Author Notes: I'm sorry that it took me longer than planned to update this story, but RL - in the form of exams at college and other stuff - came up and delayed this update. I hope you enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think about it. :)

Balm

They were kissing!

John's mind was still trying to process this new development, while his body didn't have any problems to adjust to the new sensations. His lips moved against Sherlock's, tasting chloric water and the underlying taste of the man himself. John drew his friend even closer, until their naked chests were pressed flush together. Warmth spread through his whole body, when heat rushed towards his groin. It was then, that John broke their kiss with a gasp.. He didn't want to go there just yet and here. Especially not after what had happened to Sherlock just a few minutes ago. The memory of his friend shaking and trembling in his arms - and all for the wrong reasons - was still to vivid in his mind and John didn't want to push Sherlock too far too fast.

He brought some distance between them once more, but allowed his hands to linger on Sherlock's shoulders as he looked up in the dazed, blue eyes of his friend. "Alright?" John asked carefully, a little unsure how they should proceed now. Hell, he had imagined this moment - their first kiss - for months now and in most of his imagined scenarios a kiss had led to them making out on the couch or the bed... or at a crime scene. John certainly hadn't dreamed about kissing Sherlock right after he had just been sexually assaulted and...

"You were afraid that your body's reaction to my touch would betray your attraction to me." Sherlock sounded awed, but John felt that he had to correct him, before his brilliant friend came to the wrong conclusions. "Spot on, although it's not just attraction, that I feel for you. I... I care very deeply for you, Sherlock. Deeper than I would ever care for a friend, even for a best friend, although you are my best friend, that goes without saying, but... you are more and... I'll just shut up."

A sly grin ghosted over Sherlock's features, when he dipped his head forward to breath a gentle kiss on John`s lips. "You are an idiot, John. If you had just told me, none of this would have happened. No, I mean," John watched worriedly as all the color drained from Sherlock's face at his own words. "I don't mean that you are responsible for... It's my own fault and..."

"Stop!"

To John's great astonishment, Sherlock closed his mouth with a snap, but the haunted expression remained in his eyes. Dear God, John sighed inwardly, how could Sherlock believe that it had been his fault that he had been sexually assaulted? Or was he referring to the fact that he hadn't fought back? Well, that was certainly strange, but it didn't put the blame on Sherlock's shoulders. Especially, when he had told John that it hadn't been the first time... that he had been seventeen, when... Oh Fuck!

John took a deep breath as he finally realised what Sherlock's words implied - or what they could imply. They really needed to talk, before they progressed any farther and John ended up making a mistake, he could never hope to undo.

"You aren't to blame for anything that happened today. Don't even think that!" Sherlock nodded, but it was obvious that he wasn't convinced and John sighed loudly. "Look, I think it's better if we cut this trip short and head home, if that's fine with you." John really didn't want to have a discussion about Sherlock's past or their developing relationship here. Baker Street was a much safer place and John longed for a hot cup of tea and their comfortable armchairs.

Either Sherlock felt the same way or he just wanted to humor John, but he nodded his agreement, still a wary look on his face as he led the way out of the swimming pool. John died to know what was going on in the brilliant mind of his friend, when they gathered their things and hurried to the changing rooms. He didn't like Sherlock's silence or the way his sharp eyes darted to John, only to flicker away a second later. Was he regretting their kiss, because he didn't return John`s feelings? No, John dismissed that thought as he applied cream to his face, in front of the mirror - after having changed back in his street clothes. Sherlock would have rejected him right away, if John's advances hadn't been welcome and he had even initiated one brief kiss.

A small smile flickered over his face as John remembered Sherlock's lips on his own, before it was gone as John caught his friend's gaze in the mirror. Sherlock looked... as if he was wandering through a mine field and feared that the next step could prove fatal.

John blinked.

Was Sherlock afraid that John could get second thoughts and tell him that everything had been a mistake and that he had changed his mind about his feelings?! It was ridiculous, at least from John's point of view, but that didn't mean that it couldn't be true. Sherlock always tended to over think everything and after the events of today...

John grabbed his sports bag and his towel and strove over to where Sherlock was standing motionless in front of the hair driers. "You will catch a cold if you don't dry your hair. Here, lean forward." The raised eyebrow came closer to a Sherlock typical expression, although he did as John had told him.

Blue eyes widened as John started rubbing at the damp curls with the towel. "You are not my mother."

The protest was weak and John didn't pay it any mind, as Sherlock didn't make any attempt at stepping away from him. "No, but I'm the one who would have to put up with your whining if you got a cough and a sore throat."

This got John a pout. "I never whine."

