankets appear from somewhere to be wrapped around the two of us, while the cars heater is cranked up to dry us off.

Almost absently, John recounts the events of the evening, including how he had been heading over to a friends for a bit when someone had surprised him, the being threaten, and everything leading up to the pool. His version of the pool is also a bit detached and he cannot help wondering why when he had been full of cold fury in his dark eyes.

Dark eyes? His eyes aren't dark. They are blue, sometimes grey, sometimes brown, but always light. How had his eyes been dark.

The detective inspector seems shocked by the idea that he had been caught so easily while his brother is looking at him speculatively. He can tell both disbelieve the how he was caught but neither is calling him on it.

When they get back to the flat he is surprised to see Daria waiting for them, eyes narrow as she takes the shape John is in before turning her attention on him. She dismisses both men with them with an ease of someone who is used to prioritizing. Mycroft does not take it all that well as he stares after her in shock as she helps John upstairs.

"Who is that?" he demands, watching the multicolored hair viper.

"Daria, his personal doctor, they were friends in the army. Eric must have alerted her when he did not show that something was wrong." He answers, fairly certain that it is not the truth but not wishing to mention anything about the pack to his brother.

The detective inspector looks at him curiously for a moment before glancing around and commenting, "Do you think I can call a cab? I forgot my phone in the office."

"I can give you a ride," his stuffy brother offers, eyes flickering over the detective inspector with ease.

The detective inspector smiles, "Thanks," he murmurs before glancing his way and stating, "Tell John to take care."

He nods once, watching as both men get back into the car and it drives away. Once alone, he stands there for a few minutes, his eyes closed as he considers how close he had been to losing John. That was not acceptable. He could not ever lose him. That would just break him.

Before he has a chance to do anything about it, the slender viper comes gliding out of the flat door, a serene look on her face. "I give you the same advice I gave him, take it easy. Neither of you are children anymore. Now go hover, I can smell that you want to." Without giving him a chance to respond, she drifts off, vanishing from sight long before she really should.

Giving a shake of his head, he heads upstairs, surprised when he discovers that Mrs. Hudson does not appear to be home, a moment later his phone goes off, alerting him to why.

-I kindly suggested she visit her sister, and added a bit of a compulsion to make sure that she did so.- Iota D

Oh, he thinks to himself. When he gets into the flat, John is stretched out in wolf form on the floor in front of the sofa, his long body seems to have a slight tremble to it. Not really thinking about it he strides over to John and buries his face in the fur at his neck, just breathing him in. His arms wrap around the massive wolf body as a tremble over takes him, the emotions he denies having coming to the surface with a vengeance.

John seems to understand because he pushes just a little closer, not doing anything else as he tries to get himself under control. He knows he is overloaded, that there is just a very fine line between being alright and breaking completely. Tonight he had edged it far more than he ever wanted to.

"John," he murmurs brokenly, his voice higher pitched than he ever thought it could be, his arms tightening around the wolf.

oOo

The next time he is aware, time has passed and he realizes that he had fallen asleep while holding his flatmate in a death grip. Blushing slightly, he straightens up and finds those light blue eyes watching him with a soft expression. It is not one he is familiar with, yet it seems to be familiar despite that. As he looks down at the floor, he feels more than sees as the shorter man returns to human form.

"Are you alright?" the blonde asks him softly.

He nods absently, not trusting his voice not to break again.

"Alright, how about I make some tea and you get comfortable on the sofa?" the wolf suggests gently, and he understands it is his way of giving him a chance to collect himself. Again he nods without looking at him.

Rising with more grace than expected, he watches as his John heads into the kitchen but makes sure to keep himself in line of sight as he does so. What would he have done had he lost him? They never had their talk. They really needed to talk because according to Lestrade he was John's bondmate, not someone else. Tugging his sleeve up he looks at his arm frowning, then why didn't he have a mark? Maybe there was something wrong with him. Shaking his head he decides that he does not want to wait, he wants to know now, while the terror is fresh in his mind, while the thrill of understanding is fresh, before he can talk himself out of saying or doing anything.

With a predators grace he stalks into the kitchen and grabs John by the shoulders, spinning him around to kiss him only to find himself pinned to the counter behind him by one startled soldier. As soon as John seems to realize what was going on he steps back, running a hand through his hair and musing it.

