A/N: Wow! I was not expecting such a strong response so quickly. I'm ecstatic and extremely flattered that you're enjoying this so much!

The comments I received prompted me to finish up the second chapter of this in one morning (which is lightning fast, for me). So you had all better appreciate it, because I've been procrastinating all day to get it posted! Y'hear? *squints threateningly*

Again, this part was both awkward and cathartic to find myself typing out (I've never, never written anything remotely smutty in my life). I don't know how it happened exactly, but I suspect it's strongly to do with some serious pent-up sexual frustration concerning a certain English actor with a very silly name. And a voice which has been likened to a jaguar hiding inside a cello.
...Not that I've watched a YouTube video of his voice narrating a car commercial or anything just to hear him say words...What?...

*Ahem*

Anyways, thanks to your encouragement, here's Part Two in all its glory!
The opening paragraph is Sherlock's POV, as promised.

*Warnings: Sexy, sexy foreplay. And sex, sort of. If you're not sure, I still encourage you to try it out, as it builds up pretty gradually. (I'm talking to you, faeryenchanter!) I purposely wrote it much less graphically (in my opinion) than a lot of the other fics that deal with this stuff. But...I could be wrong! Constructive criticism is appreciated, y'all.

*Disclaimer: NOT MY CHARACTERS. Please don't hunt me down with pitchforks.

Also, Thanks especially to , the first replier, and to Nocturnias.

/

His P.O.V.

He had been so bored. He was left alone with nothing to do and no one to talk to (or at), and his restless brain was slowly driving him mad. Cigarettes wouldn't cut it. A few years ago he would have distracted himself with drugs. Just two weeks ago he would have distracted himself with a new case. Neither being available, it was hardly a surprise that a surge of confused emotions and unfamiliar sensations was a welcome escape. Not his emotions, mind. The incident of the past week which had effectively destroyed his life had conjured up plenty of feelings he hadn't known he possessed, and at the present moment he couldn't handle another ounce of emotional confusion. So instead he latched onto the dozens of conflicting feelings which were by now emanating in waves from the warm body underneath him, and his ravenous mind thrilled as it attempted to capture, categorize, and deduce the every minutia of her response to his advances. He was also keenly observing his own physical reactions - he could feel his skin heating up feverishly and his heart pounding which sent the adrenaline coursing through him as his body rushed to keep up with the overwhelming amount of incoming sensory information. He was fascinated by the ease with which instinctual behavior took over, telling him where to touch and how much pressure to use and exactly what to do with his tongue. These things were all wonderfully novel and exciting - and so refreshingly Not Boring - and if pure carnal pleasure happened to come as part of the deal then that was just a convenient bonus.

/

She was drowning. Oh god, she was drowning in him.

First she had gasped with surprise, and then a small moan escaped involuntarily from the back of her throat, and he took that as an invitation to stick his tongue into her mouth. He had then proceeded to lower himself until he'd closed the space between their bodies entirely, still mostly supporting his own weight but also managing to make her feel like she was being crushed into the mattress. The flood of new sensations from the kiss alone was making her see stars. Her senses were entirely filled by him - by the scent of his skin and the hint of shampoo in his hair and the taste of his breath and his tongue and the heat of his body and the weight of his chest against her breasts and his hips pressing into hers. It was enough to make her feel lightheaded.

The first coherent thought she had was that he weighed a lot more than he really ought to for someone who regularly went without a proper meal for days at a time. Evidently, he was quite a bit more muscular than he looked, though how that worked she hadn't the foggiest idea, especially when he'd always seemed so gaunt and ephemeral. Nevertheless, it was impossible to miss the stunning masculinity of his physique from this particular proximity.

One of her hands found his arm and she gripped it tightly, digging her fingers into his flexed bicep. The act elicited a groan that resonated in his throat and deep in his chest. Pressed against him as she was, she could feel the resulting vibrations travel through her whole body, inside her body, and for the second time that night she forgot how to breathe.

He finally came up for air, and she found herself gasping. She shut her eyes as he shifted himself slightly lower and buried his face in her neck. He kissed the space beneath her jaw and ghosted his lips over her skin, which tingled hotly wherever he made contact. Then, he paused over a spot near the side of her throat and bit down rather aggressively. It hurt, and the unexpected collision of pleasure and pain made her positively dizzy. She wrapped both of her arms around him, clinging desperately to his solid form for support as his mouth clamped down over the soft skin - claiming it; sucking at it until he'd made sure it would leave a visible mark. Then he continued moving lower. She could feel her heart rate go up with every inch.

She wondered momentarily whether she ought to be doing something, but he honestly didn't seem to care, and at any rate it was all she could do just to lay there and take shuddering breaths and try not to faint.

He kissed the hollow of her throat tenderly and raked his teeth again and again over her collarbone, before starting to explore it with his tongue. Finding his progress suddenly impeded by the fabric of her shirt, he reached his hand down beneath the covers and groped about near her waist until he found its hem. When she realized what he was about to do, she felt her breath hitch, but before she could protest his other hand had slipped under the small of her back and she felt the soft cotton inching up her torso. When it was free of her shoulders he tugged it right over her head and tossed it in a heap onto the floor.

