Author's Note:
Make-up sex, that's all you really need to know. Thanks to everyone who is reading, reviewing, and subscribing! I'm so glad that so many people are enjoying this story! =)
John sniffed against Sherlock's skin and smiled softly. "This is where couples normally have make-up sex," he whispered with a small chuckle, moving his head to place a soft kiss on Sherlock's temple. "But you're clearly exhausted and I just threw up because your brother had his men drug me." Another soft laugh as he lightly pressed his hips forward to press his obvious erection against Sherlock's stomach. "And I'm not kissing you because of that," he whispered into Sherlock's ear. "Don't take your clothes off," he whispered, nipping at Sherlock's ear with another rock of his hips. "Don't touch me," he whispered again.
Sherlock whimpered as John pressed into him. Usually he would fight for control but his body wasn't really in any shape to do so. Also, he still owed it the army doctor for one time of submission. His arms dropped to his sides in compliance. He wasn't sure what John had in mind but he was curious to find out. So, he sat there letting his fiancé do whatever he wanted.
John let out a breathy laugh into Sherlock's neck. "I mean don't touch my prick," he whispered. "Put your arms back around me." He hadn't done this since high school when he had been too worried about getting caught by teachers or his parents. Or military commanders, for that matter. It was possibly the messiest thing they could do but fucking Sherlock with his clothes on was one thing he had always wanted to do. His breath hitched as his hips pressed his erection against Sherlock's stomach in several rough thrusts.
Sherlock smirked slightly and wrapped his arms around John once more. His body twitched into John's, another whimper escaping his lips. This was certainly different but he was enjoying it. Did they really have to keep their clothes on? He wasn't sure if he had that kind of restraint. To keep his hands busy, he ran his finger tips along John's back lightly.
This wasn't going to work. Sure, John was getting enough friction for himself but he wanted to help Sherlock even if he was exhausted. "C'mere," he whispered, yanking Sherlock up on to the bed and shoving him toward the headboard. Out of courtesy he kicked his shoes off before climbing on to the bed and situating himself between Sherlock's legs with a grin. The friction of Sherlock's shirt against his bare chest made him moan loudly, his mouth instantly attaching to Sherlock's neck viciously. Quiet. He needed to stay quiet. The last thing he needed was Mycroft finding out. His hips started a slow rhythm, pressing down and sliding up in the most perfect way against Sherlock. His hands tangled in Sherlock's hair, pulling his head back softly to expose more of his neck.
Sherlock followed John's lead, and fell back onto the bed with a slight "umph." His eyes closed as soon as John began kissing his neck and didn't resist his head being moved. His arms once more came to wrap around the army doctor, fingers trailing along softly against his fiancé's back yet again. Another whimper was issued at the slow pace but he matched the rhythm set by the man on top of him. It occurred to him then why he had been bothered by the difference in his sexual acts with Jackson. He had been vocal then and he never really was. That seemed somehow wrong to Sherlock. He needed to fix it. Make things right. "Jesus John…please…I want you. Christ…don't make me beg…"
John tensed as he heard Sherlock speaking, his hips hitching at the sound of the man's voice in his ear. "Fuck," he growled, the words going straight to his cock. That voice was enough to deal with outside of intense and romantic situations but the way Sherlock spoke, the way he could feel Sherlock's voice against his own chest. "I don't have anything, Sherlock." His hips kept their slow rhythm and he wished desperately that he could kiss the man beneath him. He nipped at Sherlock's neck in slight frustration. The thought of making Sherlock beg, of hearing him talk and moan and say John's name, was enough to keep his hips in control.
"It doesn't matter. I'll be fine. Please?" Sherlock whispered, as he continued to match the pace John set. It was difficult and damn near maddening but he needed this. The slow rhythm, making noise, talking. God, he needed to make things right in his mind. Things needed to make sense and until he did this, he was certain he would never forgive himself. His finger tips continued to trail up and down gently. "John…this…you…" words failed him. "Please, oh God, John please?" He pleaded, suddenly not caring that he was begging.