John chuckled and retrieved the towel, running his fingers through the silky curls, before Sherlock straightened back up to his full height. "Are we finally free to leave, now that you have made sure that my hair is dry?"

John chuckled at Sherlock`s exasperated tone, relieved that his friend sounded a little more like himself again. "We could have been gone ages ago, if you had been able to dry your hair yourself."

Sherlock opened his mouth for a retort, but John saw as it died on his tongue as he reached for Sherlock's hand and interlaced their fingers. Wide eyes stared at the intertwined hands and then back up at John. Wonder, disbelief and confusion clearly written on Sherlock`s striking features as if no one had ever held his hand before. Maybe, no one had.

John swallowed against the hot lump in his throat and gave Sherlock's hand a reassuringly squeeze. He usually wasn't fond of displaying public affection, but it appeared like Sherlock needed the reassurance that John wouldn't change his mind about them on their way back to Baker Street. And now, John was even glad that he had reached out to his friend, if only to see the small smile brighten up Sherlock's face. He smiled back and they left the spa in mutual and comfortable silence. A black limousine was already waiting for them and the chauffeur put their bags into the boot, while Sherlock and John climbed in at the back of the car. They still didn't talk, when the engine was started and the chauffeur maneuvered them out of the small parking area and onto the highway back to London. Nevertheless, it wasn't an awkward silence and John felt himself smile softly, when Sherlock tentatively bedded his head on John's shoulder. Blue eyes looked up at John, a question written in their depths. Instead of an answer, John merely slung his arm around Sherlock's shoulders and held his friend close, who slowly relaxed into the contact.

They spent the remainder of the drive like this, in mutual agreement that words could wait until later and enjoyed the comfortable closeness as they neared Baker Street.

OOO

Home!

Sherlock heaved a sigh of relief and threw his sports bag in a corner, before he went to hang up his coat and scarf. John was already rummaging through the kitchen and Sherlock knew that he was making tea, even before the kettle was clicked on. Some of the tension drained from Sherlock's body as he listened to the well-known sounds of opened cupboards in the kitchen. It was soothing to know that there were still some things that would never change - like John making tea as soon as they got home from an exhausting day.

And the day had been exhausting. Sherlock wouldn't deny it, although he hated to admit that the events at the spa had put an emotional strain on him. It didn't help matters that John had kissed him. Oh, alright... It helped, but it didn't make anything less confusing. Sherlock was the first to admit that he hadn't seen the kiss coming - although he had fantasized about their first kiss for quite some time - and that John's attraction to him hadn't been obvious. Fine, in retrospect, Sherlock could see the signs - prolonged eye contact, faint blushes whenever Sherlock wandered through the flat in nothing but a sheet - but he hadn't noticed them before today. Probably, because Sherlock hadn't allowed himself to hope that John would ever return his feelings and even now... it felt like a dream and Sherlock dreaded the moment when he would wake up.

"Two sugar and a splash of milk." The mug was placed on the kitchen table with a smile and Sherlock sat down heavily, cradling the mug in his hands and blowing over the rime on the hot liquid. "Thank you." John smiled again - his genuine, relaxed smile - and took his place across the table from Sherlock.

They alternated between blowing at their tea and staring at each other, until Sherlock couldn't stand it anymore. The comfortable silence from the ride back to London had long since faded away into strained tension and Sherlock was aware of the reason for it.

"You want to talk." That much had been obvious, since they had left the swimming pool and Sherlock couldn't blame John for his curiosity. Not after everything he had done for Sherlock - not just today, but countless times - and especially not after confessing his feelings to Sherlock. Still this was the point, Sherlock was most nervous about. He didn't doubt that John had meant what he had said - that he cared for Sherlock and was attracted to him - but Sherlock feared that some of it had to be blamed on the situation. After all, John had just witnessed how a stranger had assaulted his friend. For John, it would be easy to translate sympathy into a different kind of fondness and if that was the case, then John would soon come back to his senses and...

"Don't!"

Sherlock looked up to meet narrowed blue eyes. "I know what you are doing, you are questioning my feelings for you. Stop it this instant, before I get angry." The threat would have been more believable, if John hadn't reached across the table for Sherlock's hand. After a second of hesitation, Sherlock loosened his grip on the mug and placed his hand on the table, close to John's. A tender smile softened the lines of John's face as he cradled Sherlock's hand in his. "I meant every word I said and I only regret," Sherlock's heart stuttered in his chest as a wave of anxiety washed over him. "I regret, that I didn't tell you all of it before today and that I was such an arse in the jacuzzi tub."