Biting his lip, he reaches again for John, this time, making sure that the shorter man can see him before he does anything and quickly lowers his head just a bit to make up the height difference to kiss him.

Since he had never actually kissed someone before, he is not sure what he is doing, but all the books make it seem so easy. Press lips together and from there your partner will just melt into it. Was John melting into it? He can't tell. Hesitantly, because he is not sure what the proper etiquette for kissing is, his tongue runs along the shorter man's lips and a low open mouth groan is his response.

The next thing he knows, he has been shoved back against the counter again and john had taken control of the kiss. He wasn't going to complain, his mind was lost in a haze of emotions and reactions as the shorter man tilts his head just the slightest and opens his mouth to allow his tongue to slip out. As his partners tongue slides against the seam of his lips and then inside his mouth he realizes that the noises he hears are coming from him now.

Eventually, when he feels like he is going to pass out, John pulls back just the slightest, resting their foreheads together. "Sherlock?" he murmurs questioningly.

Quickly, because he is afraid that his wolf is going to start pulling away he answers him in a low but urgent voice, "John, I finally connected the dots, I do not know why it took so long, it was there to understand if I just opened my eyes. That mark on your wrist is due to me, not someone else. I was so worried that you were going to leave me and I couldn't handle that. I…"

He is cut off by the shorter man leaning up and kissing him again, "Be quiet Sherlock, just feel for a bit, your mind is processing a lot of information right now. Never worry that I will leave, if I can deal with Eric for more than a decade I promise you're easy to live with. I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

Blinking, he nods slowly as he takes it in. His John has promised not to leave. He could breathe again without fretting. Taking a deep breath he keep his eyes on his wolf. As he considers kissing him again the water pot starts to whistle, causing him to jump because he had forgot about it.

The low chuckle that escaped John was rather attractive, he thought, as the shorter man steps back and turns around goes back to making the tea. It gives him a moment to review the last few minutes and adjust his suit which has gotten surprisingly hot and tight. Shaking his head he makes himself stay even though his flight response is telling him to bolt before the other man realizes what type of effect he is having on him.

"Let's go in the living room," the blonde suggests.

He nods and accepts the second cup of tea, sipping at it as the two of them walking into the other room. Placing it on the coffee table in front of the sofa, he sits down slightly nervously with john, worried about the fact the shorter man hadn't said anything else.

Turning towards him, he has just opened his mouth to start speaking when his blonde haired friend places a single finger against his lips.

"I do not want you to make a choice out of desperation," he murmurs, his hand sliding to cup his cheek, "I know I have told you this before, and I will probably say it again, you're human, do not feel that you have to do something a wolf would do." He pauses to take a deep breath before continuing, "You are an amazing person Sherlock, never worry that I will leave, because I will not. I don't want you to rush into something that you will regret later alright?" for a moment the shorter man searches his face with his eyes, he must like what he finds because he smiles and his heart just about stops. "Now, if you want to continue, I suggest this: both of us get cleaned up and come back in here. If after you do so, you still want to continue what was started in the kitchen I will be more than open to the idea, alright?"

He nods slowly, watching as the shorter man retreats to his room to gather his things. Frowning lightly, he considers what he said, and smiles, realizing that he is trying to protect him not deny him. Though now that he thinks about it, he does notice the pool water smell along with other various odors that are sticking to him. What a mess he is!

Jumping to his feet he heads into his room to strip off the nearly ruined suit before collecting his stuff together. Biting his lip, he carefully pulls the small tube of lube he had picked up from the store three days prior out and sets it on the night stand closest to the bed. If all goes well he will be using it tonight, well this morning, he thinks as he glances out the window. As he collects his things he does a mental inventory of the suggested ways to prepare himself that he had listed from a wide variety of websites.

By the time he is in the shower, he carefully thinks it over, bowels empty? Yes, hasn't eaten in two days. Wash body and hair carefully to remove all oils and greases? Done. Brush teeth, gums, and tongue to promote kissing? Done. Have easy access pants without a lot of buttons? Done. Have lube ready for use? Done. Blood tests to make sure neither of them have a disease? Done once daily for the last four days.

