Bear with me guys, I stayed up real late typing this one, and if there are any mistakes, or parts that don't make sense I apologize. But in this chapter you will find out about the title (A Caring Hand), and the overall meaning of it and how it ties in with the gay smut thing. ;)
This chapter does have some smut in it (and by some I mean A LOT) so it makes up for the last chapter which was mainly just moving the plot line. That and gay sex didn't really fit into the last chapter, I mean really: did you want me to have them do it in the middle of a diner that probably had children in it?
SO HERE YOU FELLOW JOHNLOCKED WEIRDOS GO!
With a frustrated sigh John turned the telly up, trying to avoid the torturous thudding of crates and boxes being thrown around in the room above. All he wanted to do was watch The Office. He had always thought the American version was better: it had more of a plot-line, plus he liked the actors in it. And right now he was trying to figure out of Jim and Pam were going to finally get married, but Sherlock was moving out for an unexplained reason- and was making a lot of noise in the process.
Just as John was leaning in, willing Jim to kiss Pam, a tremendous crash sounded from above, breaking John's trance and angering him. With a frustrated flick of his wrist John hit the pause button and ran a hand through his hair. I can't deal with this; John thought and slowly trudged up the stairs to where it had grown silent after the last bang. When he reached Sherlock's door he tentatively rapped his knuckles on the hard wood said with a catch in his voice, "Sherlock? Can I talk to you?" When Sherlock didn't answer John called again, "Sherlock?"
Finally John just slowly turned the door handle and pushed the door open and peeked in, pressing his temple against the door frame and was shocked when he saw the room before him: There was several boxes stacked upright, but the rest were thrown every-which-way with their frames smashed and the contents were strewn all over the floor-books and clothing out of their original place, the bed was flipped over- which was probably the result of the last loud thump, and at the far side of the room almost out of John's site, was Sherlock. He was in his pajamas- a skin tight shirt and plaid pants-sitting with his back against the side of the dresser, crammed in between the sixty centimeter space with his knees pulled up to his chin, which rested on top of them and his hands were clamped forcefully on the back of his neck . He was so still he could have been a statue.
Pushing the door open, John took a tentative step inside and whispered, "Oh my God." He figured that Sherlock had had one of his fits of rage but he had never hid in the corner like this so John was baffled when he gently called, "Sherlock?"
Taking a few more steps forward John paused to push aside a book with his toe, so when he looked back at Sherlock he was surprised when he noticed that he was shaking profusely with his hands gripping the loose material around his ankles for dear life. John didn't know what to think, but he was scared when he went to take another step, so when Sherlock thrust his arm towards John in the universal sign to 'stop', first he jumped, then stopped.
"John I need you to promise." Sherlock's gravelly voice grunted.
"Promise what Sherlock?" He questioned.
"If we are to do this, I need you to promise not to tell anyone." He lifted his head and shifted his body so that it was facing John, staring intently at him.
"Do what?"
"This." Sherlock bolted upright and lunged toward John until he was centimeters away where he paused, then grabbed John's face and kissed him forcefully, causing him to stagger until Sherlock dropped one hand and placed in on the small of John's back and pulled him against his thin frame. He was just about to kiss him back when he remembered last time this happened, and pushed against his chest lightly.
As Sherlock pulled back-John's lip pulling with him- a look of fear crossed his face and he whispered, "John I-"
"No Sherlock," He stopped and reached up to give him a swift kiss, "I need to know that you want to do this for real this time." He looked down at the hand that was on his chin and raised a hand and rested it on his arm.
"Watson I have wanted to do this since I first met you in that morgue. I have been holding it back this whole time, time after time of seeing how much you care for me and take care of me. Just like that other day in the diner. I was going to move," He looked around his dark room at all the boxes then back at John, "and run away from this-these feelings, but I can't take it anymore." With a yank Sherlock pulled John flush against his body. "And if you will allow me, I am going to fuck you like there is no tomorrow."
"I can live with that, I don't want to be just a caring hand." John's face flushed and he felt an odd stirring down in that part of his abdomen.
With a wicked grin Sherlock grabbed ahold of John's face again and kissed him forcefully, and John kissed back, parting the taller man's lips with his tongue and pushing inside. This caused the needy other to reach under the large sweater that John had on and groan when he found that he was wearing more clothes underneath.
"We need to take care of these." He grunted and pulled the sweater off, revealing a gray dress shirt with a tie neatly done up from his recent trip to work. As Sherlock's slim fingers worked with grace at John's tie, the other man reached down and began to undo the buttons with shaky hands. Sherlock, though, was much more graceful and got the tie off and thrown onto the floor before John was even half way done, so he lightly gripped the tan hands so that he stopped, and took over.
Once the shirt fell to the floor Sherlock gently ran his hand across John's bare chest, sending a shiver through his body. There he stood: the man he had wanted for so long, finally allowing him in.