Sherlock shrugged dismissively, but he wasn't able to hide his relief completely as John gave his hand a squeeze. They stayed like this for some time - holding hands across the table like teenagers - until the tension from before had drained completely out of the kitchen. Only then, Sherlock cleared his throat and chose his words carefully as he prepared himself to tell John what had happened all these years ago.

"I was seventeen. Mummy thought it would be nice to go to a spa, because Mycroft was home from university. She was especially thrilled about the naturism area." Sherlock grimaced at that and to his delight found an answering, disgusted expression on John's face. "Ta, now I'll always think of Mycroft running around naked."

Sherlock grinned. "It might help you to summon that picture, when he kidnaps you the next time." They both snorted, before Sherlock became serious again. "I wasn't thrilled by the idea, but I got along with it... Mummy threatened to throw out all of my experiments if I didn't. It was... nicer than I had thought at first. The spa was large and I was able to wander around, without having to interact with Mycroft. I also ventured into the naturism area and there was a large jacuzzi tub. I was alone, when I entered it."

Sherlock gulped and stared down at the table. John gave his hand a little squeeze, but he didn't urge Sherlock to continue. Still, Sherlock suddenly felt that he needed to disclose everything about this horrible day. Not just because John deserved to know, but... because Sherlock wanted to. "I didn't notice the man at first. He was in his thirties, thin hair and a moustache. I wasn't thinking anything of it, when he sat down next to me, until suddenly... his hands were all over me." A shudder ran through his body as the memories played out in his mind's eye. "I wasn't very strong at that time. I spent more time reading than doing sports and he... it was easy for him to press me against the wall of the tub. He... he got farther than the pervert today, but not... Mycroft interfered."

Sherlock took a shuddering breath and John tightened his hold on Sherlock's hand. "I hope Mycroft broke that bastard`s nose!"

Sherlock's eyes jerked up at the tone of John's voice. Anger, bordering on rage, but also helplessness and something tender that Sherlock couldn't identify. Still no pity or disgust. "I believe, Mycroft also broke his arm and bruised his testicles. I have never seen him this angry before. I guess, finding your sobbing brother with the fingers of a stranger up his arse does that to you."

His attempt at humor - macabre as it was - wasn't well received and Sherlock's blood turned to ice in his veins as John let go of his hands. Well done, Holmes, he scolded himself, now John is truly disgusted with you for your choice of words and you will be lucky if he still wants to be friends with you.

Steps echoed through the kitchen as John walked around the table - probably going to bolt for the door - and stopped right in front of him. "John..." Sherlock gasped as strong arms closed around him and the scent of tea, lavender and cheap aftershave filled his senses, when he was pressed against John's soft cardigan.

"I wondered all this time why you didn't fight back today." Sherlock tensed, preparing himself for accusations... that never came. "Now, I know why you didn't... couldn't." Sherlock peeked up at that and rubbed his cheek against the soft wool that he had come to associate with John. He hadn't figured out himself why his body and mind had frozen, when the pervert had attacked him, but maybe John as a doctor knew what all of this was about.

"It's like that time at the clinic, when I had a bloke with stabbing wounds on the table... I couldn't treat him. My mind just froze and I felt like... I was back in Afghanistan at the day, when... I was shot, while patching up a comrade. It was a flashback and I just couldn't... I felt so helpless..." John chocked on the last words and Sherlock tightened his arms around him, even as a wave of relief surged through his body. He wasn't weak for not defending himself today, if even soldiers like John experienced this kind of flashbacks - although Sherlock still hated his mind for the trick it had played on him.

"So, it`s all fine?" Sherlock asked, only to be sure. The press of dry lips to Sherlock's forehead was John's answer.

Sherlock relaxed into the embrace - which didn't nearly last as long as he had wished - until John drew back a little. His brows were furrowed in concern as he looked down at him and Sherlock raised an inquiring eyebrow. "What?"

John bit down on his lower lip, but remained silent, obviously nervous to speak his mind. Sherlock swept his gaze over his friend. His posture made it obvious that he was curious about something - curious and anxious - but it wasn't clear what John was thinking about. From Sherlock's point of view, everything had been said and discussed - he even felt some kind of relief after sharing his past with John - so what... Oh, of course!

Sherlock rolled his eyes dramatically and huffed. "No, that pervert didn't scare me off of sex - neither one of them did- although it certainly helped that my first lover was extremely... kind and gentle." Heat crept into Sherlock's cheeks and he looked up to check John's expression for any signs of jealousy at the mention of a former lover. All, Sherlock saw mirrored in John's eyes though, was relief. "You know, if you were worried that I wouldn't want to have sex with you - which isn't the case - you could have just asked."

Relief morphed into low simmering anger as John glared at Sherlock and grabbed his chin.

