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“You’ll see,” the receptionist smiles, handing John the key to their room, “This honeymoon suite is quite spectacular. Our hotel has won many awards, most of them for these rooms.”
John forces himself to smile back at her as gently as possible, “We can’t wait to see it!” He glances back behind him where Sherlock is currently waiting for their suitcases before looking back at her, “What time do we have to return the key tomorrow?”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” the woman replies, shaking her head slowly, “Whenever you’re ready to leave. Some of our guests chose to extend their stay for another day or two sometimes, and it’s really no trouble.”
John nods, licking his lips and playing with the key in his hand. We’ll probably be leaving first thing in the morning , he wants to tell her. As soon as Sherlock proves who robbed the previous couple who booked a room here, we’re out of here and stopping this happily married charade. “Thank you,” he says instead.
“We’ll have someone show you both to your room,” she continues to smile, looking at Sherlock behind him. “As soon as your baggage arrives, you can wait with your husband, I’m certain they’ll be here shortly.”
John clenches his fingers once, twice, barely holding back the He’s not my husband, I’m not even sure what we are to each other now , and only manages to nod at her one last time before joining Sherlock. He’s looking at his phone, typing quickly and glances up at him when John arrives.
“She believed you,” he declares, and John nods. “Good. Our client sent us more details about the events of the night they stayed here, and we need to find a certain Alfred, a lobby boy.”
“How are we supposed to find him?”
“I’ve checked the hotel’s schedule, and he’s working tonight,” Sherlock replies, putting his phone back in his pocket. He looks around but John finds he can’t look away from him, his eyes finding Sherlock’s neck and his tongue darting out to wet his lips again. “He’s usually working the Honeymoon suites,” Sherlock continues, apparently unaware of John’s internal struggle not to kiss the offered skin in front of him, “If we’re lucky, he’ll be the one showing us to our room, if not, we only have to complain about our lobby boy until Alfred is assigned to us.”
John can’t repress a smile, “Or you can just annoy the one we have until he asks to be replaced.”
Sherlock rolls his eyes but his lips are curling into a smile, so John looks down to hide his own. They don’t talk for a minute, maybe two, and John fidgets with their key. He’s not sure why he agreed to this, but when Sherlock had said they needed to pretend to be married for a night, John had been too busy picturing himself saying I do to this brilliant man to say no. Sherlock had planned everything of course, and now they were supposed to spend the entire night in an apparently spectacular Honeymoon suite.
“Seems like it’s our lucky night,” Sherlock says suddenly and John looks back up at him sharply. Sherlock is nodding toward the man walking toward them with their baggage. Alfred. “Remember, we need to keep an eye out all night, he’ll probably rob us when he’s certain we’re asleep.”
John nods, about to reply that they’ve gone over their plan a dozen times already, but Sherlock moves before he can say anything, taking his hand and threading their fingers slowly. John stares down at their joined hands and has to force himself to focus back on what’s happening around them before he gives them away. Sherlock is already talking to their suspect, returning his warm greeting and checking if all their suitcases are here. John remains silent, still too distracted by the feeling of Sherlock’s thumbs against his palm. He lets Sherlock tug him toward the lift, not letting go and still chatting with Alfred. John allows himself to gaze up at him for a moment, surprised to see how natural it feels for Sherlock to hold his hand. For all he knows, John is not sure he’s ever going to be able to let go.
“...John and I decided we wanted a small ceremony, and it was perfect, wasn’t it?”
John is brought back to reality when Sherlock squeezes his hand, and he hurries to reply, “It truly was, yes.”
Sherlock’s eyes are fixed on him, searching, and John finds himself hoping he’s not blushing like a bloody teenager being caught daydreaming about their crush. Christ, get a hold of yourself, Watson .
“You won’t regret choosing our establishment,” Alfred smiles. “Our Honeymoon suites are quite famous, but I’m sure you already know that.”
