A/N: This is going to be the last chapter for this story. I may continue this with a follow-up story with something that will rock the boat. Chapter contains graphic M/M sex. You have been forewarned.

As they cross the threshold of the Doctor's private bedroom, his insides turn to jelly. Sherlock's hand feels hot in his palm. It has been...oh…. centuries since he's done this. And even longer than that since he's done anything with a man. It's not that he doesn't remember, and it's not that his body can't handle it, he's just… nervous. Worried that such a great man as Sherlock won't find him enough.

He turns and faces Sherlock, pulling the man towards himself and encircling his arms around the tall man's waist.

"Stop worrying…" Sherlock whispers in his ear. The breath moving across such a sensitive spot sends shivers running all over his skin. Sherlock wraps his arms around the Doctor's upper body, palming the back of his head, and descends down to resume the kiss.

With their bodies twisting and moving together and open mouths licking and nipping, the Doctor couldn't tell you where they even were.

He slides his hand under the hem of the t-shirt and runs it up the skin on Sherlock's back - soft, warm and hard with lean muscle underneath. He finds himself scratching and clawing at it. Sherlock is manoeuvring them back towards the bed and so the Doctor tugs the shirt up, pulling back from the kiss to smile at Sherlock and gesture for him to lift his arms. The shirt is off and he immediately locks his lips on a tight nipple, flicking it with his tongue and sucking the bud into his mouth. Sherlock bucks his hips at the sensation and loses patience, gripping him by the shoulders to straighten him enough so that he can begin taking off the fancy purple shirt. The Doctor lends a hand and within moments the shirt and undershirt are gone.

They both pause a moment to stare before the moment snaps and they are each reaching for the buttons and zippers and belts of their jeans and trousers. The Doctor had planned on only pulling down Sherlock's jeans, and leaving his pants - if only to prolong the inevitable, but of course, Sherlock is impatient, and pulls his trousers and pants down in one swift motion, leaving him completely naked. Sherlock smiles in triumph, like it was a race and the Doctor can't help but laugh. He steps out the remainder of his clothes and quietly sheds Sherlock of the rest of his clothes.

They come flush against one another, each letting out a small noise of satisfaction. Sherlock's hands grip his hips and push him towards the bed. He falls onto his back, bouncing form the mattress and slides back to a better position while Sherlock crawls over him. The man's grin is predatory and the Doctor matches the grin full-on. When he feels the weight of Sherlock's body upon him, and the skin on the skin, the patience flies out the window.

He spreads his legs, allowing Sherlock's lower body to rest between them - the perfect place for him to be. He pulls Sherlock's lips of his throat and brings them to his mouth - kissing him deeply and erotically. His centuries of abstinence are collapsing with a force and his hips begin gyrating up into Sherlock of their own accord.

"Hmm… impatient are we?" Sherlock teases and reaches down to push his legs further apart. His stomach coils in anticipation. It probably could have gone either way, but he loves that Sherlock is taking control.

Sherlock lifts up and straddles his chest, bringing his erection to the Doctor's lips. His mouth seals around the crest and envelops as much of the rigid length as he possibly can. He sucks and licks while Sherlock strains above him - small groans of pleasure vibrate in the air around him and the Doctor moans around the intrusion in his mouth.

"Ahh!" Sherlock cries suddenly, pulling back. He quickly moves himself lower on the bed and holds the Doctor's eyes as he puts a finger into his own mouth, coating it in saliva.

Seconds later, the same finger is tracing a line across the opening to his body and shakes at the sensation. A little more pressure and then Sherlock is fingering him. Plunging in and out while he tries to remember how to breath. It turns out, Sherlock is good at a number of things, which surprises him because from what he'd known of the man, he was about as sexual as the Doctor.

"Why is everyone so surprised?" Sherlock asks suddenly, only mildly offended. "I think people seem to forget that just because I don't do things very often doesn't mean I don't know how!" He twists his finger in emphasis and grazes across the bundle of nerves inside of him. The Doctor shakes and bows on the bed, the subtle feeling is no longer enough and he pushed down on Sherlock to get the point across.

"Well then, please continue to wow me." The Doctor breathes heavily.

With a smirk, the detective removes his hand away to place it on the side of his thigh, pushing it further out. He moves himself in position and the Doctor can feel the blunt head press against him. Oh… god. Maybe he'd been a little too eager, the thought cross his mind as the pressure builds, and a bit of a burn joins in on the feeling.

A hand encloses around his own straining erection and it does exactly what he needed - relaxing him.

Sherlock has beautiful long hands with teasing fingers, he thinks to himself, as the hand caresses and strokes his arousal.

A large puff of air blows out of Sherlock's mouth and the Doctor feel's the head of him push in past the opening.

Sherlock pauses only seconds before beginning a slow back and forth when suddenly he pushes all the way in.

They both cry out in ecstasy. The Doctor tightens involuntarily and a hand grips his hips to hold them both still.

"Oh god that feels good…" Sherlock's voice is rough and sexed.

He leans down and captures the Doctor's lips, resuming a heated kiss while he begins to move inside of him. The Doctor can't hold back the moan that escapes into the detectives mouth as the man begins to move inside of him.

