John loved seeing like this. Relaxed in post-coital bliss (or perhaps in coital pause would be a better term) and playful. Sherlock lay on his stomach, long calves kicking in the air as he finished the last of his toast. On a whim, John dipped his finger in the blackberry jam and wrote his name on Sherlock's slim back, re-dipping as needed as if his finger were a fountain pen.
"Did you just write your name on my back? In jam?"
"Mmm hmm."
"Why?"
"So I can do this." John leant forward and gently cleaned Sherlock's back with his mouth, leaving his name written in red blotches that probably wouldn't be permanent. He was pleased to hear Sherlock's breath hitch and feel the thin body shudder slightly.
"And this." John took some more jam on his fingers and ran a line down Sherlock's spine to the bottom of the tail bone and proceeded to clean that as well with long strokes of his tongue. This time Sherlock let out a little sigh of pleasure.
"Roll over," said John, a little surprised at how ragged his own breath sounded.
Sherlock complied and John was not surprised to see Sherlock's penis hardening with renewed interest. Sherlock looked up at him with a wanton smile that was part invitation, part challenge, as if to say, "What next."
John traced each nipple in blackberry and cleaned those carefully making them harden into sharp little buds. Then he smeared Sherlock's mouth with the raspberry like a particularly rich and glossy lipstick paying special attention to the cupid's bow of the upper lip.
"You do know that you have the most fuckable lips of anyone I've ever known, don't you?" Without waiting for a reply John pressed his mouth to Sherlock's, licking at the jam and pushing it into Sherlock's mouth so that they were both tasting raspberries. He fumbled with the raspberry again and put his fingers between their mouths so they were both sucking on his sticky fingers. His cock was on fire. Sherlock looked so decadent, mouth already swollen and now stained a dark red. He painted more lines along Sherlock's neck and shoulders and tongued them lovingly until Sherlock was arching up against him.
"Please, John…"
Chuckling, John moved down Sherlock's body leaving little sugary kisses along his abdomen until he reached Sherlock's cock. He swirled blackberry jam around the length just beneath the head and licked all around before sliding back up to the tip. Sherlock was moaning now and murmuring little incoherent words.
John sat up and Sherlock gasped, arms rising to pull him back, but John just pulled the lube from the drawer. Sherlock started to pull his knees up, but John trapped them and straddled Sherlock instead. Sherlock's eyes widened in surprise. He slicked Sherlock's cock, giving it a good twist at the head to harden it even further. He prepared himself quickly and then, gripping it firmly lowered himself down.
They both sat still for a moment just getting used to the sensation and gazing at each other in a haze of lust, adoration and love. It was John who broke the moment, leaning down to kiss Sherlock tenderly. Sherlock tried to turn the kiss into something more passionate, but John had other plans. He sat back again, dipped his fingers in the nearest jam jar and slid his coated fingers along Sherlock's sumptuous bottom lip. Sherlock's tongue came out to catch his fingers and John slid them into Sherlock's mouth, one at a time. Sherlock obligingly cleaned each, tongue reaching out to tease between them then pulling back in to suck lasciviously, cheeks hollowing, until he was working all three of John's middle fingers, pulling at them and running his tongue over the sensitive tips while John rode him with slow lifts and grinds.
John grabbed Sherlock's hand with its oh, so long white fingers and returned the favor until they were both focused almost entirely on the sensation of each other's fingers in their mouths. Sherlock pulled John's fingers from his mouth with his free hand and sucked on the thumb almost painfully before letting go and running his tongue up and around his own palm. He reached down with his slick hand and began to stroke John's aching cock. He would pause occasionally to add more saliva to his palm and then slide his hand up and down and over the tip, licking the bit of pre-come as he brought his fingers back up for another slow lick.
John had to lean back a little to support himself on Sherlock's thighs which pushed his prostate against Sherlock's cock sending an agonizing tingle through his own. Between Sherlock's strokes and the taste of Sherlock's fingers in his mouth John felt himself boiling and with a cry he came across Sherlock's bare chest, splatters going right up to Sherlock's neck. Sherlock stroked one finger through John's come and licked it slowly.
"Give me back your hand."
John slid his fingers back into Sherlock's mouth as Sherlock gripped John's hips to thrust up in his own rhythm. His eyes shut as he sucked on John's fingers as if they were a cock while his own penis thrust upwards again and again until his mouth fell open with a cry and he too came.