Denial (John/Sherlock)

Sherlock was half passed out on the sofa, in a daze, his phone resting on top of his chest. Suddenly it beeped and he bolted up right, still dizzy and light headed but now focused on checking his phone. He saw it was from John and his heart leapt. He was on his way! He was coming home!

With a happy grin Sherlock removed the nicotine patches from his arms and laid them to rest on the side. He didn't need them anymore. He stood up and staggered to the window and watched for John's imminent arrival. Within a few minutes he spotted him jogging down Baker Street, weaving in and out of people, dodging traffic. My God, he was really hurrying home. Sherlock felt the excitement building in his chest as he saw John get closer, and then finally heard his steps coming up the stairs. He turned round from the window just as he burst in, out of breath and exhausted.

"John!" he exclaimed and ran over, instantly embracing him in a type of bear hug. "You came back!"

John's breath was knocked out of him when Sherlock crashed against him, the hug so tight he felt he could faint for lack of oxygen. But it was all good, because it was Sherlock there, he was buried in his chest and he was wrapped in his arms, and if he had known it felt like this, this perfect, then he would have done this a long time ago.

"Of course I came back, this is home," he muttered, running his hands up and down his back. "Why did you worry so much? It's hardly been 2 hours..."

His hand found his way into the other's hair, kneading his scalp reassuringly. "I want to be with you, Sherlock, of course I'd come back... I'll always come back..."

Sherlock moaned into John's shoulder, unwilling to let him go just yet. He needed to know this was real first, that John wasn't going to just vanish in his arms.

"I thought you'd changed your mind..." he whispered, then pulled back a little to look into John's eyes. "Promise you won't leave?"

"Why would I change my mind? I... I want to be with you, Sherlock... I am not as flippant as you think I am..." he muttered, and cupped his face, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs. "I promise," he whispered, it was an easy promise, because it was what he really wanted, what he had always wanted.

He leaned in to place a kiss on his lips. "This is scary and new... but everything feels... right... and you have no idea, Sherlock... it's what I have always been looking for and never felt for anyone else..."

Sherlock stroked John's arms softly. It was so good to have him back, and to hear him say that he wanted to be with him, to hear him promise...it meant more to Sherlock than he could have possibly imagined.

As John kissed him he felt a warm, satisfied feeling spreading all over his chest, and he smiled broadly. "John...I....that's so....I'm just...uhh..." But the words wouldn't come. Instead he gave up, grabbed John by the collar and pressed their lips together in a passionate kiss, his other hand reaching round John's head and keeping him there against his mouth.

Sherlock unable to talk was something John didn't think he'd ever see, he grinned blissfully, ready to tease him, except that the detective grabbed his collar and then they were kissing.

He groaned softly against the other's lips, he had no idea he could miss someone's lips, but he did miss Sherlock's and as they pressed against his, he felt himself sigh in relief.

Yes, just like this, he thought, moving just a bit closer, entangling his tongue with Sherlock's and letting himself enjoy the feeling of warmth and excitement that spread in his chest.
It was just perfect.

Sherlock pushed John back against the wall, deepening the kiss, their tongues clashing and dancing together beautifully. He kept one hand entangled in the short sandy hair whilst the other rubbed itself down John's side and reached around to grab his bum.

Sherlock could feel his body responding to John's and a great desire swept over him to rip John's clothes off and take him. He pulled back, breathless and dizzy, his lips tingling. He musn't. He was quite sure John wouldn't want sex again so soon after breaking up with Mary.

"Christ..." he gasped, with a lopsided grin, admiring the satisfied expression on John's face.

John wasn't sure of anything anymore when Sherlock pulled away from the kiss, it had been a whirlwind of feelings and pleasure, leaving him breathless and very much aroused.
"God, Sherlock, you... you are... making me crazy," he admitted, his hand stopping on the other's hip, gripping the fabric as some sort of support.

"Don't stop..." he pleaded, nuzzling his jaw before he pressed up to kiss him again. "I need you..."

