A matter of seconds pass, the tension builds between the two men. Their heavy breathing is now in sync.
"John, I told you to leave."
Sherlock's lips tremble as he mutters these words. John finally realises after all this time, this time of hidden desire, what he wanted Sherlock to do to him and he wanted it now.
"I know you did and I told you I wasn't going and I'm not."
Both of them hadn't a clue what to do next. Still frozen, eyes locked, the two men looked like embracing angels. But tonight was not the time to be angels thought Sherlock; this is the time to feel alive, to feel what he always longed to feel.
The detective's hand slowly slides up John's back; nimble fingers weave between the short strands of his soon to be lover's blonde hair. Now nothing could be done to save John, it was too late for him.
Sherlock plunges forward his lips pressing firmly against Johns. Dry lips soon made moist as their tongues intertwine and lips lock in blissful bursts. John has his eyes closed, he never wants to forget this moment, he never knew this moment would even exist until a few minutes ago. Sherlock on the other hand has his firmly open. He felt the kiss. He felt the pleasure in his aching bones but not as much as when he had his hands around John's neck instead.
John pulls away and breaks Sherlock's trail of thought.
"Ouch! I'm bleeding. For chissakes you bit me! Calm down a bit we've only just started."
The blood forms a single droplet in the corner of John's mouth and rolls down across his pale chin. Sherlock leans forward and without saying a word licks from the base of John's neck up, tasting the blood. John's immediate reaction is one of pleasure. Their lips lock again but this time John sees that Sherlock has is eyes wide open, his hungry eyes. John was willing for Sherlock to control and take his body but that look of hunger made him consider if Sherlock wanted more than that, maybe Sherlock wanted to take his life as well.
The detective pulls back John's head, leaving his hot bare neck open freely to the bites and licks of his tongue. John shivers as Sherlock moves down his body pulling on his shirt to reveal more flesh for him to own with his lips.
John stands there in disbelief. The man he admires, the man who has been his secret love for all this time is there in front of him touching his bare skin, feeling his heart pound at the very sight of him. "This is unreal, this is a dream, it has to be" thought John as Sherlock's hand relinquishes his hair. Sherlock's hand feels the familiar crevasses of John's neck. "It's like a jigsaw," Sherlock tells himself, "my hand, my fingers, they fit perfectly." A gentle squeeze on John's throat sends a wave of ecstasy through his veins.
"Sherlock, are you okay?"
John becomes nervous now, is Sherlock going to hurt him? Has he left himself too vulnerable? Then a confused and distant voice comes from within him. "You want it John, you like it, let him take you, let him own you." This concept, this internal realisation, makes John lose control of his own body's actions and his legs give way a little. This is not unnoticed by the consulting detective, he uses this opportunity to practically throw him onto the sofa. John's head smacks against the wall leaving him a little dazed and confused but soon he realises what has just happened to him. Sherlock takes off his long coat and carelessly throws it across the room where it delicately lands on the table covering the stacks of books and John's laptop.
"Well this is going to be fun" Sherlock smiles
His long slender body and cherub like curled hair stand before the bundle of fear and excitement that is John Watson.