Feeling reassured that he has prepared as best as he can, he gets out and dries off, pulling his sleeping pants on but not bothering with underwear, socks, or a shirt. Slightly nervous now that he is about to do something he had been considering for the last few months he opens the bathroom door and stops dead in his tracks as he looks around the flat.

All of the lights are off, but there is a cheery fire going in the fireplace, sweet smelling candles have been carefully placed around the room in spots where the chances of them falling or catching fire is nearly non-existent. The coffee table has been cleared off of its clutter. Instead, there is a large candle in a violet hurricane lamp that is illuminating the small variety of refreshments placed there. All of them favorites of his and Johns. The normal rug that lays in front of the fire has been replaced with a plush dark colored one. A thing of lube is on the floor near the rug. The sofa and chairs have been shifted around to make extra room.

"How?" he questions as he looks around in shock, how had John done this so quickly?

John smiles, a soft chuckle escaping him, "I told the pack not to bother us for a bit while I as in my room, and when I got back down here, well you see what the girls did." Shrugging, his smile grows, "I think it was supposed to be a hint."

"Oh," he murmurs, somehow disappointed, so John hadn't done this.

Apparently John had understood his disappointment, because the shorter man strides over to him with purpose, eyes gleaming in the light, one hand lifting to brush the damp curls from his face. "Had I expected something like this to happen any time soon, I would have probably taught them a lesson or two in setting the scene, Sherlock," the wolf informs him. "I wasn't going to push the subject. I wanted it to be your choice."

Without giving him a chance to reply to that frankly silly statement, the shorter man carefully pulls his head down and kisses him. If the kisses earlier were hot because of the desperation that fueled them, these kisses were even hotter because of the blatant desire fueling them. Somehow we went from standing there, lips locked together as we each explored the other's mouth to being reclined on that new rug, still locked together as if the only thing needed was the other one.

Moaning low in his throat, the warmth he had noticed earlier has returned with a vengeance, causing his entire body to ache in ways that he barely understands. Though John seemed to understand as his smaller hands go from cradling his face to gently touching each and every part of his body not covered by his sleeping pants. Each touch is careful, yet not, and he delights in the feeling even as his mind overloads and he stops thinking only feeling, he will process it all later when he is not enthralled by it all.

Slowly, as John shifts him back on the extremely soft rug, he finds himself begging even as John begins to kiss, lick, and nip his way across his body, paying close attention to the spots that make him arch and gasp. He had never imagined that anything would feel this good, it was even better high then the heroin. When his short friend gets to the top of his sleeping pants, he traces the edge of them, glancing up at him with passion filled eyes that are questioning. He finds he cannot answer aloud so settles for nodding as his lover slowly pulls them down.

Normally he would not have been embarrassed to be seen by another man, but this wasn't just any man, this was John. John who was worshipping his body with his hands and lips and tongue and nose. John who's eyes were devouring him whole even as he maintains eye contact. John who knew of his history and seemed to want him anyways.

"John please," he finds himself gasping as the smaller man licks and kisses his way down the rest of his stomach and tracing his hip, totally ignoring the part of him that is hard and aching for attention, precum already beginning to bead on its tip. "Please," his voice is a high pitch whine of need.

"Relax love, enjoy, I'll not leave you needing long," comes the breathy response against his left hip the blonde man runs the flat of his tongue down his leg to suck at the back of the knee, causing him to arch and gasp for air in need. He can feel the smile on the other man's lips as he continues his track downwards to his foot, carefully touching every part of it before curling the tip of his tongue around his big toe before repeating that behavior with each the other ones before moving on to do the same on the other foot.

Perhaps if he was more used to the reactions that John's touch was causing he would have been able to do more than lay there moaning and gasping, arching and begging, as his lover slowly explores every inch of him.

By the time John had gotten back to his waist he swore he could see spots, and he was wholly unprepared for the feeling of the smaller man's lips as they brushed against his head and sent a bolt of electricity through him.

"Do you want me to continue?" the shorter man inquired, his breath ghosting against his aching member and causing it to bob with need.

"Don't stop! Please don't stop!" he begs, not above doing anything he has to feel that glorious sensation that had flooded his body with John's lips against him.