Sherlock grinned, unbelievably happy to hear John beg.

"You want me...again?" he asked cheekily, then he leaned into the kiss and swiflty brought both hands down to hurriedly undo John's belt and whip it off, hurling it to the floor. "...then take me, doctor," he mumbled into the kiss.

John swallowed hard, his body twitching in need. He wanted to touch everything, everywhere. "Again... and again... it's never going to be enough, Sherlock," he whispered, burying his hand in his hair, pulling him closer.

"Is it really okay?" he asked, his heart beating in his throat. "Don't you prefer getting used to the other way around first?" he was unsure, he couldn't help thinking he might mess it up, he had no idea what to do after all.

"Oh God John," Sherlock rolled his eyes, "if you're going to be that bloody indecisive..." Sherlock put both his hands round the collar of John's jumper and hauled him round onto the sofa, falling right on top of him with a thud that winded him slightly.

He quickly got to his knees and tugged at John's trousers, pulling them off completely along with his boxers, and throwing them to the floor. Then he stood up and began to undress himself, his eyes fixed on John's beautiful body just lying there waiting for him. It was perfect.

John groaned as he was manhandled onto the sofa, "What," he whimpered as he was rid of his trousers and pants with a swift movement. Well, he surely couldn't say Sherlock had any doubts about this.

"I was going to suggest the bed," he commented, wondering if they were going to do it on every piece of furniture they owned.
He watched with wide eyes as Sherlock undressed, he was utterly beautiful with his muscles clenching in the quick movements.

"God," he whispered, running his hands on the other's chest, feeling himself grow even harder.

"Oh who needs a bed," Sherlock cried before racing to the bedroom in just his boxers, returning a moment later with the packet of lube and a condom, which he tore open with one hand, removing his boxers with the other and shakily rolled it on, his heart pounding at the thought of having John again.

He knealt over the doctor and kissed him passionately, before planting little kisses right from his chin all the way down his chest to the top of his groin, savouring every small moan and gasp that escaped his lips. Sherlock paused a moment, staring at John's erection, before quickly running his tongue over the top of its head, a new experience, but quite a pleasant one, he decided, and repeated the process.

"Are you sure want me?" he murmured, gazing up into John's eyes.

Not us, surely, thought John helplessly, watching Sherlock's almost naked form as he shuffled to the bedroom, no doubt to retrieve a condom.
Thank God he was prepared.

Blue eyes followed his every movement, and then they clouded with desire again, his senses filling with Sherlock.
"Oh God," he gasped, feeling the detective's wet tongue on his arousal.

Sherlock Holmes was- "Bloody hell," he moaned helplessly. "Yes, yes, I want you... god, is that a rhetorical question? I am dying here," he rambled, his voice coarse.

Sherlock bent over and with a smile took John's whole length into his mouth, gagging slightly as it hit the back of his throat. God this man tasted so good.

It was tempting to take him all the way to the edge and savour the sweet taste as John released himself inside his mouth, but instead he released the pressure of his lips and let it slide out with a satisfying plop. Sherlock glanced up into John's eyes.

"Turn around," he demanded. "I want you on your hands and knees, begging."

If John was in his right mind, he would have protested, he would have said Sherlock was an ass, and that he was not following his orders, and surely no begging was to happen.
However the detective had just effectively burned all that was left of John's mind just by sucking on his cock with that beautiful mouth of his.

"Fine, yes," he whimpered, his whole body shaking in desire, it was torture to wait any additional second. He scrambled to turn around, careful not to hit Sherlock with his hurrying legs.
"Please Sherlock... just... do it..." he mumbled, too wound up to even sound embarrassed about what he was saying. "Fuck me."

Sherlock was practically trembling with excitement and the sight of John's tight little ass staring him in the face only served to spur him on further. He was desperate and needy but forced himself to prepare John somewhat first, squeezing out a small amount of the lube and greasing up his finger, before slowly inserting it into the entrance.

