So it's been a while since I updated... A long, long while... To make up for it, have some smut!

Sherlock woke first that morning. He rolled onto his side, watching John. He still couldn't believe that there was a human being out there who could make him feel the way he did. He didn't even know it was possible for him to feel like he did. What he experienced back in his experimental days was nothing more than lust, if that. What he got from it was simply a quick release of pleasure to distract him from the dull patterns of everyday life.

He studied John. His breathing patterns while he slept, the way his lip would twitch every so often, his tired moans... And when he had gotten all of John's movement's memorized, Sherlock started to observe John's other physical characteristics. Most of which he had already stored away in his mind (his hair color, facial features, etc.) but with this being the only actual time Sherlock had seen John still resting after an entire night's sleep, he took in any new information he could.

John began to stir halfway through Sherlock analyzing exactly how his hair fell after rest, and his eyes opened wide to the sight of Sherlock leaning above him, playing with his hairs. John smiled, and his expression softened. Sherlock really didn't know anything of personal space, but John wasn't going to let that bother him this morning.

"Good morning," John said after rubbing his eyes and letting out a tired sigh.

"Good m-"

Sherlock was cut off by John giving him a quick kiss, and then standing up to stretch.

"-orning," Sherlock finished.

"Just needed to make sure that last night actually happened," John chuckled, turning around to look at the man who he had just shared a bed with.

Sherlock smirked and stood up. He walked to John and kissed him, passionately; which was not good for the early morning.

Their kiss heated, and so did their bodies and desires. Sherlock started to slowly push John, and he obeyed, backing into the wall.

Each breath of their's came in shorter, less steady, and heavier pants. Moans were becoming more frequent and each man could feel the other hard against him.

With Sherlock's hips grinding into his, John was far beyond the point of being able to conjure any rational thoughts. He knew that somewhere, deep inside his conscience, there was a voice screaming that they were probably moving too fast, but God he didn't care. He moaned, loudly this time.

Sherlock let out an involuntary gasp. As exhilarating as this was, his mind was still working relatively normally; or at least normal enough to think, which apparently made everything even more arousing. The ability to not only see, but to learn exactly how John reacted to his every touch was more stimulating than any drug he had ever taken.

Unfortunately, Sherlock was also in enough control of his mind to remember that John probably didn't want to move too quickly. He stopped and backed up slightly, despite his body aching for him to continue. John let out a whimper and tried to pull Sherlock back in, but before he was successful, Sherlock spoke.

"John- Listen to me, John."

John lifted his eyelids slightly. His eyes were foggy and his pupils, dilated.

"John," Sherlock said, "I need you to focus."

"That's bloody hard to do, you fucking tease," John groaned.

"You need to tell me if you really want to continue," Sherlock said bluntly.

John blinked. He had almost forgotten there was even a part of him that didn't want to continue. His body ached and yearned for contact so much already, and he could still hardly breathe normally.

He moaned, but not from pleasure. He didn't know what he wanted to do, and it was bloody infuriating. His body craved more: more contact, more stimulation, more Sherlock. But his mind was unsure.

John looked up, trying to decide on his answer. The blue of Sherlock's eyes were almost completely taken over by the black of his pupils, and his cheeks were slightly pink. He looked almost like an animal. John's insides quivered and with that he lost all control. He grabbed Sherlock and pulled him in, roughly. He chose to give into desire. What was left of the rational part of John's mind was telling him that even if he had tried to stop, he would have had to take care of himself one way or another. So why not please both of them while he was at it? However, even those thoughts soon became foggy as he felt Sherlock lower himself. Kissing down John's stomach and removing John's shorts. Sherlock closed his lips around John.

John let out a groan and grabbed Sherlock's hair, tugging and pulling at it. Not to try and control him (as that would have been impossible) but just to match his movements. He rolled his hips, beckoning for Sherlock to take him in further. Sherlock grabbed John and obliged.

"Sherlock," he moaned.

Sherlock swirled his tongue around John, causing him to moan even louder still. He was already close to coming and he knew it. John was never one to last long with morning wood, and despite the complete and total pleasure he felt with Sherlock's lips and tongue sucking and swirling around his cock, he was a little embarrassed. Fuck, he thought. Fuck, fuck, fuck. It seemed the only coherent thought he could create. Anything else just came out in half-gasps, half-gibberish.

"Fuck," John said, aloud this time. It rolled off of his tongue easily, despite the sheer difficulty he had in even just thinking the simplest words. "Fuck me," he cried out, not caring that it wasn't the perfect terminology to describe their situation. All he cared about was Sherlock. Sherlock licking him, sucking him, and now only focusing on his head.

"Oh fu- S- Sherlock..." John panted, trying to warn him. But just his name leaving John's lips caused him to go over the edge.

John's knees were giving and he grabbed at the consulting detective's hair even harder for leverage. Accidentally pushing Sherlock's head harder down on him, he unintentionally bucked his hips and let out a wet gasp.

Sherlock let out a moan this time. Still studying John's reactions, he had never been more aroused. Everything John did brought Sherlock himself closer to the edge. Everything John was brought him closer. The way he felt, the way he moved, the way he tasted, the way he ravenously tugged at his hair like he was trying to control him... He let out another pitiful moan. The thought of being controlled by John, being told what to do, where to go, sent his thoughts faltering. Everything he ever thought about his personality was changing in this one moment. He wanted to be dominated.

John drove his hips forward again, losing all control of his actions. Sherlock's deep moans into him had sent him positively reeling. John cried out, what exactly he couldn't remember, but it felt incredible.

John's moans and gasps slowly subsided into shallow breaths and once he was able to think properly again he realized his only regret was waiting. "You're bloody incredible," he breathed, a slight chuckle erupting from deep within, "and apparently a swallower."

"You're bloody beautiful," Sherlock groaned with his eyes closed with one hand wiping John's excess from his smirking lips and the other lowering to give him the release his body had been desperately craving.

"Let me," John said seductively, slowly moving closer to Sherlock, kissing at his hipbones and moving lower, his hands exploring the rest of Sherlock's body.

Sherlock had no complaints.