"Listen to me, Sherlock," John's warm breath tickled Sherlock's skin as John brought their faces to the same level. "I didn't worry if you wanted to have sex with me. I`m glad that you do, but I rather feared that you were traumatized by the assault in your youth."

Sherlock swallowed hard and then voiced the first question that came to his mind. "What would you have done if I were... traumatized and didn't want to have sex with you?"

It was a rather stupid question, since it was only hypothetical - Sherlock had wanted to have sex with John for quite some time - but somehow he needed to get an answer, if only to know where he stood. Still, Sherlock expected John to tell him that a romantic relationship wouldn't have worked in this case and this would be fine, Sherlock told his rapidly beating heart. After all, it wasn't an actual problem and therefore John's reply wasn't of any importance for their future... but it still made him gasp in disbelief. "Then we wouldn't have sex. I'm rather fond of kissing and cuddling and I wouldn't have given you up for the world, therefore... sex wouldn`t have been necessary."

Sherlock blinked and blinked once more, when John's face blurred in front of him. Christ, was he crying? Judging from the wetness on his cheeks and the faint scent of salt... Yes, Sherlock Holmes, only consulting detective in the world, was crying. Stupid, stupid, stupid! What was John going to... Oh!

Sherlock froze as tender lips kissed over his cheeks, licked away the offending liquid and then moved to Sherlock's mouth to share the most tender kiss with him. After what felt like hours, but could have only been a few minutes, they came back for air and Sherlock was treated to one of John's brilliant smiles. "Chinese takeaway?"

Sherlock nodded and listened to John placing orders for their favorite dishes as he licked his lips and still felt the prickle of John's stubble on his skin..

Sherlock glanced in John's direction and wondered when he would get the chance to feel this lips on other parts of his body. He hoped it would be soon - preferably tonight - as Sherlock felt the overwhelming urge of getting as close to John as humanly possible. Not even he could say if this desire steamed more from his feelings for John, the traumatic events of the day or a mix of both. It didn't matter in the end, because Sherlock trusted John and they would figure it out together.

OOO

"That's absolute nonsense! The likelihood that you could jump from one building to another with a car - especially if said buildings are skyscrapers with reinforced glass fronts - are nil!"

John chuckled, while he listened to Sherlock's complaints about the movie. It wasn't new that his friend took every chance to criticize John's taste in movies and this time, John had to admit that Sherlock had a point. The movie wasn't realistic at all, otherwise the main characters would have all died in the first twenty minutes of it, therefore Sherlock's criticism was justified. Not that Sherlock would have stopped his complaints if they weren't. John still remembered that one time, he had been forced to threaten the skull, in order to make Sherlock shut up about Dr. Who.

"And how many impacts is the human body supposed to survive. They should be dead by now... at least. Not to mention that they shouldn't have come that far, considering that no one's pain tolerance is so high, without any chemical help, but if they had taken anything..."

John stopped paying attention to the movie and to Sherlock's monologue. His sole focus was on his friend, how he gesticulated with his hands, glared at the characters and cursed the movie directors without using any vulgar language. It was amazing... almost like any other evening. But only almost, as they didn't sit in opposite armchairs, but shared the couch between them - John couldn't remember if he had ever sat on it before for more than five minutes, before Sherlock had claimed it for himself. It felt right to sit close to Sherlock and

John would have moved even closer to his friend - pressing their thighs together and leaning against him - but self-protection kept him at a safe distance from his gesticulating friend. A near miss with an elbow was enough of a warning. Still, John mused as he watched how Sherlock tore at his hair when another near death situation ended with the main characters still alive, he would really like to get a little closer to his friend. After all, the few kisses they had shared at the spa and while cleaning the table after dinner - John had cleaned up, Sherlock had trailed behind him - had been rather nice and... appetizing.

"No, don`t tell me... Ahh, no one is supposed to survive such an explosion. If people were so hard to kill, I wouldn't have anything to do. John!" Blue eyes looked pleadingly at him and a pout shaped Sherlock's full lips as he blinked helplessly at his friend. Really, John hadn't known that Sherlock could look so adorable... like an annoyed kitten.

"John, please," Sherlock gestured to the TV, wincing as the main characters escaped yet another brush with death unscathed. "I can't stand it any longer. I feel like I will degenerate to Anderson's brain capacity if I watch this crap for another second."

"The remote is just over there." John gestured to the table, only to have Sherlock glare at him like he had suggested for him to walk to the other end of London, instead of stretching out his arm. "Oh well," John grinned and grabbed for the remote, successfully ending Sherlock's torture, which was commented by a relieved sigh from the mad genius.

"So," John cocked his head to the side and regarded Sherlock with an innocent expression. "What do I get for my troubles?"

