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Flirting

by AnitaB

Chapter 3: Illogical

It didn't make any sense. Not a single bit. Sherlock dipped his head to drag the tip of his tongue over a trailing line of scar tissue. His lips twitched into a smile at the helpless sound on John's lips. As his blogger always said, it didn't need to make 'a lick of sense.' He licked his way back to the raised center of the scar for a soft press of his lips.

Normally, the lack of logic would drive him round the bend. But not this. He kissed the old entry wound, swirling his tongue around the circular edge, loving the texture of that skin as much as the vibration of John's voice.

This could be as senseless, illogical, and crazy as it wanted to be as long as John was here. As long as John was his and he was John's.

And John was his. John was here, in his arms, in his bed, sweetly moaning his name under the worship of his mouth.

And he was worshipping. This scar was the reason this amazing man had come into his life. While he would never wish for John to endure a moment of suffering, Sherlock would be forever grateful to the wound that brought his soldier into his world.

Sherlock turned his head to kiss his way over John's heart to press his lips to the saint's medal. He never wanted to spend a day without John again, had hated every single day of the months he'd been forced to stay away.

The protection medallion had kept him functional, if only barely, during those long months at a distance. Now it guarded the only thing Sherlock couldn't and wouldn't live without. "John, my gorgeous John."

This could be as messy and emotional as it could manage because Sherlock wouldn't give up an ounce of the emotion between them, wouldn't risk losing a single degree of the heat washing over them both.

"Sher… oh, please… Sherlock?" Strong hands wiggled loose from his grip to fist in his hair. Sherlock resisted the pull of those fingers for the time it took to pull another helpless sound from John, just long enough for another kiss, another lick, another nibble. "Oh, hell, Sherlock."

"Hmm, yes, John." He could live off the heat in the eyes locked on his face. Sherlock couldn't help pushing that heat higher by stroking his tongue over a masculine nipple before letting those hands drag him away from that delicious skin. "Did you need something, my John?"

"You, you idiot." John's ribs heaved under his hands, his hips rocked up against Sherlock's body. "Hurry the hell up, Sherlock, or I'm taking over. All of me against all of you… remember?"

/I remember everything to do with you, John. Always.\\ Sherlock hid a smile against the lean strength of John's chest. The helpless groan on his lips wasn't nearly as covert. "We'll get there, John. Don't worry about that at all."

Nothing in this world or any other was ever going to keep Sherlock from giving John anything and everything he needed, just to watch the love and pleasure in his face at the contact. Not even John's desire to hurry.

"I'll take back over, Sherlock, I swear it." Sherlock couldn't hold back a happy smile and a wordless sound of need at the trembling desperation in his favorite voice. John meant every glorious word. /Good. Can't wait.\\

"I'm sure you will." Sherlock let his hands stroke down lean ribs to work open that belt. "But not just yet." He dropped a kiss on the curve of hipbone to the clenching of strong hands in his hair. "Let me … touch you, John. Let me…" Words didn't exist for everything he wanted to put at the end of that plea. So Sherlock finished it with a simple press of lips very, very low on John's stomach. John would understand. John always understood him. Only John ever understood him. / My John.\\

"Yes, Sherlock, bloody hell yes! Anything, anywhere, anytime. Yes."

/That's my John, always yes for us.\\ Together they managed to shove the rest of John's clothes away without Sherlock's lips leaving his skin. Those strong hands immediately returned to his hair as that sturdy body arched up under his. There was nothing he loved more in the universe than this, than John naked and wanting him. And there was no mistaking either part of that right now.

Every glorious inch of John was bare beneath him, available to eyes, lips, hands… tongue. And John wanted him. That was more than obvious. Sherlock braced John's restless hips with both hands, letting his eyes drop those last few inches to look at him. John's erection took on the most gorgeous shade of red when he was particularly worked up. Not that he would ever tell anyone, but it was now Sherlock's favorite color, just barely beating out the color of his favorite eyes. Dozens, hundreds of people enjoyed John's eyes. Only Sherlock was lucky enough to experience his favorite color. John was almost wearing that exact shade now.

/That's my gorgeous man. Need me just a little more.\\ He wanted that shade of red. He wanted to drag his tongue along the pulsing vein under that gorgeous shaft just for the sound John would make at the long, slow lick. He wanted to count the heart beat pounding through that body with the tight ring of his lips, to taste the essence of this man on his tongue.

And John clearly wasn't about to stop him if the sounds on those sweet lips were any indication. "Hold on for me, John. Show me how…" Sherlock waited for the wordless nod and the strong grip of hands to tighten in his hair. Only then did he dip his head for the first stroke of his tongue up that gorgeous shaft.

John didn't quite manage all the letters of Sherlock's name, but he did get that little bit closer to the right shade of red. And he tasted so good. Sherlock wanted more. He obeyed the low moan and the tug of those hands to take that gorgeous shaft into his mouth. /That's my John. All mine.\\

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Sherlock was killing him. But good lord it was bloody perfect, so bloody perfect that he couldn't breathe past that feeling. But he didn't need to breathe in order to stare. Nothing on earth was as gorgeous as Sherlock's eyes. And to have those gorgeous eyes staring up at him while his favorite lips were wrapped around what felt like every single inch of his body… that was beyond words.