John has actually no idea what could make a Honeymoon suite so amazing. His and Mary’s had been quite simple, with champagne and rose petals, and they hadn’t spent that much time in bed in the end. He had to admit this hotel is a lot more luxurious, but still, John finds himself more and more curious as they finally arrive at their door. Alfred takes the key from him, smiling at them before opening the door and letting them in. Sherlock is still holding his hand, and John realises he’s holding on tight as he takes in the very large double bed in the middle of the giant room. It’s absolutely breathtaking, the soft taupe walls, the modern furniture, the bright white sheets, the huge mirrors and pillows.
“Told you so,” Alfred comments.
Sherlock slowly untangles their fingers and walks to the center of the room. He stops in front of the bed, not saying a word, and John swallows with difficulty before looking back at Alfred. He thanks him while handing him his tip, and with one last smile, the man closes the door behind him. John keeps his back turned to Sherlock for another second, just enough time to compose himself, and when he turns back around, Sherlock is heading towards one of the large glass windows. He opens them without a word and steps outside. John glances at their baggage, wondering if they should unpack, but decides against it. They’ll be gone before they know it, anyway.
He visits the bathroom, barely holding back a gasp at the rather huge bathtub and adjoining shower. Everything is just as beautiful as the room, and he considers for a moment taking advantage of this entire situation to enjoy a hot bath. He lets his fingers stroke the expensive towels absently, trying really hard not to picture the both of them inside the tub, and failing miserably. Shaking his head, he leaves the room and goes to join Sherlock on the balcony. The view is beautiful, and they remain silent for a long moment, side by side.
It’s strange, John thinks, being this close again and still not knowing what to do. If he were just a bit braver, he’d seek Sherlock’s hand again. He’d smile at him and finally, finally, tell him just how many times he’s dreamed about a moment like this. If he were just a bit braver, he’d trust the small voice inside his head whispering that Sherlock’s lingering stare and not so casual touches since John moved back in could mean he’s wishing for more too. If he were just a bit less scared, John would kiss the breath out of Sherlock and learn all there is to know about how to make him lose his mind.
“We should get ready for bed now,” Sherlock suddenly says, not looking away from the view. “The sooner we pretend to be sleeping, the sooner Alfred will take his chances and rob us.”
John gazes at him, “I’m sure he’ll be waiting for another two or three hours.”
Sherlock turns to face him, frowning, “Three hours?”
John refuses to look away as he replies, “Well, we’re in the Honeymoon suite, we just got married, it’s our special night, so…”
Sherlock stares at him for another second before averting his eyes. For a moment, John could swear he sees him blushing. “Oh, sex.”
John nods.
“Well, I brought an experiment with me, so if you want to sleep, I can wake you up later,” Sherlock offers, still not looking back at him.
“You brought an experiment?” John asks, unable to repress a smile.
Sherlock’s eyes dart back up at him, “Don’t worry, it doesn’t involve any body parts.”
John laughs, “Imagine Alfred’s face if he tries to steal severed fingers and toes.”
Sherlock’s lips stretch into a smile as he shakes his head slowly, “It could teach him a lesson, I should have thought about it.”
John chuckles softly, “For another case, maybe.”
Sherlock doesn’t reply but keeps his eyes on him, and John holds his stare. Things have been good ever since he’s moved back, even with Rosie mixed in the middle of it all, despite the tense conversations and quiet apologises at first. They had fallen back into a sort of routine, and John had woken up one day wishing they could stay at Baker Street, just the three of them, for a very, very, long time.
“I was actually thinking about taking a bath,” he says after a moment. Sherlock’s eyes fall to the ground for a the briefest of second. “You should see the size of the bathtub!”
Sherlock smiles back up at him, “I’m sure it’s as impressive as the bed.”
“Yeah,” John replies, throat suddenly dry. “It really is.”
They remain silent for another second before John nods toward the room again, “Just call if there’s a problem.”
Sherlock doesn’t reply but follows him back inside, and John can feel his stare on him all the way to the bathroom. He doesn’t lock the door behind him, just in case, and tries to not think about Sherlock deciding he’d like a bath too and simply joining him. Stop . Now is not the time for fantasies, no matter how tempting. He opens the taps and sets the water’ temperature just right, before undressing. He takes a minute to check himself in the mirror, eyes lingering on his scar and his chest. Just a few months back with Sherlock had allowed him to lose some of his soft middle, and he lets his fingers stroke it slowly. He had thought about running or maybe take back up cycling, but hadn’t yet found the time. His eyes drop to his groin and sighs as he finds himself already aroused just from thoughts of a shared bath with Sherlock.