The only warning John got was a predatory gleam in the depths of blue eyes, before he was pushed back on the couch at the same time as hungry lips attacked his mouth. Dear God, John gasped, when teeth nipped at his lower lip and a skilled tongue teased the abused flesh a second later. He had hoped for a little kiss, maybe some snogging, when he had asked that question and instead he got... an armful of the most sexy and only consulting detective in the world. It was like a dream!

A groan was torn from his throat, when long fingers sneaked under his T-shirt to roam over his chest and played with his nipples. The buds of flesh hardened under the ministration of skilled fingers and sparks of arousal shot directly to his crotch, when Sherlock pinched them lightly. Fuck, John had never had a lover, who was so eager to play with his nipples before- neither man nor woman - and he only now realised how much he had missed out on until today. Sherlock was merciless as he rubbed and rolled his nipples between his fingers, until John didn't know if it was too much or not enough. And all the time, Sherlock's lips were on his. Teeth nipping at the sensitive flesh and an eager tongue pushing between John's parted lips and... Oh! A shiver ran through John's body as Sherlock pressed his pelvis down against him and he felt for himself just how aroused they both were. John buckled his hips and earned a groan from his lover, when their lengths brushed against each other. Pajama bottoms weren't a very effective barrier after all.

"Oh, John!"

Lips moved from John's face down to his neck, sucking and biting at the tender flesh, while their lower bodies rubbed together and... Holy shit, John gasped for breath, when teasing fingers brushed over the tip of his clothed erection. The touch like the tickling of a feather through the fabric on his hot flesh. He couldn't remember the last time, he had had such a hot and dirty making out session on the couch. No, John doubted that he had ever experienced something as... thrilling before. Unfortunately, if they kept going like this, then it would be over all too soon, as John already felt the first drops of pre-come leaking from his cock.

A rather fast sexual encounter for a first time... First time! John's eyes snapped open and somehow he managed to bring his hands up to stop Sherlock's movements and held him still.

"John?"

Sweet mother of Jesus, Sherlock was lovely... and sexy as hell like this. His curls were a complete mess. His lips red and swollen from kissing. Blue eyes, stormy and dark, feverish with need and lust... and a little confused at the sudden stop. John chuckled and reached out a hand to stroke Sherlock's cheek gently. "I know that you like to jump head first into everything, but... I think we should slow down a little."

Sherlock merely raised an eyebrow at that, as if this was the most stupid thing he had ever heard.. "Really, John. You want to stop now and deal with this," One finger stroked along the length of John's cock and made him gasp. "On your own?"

Helplessly, John shook his head and mentally grabbed around for the last pieces of common sense. "I didn't say anything about stopping, I just thought that we could go slower. It's all a little sudden and..." Blue eyes darkened farther, but this time not with lust, but with anger, when Sherlock sat up on his knees abruptly and glared down at John. "You don't have to coddle me, John. Some pervert might have touched me today, but I assure you that I'm not doing this as some kind of shock therapy. So, don't even think of touching me with kid gloves or this won't work!"

Sherlock was still glaring at John, but his eyes also held a so far unknown vulnerability and John suddenly understood. "Your first lover... he didn't stop treating you like..."

"Like I was made of glass, yeah!" Sherlock huffed angrily and John couldn't help but chuckle as he sat up as well and placed both of his hands on his lover's shoulders. "I assure you that I won't treat you like you are made of glass and if you say that you are fine... I believe you, although you know that you can tell me whenever..."

Sherlock interrupted John's rambling with a roll of his eyes. "Yes, John, if I'm uncomfortable with anything, I'll tell you, although that won't happen. And now," Blue eyes narrowed at him once more. "Tell me why you interrupted our making out session if you neither want to stop nor to coddle me."

Now, it was John's turn to roll his eyes as he gestured to the sofa and then to their state of dress. "Call me a hopeless romantic, but I don't want our first time to be a quick shag on the couch."

Sherlock pursed his lips as if deep in thought and John had to take a deep breath to keep himself from kissing them once more. Seconds ticked by and John almost regretted that he had interrupted their lovemaking as his body cooled down slowly. He was just about to tell Sherlock that he had changed his mind and that there was enough time for slow lovemaking later, when Sherlock's beat him to talking. "You are a hopeless romantic, but," Sherlock grinned at him and got to his feet, extending his hand to John. "You have a point and my bed is certainly much more comfortable than the couch."

A sigh of relief whooshed out of John and he didn't need another invitation as he took Sherlock's hand and let him lead the way to his bedroom. When Sherlock pushed the door open, John had come up with half a dozen ideas to make this evening special for his new lover. It might sound absolutely sappy, but John wanted their first time to be memorable. Not perfect, as he had learned that striving for perfection while in bed with a lover, only ever led to awkwardness and disappointment. Therefore, it just had to be an experience, they could both think of fondly.