He leaned over and kissed John's back, gently running his tongue up and down his back and moaning slightly before inserting a second finger.
"You sure you're not too sore?" he whispered in John's ear. "I don't want to hurt you..."

John groaned when he felt Sherlock's finger penetrate him, it shook him, because this time he knew what was to come. It felt less odd than the day before, he welcomed the stretching, looking forward to feeling Sherlock pulse inside him.

"Stop worrying, Sherlock... I like this... I want this... I don't care about the pain... I am fine," he groaned, his hips pushing back against Sherlock's hand. "Please Sherlock..."

"Oh thank God," Sherlock said with a relieved sigh, "because I really don't think I could stop myself now anyway."

With his fingers still prodding and probing, Sherlock positioned himself on his knees behind John and with his free hand guided himself so the head of his erection was just below the fingers of his other hand.

"OK...ready...." he mumbled, then quickly removed his fingers and pushed himself hard inside of John. He paused a moment, to allow them both to adjust, his breathing heavy and his heart racing. He traced his fingernails down John's back with a small moan.

He was relieved to hear the words, because he really didn't think he could bear another second of indecision.
He wanted Sherlock, and he wanted him now.

He took in a deep breath at Sherlock's warning, but this time the splitting pain did not come, it was surprisingly easier.
Sherlock slid inside him, he was now buried deep inside him, but his muscles had welcomed him this time and even though he was still a bit sore, it felt bloody brilliant.

"Oh God, Sherlock.. it feels so good..." he whimpered, overwhelmed, he was Sherlock's now, utterly and completely his.

Sherlock stretched up his long right arm and grabbed the top of John's shoulder, holding onto the doctor's hip with his left, then he withdrew himself ever so slowly before pushing back in again even deeper. He repeated the process a couple of times, every movement of his hip sending a shiver up his spine.

He buried his head into John's back and moaned, then built up his pace to quicker more powerful thrusts, driving himself hard, the muscles on his thighs twitched and flickered and with every thrust a small gasp emitted from his lips.

"Ohhh you feel so good John..." Sherlock mumbled through gritted teeth as his fingernails dug into John's shoulder.

John was grabbing the fabric of the sofa so tight his knuckles had turned white, feeling Sherlock pulling almost all the way out and then deep inside was making him pant and groan in pleasure. It wasn't like anything he had felt before, and he liked it, he liked it more than anything he had ever tried.

The pace increased, and John closed his eyes, settling his hips in a rhythm to meet Sherlock's thrusts, the friction turning that bit more delicious. Sherlock's nails in his skin, his low voice in his ears, it quickly drove him to a state of incoherence.
"Yes, Sherlock... so good... yes..."

Sherlock huffed and grunted, his eyes squeezed shut as he began to thrust more wildly, feeling himself starting to lose control. He placed both hands on top of John's shoulders and slammed into him again and again, building up quickly and only encouraged further by John's moans.

Sherlock reached a hand round underneath John's chest and grasped his leaking erection between his bony fingers, leaning down over his back and scraping his teeth across the skin.
"I'm...uhh...almost there John..." he panted between thrusts.

The words came like a whispering through the fog, Sherlock's teeth on his skin produced sparks of pleasure to add up to the already maddening thrusts.
"Yes, Sherlock... me too..." he whimpered, closing his eyes as he pushed back towards him, his whole body shaking in anticipation.

A few seconds, a few impulses, and he was coming in the other's hand, the orgasm taking up all of him and for a long moment there was just him and Sherlock, floating into pure pleasure.

Sherlock felt the warm stickyness of John releasing himself into his hand and spilling out onto the sofa but right now he didn't care about that, he didn't care about anything except the moment they were in together.

John's muscles clenched up around him and pushed him finally over the edge, just a couple more thrusts and Sherlock reached his own orgasm and his hips jerkily came to a halt. He rested his head on John's back and panted, feeling the waves of pleasure wash over him.