He waits until the bath is half full before stepping in. Letting out a deep sigh, he rests his head against the tub and closes his eyes. It’s been too long since he let himself enjoy a good, warm bath. Of course, with Rosie and the whole mess that had been the last four months, he had had other things in mind. It quickly felt right, being back at Baker Street, being back with Sherlock. The first few days had been tense, but with time, they had taken the time to talk and settle things. John had apologized and asked if Sherlock would ever forgive him for what he did. There is little I wouldn’t forgive you for, John , Sherlock had replied with a smile, but in the end, it was John who had taken longer to forgive himself.
Now, they are hovering in a place where they’re good, very good, friends again and maybe something more too. John is still too scared to read into Sherlock’s behaviour too much, and a month ago, he had chosen to let time decide. He had stopped fighting his own feelings and started being honest with himself. He is desperately in love with Sherlock, has been for a very long time, and if for some unknown reason, Sherlock felt the same, then John would make sure he’d spend the rest his days making him happy.
“John.”
Jumping with surprise, John straightens up inside the tub and looks at the closed door, “What is it?”
“Did you bring that hand lotion with you?” Sherlock asks, the sound of his voice all too close and affecting John in many different ways.
“Yes,” he replies. “Should be in my suitcase.”
He sees the shadow of Sherlock’s feet under the door, realising there is only a closed door between Sherlock’s fully clothed body and his own naked one.
“Thank you.”
John swallows, throat dry, “Sure thing.”
He waits until he hears Sherlock walking away before letting out a loud sigh. His cock has gone to interested to very interested in a few seconds, and he’s now sporting the beginning of a hopeful erection. I can’t do this with Sherlock right there , John tells himself, looking down at himself. It’s too bloody dangerous . His cock twitches, apparently not agreeing at all.
“Fuck,” John curses silently and lies back down.
He waits for another ten minutes, mind racing with different scenarios on its own violation, and when John realises he really can’t walk out of here with an erection, he lets out long resigned sigh. Maybe it’s for the best after all. He’s about to share a bed with Sherlock, so a wank now could avoid any unwanted issues later. Giving up entirely, John closes one hand around his erection and bites his lip. He strokes himself slowly at first, letting himself picture another body stepping inside the tub and pressing itself against him. “God,” he whispers, his thumbs teasing at his head. Sherlock’s body would be all lean and soft against his, his lips discovering all of John’s skin and his throat letting out the most delicious sounds. John closes his eyes, now picturing himself on top of Sherlock, his own lips all over him before kissing him properly. He speeds up his strokes, his free hand teasing his thighs and balls. He’s already on the edge, the fantasy all too real, all too close .
“Oh fuck,” he moans quietly and his entire body arches in the water as he comes.
It takes another minute before he’s aware of his surroundings again, and most importantly of Sherlock’s footsteps getting closer again. “John, you didn’t bring any clothes with you in there.”
John looks around him, still slightly out of breath, “Oh, right.”
“Do you want me to bring them to you?”
John sits up quickly, “Yes, thank you.”
“Alright,” Sherlock replies and John waits until he’s gone before stepping out. He empties the tub while reaching for a towel.
It doesn’t take long before Sherlock is back and John opens the door, “Sorry, I didn’t realise I’d forgotten them.”
Sherlock stares at him, the suitcase still in hand, and this time there is no doubt. This is definitely a flush on his cheeks. “It’s no problem.”
John licks his lips, reaching for the suitcase and Sherlock lets go slowly, “You finished?” he asks.
John nods, “Want to take one too?”
Sherlock finally seems to be able to tear his eyes away from him and he looks above John’s shoulder to the tub, “Maybe just a shower.”
“Sure. I’ll be out shortly,” John replies, offering Sherlock a small smile.