God. After this John wasn't sure he would be able to sleep with Sherlock again without hearing the other man's voice. He moved one hand, forcing two fingers into Sherlock's mouth and pressing down on his tongue. "Lick," he commanded softly. They didn't have Vaseline but John could at least prepare Sherlock a little. It was the least he could do. His hips stopped as he moved his other hand to struggle with the button of Sherlock's pants. He lifted his gaze to Sherlock, biting his bottom lip. Fuck, he wanted this too, but he wasn't going to force Sherlock to do anything, or injure him for that matter. The fingers in Sherlock's mouth applied more pressure to his tongue and John placed a soft kiss on the bottom of Sherlock's jaw.
Sherlock obeyed and he licked the fingers that had been shoved into his mouth. He could feel John fumbling with his pants and for a moment he wanted to help the army doctor to expedite the process but once more he showed restraint. To keep his mind occupied, he focused on the fingers in mouth. He bit down on them ever so slightly. Soft. Slow. He wasn't going to ruin this. Self control. Just have will power, he kept telling himself mentally. With fingers in his mouth, he didn't bother trying to talk as it would probably just come out mumbled and incoherent. He settled for a soft moan. He was so used to everything being so fast and hard, this was all just about too much. It was so different but he was enjoying, despite the fact it was practically torture.
The small bite on his fingers made John moan, low and long, and he finally managed to get Sherlock's pants undone. He pulled his fingers from Sherlock's mouth and slowly removed Sherlock's pants, placing kisses on every inch of exposed skin of his right thigh. "You're wonderful," he whispered. "Beautiful. Fantastic." He managed to carefully pull the pants around the injured feet before maneuvering back up Sherlock's body. "Beg," he whispered against Sherlock's taut stomach, a smug grin on his face. The two fingers that had previously been in Sherlock's mouth slowly moved into his own, moving in and out slowly as his other hand pulled down Sherlock's underwear.
Sherlock's arms fell to either side of him, and tangled into the sheets below him as John placed the light kisses. "You are pretty damn wonderful yourself, my dear doctor." He tilted his head down to look at his fiancé as he sucked on his fingers. "Jesus, that's sexy." He murmured a faint smirk on his lips. He couldn't help but squirm as his underwear began sliding off; another moan came out, this one louder. He laid his head back on the pillow. "Please. I'll…I'll do anything you want. I need this. Need you. Please."
"Yes," John stated around his fingers, closing his eyes and resting his forehead just above Sherlock's belly button. He moaned, loud and certainly not holding back, the moment he heard Sherlock's own moan. Perfect. Why hadn't Sherlock been this loud before? His fingers slid from his mouth with a loud 'pop' and without warning he pressed one into Sherlock, up to his knuckle, and hooked it. At this rate, with Sherlock begging him beneath him and his eagerness, John didn't know how long he was actually going to prepare the man beneath him. "I love you," he whispered as he placed a soft kiss on Sherlock's right hip bone.
Sherlock arched his back, issuing another moan, louder still. His fingers curled even tighter, his knuckles turning white. "Love you too," he whispered between thready breaths. His chest was rising and falling at irregular intervals now, but he mustered out some more words. "Feels so good John. Please, don't stop." His lower torso reacted to the kiss, writhing excitedly.
The encouragement, the obvious pleasure that Sherlock was feeling, was enough to give John confidence to slip a second finger in with a soft moan of his own. "I know." He smirked and turned his head to place a soft kiss on Sherlock's penis. "I've been in this position a few times," he whispered before kissing his penis again. His free hand moved sloppily to undo his own pants, his belt clicking loudly as he forced his pants down. Too much fabric. "Fuck," he growled, looking down and managing to get his underwear off as well. Both were kicked randomly somewhere in the room and his fingers slowly picked up the pace.
Once more, he moaned as another finger slid in. The grip on the sheets couldn't get any tighter, so tangled them into his knuckles more so than they already were. Upon hearing John undoing his own pants, Sherlock panted out between breaths, "Yes. Please. So amazing. So good. Shit, John I love you." His body rocked in time with the pace the army doctor had set. Everything was feeling so amazing, he was certain he was going to get off just by having John inside of him.
John couldn't handle much more of this. It was too much and he wasn't even inside of Sherlock yet. "Do you think you're ready?" His voice was rough and low. This was going to hurt Sherlock at some point but John had the right of mind to spit into his free hand and run it across his cock. His own touch was enough for him to throw his head back and shout.