Wasting no time, he then went back to meticulously ravishing her collarbone with a fervor that made her heart leap. She moaned breathlessly and ran her fingertips over his scalp, tugging at his hair and twisting it between her fingers. A spasm of pleasure traveled down his spine, and he groaned softly at the pressure, exhaling against her skin.

Not many people, she mused, noticed that despite his aloofness and general snobbishness and apparent aversion to all human contact, he was in fact an extremely tactile person. She knew he preferred texting to calling, for instance, and he was constantly fidgeting with things when he felt agitated. It was just how he liked to gather information - he would frequently take apart and reassemble mechanical devices to discover the inner workings, and he'd never shown the least bit of hesitation to run his hands over a fresh cadaver if he thought it might be likely to reveal an interesting sample of empirical data. If she had ever overlooked this particular character trait in him, she could by now be entirely certain that it wouldn't ever happen again.

Presently she felt his fingers glancing over her breasts, and her train of thought promptly evaporated as she savored his lingering touch. Suddenly it seemed like less of a mistake that she had decided not to wear a bra to bed. He started to kiss a line down the center of her heaving chest. One of her hands was still holding the back of his head, pressing him closer, and the other fell to her side, clutching at the mattress.

All at once she felt an overwhelming need for the lower half of her body to be closer to him than the heavy duvet was allowing for. She shuffled her feet a bit, trying to kick it towards the foot of the bed. When he felt what she was doing he shifted his weight to make it easier for her. Lifting his head from her chest, he leaned forward to kiss her on the mouth, this time choosing to bite into her lower lip, chewing at it gently.

Meanwhile, the sheets and the blanket pooled somewhere around her ankles. She could feel cool air on the exposed skin - all she was wearing was a thin pair of cotton pajama-shorts.

He released her from the kiss and sat up slowly, still straddling her legs. Eyes smoldering, he reached for the sides of his gray t-shirt and pulled it over his head. Looking down smugly, he gave her a moment to admire the sight of his shirtless torso. She couldn't help staring, entirely mesmerized, because whatever she'd always imagined, it could never be as wonderfully satisfying as having the real thing right before her eyes. (Damn him, she thought, with his stupid sexy smirk and his stupid perfect body... before it occurred to her to wonder why she was complaining.) Bending over her again, he pushed himself backwards several more inches and lowered himself back down on top of her, now pressing kisses against her ribcage. His skin was hot against hers. His touch was roaming dangerously close to her hips. She found she could hardly breathe.

Soon one of his hands pressed up against her side, stroking her skin with his thumb. She thrilled at his caress as if it were an electric current. His fingers traveled down, past her waist, her hip, to the side of her leg. Slowly - so achingly slowly that it hurt - he traced his hand inward and up under the fabric of her shorts to stroke the sensitive skin at the crease of her thigh, just under the lacy hem of her panties. (Thank the lord she had actually chosen to wear a flattering pair of undergarments.) She arched her back, pressing her hips toward him pleadingly. He was teasing her, and she could hardly stand it. An uncharacteristically roguish smile came to his lips, as he drank in the intoxicating sense of power.

"Patience..." she heard him murmur from somewhere above her right hip, before he resumed his exploration of her skin with his mouth. She uttered a sort of incomprehensible squeak in reply that sounded a bit like, "nnnNNng!"

His tongue moved across her lower belly - he was nearly licking the waistband of her shorts - and when he reached her other hip he bit down with a devilish snarl that made her gasp out loud in surprise. She moaned in breathless agony, wanting him desperately and immediately.

He could sense her urgency, and decided to finally acquiesce. Raising himself away to a sitting position, he slipped his fingers underneath the edge of her pajamas on either side of her waist. She lifted her hips up, and he pulled both her shorts and her panties down past her knees in one smooth gesture.

Feeling her tremble beneath him in anticipation, he was suddenly seized by a whim. He reached down and slid his right hand underneath her waist so that his arm was wrapped around her hips, and with his left he caressed the inside of her knee for a moment, before running his fingers all the way up the inside of her thigh and thrusting his hand directly between her legs. He made her cry out. Her body shuddered and spasmed violently, and she squirmed in his arms. With his grip tight around her waist, bracing the small of her back, he pushed against her even harder, feeling his way inside her, until she was hyperventilating and tears streamed down the side of her face.

He had almost pushed her over the edge, he could tell, and he wanted to finish her properly.

He wanted to see if he could make her scream his name.

He released her waist and reached up to kiss the edge of her jaw, whispering three words into her ear -

"Close your eyes."

She was lying limp beneath him, trying to recover (and not succeeding very well), and she did as she was told. She felt him kneeling over her, felt him push down his sweatpants and boxer shorts, felt him shift forward to cover her body with his, felt his breath against her neck, felt...felt...

Then she forgot what feeling was, because she was feeling everything, and stars - whole galaxies - exploded in the blackness before her eyes.

He got his wish.

/

A/N:

Phew! That was intense!

Please tell me what you thought - of the writing, of the characters, of the smutty parts (which is, like, the whole thing)... Was I way off? Was it realistic? Was it cheesy? Did you find the subtle humor? I gots ta know!

(I know I'm not the only person who likes to imagine that, in the overwhelmingly unlikely event that Sherlock got involved with someone in a romantic capacity, he would unquestionably and inexplicably be really, really good at it. Possibly through sheer force of will.)