Sherlock gazes back at him for a second before nodding and walking away. John remains standing, one hand on the door handle and the other holding his suitcase for a moment. Should he have said something? Offered to join Sherlock in the shower? Told him he wouldn’t mind another bath if it were with him?
Sighing again, John closes the door and quickly changes into his pajama pants and a t-shirt. God knows when Alfred will sneak into their room, and he’d rather be wearing comfortable clothes if they have to chase him around the hotel. Sherlock is waiting, sitting on one of the chairs when he gets out, and he only glances at him before going to the bathroom. John grabs his phone and a book before slipping under the covers. He texts Lestrade about a pint next Wednesday and replies to Harry’s inquiries about seeing her niece quickly before putting his phone away. He only has the time to read twelve pages before Sherlock comes out of the bathroom, wearing his pajamas as well and John frowns. He had thought he would put on another suit, at least until the case is solved.
“Tired?” He asks.
Sherlock shrugs, “I forgot my notebook, can’t work on my experiment.”
“Oh,” John breathed out, realising Sherlock is probably going to join him now.
They don’t say a word as Sherlock checks his phone one last time before setting it on the bedside table and slipping under the covers too. The bed is large, very large, and the space between them seems infinite. John hates it. He pretends to be reading for a little longer but soon gives up and puts it aside. They’re still not talking, and John stares up the ceiling. They should turn off the light if they’re pretending to be sleeping, but he can’t bring himself to move. Sherlock is breathing softly next to him, not saying a word either, and John dares to glance at him. Sherlock’s eyes are closed, but he’s obviously not sleeping. He wouldn’t, not until they caught Alfred in the act. John allows himself to stare at him for a minute longer, eyes going from his lips to his neck and then his body covered by the duvet.
“We need to turn off the light,” Sherlock says, making John jump with surprise.
“Right,” he replies, looking away. He realises only now that Sherlock has closed all the curtains and made sure to leave the way leading to door free of all obstacles. It only takes a second for John to find the bedlight buttons and soon they’re surrounded by darkness.
John can’t help but look back at Sherlock, letting his eyes adjust until he can discern his face again. His eyes are open too now, but fixed on the ceiling, and John looks away before Sherlock can notice. It occurs to him that he probably already has, and for some reason hasn’t commented on it yet. It is one of the things that makes John doubt, the silences. Ever since he’s been back home, Sherlock sometimes stops himself in the middle of a sentence or simply stops picking up on John’s odd behaviour. John is not sure what he’s supposed to take from this sudden change, and it’s slowly driving him insane.
“John,” Sherlock breathes out after a while.
“Yeah?” John replies.
“Have you checked on Rosie?”
John smiles, feeling the irresistible urge to pull Sherlock close and hold him tight taking over him, “I did before we checked in. She’s fine, Mrs. Hudson said she ate without any fuss.”
“Good,” Sherlock replies. “We should test some new vegetables soon, I think. She seems to like them.”
God, I love you .
“We should, yes.”
Sherlock turns his head to face him and they stare at each other for a long moment. John lets his lips curl into a smile, soft and tentative, and Sherlock smiles back. They let the silence stretch around them. I want to kiss you, John thinks and almost wishes Sherlock could read it on his face. I want to kiss you and never let you out of this bed .
“You can sleep,” Sherlock whispers, not moving. “I won’t.”
John breathes in slowly, “Are you sure?”
Sherlock nods, eyes still fixed on him, and John wonders if he could find a good excuse to snuggle closer, to slide towards Sherlock and press their bodies together. He turns to his side instead, facing Sherlock and closes his eyes. He can still feel Sherlock’s gaze on him and it feels just right. He wants to fall asleep every night with Sherlock’s eyes on him. “Wake me up as soon as you hear something,” he murmurs.
“I will,” Sherlock replies just as softly.
John hums, settling more comfortably under the covers. He feels all the stress of the week fade away slowly, his entire body relaxing entirely and for a moment, he can almost feel Sherlock’s warmth getting to him. He’s not sure how long it takes for him to fall asleep, but when he does, it’s with a smile on his lips and to the sound of Sherlock’s breathing so very close.
* * *
“John.”