"I thought you wanted to slow down, so that we could undress completely and not come all over our clothes... or did I get something wrong?" John's head snapped up at that and his mouth started watering right away, when his eyes landed on Sherlock's naked body. Christ, but he was beautiful! All sharp angles and pale skin, Sherlock could be a sculpture made by Michelangelo, broken free from a block of marble. Only his cock wasn't as pale as the rest of him, as it stood at attention with a perfectly flushed head and begging John to touch it. He licked his lips and felt his own cock twitch in his pajama bottoms as if urging him to free it already. God, but getting his clothes off, would entail to avert his eyes from Sherlock for a second and that just seemed to be unbearable at the moment.

"Oh for Christ's... You are unbelievable!" And then Sherlock's hands were on him, tugging his T-shirt over John's head and fumbling with the waistband of his pajama bottoms. All the while pushing John farther into the room, until his knees hit the edge of the bed.

"Sit down!" John gasped and moaned at once, when his cock was freed from its woolen prison and Sherlock threw his bottoms away. Sharp blue eyes followed the length of John's cock from its base to its head. Probably cataloging the path of every vein and just how much blood was circulating through them during intercourse and... God! John felt his cock twitch and grew even harder at the thought that Sherlock could learn so much of him, by just looking at his erection. God, he was screwed!

"I wonder if it were possible to make you come without even touching you. It certainly seems possible, judging from your reactions." Sherlock's voice sounded curious and John shook his head in desperation. He didn't want this night to end in an experiment, although it certainly sounded like a great idea for another time.

Either Sherlock had read his mind or he had come to the same conclusion, as he crawled on the bed next to John and a second later they were kissing again. It started sweet, only to grow more passionate as the minutes passed and they sank back onto the mattress, facing each other and panting in each other's mouth as their heated body were pressed together. Usually, John would have his doubts about the wisdom of their actions, only a few hours after they had admitted to their feelings for each other in the course of a sexual assault on Sherlock. It appeared like the epitome of stupidity to carry on like this, but... they both wanted it. Sherlock wasn't nervous in the least, didn't hesitate to touch John, wherever he wanted and he didn't flinch away, when John explored his body in return. Besides, Sherlock had initiated it and John guessed that he would be in for an epic sulk and - or - a tantrum if he so much as hinted that they should wait for this. He just would have to be more watchful than usual during sex for any signs of discomfort from his lover and they should be fine.

"You are thinking again," Sherlock murmured from where he was kissing and sucking at John's throat. "Stop it, I know what's on your mind, but I told you, I'm fine." Blue eyes looked up at him in a silent challenge and John just nodded. He believed Sherlock. "Good," His friend purred. "Now, that we have settled this..."

John gasped. A wet tongue ran along the lines of his scar. Lips kissed along the same path, only to be followed by fingers a second later. It should feel strange, as a part of the scar tissue was numb, but instead it felt like... worship. No one had ever touched John's scar like this before and... God and no one else, but Sherlock, would ever touch it again - if it wasn't a medical professional - if John had any say about it.

"Maybe, it was good that you didn't allow me to touch in the Jacuzzi." Blue eyes gleamed mischievously and John groaned as a single finger trailed a path down John's abdomen to nudge his erect cock playfully. "You might have embarrassed yourself, although," John moaned again, when Sherlock stroked his hard length. "I have to say that there is nothing you have to be embarrassed about." Sweet Jesus, if Sherlock kept on speaking in innuendos outside of bed, John would be lost. Not that he already wasn't, but... He didn't get to finish the thought, when Sherlock slipped between John's legs and started licking his... thighs. It shouldn't feel so fucking good to have your thighs licked and your knees rubbed, but... God help him, but John doubted that anything wouldn't feel good right now. Sherlock could probably cut him open and John would still come from the sensation... but it would certainly be safer not to mention that thought to his lover.

John's cock twitched in anticipation, when Sherlock's mouth got closer to it and John almost sobbed in frustration, when his lover only sucked a love bite to the inside of his thigh, instead of... Well, sucking him off.

"Sherlock!" John protested, when his lover blew a raspberry on his navel, instead of putting his mouth to where it was wanted. A low chuckled sounded from between his legs and John propped himself up on his elbows to meet twinkling blue eyes. "Has someone ever told you that you are impatient, John?" The question was delivered with a smile and was obviously rhetorical, as John didn't get the chance to respond to it. Wet lips closed around the head of John's cock, sucking carefully on it and being joined by a skillful tongue a second later. John's arms buckled and he lay back down on the bed, while Sherlock worked him with expertise.