"Oh God yes. Please." Sherlock pleaded, his body bucking roughly now with anticipation and another moan of pleasure. This was all so wonderful. Why hadn't they tried this sooner? When John shouted, he tilted his head down to once more peer at his fiancé. He smirked a little. "Now you know how I feel every time you touch me." Even though he dropped his head back down, the smirk got even bigger.
As eager as John was, because Sherlock hadn't let him do this since Scotland, he knew he needed to take it slow. If he went as fast as his body wanted he would seriously hurt Sherlock. "You need to tell me if I need to stop," he whispered as he grabbed on of Sherlock's legs and lifted it to rest the calf on his own shoulder. For as loud as they were both being, he knew at some point Mycroft would hear. That was exactly what he wanted. He brought Sherlock's other leg to rest against his waist and moved forward on his knees before pressing against Sherlock's entrance with a moan. Slow. Steady. He pressed forward slightly and instantly had to stop himself. "Fuck," he dropped his head and hesitantly pushed in a little more.
Without resisting he allowed John to position his legs however the army doctor saw fit. The initial entry was painful but he ignored it by slamming his eyes shut. Everything else was feeling too good. "Don't st-stop" Sherlock stammered out between clenched teeth. "Please. Love you."
Pain. Sherlock had slammed his eyes shut and his jaw was tight. John should care but Sherlock was talking, telling him to not stop. Who would stop? One hand fell against the sheets, searching desperately for Sherlock's as he kept pushing in slowly. "Love you." The words came out quickly, ended in a moan, and then John froze. His hips were pressed against Sherlock. When had that happened? "Christ, you're wonderful," his free hand dropped to Sherlock's hips, holding it in place as he pulled back slowly and kept the same pace as he pushed in again.
One thing was sure, Sherlock wouldn't be walking straight for awhile. The Vaseline most assuredly made a difference. When he felt John's hand near his, he disentangled from the sheets and latched onto the army doctor's with a tight squeeze. He had already committed himself to endure through it though. Despite his tight and sporadic breathing, he spoke once more, his voice quiet and raspy. "F-feels good. D-don't stop." He rocked in time with John's thrusts another moan escaped him. His penis was hard and throbbing, he was certain he wouldn't last much longer.
Not hurting Sherlock had been his main goal but the fog of arousal in his mind was too much and his hips started a steady rhythm. Slow and soft. When Sherlock started moving beneath him, John moaned. At this rate he wondered how in the world Sherlock had stayed so quiet. "Shit." His hand moved lightly from Sherlock's hip to wrap around his cock. It worked in time with his own thrusts, his hand tight. He squeezed Sherlock's hand as a grunt escaped him and his eyes slammed shut. "Oh, God. God, Sherlock." Was he shouting? He didn't even know. The blood rushing through his ears was too loud.
The line between pain and pleasure was blurry at this point. Sherlock's body continued to rock in time with the set pace. "Jesus John," he panted out when he felt his fiancé grab his cock. His hand's grip tightened on the army doctor's. To his surprise several minutes and thrusts went by before his body finally tensed as he came, shouting John's name for the first time when climaxing. His body relaxed instantly after that, his breathing far too erratic to allow him to say anything at the moment.
Sherlock's shouting made him tense, frozen as the man below him went limp. "Few more." His hips snapped forward roughly into the exhausted body below him before he came, shouting before collapsing on top of Sherlock with a groan. "Fuck." He pressed a light kiss to Sherlock's chest as he pulled out, grunting at the loss of warmth he'd just had. Perfect. That was... the best shag he had ever had. Period. "I love you. I love you." He flopped on to the bed beside Sherlock. Exhaustion made him relax into the overly soft mattress and he blushed when it creaked beneath his weight. Not only had they been making quite the racket, the bed noises were certainly a dead give away to their activities. He snuggled into Sherlock's side with a content smile. "How was that?"
"Never…realized…" Sherlock trailed off trying to catch his breath still. He swallowed heavily a few moments and tried speaking again. "That was amazing. We should do that more often." He snuggled into John's shoulder, trying to shift to a position that wasn't so sore for him to be in. On his side seem to work best, his arm across his fiancé's stomach. "I love you too. After that, I don't know if I will ever want rough sex again. You were fantastic." He tilted his head up slightly and gave a light kiss on John's cheek.
