A/N: JAL – your story Alpha – Omega, chapters 8 & 12 inspired me. Thanks (grin).

2. Control

control – noun – 1. the power of directing, command 2. the power of restraint, esp. self-restraint 3. a a means of restraint; a check

A whisper.

"Lay still and don't move."

Snick

A button came undone.

Exposure of more pale, perfect skin.

John's forefinger reached in and brushed the skin along the collarbone.

"John…"

"Shhh."

John drew his finger out and laid it on Sherlock's lips.

"You are not to talk."

Snick

Another button.

"But John…."

"Sherlock," and Sherlock looked into John's eyes. How on earth had he ever thought John was a sea of calm? There were rage and fear and hurt in those eyes.

And lust. There was almost no iris left in John's eyes; they were all pupil, blown wide open.

He thought back to earlier that night after his rescue from the kidnappers. He had known John would find him and John showing up had left him feeling cocky and in control. It had been a lark, a game. And then he'd seen John's face.

Anger, fear, rage. Just like now. Most of it directed toward Sherlock. He hadn't intended to be kidnapped, but it worked out, and it solved the case. John should not be angry with him.

Except John had no choice but to kill the man who had grabbed Sherlock.

By the time Lestrade had shown up John had managed to clamp down on the murderous feelings he had toward his flatmate. He'd just finished shouting at Sherlock, telling him he was an unmitigated arse.

Not many people knew that John and Sherlock had upped their relationship, but Lestrade was one who did. He was familiar with the look on John's face as similar to the way his wife looked when he'd been involved in something dangerous, even though John had managed to bury most of his emotions and had presented a calm exterior to the world. Lestrade watched the two men as they marched away, Sherlock trailing behind like a kicked puppy. He thought the detective was going to be either very lucky tonight or very dead. Or possibly both. He chuckled quietly and silently wished him good night and turned to get the crime scene under control.

Sherlock's thoughts had turned to the same page as Lestrade's. He was going to be very lucky or very dead.

He hadn't seen this side of John's personality in the bedroom yet. John had let Sherlock lead, letting him make the first moves and control the degree of closeness. Until they started sleeping together, it had been outside Sherlock's comfort zone to be this intimate with someone and John had been perfectly happy to relinquish the reins. But this was different.

This was raw and powerful. John was dominating every move.

Sherlock was thinking he might not mind it so much.

If John wasn't so angry with him, that is.

John, straddled across Sherlock's hips, still wearing far too many clothes as far as he was concerned, bent forward and whispered quietly, softly, in his ear. He breathed, "You are very lucky to be alive. You are very lucky I didn't kill you myself." His tongue flicked out and carefully traced the rim of Sherlock's ear. Sherlock closed his eyes and shuddered. John's tongue probed a little deeper. He moaned.

John continued speaking,

"If you ever do anything that phenomenally stupid again I will kill you." His lips and teeth nipped and bit down hard on Sherlock's neck, ran along the underside of his chin, making his own marks, laying claim. "They shouldn't have touched you." He tenderly, softly kissed the bruise on his chin where a punched had landed during the abduction. At the same time, his clever, clever fingers continued to flick open the buttons on Sherlock's shirt and then he cautiously reached in and felt along Sherlock's ribs assessing damage there, bruising but no further injury.

He sat up a bit and looked deeply into the green-blue eyes. "If they hurt you, they hurt me. We aren't separate anymore. You have to realize that." He bent down and kissed the full, lush lips. Then he lifted Sherlock's wrist to his lips and gently licked at the marks left by the ropes. "You can't go after them alone. You can't leave me behind." He stopped and looked at Sherlock again, "We're together in this," he all but growled the last part and bent down and finished the kiss he'd started earlier. Sherlock could feel all of John's pain and fear in that kiss. He heard him murmur against his mouth, "I thought you were dead." And his breath hitched.

Sherlock folded his arms around him, and he was beginning to realize he loved with a depth that astonished him and he whispered back. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking." He felt his vision blur a little. "It won't happen again." He hadn't known about the ramifications and responsibilities that came with this level of commitment.

His world shook because he didn't know this John. John got angry and blew up, but he wasn't like this, didn't suppress his fury like this. And then he realized John wasn't as furious as he had thought, he was scared, and it came out as anger, for him, for Sherlock. No one had ever cared about him this much.

John resumed kissing Sherlock and then tracked kisses down his chest, pausing to nip his nipples, the kisses becoming more urgent, more demanding. He reached Sherlock's navel and sat up making quick work with the belt, button, and zip. Before Sherlock was even aware of it, he was completely naked.

And then he stopped thinking for a long time.

Later, after, he curled around John, chest to back and hand over John's chest. He nuzzled the back of his neck and murmured,

"If that was supposed to be a deterrent and a preventative for me doing thoughtless acts I think you may have failed. If that's how you act when I get hurt, it may make me wish to do it more often."

John chuckled sleepily. "Just remember the part about where I said I'd kill you."

Sherlock smiled against John's neck.

"Maybe next time I can punish you for being an idiot."

But John was asleep.

Sherlock carded his free hand through John's hair.

John had been right. He couldn't do that to John again. On so many levels they connected. Levels he was just beginning to discover. And when one of them was in pain, they both were.

He fell asleep, wrapped around the man he loved.