John was asleep underneath me, his head pillowed on my arm. I felt the steady rise and fall of my soldier's chest under my other arm that was wrapped protectively around his bare torso. He sighed in his sleep and my heart fluttered in my chest; a feeling I was still unfamiliar with. John did all kinds of crazy and unusual things to my heart and he didn't even know it.
The most unusual thing he could do to my heart was make it race in my chest. Anytime I'm up late working on a case or just sitting in my chair thinking and John walks out of our bedroom shaking and limping that tiny bit with tears in his haunted eyes, my heart beats furiously in fear. Thanks to that case about the hound out on the moor, I know what it feels like to be so scared that I feel like any release, any distraction at all, would feel like a miracle. I hated it when he was so frightened; partly because it scared me, too. But mostly because I hated to see my brilliantly strong soldier reduced to a timid man, even if it's only for a minute or two. He would always say the same thing to me, and those words always made my cheeks flush. "Sherlock, I need you." Oh those words were so beautiful in their simplicity and I always obliged him immediately. I almost always controlled myself, knowing that he's coming to me on the residual waves of some nightmare or other. If he wanted more, like tonight, I would never argue. But I loved the way he responded when I kissed him gently; tiny, gentle kisses on the tip of his nose and across his fluttering eyelids. His pulse would start to race and the smallest of content smiles would pull at the corners of his mouth.
Most of the time he would enjoy my attentions long enough to relax then fall asleep nestled gently in my cradling arms, his face mere inches from mine the entire time. Perhaps I should have been bothered that he always fell asleep, but every single time he felt safe enough to surrender to his dreams again because of me, I fell in love with him just a little bit more.
I trailed a single finger from his forehead down the side of his face, watching his pulse flutter in response where I could see it against his skin in the pale moonlight. I felt a small smile tug at my lips as my John released an almost imperceptible sigh, deep in a dream I had no trouble fathoming considering what had occurred earlier and what I was doing now. When he settled down again, a frown replaced the small smile of a few moments earlier. John's dreams were something of a sore subject, even when I was just thinking about them. I didn't like how frequent his nightmares still were.
When I first came back he was having nightmares every single night, and his trembling would wake me up. When this happened the first time that I was aware of, I had no idea what to do. For the first time in my life I was completely at a loss. But then, in the dark safety of our newly shared room, he curled up against my side, not even realizing I was awake as well. His muscles all stiffened completely the moment I turned onto my side to hold him as close as I could to my chest. It took him a long time to relax that night, his muscles trembling for an hour or more, tears occasionally leaking from the corners of his eyes to land softly on either my chest or the bed between us.
He finally settled down enough to be able to relax fully against my body, his shorter frame not exactly matching my rather lanky stretched out body. That was ok though. It felt amazing just to be able to finally hold him and know he was feeling what was happening in that moment. When he glanced up at my face in the moonlight, I saw something in his eyes that I had never seen before: desire. I kissed my soldier for the first time, surprising him out of any last vestiges of his nightmare. His reaction was a little delayed, and I worried for just a second that I had misread the look in his eyes, but then he was kissing me in return. He gently trailed one of his hands from the middle of the outside of my thigh up to my waist, leaving his hand there to rest softly on my side. I ran my fingers through his short blonde hair, holding his face to mine. He was still so tentative, his kisses slow and unsure against my mouth. I cradled his cheek and kissed him with growing fervor. He couldn't help but respond. A low moan found its way out of my throat and I felt John shiver in pleasure when the deep vibrations travelled from my chest to his. His hand that was on my side slid down to rest on my stomach, then he slowly and gently trailed just his fingertips up my chest and neck to rest softly under my chin. We continued like this for I don't know how long, just enjoying the feeling of finally being able to hold and touch each other. When we were finished, he curled up against me again, but this time our legs were entwined underneath the sheet, and we both fell asleep within moments.
After that, the nightmares and flashbacks that had been haunting him began to rapidly decrease in frequency, but he was still having them every two weeks or so, which was still far too often to me. I am determined to make it to where the nightmares are just dimly-recalled memories, a thing of the past.
John's face, which had been relaxed while I remembered our first night of being together, suddenly twisted into a mask of fear and pain that was all too familiar.
"Dear God, he's having another one" I thought, and then I did the only thing I could think of to help him through this most recent nightmare. I kissed him.
Not on the mouth or the nose or any of his other favorite places. I kissed him right between his eyebrows, where the skin was wrinkled in fear as his eyebrows came together. After that I kissed him anywhere I could think of; his forehead, his eyelids, nose, mouth, on his neck just below his ears where the muscles were straining and sticking up from his skin in sharp contrast. I just felt so helpless. It seemed kissing wasn't going to be enough on its own, so I started to caress his face, the back of his head. His shoulders were so tight; they felt like concrete beneath my frantic touch.
Suddenly his eyes flew open and he gasped, his entire body becoming rigid beneath me. I moved my face to look at his eyes that were focused on nothing. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, sense came back into his blank gaze and his eyes slowly found my face. I just stared at him, my eyes searching his face for any sort of concrete confirmation that he was okay.
"John? Are you alright?" A question I had asked so many times before, and he had always responded in the affirmative without a second thought. Now though, when asked at this moment, he took time to gather his thoughts and he slowly nodded, saying, "I am now." He ran a hand over my bare chest and my breathing hitched for just a split second. A slow smile spread across his face at my reaction, and I could tell he liked being able to make me feel so bloody amazing with a single touch. I was honestly just glad he was sane, let alone smiling.
He pulled me down to graze my lips with his teeth, his raw hunger caused a stir in me and my emotions soon grew to match his. His body felt cool under mine, but then again I was feeling a little…feverish. His breath, usually so even, was coming in short, irregular bursts in between bouts of kissing. I decided to give his overworked mouth a much deserved rest and I moved my attentions to just underneath his jaw, where his skin is the most sensitive. A whimper escaped his typically iron control and I felt the warmth seep up from his heart to his face, moving past my sensitive lips. My hand traced patterns on the other side of his neck, eventually trailing down to draw similar patterns on his chest and stomach. Just to infuriate him, I stopped my hand's roaming just short of the waistband of his boxers, and he glared at the ceiling since he couldn't exactly see my face. I loved making John angry. He was always so adorable, and it never lasted for long. We continued this way for hours, me teasing my sweet lover and him going back and forth between anger and pleasure. It was a heady mixture, this experience. I felt so powerful and yet so completely and utterly at the mercy of the gentle man who was at this moment about to overpower my self-control with his whimpering and quiet moaning.
I continued to kiss, hold, and caress him for as long as it took for him to relax and go to sleep for the third time that night, one that would hopefully turn out to be dreamless at last. I didn't want to know what his nightmares were about, but it didn't really matter. What matters is that, apparently, I am the cure. I could definitely get used to this.