Sweet heaven, who would have thought that Sherlock was so skilled with his mouth?! John moaned, when his throbbing cock was surrounded by wet, tight heat. It felt so good, so fucking perfect!

"Oh my... Sherlock!"

A chuckle sounded from his lover, vibrating through John's whole body and pushing more blood into his groin. If Sherlock kept going like this, John wouldn't be able to hold out much longer and... Fingers fondled his balls, rubbing them with just the right kind of pressure to bring John even closer to the edge. Sherlock's mouth around his cock, one hand on his balls and the other...

"Fuck!" John exclaimed, when one finger teased his perineum, pressing expertly right where his prostate was positioned on the inside and... that did it for John "Sherlock, I'm... coming!"

John wouldn't have hold it against Sherlock if he had drawn away, but he stayed exactly where he was and John screamed as he exploded into his lover's mouth. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed down on him and he couldn't do more than hold onto the covers, until the last shudder ran through his body.

"Oh my God," he gasped and his voice came out hoarse. "That was fantastic!" A low chuckle and then Sherlock was snuggling against him and John groaned when their lips met and he tasted himself. They lay there for some time, just kissing and breathing, until John became aware of the hardness that nudged against his hips and his eyes snapped open.

"Sherlock..."

Christ, there he had promised himself that he would undo his lover and then John was so selfish to completely forgot about Sherlock's pleasure. He sat up and glanced down the length of Sherlock's body. His proud erection lay against his belly and John suddenly very much wanted to feel Sherlock coming at his hands. "What do you want, Sherlock?"

A tongue darted out to lick dry lips and then Sherlock's deep baritone echoed through the room. "Anything, John."

A smile lit up John`s face at these words. That was certainly something he could work with and he swore to himself that he would make it as good for Sherlock as it had been for him.

OOO

Sherlock gulped, when John's gaze wandered up and down his body, a small smile turning John's lips upward as his eyes lingered on Sherlock's cock a little longer. Dear God, but John was sexy as hell. Sherlock couldn't recall a time, when giving a blowjob at felt so pleasurable to him. John had made the most wonderful noises, when he had come apart under Sherlock's hands and mouth. It had been exactly what he had needed after the events of today. Sherlock hadn't lied, when he had told John that his actions had nothing to do with some kind of shock therapy. The pervert hadn't scared him of sex - shaken his confidence, yes - but Sherlock had still needed some proof for himself that he truly wasn't scared, as strange as it sounded. Add to the fact that Sherlock had wanted to have sex with John for ages and the honest confession of his lover and Sherlock's actions had been perfectly logical... except for the part, where he was driven with lust and want.

Sherlock's thoughts were interrupted, when John's lips found his again and Sherlock was all too willing to melt into the kiss. What started gentle, soon turned more heated and Sherlock groaned when John's hand wrapped around his throbbing erection. A few strokes later, pre-come was leaking freely from the tip of his cock and Sherlock couldn't do anything, besides panting into John's mouth. He certainly wouldn't mind coming like this, from his lover's hand on his cock, but it appeared that John had something else in mind. Without protest, Sherlock allowed John to turn him on his stomach. He groaned when his needy cock came into contact with the cool covers, followed by a moan, when John kneeled over him, his legs on either side of Sherlock. It was clear that this encounter wouldn't lead to penetrative intercourse - John wasn't that young anymore - and it made Sherlock even more curious to know what John had in mind.

"You are so beautiful." Sherlock hummed contently at the compliment and sighed in bliss, when John's hands started kneading his shoulders. Really, it shouldn't feel so good to have John's fingers working lose the hard tendons of his muscles, but it did. Sherlock relaxed into the touch, calculating every movement of John's hands on his back and sighing contently as the tension - he hadn't even been aware of - left his body. By the time, John had moved down to his sides, Sherlock felt like his whole body was made of butter, except for his hard cock that poked into the mattress. The need to get off wasn't as overwhelming anymore as only minutes ago, but Sherlock didn't mind that in the least. He trusted John that they would get there in time. Therefore, Sherlock moaned in approval, when John started massaging his buttocks. He had always liked having his behind touched by his lovers and that it was John, who did the touching... Well, it certainly explained why more heat rushed towards Sherlock's groin at once.

Minutes passed and the only noises in the bedroom were Sherlock`s panting, the rustling of the covers and John's repeated praises. When his lover inched back a little farther to kneel between Sherlock's spread thighs and urged him to lift his hips a little, Sherlock expected John to ask him for lube, but like so often John managed to surprise Sherlock.

"Oh God!"