"Help me flip the bed back?" He whispered and got a gentle nod in response.
So the two of them gently flipped the bed back over, with great effort which caused John to wonder how the scrawny man, who he was about to have sex with, flipped it himself. And when they were done Sherlock threw John onto the messed up sheets at stared at him, panting. John could feel his erection growing painfully in his pants and could see Sherlock's against the baggy material of his pants, eagerly pushing against the button holding it back.
Slowly Sherlock stepped forward and placed both knees on either side of John's own and sat back onto the other man's knees. "May I?" He asked and trailed a tentative finger down the zipper of John's jeans.
"Yes-please." John rasped which caused Sherlock to quickly undo his belt then his zipper with lessened the pressure on his erection, but John needed Sherlock to touch him. He'd waited so long for this. "Touch me." John demanded.
Sherlock smiled and raised his index finger, "Let's get these pants off first." Then he slid the remaining of John's clothes off of his and onto the floor, freeing his penis which was almost grateful as it flopped back against his stomach and started weeping pre-come against his tan skin. "There, now isn't that better?" He asked and began stripping his clothes until he was also naked resting on John's upper thighs.
John laid there staring at the beautiful man. The last time this had happened it had gone all wrong, and he didn't want that to happen again-hell he couldn't believe this was happening. Was he ready for this?
"What are you thinking?" Sherlock whispered as he looked down at the still man underneath him and absentmindedly began to rub his forearm- a nervous habit he had always had. "John?"
"I was thinking about how much I love you." He answered and reached his arms forward, "Now come here you crazy man."
Sherlock smiled a pure white smile and fell into John's grasp and began kissing his neck furiously and left John moaning as he jerk his head back. He reached his hand down between the two of them and found Sherlock's hard erection and began slowly rubbing it in no particular pattern, but once he had grabbed hold of it and stopped his barrage of kissing as he pushed himself up so he was hovering there.
Sherlock's body was growing tense as his hips found a rhythm and moved with John's hand, which led John to know that he was close to his orgasm- that and the amount of pre-come was very great now. "John," he grunted and reached down so that he grabbed the quickening hand so that he stopped, "not yet. Lean against the head board." Sherlock ordered and John did as told: he slid out from under the ivory man and propped his head and lower shoulders up on the backboard where Sherlock produced pillows the aid in the support.
Once John was situated Sherlock placed his knees on both sides of John's abdomen and angled his ankles back on the man below his hips for support. Now his erection was level with John's mouth and he knew what Sherlock wanted.
"John, I want to be inside of you so bad," Sherlock panted as John rested his hands on the Sherlock's hips, "but you aren't ready down there, and I don't want to hurt you…"
"This is fine Sherlock." John impatiently answered. His body was going numb from his blood rushing to his head, and he wanted to please Sherlock.
Sherlock grabbed hold of his pulsing cock and guided it into John's waiting mouth and released a very loud moan as John started working his tongue over the tip. As he was doing this he reached down and started stroking himself with the rhythm he had created with his tongue. Slowly Sherlock pushed his whole length into John's mouth so that John's gag reflex would have triggered, but didn't, so he began thrusting as John sucked.
The taste of Sherlock was odd to John but it turned him on at the same time: it was the salty-tangy taste of his pre-come. A torturous moan escaped Sherlock when John ran his tongue over the vein on the underside of his penis and could tell that Sherlock was going to come soon so he quickened the pace that he was taking it in and out.
Suddenly Sherlock's body grew very ridged and he gasped, "Shit-J-john." And Pulled out quickly just in time to come into a palm-full of tissues that he had grabbed from the nightstand. After dropping the wad onto the floor he slowly lowered himself onto John's chest, reeling from the aftershock of his orgasm.
Once he recovered, he leaned down to kiss a withering John who was still messing with his own erection then whispered, "Let me take care of that." And upon doing so slid down so that his bottom was just above his hand and reached behind him and took the other man's penis in his hand and pushed himself up slightly so that John could put it into his waiting hole.
"Sherlock are you sure?" John whispered and got a smile and nod in return. John raised his hips to reach Sherlock and slowly pushed himself inside the tight ring of muscle and groaned. It was so tight that he almost came right then, but he kept pushing until he was all the way in and froze. "I don't want to hurt you." He whispered and looked down at where the two of them were connected.
"Trust me John; I've waited for this," He grunted and wiggled slightly then closed his eyes, "please?" Then John began thrusting his hip so that he was going in as far as he could, and then back out-and soon enough he felt his orgasm looming. "God John!" Sherlock screamed as he hit his prostate and tilted his head back and growled as John finally came in the other man.
After he pulled out of him, Sherlock rolled off of John and lay next to him gasping. They lay there like that for a few minutes before the taller man whispered, "I'm not going to tell you that I love you-I have never loved before, but I will show you every day."