John stirs in his sleep, frowning and refusing to properly wake up yet.
“John,” comes Sherlock’s voice again, and this time there is a hand on his arm. “John, wake up.”
John slowly becomes more and more aware of what is happening, of where he is and who is talking. There is a chest under his head and an arm around his waist, and suddenly, John is very much awake. His eyes snap open and he stares down at Sherlock’s body pressed against his. He can’t see his face but can feel his breath above him, and John’s heart starts to pound inside his chest.
“Sherlock?” He breathes out slowly, not certain of what to say exactly.
“Alfred was here seconds ago,” Sherlock replies, not moving. “He probably came to make sure we were asleep, he should be back soon.”
John swallows with difficulty, becoming more and more aware of the position they’re in. He’s still on his side, but there is one of Sherlock’s legs trapped between his own, and christ , John’s groin is directly pressing against Sherlock’s thigh. A wave of panic rolls over him, but John soon realises he’s not aroused. Well, not yet .
“John?” Sherlock calls once more.
“Yes, sorry,” John apologises quickly and rolls to his back. There’s still Sherlock’s arm around his waist, and John rolls again so that he can release him. “Sorry,” he says again.
Sherlock doesn’t reply but John can feel his stare on him. He can’t bring himself to look at Sherlock, not yet, not when his body is starting to realise the position he was in just seconds ago and what could have happened.
“We need to be ready,” Sherlock says. “As soon as Alfred is in and reaching for one of our suitcases, you turn on the light and I snap his picture.”
John doesn’t trust his voice yet, and only nods.
“If he runs away before we have time to take a picture, we chase after him. Are you ready?”
John understands only half of what Sherlock is saying.
“John, you need to focus,” Sherlock says and reaches for him again, placing one hand on his arm. “John,” he calls, squeezing his arm. “I didn’t mind.”
John’s breath catches and he turns to look at Sherlock.
“I didn’t mind,” Sherlock repeats.
John opens his mouth, wanting to ask him what he means exactly, but someone is opening their door. Sherlock lets go of him immediately but keeps his eyes on him, questioning. John nods, yes, I’m ready. They wait until Alfred gets in, walking silently to their suitcases and at Sherlock’s signal, John reaches for the bedside light and turns it on. Sherlock barely has the time to take one picture before Alfred is running off.
“It’s blurry,” Sherlock declares, already pushing the covers away, and John is following right behind him as they begin to chase after their suspect.
They catch sight of Alfred turning right to the stairs, and John increases his speed. He’s not sure how long they chase after Alfred, but when Sherlock yells his name and points towards one of the emergency exits, John draws upon his last strength and starts a sprint. He manages to tackle the man before he can open the door, and secures both hands behind his back, “Stop moving or I’ll break your arm.”
“You can’t do that, John,” Sherlock declares, stopping next to him and breathing heavily.
John looks up at him and a wave of bare want rolls over him. Sherlock is still in his pajamas, hair wild and cheeks red, and John wants to kiss the breath out of him.
“We need-” he begins, breathing in sharply. “We need to call security.”
Sherlock nods, not looking away from him, “Yes, right.”
The continue to stare at each other for a long moment, and it’s only when Alfred tries to struggle again that John breaks the contact. “Don’t move,” he warns.
“Let go of me! I haven’t done anything!”
John tightens his hold on him, “You’ll need to explain that to the police!”
Alfred continues to groan and yell, and five minutes later the hotel’s security arrives. Sherlock explains the entire situation while John allows one of them to take care of Alfred. He is still trying to catch his breath when Sherlock turns toward him, “John, let’s go.”
“Don’t they need a deposition or something?”
Sherlock shrugs, “The police will call if they need anything, but not until tomorrow at least.”
One of the security men steps up, “One of our employees will collect your phone number from your reservation.”
John nods, “Alright, thank you.”
The man nods back, glancing at Sherlock before walking away. They watch him go, not moving, and John lets out a small laugh, “Well, that’s done!”
Sherlock looks at him, smiling, “Case solved.”
John sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, “I’m too old to chase suspects in the middle of the night.”
He hears Sherlock sigh next to him, “Don’t be an idiot, John.”