Sherlock groaned, when John parted his buttocks and blew against his hole. A shudder ran down Sherlock's spine as the action was repeated. For the love of... Did John truly plan to do what Sherlock was thinking?

He did!

A surprised scream was torn from Sherlock's lips as John's tongue licked a wet trail between his buttocks and over his hole.

John stopped. "Good?" He asked, with only the tiniest hint of uncertainty in his voice. His breath tickled Sherlock's hot flesh and he groaned once more.

"Yes, I... if you really want to do that." Sherlock certainly wouldn't ask something of John, he wasn't willing to give. There was no way of knowing for Sherlock if his lover had ever indulged in this particular act before. Therefore, it could very well be that John had started something, that he wasn't certain he liked himself. If that was the case and John would rather stop...

A quiet chuckle interrupted Sherlock's musings. "No, you are the one who is over thinking everything - as usual. Stop it and just relax, I wouldn't do anything I didn't want to do."

All too happily, Sherlock accepted John's words as the truth and did as he was told. He was rewarded with another lick over his perineum. This time the tongue stayed right over his hole, teasing the ring of muscles with its tip and wringing moan after groan from Sherlock`s throat.

"Oh... John!" Sherlock pushed back up against John's tongue as the tip of it pushed into his hole, licking his insides and making him tremble with want. How had Sherlock not known that this could feel so incredible good? His cock gave a needy throb, when John's tongue pushed deeper into him and Sherlock almost regretted that he had lifted his hips. It was impossible to find any friction like this and he wasn't certain if he could took himself in hand, without losing his balance in the process. Holy shit, but this was torture of the sweetest kind. Sherlock groaned and then screamed, when John all but sucked at his hole.

"Oh my sweet... Fuck!"

John chuckled and his breath tickled Sherlock's cool and slick flesh, sending sparks through his body and directly to his groin. His cock was heavy between his legs, his balls drawn back and pre-come leaked freely from the tip of it and still... Sherlock wasn't quite there yet. His whole being was yearning for release - dancing on the edge for some time now - but it was as close as it was far away.

Sherlock whimpered, a half-sob escaping his lips, when John's tongue pushed into him once more. It felt so good and yet... it wasn't enough, didn't get far enough and...

"Please!" Sherlock gasped, wriggling his arse and not even sure for what he was begging. Just that he wanted to come, that he needed to... Oh yes!

Sherlock buckled his hips, when John's tongue was replaced by a single finger. It slipped easily past his well relaxed muscles and into his slick hole. Sherlock pushed back to take it in deeper, to get it where he wanted it and thanked every higher power - in which he didn't believe - that John was a doctor, when he found Sherlock's prostate right away. A few brushes against the sensitive spot in him was all Sherlock needed, before his world exploded around him. His cock spurted its semen against his belly and onto his stomach as Sherlock's orgasm crashed down around him. He was faintly aware of John's finger rubbing him through his release and his own screams, but the rest of him was completely concentrated on the pleasure that surged in waves through his body. Sherlock couldn't remember having such an intensive orgasm ever before.

It probably explained why he found himself snuggled against John's side, with his head bedded on his good shoulder, without any idea how they had gotten into this position. Heat crept into Sherlock's cheeks as he wondered if he had passed out for a few seconds. How very...

"You were fantastic!" A kiss was pressed to his forehead and Sherlock led go of whatever mortification he had felt at John's praises. "So sexy and hot, if I were younger, I would have come from watching you alone."

This time, the blush was for absolutely the right reasons, when Sherlock leaned up a little to press his lips to John's. The taste of himself on his lover was certainly worth the effort of leaning up on his elbow. Still, Sherlock couldn't stay in this position for long and therefore, he lay back down again. He had never felt so relaxed after sex before and the drying slickness between his cheeks wasn't disturbing at all. In fact, Sherlock realised, when he wriggled his hips a little, it had been exactly what he had needed, without knowing it. John's intimate touch replacing the memory of the assault from the pervert in his mind and linking this part of his body to something pleasant again. Fascinating how his mind worked.

"You are grinning." Sherlock nodded against John's collarbone and pressed his lips to John's neck, feeling the slowing heartbeat of his lover, while Sherlock's own limbs grew heavy. He was already half asleep, when four simple words, that had been on the tip of his tongue ever since John`s confession, tumbled from his lips. "I love you, John."

A content sigh was the answer, as John's fingers ran through his curls and Sherlock allowed his eyes to fall close as he gave into the exhaustion of his body. "I love you, too."

Sherlock's last conscious act - before sleep claimed him completely - was to smile against his lover's skin as the words and John's warmth enfolded him in a cocoon of safety and love.