Chapter 3
Sherlock was absolutely thrilled by this new discovery. The hugging and touching were great. But the kissing was something completely different. He found that, when he was kissing John, his brain seemed to slow down. He could relax and not have to think about everything and anything all at once. When they were kissing there was just: John.
Nothing else had happened that morning, apart from sharing some kisses, but if he was honest, that was enough for John. He was in love with Sherlock, of course, and had even admitted as much to himself some time ago, but in a way it was overwhelming that the great detective seemed to reciprocate the sentiment, even though he loathed sentiment. The question still stood, though, whether Sherlock would ever be interested in taking things further than kissing, since he had never shown any interest in sex as far as John knew.
After a while John had gotten up and made breakfast, managed to make Sherlock eat (never too difficult just after a case) and now they were lazily lying in the sofa, Sherlock's head in John's lap as he was muttering insults at the telly and John was reading, or well, at least holding a book.
Sherlock was letting his hand slide up and down John's thigh taking in the texture of his jeans and the strength of the muscles underneath.
John glanced down. "That's, uhm, a bit distracting."
"Oh sorry," Sherlock removed his hand.
John bit his lip, thinking, and absentmindedly tangled his hands in Sherlock's soft curls, gently rubbing his scalp
Sherlock hummed. "That's nice," he murmured, cuddling closer to John, his fingers spreading out over John's chest.
"Hmm... Sherlock?" he asked slowly. "Has there ever been... anyone else, who you did this with?"
Sherlock looked perplexed. "Did what with?"
"Cuddling. Kissing. I don't know what you would call this."
"Oh," Sherlock considered. "Not really, no."
John nodded. "Okay." He was silent for a moment. "Why are you doing it now, then?"
"It feels good... And you like it too." It was not a question.
John gave a short nod in agreement. "But it also would have felt good with other people, earlier, and yet it's new for you."
Sherlock was silent for a very long time. Finally he answered: "No!"
John gave him a questioning look, his fingers still threading through the dark hair.
Sherlock did not elaborate, but instead sought out John's other hand with his own, entwining their fingers.
"What do you mean, no?" John asked quietly, gently stroking his fingertips over Sherlock's knuckles.
"It would not have felt like this with others. I don't think so..." For once Sherlock seemed unable to explain. "It just wouldn't," he finished sounding genuinely puzzled.
John brought up their joined hands and pressed a gentle kiss on Sherlock's. "I think I understand what you mean," he said thoughtfully.
"Oh," Sherlock looked at him. "Can you explain it to me? Because I think I'm a little lost here."
"Well." John shifted a bit uncomfortably and was quiet for a moment, looking for words. "I think it's because we're comfortable with each other. We're friends, we live together, we know the other won't judge us for what we do... Though on the other hand, you never care much about people judging you, so I might be wrong."
Sherlock considered this for a long time. "That might be part of it yes. I can't be sure. Never really had any friends before. Is this how it is?"
"Erm. Not with any other friends I have ever had, actually. This is more, uhm, what lovers would do." He blushed and looked intently at their hands to avoid Sherlock's eyes.
Once again Sherlock thought for a long time. His fingers continued to play with John's. Finally he managed a very quiet: "Oh."
John hardly dared to breathe as he waited for Sherlock's reaction, but apparently there wasn't going to be one. He still didn't look at him and tried to focus on the television, but that obviously wouldn't work - morning telly and something far more interesting in your lap were a bad combination.
Finally Sherlock's mind had exhausted the topic. "So," he started. "Does this complicate things?"
John eventually looked down at him. "That depends on whether we want the same things, I guess."
Another long pause, then: "What do you want?"
John was chewing on his lip for a while, thinking. "I want us to stay friends. I mean, more than friends is even better, but I don't want to lose our friendship, no matter what. I'd like to keep cuddling and touching you. Perhaps more if you're up for that. And I don't want to do anything you really don't want," he added after thinking for another moment.
"I see." And then after another pause. "Why do you think we might lose our friendship?"
"That's not what I think, I'm just saying - I like what we have. I love it, actually. So I want to keep it, and perhaps extend it, but never risk it. That means we have to talk about things. However awkward." He shrugged.
"I like what we have too. Can't we just keep it like this?" He paused and then added, "I don't know if I can handle anything more."
"Ah." John tried not to be disappointed. "That's fine, yeah. Of course."