"You won't be saying that in a few hours," John whispered with a low chuckle. It had really felt wonderful and going by Sherlock's reaction, the other man had really enjoyed it, but there was no denying that he had hurt Sherlock a bit. He had been there. He knew. "You were wonderful." He wrapped an arm around Sherlock's torso protectively and placed a kiss in his hair. "Rest. I think you might need it after that."
A small smirk found its way to his lips. "Even if I wanted to I don't think I'll be doing much of anything for awhile. No wonder you always insist on the Vaseline." After sleeping, Sherlock shouldn't be tired but his body was still worn out from his long, ruthless, sprint. Of course, having sex was tiring as well. Even if the pace had been slow and steady. He snuggled into John more fully and let himself fall asleep.
John had opened his mouth to reply when he noticed Sherlock had fallen asleep. Good, he needed it. After the day they had Sherlock needed a good nap. He yawned and suddenly realized how tired he was, too. "You little git," he whispered against the top of Sherlock's head. "I love you." He kicked his feet and managed to get the spare blanket wrapped tightly around both of them before falling asleep as well.
After a couple hours of napping, Sherlock woke up. Good God, he was still sore. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Well, it had been the best sex with John yet so the ramifications were worth it. Moving really didn't appeal to him right now, so he remained snuggled into his fiancé, his fingers trailing lightly over the army doctor's chest and stomach.
The light fingers trailing on his skin made John's face scrunch, a small groan escaping his chest. "Wha'?" He buried his face into the top of Sherlock's hair with another groan. "'M tryin' ta sleef," the arm around Sherlock tightened and he yanked the blanket over both of their heads, sighing when he realized he probably wasn't going to get anymore sleep. "How do you feel?" He pulled back, looking at Sherlock owlishly in the sudden darkness under the blanket.
"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you." Sherlock shot his eyes upward to look at the blanket covering them both and smirked a little. "Sore but fine and worth it my dear doctor." He stopped his light trace and gave John a sideways hug. While laying there, he wondered if things would just go back to normal for them or if their relationship was forever altered. It had been a pretty bad fight. If things did change, would it be for the best or end up making things worse?
"I can practically hear you thinking," John muttered in a rough voice, melting into the embrace slightly before stretching with a wide yawn. "You don't regret that, do you?" He asked hesitantly, pulling the blanket away to get a breath of fresh air. Admittedly they had shagged in the truest form of make-up sex. True, it wasn't rough like most make-up sex but it had been slow, and honestly, it had been the most romantic they had ever been. "That was the best sex I've ever had, Sherlock. If you say you regret that I might have to cry."
"What? Oh no-no-no. No regret here. That was the most amazing thing we have ever done. I think…I've even thought of few new things to add to it next time. Hopefully make it even better than this last time." Even though that wasn't what Sherlock had been thinking before his fiancé spoke to him, he had indeed thought of some interesting ideas. Those books really had come in handy. He lifted his head to look up at John with a smirk and gleam in his eye. "You'll just have to wait and find out though." The smirk got bigger.
John visibly relaxed and even managed a chuckle through the blush on his cheeks. "You mean I get to do that again?" He asked in mock surprise, eyes wide. "Oh, goodness, the great Sherlock Holmes is letting me shag him again?" He licked his lips and winced when he suddenly remember he had thrown up because of the medication. Just his luck, not being able to kiss Sherlock in such a romantic time. "How long do I have to wait, then?" The bed shifted as he glanced out the window. It was dark and his first day back in London was almost over. Six more days.
Sherlock smirked a bit more. "I think I could get used to it." He fell quiet for a moment as he became thoughtful. "Do you think I could try the new things out on you first? Then you can return the favor, if you wanted?" Once more, he tilted hit head to look up at John his eyebrows raised slightly in question. Before tonight, he would have never asked and merely done so. There would still probably be times where he would want to be in control, rough and fast but not as often. Not after the incredible sex they had just had.
John contemplated the question, his mouth twisting to the side. "Yeah, I wouldn't see why not. I mean, you are the one who read up on them. Only fair that you get to try them first." He placed a kiss on the tip of Sherlock's nose. The thought of being in control a few more times caused a small shiver to run down his spine, a stupid grin tugging at his lips. "So, think Mycroft heard us?" He motioned his head toward the door but didn't tear his gaze away from Sherlock.