The pace increases. Sherlock's hips slamming against him at each thrust with barely a second between. The Doctor's eyelids are fluttering wildly and his body is pushing against Sherlock at each awesome intrusion into him.

The intensity decreases only slightly when Sherlock bends down again to kiss him more. The kissing becomes obscene and dirty and Sherlock slows his hips to a patient tempo that builds an agonizing ache inside of him.

"Oh Sherlock… I'm close.." He says between their open mouths.

"Ughhh…" Is the only response as Sherlock slides a hand between their bodies to grab him and stroke with precision, extending a finger on the down stroke to tease his sac. The combination has him shaking and straining with his impending orgasm.

"Yes.. Doctor… Oh god, yes… just let go." Sherlock coaches him and his grip tightens as his thrusts roughen.

The Doctor's orgasm explodes out of him, bursts of pleasure and throbbing and aching racks his body and he erratically thrusts into Sherlock's palm and tightens around the, now pulsing, erection inside of him. Their moans are guttural as their orgasms careen through their bodies. He can feel the warmth and wetness of Sherlock's release inside of him and the warmth and stickiness between their bodies from his own.

He continues moving his body against Sherlock's and slides his tongue into the man's mouth, riding out the glorious sensation for as long as possible.

He feels Sherlock pull out of him and a sad sound escapes his mouth on reflex, to which Sherlock chuckles tiredly beside him.

"Don't worry…. I've got more stamina than your average human."

"Good… you'll need it." The Doctor smiles mischievously and climbs on top of Sherlock, his own palm encircling his thick arousal, ready to go again.

Sherlock's eyes widen in surprise. "Already?"

"Do you mind?" The Doctor asks, his previous shyness and nervous emotions building within him as he pushes Sherlock's knee up to convey his desires.

"Ohh… yes. Definitely." Sherlock's eyes darken again with arousal.

Several hours later, they are sated and limp and sprawled across the bed. The sheets are on the floor, along with the pillows and the comforter. Sherlock's body is angled with his head at the end corner of the bed, and his feet towards the top. The Doctor's head is resting on his lower abdomen, the man's thighs stretched beside his head, as they bend off the end of the mattress.

"I think I might need to regenerate.." The Doctor teases, his voice slurring with exhaustion.

"How long has it been?" Sherlock asks.

"God Sherlock, it's only been forty-eight seconds." He cries, thinking that Sherlock is gearing up for another round. Instead Sherlock laughs.

"Noo.. no. I mean, since before me. How long?"

"Uuhmm.. three hundred and forty-nine years… or so." He was so guilty about that one. Madame de Pompadour. "You?" He adds.

"Six years." They erupt in laughter at how crazy it all sounds.

"I think we should shower before we lose the ability to move." Sherlock makes a good point and the Doctor tries to lift his head off of Sherlock, but it feels so damn heavy.

"Ughh.. can't I just stay here?" He says stubbornly.

Sherlock pushes him off and into a sitting position.

Once in the shower, they sigh in unison and the wonderful feeling of the hot water running over them.

The Doctor hasn't been this happy in, who knows how long! What he had been afraid of this whole time - he didn't know. Weelllll… that's not true, he thinks, as he watches Sherlock sliding under the covers of a newly made bed. The man is a human… a small blip along his own lifeline, and not just that, but an incredibly fragile blip. His previous hesitations and personal torments have frozen his limbs and he can't seem to move from his stance by the bathroom door.

As if reading his mind, Sherlock pulls into a sitting position on the bed.

"Seriously Doctor - stop being so bloody ridiculous. All relationships are doomed, don't you get it? People leave or people die, and someone is always left behind. The timing of it doesn't make a damn difference. But if you are going to be a coward about it then I'll leave right now." He spoke with a sharp irritated tone, as if he was speaking to a rude parking attendant.

"I… uhh." He blabbers, not sure what to say in response.

"Would you get in the damn bed already?" Sherlock rips the blankets back in frustration and glares at him.

"Yes.. sorry." He crosses the room and gets in, laying on his back, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. He knows that Sherlock is mostly right but he can't shake the feeling that he hurts everyone he's ever cared about.

A kiss on the cheek pulls him back from his thoughts and he tilts his head to look at the intelligent man beside him.

"I get your dilemma. You live longer and obviously are always on the receiving end of a loss, but pushing people away is not going to lessen the pain when they're gone, you will only feel regret…" He pauses and looks away from him. "Trust me."

The look on Sherlock's face stings because the Doctor knows exactly who the man is thinking about and it is definitely not him.

"Would you rather I were him?" He can't help torturing himself.

"No." His gaze returns. "That is in the past, and this," he says gesturing between them, "is my future. Unless you plan on continuing to be a child about the whole thing."

The Doctor is terrified of the future but knows that he owes it to himself, and to Sherlock, to at least give it a shot. And if all hell breaks loose…. well he just hopes he won't destroy the world out of anguish.

"Yes.. okay." He pushes himself closer to his clever man and kisses him in apology.

For now, things are happy. For now, there is no threat to his happiness. No threat to the level of peace that he has found. He prays that time is not cruel to him.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review :)