John Watson weakly clenched his hands in that dark tangle of hair, trying to concentrate enough to do what Sherlock asked, what he wanted. Words… words just weren't going to happen, not when that brilliant mouth was removing his brain the long… long, slow, bloody fantastic… way. If he managed more than helpless little calls of Sherlock's name, John would be shocked.

But his hands… his hands were more than happy to show Sherlock exactly how good this felt, to guide those talented lips and agile tongue through the grip he had on Sherlock's hair. /Show me…\\ Sherlock knew just how easily that voice, those words affected John. He always knew. /I'll show you, Sherlock. Make you mine.\\

Or maybe Sherlock was making John his. Because in this moment, John sure as hell wasn't the one in control. That mouth... Sherlock was taking power over every single pleasure center in his nervous system with the skill, devotion, and need of those lips around him, that tongue stroking him. And dear bloody hell the sounds Sherlock was making around him were about to give him a heart attack.

And tip him right over into climax while his Sherlock was still half dressed and almost as hard as he was. /No bloody way I'm coming first.\\ John was helplessly lost in the pull and heat for a few more moments even as he reminded himself of everything he wanted to do the man currently breaking him into pieces. None of those plans involved Sherlock owning him this way. Even as every bob of that head pushed him just that little bit closer to forgetting his own name and giving in to anything and everything this amazing man wanted to do to him. /No, Sherlock, not this way.\\

John forced his fingers out of those soft, dark curls to cup that precious face in his hands. "Sherlock, stop..." Strong fingers clenched on his hips. A stubborn chin tried to shake free of his grip as those beautiful, damnable lips tightened and pulled him even deeper. /Oh, please, love, I need to...\\ John arched into the heat of that mouth for one helpless thrust and then forced himself still. "Sherlock, get up here..." Stealing that violinist's hand off his hip, John wound their fingers together and used that grip to tug at him. "Sherlock, please, I need more of you than this..." His hips arched again to make his point. "I want you up here... with me. All of you."

Those lips released him long enough to press a smiling kiss to the edge of his hip. "What do you want, John? What can I give you?" Those gorgeous eyes locked onto his even as Sherlock's free hand curled around him with a knowing and delicious stroke. "What is it that you need?"

/And I'm the idiot? Who's the idiot here, Sherlock?\\ Long fingers tightened around him when he laughed. Sherlock did so love the sound of his voice. John gave him a low, desperate sound just to watch those beautiful eyes flutter and feel those hips rock against the mattress between his legs. /That's my boy, need me just a little more.\\

"You, Sherlock, just you, only you, all of you." He tugged on their joined hands, guiding him a few inches higher along his body. "What I want is you naked, you daft bastard. What you can give me is access, to touch you, every gorgeous inch. What I need is you, I need to show you who you belong to." Squeezing that hand, John pulled harder, dragging Sherlock closer up against his chest, almost close enough. "So, lose all your clothes and give me a kiss."

"I always want to kiss you, John." Suddenly Sherlock was off the bed and John could feel the chill in every lonely inch of his skin. The only reason it was at all okay was the heat in those gorgeous eyes as Sherlock stripped himself gloriously bare while standing just inches from the edge of the bed. "Every second of every day, at every crime scene. You're brilliantly distracting and I'll never get enough." Finally bare, Sherlock was brilliantly distracting, and way too far away.

"So come here and kiss me." Sherlock was almost close enough as he crawled back onto the bed to press a soft and gentle kiss onto his lips. So soft, so bloody warm. And not nearly enough to satisfy every desperately hungry nerve in John's body. His fingers clenched helplessly in that dark tangle of hair, deepening the kiss with a thrust of his tongue. Sherlock needed to know who he belonged with and John needed to imprint himself onto Sherlock's every nerve. Needed to make this amazing man melt under him, make him cry out in pleasure and cling with every inch of that gorgeous body.

And that wasn't about to happen as long as that long, lean body was the one on top. But Sherlock wasn't about to give up this kiss, clinging as John tried to pull back. "More, John... please."

He couldn't help a low, almost desperate chuckle. Sometimes Sherlock was truly an idiot. A nuclear emergency wouldn't, couldn't get him to stop now. The end of the world would just have to wait for John to finish claiming the hell out of his Sherlock. "You'll get more, you idiot. You'll get everything, all of me..." He paused just long enough to make sure that Sherlock was utterly focused in this exact moment, this overwhelming wealth of skin contact. Then John stroked the tips of two fingers down the entire length of Sherlock's spine to rest at the very last inch of vertebrae. "Every single inch of me, right where you want it. But first, I need you on your back with your hands on the headboard."

Sherlock went completely still before every inch of that body trembled against his. Long arms locked around him in the instant before the genius rolled to his back and took John with him. "Yes, John, yes, please..."

/That's my Sherlock, all mine, every gorgeous inch.\\ Not that a single word got out. His tongue was too busy with Sherlock's for any kind of speech to be possible.

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