Sherlock nodded and then shrugged. "He probably did. Though he knows how we are, so he probably won't be surprised in the least." He paused in thought for a moment. "Mycroft said we'll have to slow down after your…" He trailed off and then amended his words "our…" another moment of hesitation before he settled on, "…little Sandi is born. Do you really think so? Will it matter when she is an infant? Children usually don't have memories before the age four."
It was a good question, he would admit. Definitely something John had considered himself. "I love the nickname you've given her," he whispered softly before clearing his throat. Too emotional. "I mean, it might a bit only because I'll probably be lacking in sleep a bit. And... with her in the room we can't... y'know," he chuckled. Christ, this was awkward. "The couch will probably be our new spot for a bit. Maybe the floor, the windows if you're feeling a bit daring." He licked his lips and took a breath, opening his mouth slightly. "We'll figure it out."
Sherlock smiled softly and then went thoughtful again, after hearing John reply. No, he didn't know why they couldn't do in the bedroom with Sandi sleeping there. Why did it matter if she wouldn't remember anyway? He frowned a bit, it must be one of those social thins he still didn't understand. "John, I have no shame. Of course, I would be up for doing it against the windows. The question is would you?" The smirk returned once more.
"Oh, no, of course not," John laughed loudly. The windows? Anybody could see. He had been joking but Sherlock would take it seriously. "Not against the windows. No. Sorry, but no." He shifted slightly on the bed, looking around the room before sliding off the mattress and away from Sherlock's warmth with a bit of a frown. "I need to brush my teeth. I want to kiss you," he muttered, opening a door and turning the light on when he discovered a bathroom. "Perfect." He went inside and breathed a sigh of relief, quickly preparing a toothbrush before exiting the room brushing his teeth. He just kept his eyes locked on Sherlock, standing proudly despite his lack of clothing.
The smirk got bigger but quickly turned to frown when John got out of the bed. Ah. The frown disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared, as Sherlock watched John find a bathroom attached to the room. "You know, if we'd taken the time to look beforehand we probably could have found Vaseline in the bathroom as well. We'll have to remember that for the next when Mycroft decides to kidnap and lock us in a room together." That ever present smirk returned to his lips.
"'Ou vant-" John rolled his eyes and moved into the bathroom, rinsing his mouth out and shutting the light off before jumping back on to the bed and straddling Sherlock's hips. "You wanted to go. Right then. I didn't exactly have time nor did I really care." He bent at the waist and gently met Sherlock's lips, sucking at his bottom lip softly. "Now you know what it's like when you get over eager. And you aren't even going that slow." Another kiss, his tongue running across the top of Sherlock's mouth.
Sherlock couldn't help but keep smirking. He was about to reply, but John's kiss distracted him like it had done so many times before. He returned the kiss, eyes closing, as he reached out hand to pull John back onto the bed by grabbing the other man's wrist and pulling gently. "I love you." He murmured between kisses. They were light and soft, his tongue trailing along his fiancé's lips every once in awhile. "Minty, you taste better than usual." He spoke once more, behind a kiss.
"Very funny." John nipped at Sherlock's bottom lip as he pressed himself against Sherlock with a smile. "I haven't heard you complaining before," he muttered with a smug grin. While making love to Sherlock was quite a wonderful experience, the Army doctor was fairly sure that his favorite thing to do was kiss him. Right now was perfect. Slow and soft, lazy in their post-nap happiness. "I love you, too," he whispered before letting his tongue explore Sherlock's mouth again.
Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, pulling the other man a bit closer with a hug. This was nice. Slow and easy. Again, he couldn't fathom why they hadn't tried this sooner. Probably because he had been an idiot and was always rushing things. His tongue explored John's mouth slowly, going over every inch with care.
After a few minutes John had to pull away, taking a deep breath and pressing his forehead against Sherlock's. "I love you." He moved in to kiss Sherlock again but jumped the moment he heard the doorknob turning. He ripped the blanket up, crawled underneath, and curled tightly against Sherlock's side. Not good.
"I believe congratulations are in order," Mycroft opened the door and smiled at Sherlock tightly, flipping John's silver band toward the bed.