John smiles, “And now I’m being called an idiot in the middle of the night.” He catches Sherlock smiling back at him as he rolls his eyes. “We should head back to the room. It’s freezing out here.”
Sherlock doesn’t reply but follows him back to their room, walking just a bit closer than required, and John does a really bad job at hiding his smile. By the time they’re back in, Sherlock is yawning and heading to the bathroom without a word. John waits in the middle of the room, waiting and wondering what he’s supposed to do now. In the end, Sherlock is the one providing him with an answer by simply slipping under the covers as soon as he’s out of the bathroom. John joins him silently, lying down next to him and turning off the light.
Silence falls upon them. John is not sure he can fall back asleep again, not like this. He wants to ask Sherlock what he meant before. He wants to ask him if they can snuggle close again. He wants to ask him if he wouldn’t mind sharing a bed at home. He wants to ask him if he’s feeling just as desperate for more.
“John,” Sherlock calls in a whisper.
John turns to face him, heart pounding, “Yeah?”
Sherlock is looking away as he says, “I meant it when I said I didn’t mind.”
John closes his eyes for the briefest of seconds, letting the feeling sink in, and when he opens them again, Sherlock is looking back at him. “Really?” He asks.
Sherlock nods, “Really.”
John lets one of his hand slide to the middle of the bed, reaching silently for more. It takes only a second for Sherlock to place his own on top of it, and John slowly pulls him toward him. They both move at the same time, meeting in the middle, and this time it’s Sherlock who nuzzles his head against his neck. John exhales slowly, threading their fingers together and bringing his other hand up and down Sherlock’s back. He feels Sherlock breathe out against his skin, snuggling even closer and tangling their legs. Soon, they’re pressed together entirely, and John lets his nose brush the soft curls of Sherlock’s hair. He closes his eyes again, feeling Sherlock’s chest rise against his own. They don’t say a word, and John hopes Sherlock can understand what his gestures are silently saying.
“Good night,” he says and thinks I love you .
Sherlock’s lips move against his neck, “Good night, John.”
The next time he wakes up, John’s entire body feels too hot. It takes a few seconds before he understands why, and then, he forgets how to breathe entirely. Sherlock’s body is still pressed to his, but now they’re lying face to face, Sherlock’s head tucked under his and their legs so tangled that John is not sure what to focus on. Sherlock’s erection is pressed against his leg, his own pressed against Sherlock’s thigh. Inhaling sharply, he tightens his hold around Sherlock’s waist and only then realises that Sherlock is already awake.
There is a hand gripping at his shirt and lips brushing his skin here and there. John licks his lips, “Sherlock?”
No reply.
“Sherlock,” John tries again, tensing a little. “Is that… Is that alright?”
He feels Sherlock move, pulling away just enough to look at him, and the pure want written all over his face makes John shiver. They stare at each other, John’s cock pulsing and his breathing already ragged. Sherlock’s eyes drop to his lips, and without thinking about it, John’s licks them. A sound between a moan and a gasp escapes Sherlock’s mouth, and this time John can’t hold back, “Oh god, Sherlock.”
Sherlock looks back up at him and presses himself more firmly against him, “John,” he breathes out, “I-”
John slides one hand up his back and inside his hair, “Yeah?”
Sherlock is almost panting now. “I want this.”
John represses a long shiver at the words, finding it harder and harder not to thrust against Sherlock’s leg. He forces himself to breathe out slowly, and says, “God, I want this too, for so long, Sherlock.”
Sherlock glances back at his lips, “You do?”
John nods, “I do, fuck, I do.” He brings their faces closer together, brushing their noses and exhaling against Sherlock’s lips. He feels Sherlock’s hand releasing his shirt and sliding lower, hovering over his arse, almost shy. “I am in love with you, Sherlock Holmes.”
Sherlock’s breath catches and before John can react, there are two soft lips being pressed against his own. Inhaling sharply, John lets his own mouth relax against Sherlock’s and kisses back, adding just a little more pressure to the touch and feeling Sherlock shivering in his arms. They take the time to discover each other’s lips slowly, pulling away briefly only to kiss again, and John loves every second of it. He nips softly at Sherlock’s lower lip, enjoying the quiet sounds escaping him.
