Chapter 5: Wash all the Heartaches Away
Warning: Sexy times ahead.
After the heated kiss that intensified tenfold on the sofa, John and Sherlock move towards the bedroom, shedding clothing along the way in that way that men do: a shirt here, a pair of jeans, a sock and another sock, tiny Stonehenge clones that say "we were here." They fall together onto the silk-sheeted mattress, arms and legs twined and knotted around each other, each man in the place that he calls his own. Their hearts are a never ending, rolling, driving beat that they create between them. Fingertips search for a hold, grasping and sometimes bruising both pale and mildly tan skin. The crest of the tide overtakes them and they are left complete.
Lips meet as the heat between them begins to cool, yet the desire at this moment is as strong as every single year before; they feel closer now than they ever have: as if the tragedy that has again changed their lives—together this time—has made each man not only see what it important to him, but acknowledge it in a much deeper way. They were pulled apart by tragedy before, but this time it is different: the idea that one or both of them could have been trapped, unable to witness the light of a new day—that has broken down walls that have stood the tests of their loyalty, strength and commitment to each other though many times before.
John holds himself up on his arms, his eyes closed and lips murmuring the lyrics of their song in between gentle kisses. Sweat is a silvery sheen over his muscular shoulders, reflecting the dimmed amber light from Tiffany lamp on the bed stand. It is late afternoon and the sunlight cannot penetrate the drapes that have been pulled closed over the windows. Sometimes they need to feel that it is time for only each other, without even the sun to bear witness to the blending of souls, the merging of hearts and minds of their love making. It is so much more than physical, between these two, as it always has been, even before they were aware of how wonderful their bodies would fit together: a puzzle that will never again be taken apart.
Needy grunts and eager growls have given way to softer sighs and whispers. Sherlock's legs are wrapped tightly around John's torso, crossed at the well-formed ankles just below John's hips. Moments ago, Sherlock's hands were pulling his lover closer, always closer to his ribs as if they could simply fuse and become a single being, those hands are now relaxed at the base of John's spine, gently kneading the slightly softening muscles found there. He gently caresses the tops of John's buttocks with his fingertips, rolling his hips slowly as John opens and then closes his eyes. He opens his mouth to allow John's words to enter his body, they fill up his mind, his heart and his soul as much as his strong lover fills him physically. Sherlock gives a breathless whimper as John's now flagging arousal slips out of him. There is a rush of heat as he gasps against John's playfully smiling mouth.
John opens his eyes to take in the sight of his lover, the muscles bunching with tension in his shoulders as he lets his forehead brush Sherlock's chin. Sherlock's cheeks are shaded rose; his lips are crimson from the pressure of John's careful mouth. Black and silver curls are mussed in a beautifully wild array against the sapphire silk pillowcase. Green eyes are almost black in the dim light. With each tender kiss, John speaks his mind to his love.
"Gorgeous." Kiss.
"Pleasing." Kiss.
"The sculptor broke…" Kiss.
"The mold when you were" Kiss.
"Created." Kiss.
Sherlock is so utterly relaxed that the only part of his body he can move with any precision is his mouth. His legs are still locked around John. He gazes deep into the brilliant blue depths of John's irises, not even closing his own with the press of each brush of John's lips against his sensitive mouth. He reaches out and gives the briefest brush of the tip of his tongue against John's bottom lip each time John pulls away. His intense gaze is that of a falcon that has found its prey as he admires the flush of capillary refill across John's face.
Finally, John's arms begin to tremble slightly from exhaustion. With one more adoring kiss to Sherlock's forehead, he licks the salt from his mouth as he stares into those soul-rending eyes and then rolls onto his back. For a brief time, they remain this way, minds cleared of the fears of almost-loss. As all things do in nature, it does not last and they are soon asleep.