The result was almost instantaneous. Sherlock's fingers grasped John's hips roughly, pulling them together. John was utterly surprised at himself, and that Sherlock was kissing him back...
John's mouth opened against Sherlock's, forcing his open, and his tongue slid in, just enough to touch the tip of Sherlock's, and he tasted wine and mint...
Sherlock gasped and pulled back. They were both breathing heavily, still closer than socially acceptable.
"Interesting." Sherlock was breathless.
Suddenly, he ripped the blindfold off and turned from John's grasp. He went to the desk behind them, and started rummaging through the drawers.
John swallowed and tried to slow his breathing. He sat on the couch, mentally kicking himself in the shin for letting his heart get into it. He was so stupid...
Sherlock growled and shoved the last drawer closed. He then hastily made his way to the bathroom, and flicked the lights on. John leaned his face into his hands and sighed.
Stupid, stupid, like a school girl, he'll never respect someone like me...
Sherlock was studying his flushed reflection in the bathroom mirror with an expression of fascination.
"I..."
John lifted his head and turned to look at Sherlock. One hand was feeling the pulse in the side of his neck, and the other was lightly touching his warm face.
"I don't understand."
His brow furrowed. He clearly didn't like not understanding. He dropped his hands to the sink, and looked down at them. They were quivering slightly.
"Sherlock?"
The man in question raised on trembling hand before his face and studied it. There was fear in his eyes.
"I don't understand..."
"Are you alright?"
John stood and approached the detective. He turned to look at the doctor, his breathing ragged and his eyes misty with tears of confusion.
"I don't understand, John. What's happening to me? What's..."
John reached him just in time to catch him as Sherlock collapsed. He couldn't support him, but he eased him to the tile floor. His face was that of a scared child. John had never seen him like this.
"I feel..."
"You feel what, Sherlock?"
Blue eyes met brown.
"I feel this... This pain in my chest. I've never felt anything like it before. My abdomen muscles are tense. And I'm crying... John..."
He didn't think. The doctor leaned in between Sherlock's legs and kissed him once again. The detective gasped in surprise, but returned the kiss with enthusiasm. John fisted his hands in Sherlock's gorgeous hair, and was rewarded with warm hands on his neck. They slid down his chest and abdomen, and eventually seized the end of his shirt.
A low moan broke in John's throat as the hands pulled his shirt up. He pulled his lips free to allow the shirt over his head, but the hands stilled.
"Oh, I-I didn't mean to... My emotions seem heightened, I c-can't..." Sherlock was actually stammering.
"Hey." John held the detective's face, forcing him to look into his eyes. "Have you ever just given yourself over to your instincts?"
Sherlock's adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed dryly.
"I-I've suppressed them. It's pri..." The rest of the word was lost in a gush of air and he started again. "It's primitive, I've never-"
He was cut off by the doctor's lips on his. Just one kiss.
"Well, maybe it's time you did." John whispered against Sherlock's trembling lips. The detective took a few shaking breaths before letting his hands slide up and over John's head, taking his shirt with them.
Sherlock let his eyes rove over John's toned torso, wanting more than anything to just give into his most filthy, obscene desires...
It was that look in Sherlock's eyes, so full of desire, of pure want, that settled John's nerves. He was the one in control, for once. Sherlock was on foreign territory, he was afraid, vulnerable, and so completely consumed with lust...
John smiled. He stood and offered Sherlock his hand.
"Come on. We're not doing this in the washroom. We're going to do this properly."
Sherlock looked up at him with lust and fear painted all over his face.
"Do what?" He asked timidly.
"I'm going to help you feel human."
Sherlock took a steadying breath, and then took John's hand. He stood, but barely. His knees were weak with fear, fear he could not understand, fear of the unknown.
John's strong arms caught him. He looked into those warm brown eyes, and saw no reason to be afraid...
They walked to John's bedroom in silence, hands joined.
They stood looking at the bed for a moment, and John eventually looked at Sherlock's face.
"I'm scared, John." He whispered. John gently turned his head with his hand to face him, and kissed him softly.
"Don't be." Sherlock took a deep breath and nodded. John pulled back to look in his eyes. "You're sure, though?"
"I want..." He seemed to search for the words. "I want to have you... And to give myself to you. I want to figure you out, to explore, to learn, to hold you and never let you go..." John smiled. "I want... You. John."
They kissed again.
"And you will have me."