“John,” Sherlock pants when they part once more, eyes searching his. “I’m not certain what I am supposed to do.”
John smiles, leaning in for another quick kiss, “You’re doing just fine, trust me.” He feels Sherlock smiling against his lips and kisses him some more. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready or prepared for, you know that, right?”
Sherlock nods, “I know, and I’ve been ready and prepared for a very long time, John.”
John licks his lips, “Really?”
Sherlock nods again, smiling, “Really.” He kisses him again, and John melts into the touch.
“Then we’ll get there,” John breathes out between two kisses. “Together.”
Sherlock stares at him, eyes searching his for a moment before saying, “I am in love with you, John Watson, and I want you, all of you.”
John closes his eyes, a rush of arousal making it hard to breathe all of the sudden, “God, Sherlock, I want you so much.” John rolls his hips tentatively, his erection still pressed against Sherlock’s thigh, and barely holds back a moan.
“John,” Sherlock gasps, adding more pressure against his cock, “please, yes.”
John lets out a deep moan, encouraging Sherlock to move against him by pushing his legs further against his own erection. Sherlock immediately arches against him, his fingers digging into John’s arse and keeping him close. They’re all but rutting against each other now, slowly, as if any hurried movements could break the spell.
“Less clothes,” John pants, already tugging at Sherlock’s shirt.
Sherlock nods, still kissing him and reluctantly pulling away so they can both remove their shirts. John lets his eyes travel down Sherlock’s chest, breathing heavily and licking his lips. He hears Sherlock moan quietly, one hand coming closer but stopping just a few inches away from his chest.
“You can touch,” John smiles, taking his hand and placing it against his heart.
Sherlock’s fingers are almost shaking as he traces the line of his chest slowly, John lets him explore as much as he wants, as softly as he wants, and tries not to let his feelings overwhelm him. His own hands are discovering every inch of Sherlock’s skin, leaning in when Sherlock’s hands slide to his back, so that he can kiss at one nipple.
“ Oh , John,” Sherlock moans, arching and pushing his erection harder against John’s leg.
John slides one hand down his back and into his pajamas, “Sherlock, fuck, I-”
Sherlock bucks his hips, “Yes, yes.”
They both remove their pants quickly, and John rolls Sherlock to his back, lying on top of him. Sherlock locks one leg around his waist and thrusts up against him, “John, John .”
John rocks their hips together, finding them both already leaking. Sherlock is holding on tightly to his shoulders, mouth hanging open as he pants against John’s lips. John increases his pace, thrusting faster against Sherlock and feeling his pleasure build. He’s already on the edge, the mere feeling of Sherlock’s body under his, of his lips so close and his fingers roaming all over his back and arse making it hard to focus on anything else.
“God, Sherlock, I love you,” he moans, their erections sliding against each other perfectly. “I’ve been wanting this for so long.”
Sherlock arches against him, crying out loudly, “John, please.”
“Anything you need, love,” John gasps, kissing the offered neck under him. “Anything.”
Sherlock locks his other leg around his waist and cants his hips, meeting each of John’s thrusts now. “More, more .”
John threads both hands through Sherlock’s hair and rocks harder against him. Sherlock is shaking in his arms, all his moans getting louder and louder, and his movements more and more erratic. John realises he needs to see him come, now , and with a sharp thrust, he captures Sherlock’s lips for another deep kiss. He feels Sherlock tense beneath him before going completely still.
“ John !”
“Oh fuck,” John gasps, his own orgasm dangerously close, and he only has to thrust one, two, three more times before he’s coming too, crying out Sherlock’s name.
He lets himself down onto Sherlock’s body, burying his head against his neck and breathing heavily. Sherlock’s fingers are tracing patterns on his back, his lips brushing his temple softly, and John can’t help the words from spilling out, “I want this, all the time, until we’re old and grumpy and unable to chase after criminals anymore. I want you, god, I want you.”
Sherlock holds him tighter, “John, kiss me again.”
John does just that.