Sherlock shifted a little bringing his face up, so he could kiss John."I like it a lot," he murmured, and then continued kissing him, softly but insisting.
John gratefully kissed him back, pulling him up a bit. He softly brushed his nose over Sherlock's as they broke apart. "You could always change your mind later," he said softly. "We don't have to decide everything about the rest of our lives today."
"That's good," Sherlock agreed, as he, almost experimentally, deepened the kiss, one hand snaking behind John's head pulling him closer.
John made a small sound as he closed his eyes and let Sherlock take the lead.
This was indeed fascinating, Sherlock thought. Not only did the kissing seem to clear his mind, but it was obviously having some profound effect on John too. That sound. What did it mean? Just to see what response it would elicit, Sherlock carefully probed against John's lips with his tongue.
John parted his lips with a soft moan, guiding Sherlock's tongue into his mouth with his own.
Sherlock gasped at the sensation. He could not understand why this felt so good, he just knew that it did. Suddenly he could not bear the thought of this ending. He clung to John, their lips locked together, tongues entwined. A small whimper escaped him.
John sucked lightly on the other man's tongue and felt what the kiss was doing to the rest of his body. He gently pulled back and cupped Sherlock's face in his left hand.
Sherlock made a small complaining sound at the loss of contact. Then he opened his eyes, looking at John. "Why are you stopping?"
John gave him a small, quick kiss on his lips. "It was getting a bit too intense. Uhm." He decided to distract Sherlock's attention away from his erection by pulling him into a hug and only then realized that that wasn't his cleverest idea.
Sherlock wasn't surprised. Not really. John had, after all explained that this was what lovers did. It was only a natural response he supposed. But it could be problematic if it made John so uncomfortable that he wouldn't do the kissing anymore. "I'm sorry."
John looked at him, a bit surprised. "Don't be. It only meant that it was too good." He smirked.
"But you want to stop now?" Sherlock sounded both sad and disappointed.
John gently pressed his lips on Sherlock's. "Not really, no," he mumbled against the other man's mouth.
Enthusiastically Sherlock kissed him back, holding him tight, and loosing himself in the sensations.
Amused by Sherlock's enthusiasm, John kept kissing him and forgot about his arousal until he let out a loud moan. Somehow they had shifted so that John was almost lying on top of Sherlock and he quickly sat up. "Sorry. Got a bit carried away." He blushed.
"It's okay," Sherlock replied. "I don't mind." He reached up to pull John back down.
John just lay down with his head on Sherlock's shoulder and curiously glanced down, wondering if Sherlock had also been affected by the kiss.
Sherlock decided that the kissing was probably over for now. He was a bit disappointed, but as long as they could still cuddle, it was okay. He wrapped his arms around John.
"Sherlock?" John asked, making himself comfortable in Sherlock's arms and laying his wounded arm over Sherlock's chest.
"Hmm?" Sherlock hummed, too comfortable at the moment to speak.
"Were you aroused, when we were kissing? Or is that something that just doesn't happen to you? Which is fine, by the way, I just... wondered." It was a good thing that he was talking to Sherlock's shoulder instead of his face.
Sherlock considered. Surely he wasn't as visibly affected as John, but his heart-rate was clearly elevated and he could feel a flush on his cheeks and chest. He knew these to be signs of arousal. "I suppose so," he answered, a little surprised.
"Really?" John lifted his head to look at the detective in surprise. "That's - that's good. Nice. I mean. I should probably shut up." He hid his head away in Sherlock's shoulder again.
Sherlock chuckled and started sliding his hands over John's back. He kissed the top of his head gently.
John hummed and nuzzled Sherlock's neck.
Sherlock was feeling very relaxed. He considered if he should let himself get some sleep. It was so very comfortable lying here together. But then he thought how John might slip away while he slept, and he couldn't bear the thought of waking up alone. He sighed.
"What's wrong?" John asked, hearing the deep sigh.
"I'm just thinking that we can't stay like this forever."
"Hmm, probably not, but I don't mind staying here for the rest of the morning. You'd get bored if we'd be like this forever, anyway."
"Maybe," Sherlock admitted. Then he frowned. "Will you get bored if I sleep for a while?"
"No, I'll probably fall asleep as well."
"That's good." Sherlock smiled as he drifted off.
(I would like to continue saying thanks to the brilliant and modest The Lady of Purpletown for being such a perfect John)
