A/N: Warning: Innuendo ahead! If you don't know what 'innuendo' means I recommend you not even read it ;)
Enjoy! Drop a review if you feel the inkling? As always, thanks for reading.
Hot Chocolate: Adulthood
"There's no point in getting pissy about it, Sherlock. It's not my fault you fell."
The comforter-clad detective sneered at the remark. No, it hadn't been John's fault he had slipped on a patch of ice thus falling into an annoyingly placed pile of snow but he certainly hadn't helped by laughing. True, the older man had quickly recovered from his poorly timed exaltation but not enough to resist rubbing his hand all over Sherlock's wet, freezing hair which then caused the cold to seep even further into the pale skin and frigid blood.
When John had finally realized he may have been being a bit childish, the doctor had ushered his friend into a taxi and went straight back to their flat. Hypothermia was unlikely but the possibility danced lightly in his mind as he ordered Sherlock to strip, to which the taller man had smirked and – keeping up with the silent-treatment game he seemed to be playing – mouthed "People will talk".
John felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips before he realized the warm feeling in his stomach was getting... warmer. Instead of smiling he looked away from his now shirtless flat-mate and cleared his throat. "I'm, ah… going to get you a blanket." With that he turned and left the room briskly, missing the epiphanic expression erupt on Sherlock's face.
Now, as John brought him the steaming mug of hot chocolate – complete with two large, bobbing marshmallows – Sherlock know exactly how to play this game; sexual frustration seemed like a lovely consequence for the juvenile behavior the doctor had displayed.
Taking his hands out of the soft blanket to take the drink, the brunette allowed the cover to fall unnoticed onto his lap. Well, unnoticed by him; John's eyes, on the other hand, followed it down. He turned and sat opposite the pale thin man in his large red chair, staring into the dark liquid which rested unblemished in his own mug. Glancing back up, he saw Sherlock watching him intensely, almost predatory.
The light eyes never wavered as one long, pale finger touched the already melting sugar floating in the chocolate liquid, then lifted swiftly, drawing out a trace of the hot substance. Lifting it up to his lips ever so slowly, Sherlock licked the white, stickiness off his finger; the urge to smile triumphantly when John's mouth hung limp was nearly overwhelming.
Not yet ready to end it, two fingers now scraped on the melted substance, a generous amount of melted sugar piling on the tips. All the while watching his thoroughly bothered doctor, Sherlock lifted his coated fingers and deposited them into his mouth; he gave a healthy suck and decided the sweet taste of sugar nothing compared to the satisfaction of seeing John inhale and cross his legs to hide his growing arousal.
The speedily recovered man allowed the now undeniable smile to play upon his lips before taking his first drink.
John rose and turned to the kitchen quickly, taking a deep breath to try and calm his rapidly rising libido. He deposited his now cool drink into the sink before closing his eyes tightly. He's messing with you, don't let it get to you, don't… he looked back at his friend.
Sherlock felt the burn on his tongue mix with the saccharine taste of the marshmallow. As he brought the drink back down he knew there was a trace of the white left on his upper lip. His tongue moved, slowly still, out to retrieve it.
Swallowing hard, John forced himself to look away. "Right, well I… am going upstairs. Yell if you… need me."
Indulging himself, the detective took a hearty sip of the warm drink. It tasted extraodrinary. Sherlock frowned a bit as his own erection twitched annoyingly. Well, he thought uneasily, this is certainly new.