Smiling against him, the blonde man settles himself between his thighs, resting his bodyweight on his elbows as one hand slowly strokes from the top of his cock down to the root and the other slowly massages his balls. Then just when he starts to adjust to that, he takes his entire length in his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and allowing it against the back of his throat.

The feeling is incredible. Unable to help himself he bucks his hips, only to find that they will not move as John shifts his elbows to rest against his legs, holding him in place as he continues to uses his hands and mouth to work him over. After what seems like an internity but he is sure is only a few minutes a coiling feeling builds up low in his stomach much like the feeling he gets on the rare occasions he touches himself.

"John," he whimpers, trying again to arch, it is a warning and a plea, though why he is not sure. John merely smiles at him around his cock, the flat of his tongue running up the vein on the bottom of it to collect the precum gathering at the tip. Before he knows it, he is almost screaming in pleasure as the shorter man milks him dry, swallowing all of the cum that he has to give.

Bonelessily, he lays there, gasping for breath. It was amazing. Wonderful. Perfect. Wait. What about John's needs?

He is just about to ask, when the shorter man changes positioning so he is kneeling with his legs on either side of his hips. "Are you sure?" the blond inquires as a low whine of need escapes his lips. Leaning forward, he kisses him slowly before kissing his way across his jaw to nibble on his ear. Huskily, voice full of need, he repeats himself, "Are you sure? You have to be sure Sherlock."

"John!" he gasps, his erection already coming back despite the fact his body feels like an over cooked noodle. "Please, please, please, please, John," his voice has whine to it, but has went lower than he has ever heard it pitched. Later he would be embarrassed by the fact he is begging, but not right now.

After one more nip to his ear, the shorter man sits back up, as he snags the bottle of lub and care warms some on his palm before rubbing it along his length. He can do nothing but stare at the sight, finding it to be more erotic than he ever would have guessed watching another man prepare himself to be. His eyes widen as he feels one shorter finger tracing the rim of his hole before carefully working its way in. Gasping, his hips lift though he cannot tell if he wants more or for it to stop.

The feeling of having someone touching him like that is overwhelming and for a while nothing more happens then John slowly fists himself while he moves a single finger in and out of him. At first he wonders why, then he realizes that he is making sure he is adjusted. When the sensation begins to not be enough, he pushes down on that digit seeking more and a cocky grin curls John's lips as a second finger slips in and he starts scissoring them, widening his entrance a bit more. Sooner than he had inserted the second he inserts a third finger and that has him gasping. It's such a different feeling, not unpleasant but not familiar.

All thoughts about it vanish as one finger starts to brush against his prostate. Again he is startled by the frankly needy sounds escaping him as the shorter man prepares him. He is just shy of coming again when the fingers suddenly withdraw, leaving him feeling empty.

"John," he groans, voice almost unrecognizable as his own.

"It's alright Sherlock, shhhh, I'll take care of you," he murmurs as he stops fisting himself and lifts his hips just a bit, pulling him closer. One moment he feels empty and the next the tip of John's cock is pushing against his entrance seeking entrance. Slowly, oh so slow that he feels every inch the shorter man slides in until he is embedded to the hilt inside him. For a moment he does not move, instead gives `him a moment to adjust before slowly beginning to move in smooth slides that pull him almost completely out before thrusting back in, brushing against his prostate on each one.

He thought that the feelings had been overwhelming with just the shorter man's fingers in him it was nothing compared to the feel of him actually inside him. The sensation was amazing in ways he could barely comprehend and he finally understood why people risked so much for this.

As his body adjusted he realized that so was John, his pace picking up ever so slightly with every thrust until he was arching and begging, pleading with him for more and more he gave. He could tell when John started getting close because the easy rhythm he had been doing slowly gave way to something more primal and wild, one of his smaller hands slipped from where it was holding his hip to start stroking his cock in time with John's thrusts and moments later both men were coming with blinding force and groaning the others name.

Slowly, John pulled himself out of his body, reaching for the bowl he had seen sitting under the table with a cloth beside it. Carefully the smaller man cleans both of them, before lying down beside him, resting on one arms as he brushes the curls out of his face with a smile.