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Kick Start

By AnitaB

Chapter two: Breathless

She probably wouldn't understand it if he said the words trying so desperately to make their way off his tongue. Every single time Sherlock expressed the sheer wealth of gratitude he felt, Joan simply got confused. This precious woman didn't get the magnitude of what she'd done to him and for him since the moment they met. His wife, his beautiful, amazing, pregnant wife had no idea why he treasured her above his own soul.

But just maybe he could show her how much she mattered to him as soon as he got her back into their bed. But first she had to tell him yes and he was going to do whatever it took to help her find the words. Sherlock stopped restraining his hands, enjoying the smooth, soft heat of her thigh under his fingertips. "So you have to tell me what you want or I'm going to make you angry again."

/Come on, love. Tell me to touch you.\\ He knew she was going to say yes by the heat quickly overwhelming the scowl on her lips. The trembling grip of her hands on the back of his neck was a definite sign. But Sherlock wasn't giving her the kiss she clearly wanted very, very badly until she answered him. " Yes, Sherlock, yes."

That was all he needed. "Hold on to me, Joan, tight." Oh, and a real kiss. But Sherlock always needed more of Joan's kisses. And Joan herself, closer, much, much closer. He delighted in the curve of her stomach resting against his skin, in the grip of her arms and legs around his body. And he deliberately lost himself in the sweet stroke of her tongue and the smooth heat of her lips. /That's my girl, hold me tighter.\\

Weakly breaking the kiss, Sherlock tucked his wife tight against his ribs and took the stairs faster than was probably safe. Not than anything in this world or any other would ever succeed in making him drop her. One tiny hand left the back of his neck as his feet stopped before their bedroom door, making his hands tighten against her skin. /That's my precious girl, need me, want me, want this enough.\\ The return of her fingers to his skin came with his name on her lips and the angling of her head in invitation. Joan wanted a kiss. And now that the stairs weren't trying to inhibit their balance... he would be delighted to comply.

"Sherlock," He lost himself in the warmth of her lips, blindly crossing the distance to their bed while her tongue dragged a helpless sound from him. His knees found the edge of the mattress, forcing his grip to shift when he moved to lay her down on their sheets.

"I've got you, Joan, just lay back and I'll give you everything you need." He tried to catch his breath before joining her in the bed. But that endeavor was going to be more difficult than he had anticipated. /So beautiful, my darling Joan, you are unbelievably gorgeous.\\ His pajama top was never more attractive than when it was draping along her curves. His boxers were never more touchable than when she claimed them for sleep shorts. But nothing, not a single thing in the entirety of the universe was more beautiful than the look on her face when she reached out a hand toward him. It no longer mattered if he could breathe. Sherlock needed to answer the request in her extended fingers, the need in her face, the call of her body stretched out on their sheets. "That's my good girl, just like that."

Sherlock claimed that hand, let it lead him onto the mattress and into her arms. He let those beautiful hands lead him into a kiss because he would never, ever get enough of her kisses. Shifting between her ankles, he pulled back to give her a smile at the sound on her lips. "Sherlock…"

"Right here, love. I've got you." Sherlock braced his arms on either side of her ribs to keep his weight up and leaned down for a taste of her kiss. He got a little distracted from the plan at the slide of her fingers along the back of his neck and the rub of the inside of her knee against his ribs. /Mind on the task at hand, man.\\ It was another taste of this amazing woman that he needed at the moment. But, as always, it was nearly impossible to pull away from her kiss. Since that first one so long ago, Sherlock was addicted to Joan's kiss more than he had ever been to heroine. And this addiction he had no intention to break. Not ever. He'd kiss her all she'd let him, as soon as he'd given her what he'd promised. Sherlock weakly broke the kiss to drag his lips along the arch of her neck.

"Sherlock, please…" He merely shook his head against the grip of her fingers and kissed his way down the simply gorgeous lines and curves of her body. First over the shirt, then pushing the fabric out of his way at her waist. Time for a short pause. Sherlock simply wasn't strong enough to pass by the curve of their child cradled inside her. He always had to stop and stare, stroke and caress, kiss and whisper. Tiny fingers stroked through his hair at the same moment that every inch of her gorgeous body arched and rocked under his. /Yes, back to work.\\

"Lift up for me, love." He got a grip on the waistband of his boxers and her panties, slowly peeling both down the lines of her thighs and calves for the sound on her lips and the smooth, soft heat of her skin against his palms. "That's my girl. I've got you." She was so beautiful she took his breath away. But the way she felt under his hands, the way she tasted. Sherlock cupped those hips in his hands and angled her body under his. "Remember to breathe."

The first stroke of his tongue over her most sensitive nerves had the love of his life gasping his name and fisting their sheets in her fingers. The second and third strokes had her thighs trembling against his ears. The fourth and fifth had her hips rocking to the rhythm he'd set. Before number six, Sherlock had to let go of her hip with one hand to twine those grasping fingers with his own instead of the sheet. More, he needed to feel how much more to give her, because he wanted to give her everything. /Show me, love.\\

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