Chapter Text
John had opened his eyes in several strange beds before this morning, but he'd never been woken by a criminal investigation on top of the covers before.
He lifted one hand to scrub through his hair and reached out to pick up a photograph from where it lay on his belly. It described what he assumed was a dead body from the single leg in the frame. He tilted it to the left but couldn't quite pick out which way up it should be. The photograph was plucked from his fingers, corrected and returned. John pushed himself up in bed to look at it properly.
"Lestrade rang, then?"
Sherlock grunted in acknowledgement and drew up the photographs into apparently random piles on the bed. He was at least still naked, the sheets pooled in his lap as he lifted each picture and looked more closely at the outlying evidence. John dropped the photograph to the sheets and tried to get an idea of what Sherlock was looking at. Death, it seemed, was very much for breakfast and John really did prefer tea.
"I thought we had plans this morning."
"We do," said Sherlock. "I was taking advantage of your sleeping habits."
"I was sleeping. It's not a habit, it's a biological necessity."
"As you say," said Sherlock and looked at the corner of a photograph that seemed no different to any of the five others that were similar. He drew up his magnifying glass and John rested back against the pillows.
"So?" asked John. "What's it all about then?"
Sherlock cleared his throat, reached for his phone and fired off a quick text. "Nothing," he said and smiled briefly. "It's dealt with."
He pushed the photographs from the bed and leaned over, long limbs wrapping round John as he kissed him soundly and made John's cheeks flush. John grinned as the man leaned back to check that he'd had the desired effect. He recognised the high colour at Sherlock's temples and the dilated pupils; John was quite aware that Sherlock's marriage to his work had its very own regular climax. He felt something of an illicit lover and the thrill that went with it made John very much aware he was naked and in bed with the beautiful man he'd chosen.
"How long've you been up?"
"I stayed in bed," said Sherlock pointedly. "I haven't left the flat."
"I really hope you already had these photos somewhere," said John. "You haven't had Lestrade stomping in here with that lot?"
"He sent them here," said Sherlock. "Last night. I didn't want to bother you while you were sleeping."
"That's serious consideration," grinned John and pushed Sherlock's hair back from his head. "I have to say, I prefer a cup of tea instead of a corpse if you're planning to wake me up."
"I thought you might have slept a little longer," said Sherlock. "I was planning something else."
"Bacon sandwich?"
"Not quite what I had in mind," said Sherlock and slipped back from John's arms. He edged back on the bed and drew away the covers from John's hips. Sherlock arched an eyebrow as he reached out to touch. "I didn't know crime solving had such an effect, John. You should have told me."
"It's the not the crime, you daft bugger," said John and caught his breath as he felt Sherlock's hand stroke over the length of his cock. "Really not the crime. You do look hot when you're concentrating."
"Hot?" asked Sherlock and leaned down, his mouth ghosting over the shaft of John's stiffening length. "I knew you appreciated genius."
"Oh yes," said John and closed his eyes as Sherlock's lips encircled the head of his cock. "God, yes."
Sherlock grinned against John's cock and sucked slowly, his mouth sliding down along the length of him until John groaned loudly. John clutched at Sherlock's hair, his fingers threading into dark curls until he could draw him in closer still. He loved having his cock sucked and Sherlock was clearly expert at this, as he was in everything he put his mind to. John lifted his hips, arching up into the mouth that seemed to swallow him whole and braced his feet on the mattress to get more. He was hungry, greedy for the contact and the warmth of Sherlock. John desperately wanted to come and watch Sherlock swallow. He wanted to watch Sherlock indulge in John just as much as he indulged in himself.
John felt the edge rush up against him and didn't pause as he gave into it. He came hard, feeling every last drop leave his body into the constant suck and swallow his lover gave him. John dropped back against the bed as the last of the orgasm claimed him and he moaned slowly, bottom lip caught in his teeth and his fingers flexed away from Sherlock's hair. He'd claimed a curl or two as he came, but Sherlock let John's cock slip free of his mouth and leaned up on the bed with a smile on his lips.
"You never say my name," said Sherlock and John blinked slowly as his brain processed the question. "You're so quiet."
"Used to trying to get away with it," sighed John and stroked Sherlock's jawline. "Not used to being allowed to yell."
"I don't think Mrs Hudson would like that," said Sherlock and chuckled at John's expression. "But you could say it. I'd like it if you said it."
John nodded and reached for Sherlock. He whispered Sherlock's name and was happy when the man leaned up and over him, his rangy body pressed against John's on the mattress. John stroked his fingertips over the back of Sherlock's neck and kissed him, his tongue stroking words in Sherlock's mouth. He groaned again and felt the insisted push of Sherlock's cock pressed to his thigh. John had spent time fucking and in turn being fucked and it seemed that coming once was nowhere near the end of the morning for him.
"Sherlock," he murmured against the man's ear. "Let's fuck."
"As amazing as you are, John," said Sherlock as he grinned against John's mouth. "I think you might need a few minutes."
"You don't," said John and Sherlock lifted his head to meet he good doctor's eyes. John reached down and gripped Sherlock firmly, his fingers sliding up and over the head to feel the slick pre-come there. "Fuck me."
Sherlock stared but didn't answer. He leaned in to kiss John before he slipped from the sheets and pulled hard on his bedside drawer. The contents spilled out, but Sherlock located the narrow bottle quickly and flipped the lid open. John watched eagerly as Sherlock slicked his fingertips over the hard length of his cock, every last delicious inch covered in the contents of the bottle.
John spread his thighs easily, one foot pressed up close to his bottom as he offered Sherlock easier access. He felt the delicate touch of Sherlock's fingers on his perineum and then the pressure as the detective pushed forward. John hissed out a hard breath as Sherlock slid his fingertip inside. He thought he was prepared for the sensation, but Sherlock appeared unwilling to pay attention to only one part of John at a time. John gasped as Sherlock's other hand stroked over his balls, the soft sac drawn up tight and sensitive under Sherlock's attention.
He squirmed on the bed, wriggling under Sherlock slightly until John could feel two long fingers nudging against the sensitive little gland buried inside him. He arched again, grin etched across his face as Sherlock leaned over him and drew his tongue over John's nipple. John giggled, ticklish and indulged. He stretched his arms out above his head, abandoning himself to whatever Sherlock wanted of him.
"This is brilliant," said John and sighed as he looked up at Sherlock. "I mean it. We can do this all the time."
"We're doing it now," said Sherlock and frowned at John's blissed out expression. "You do want to do this, John?"
"Oh yeah," said John and reached out, his fingertips sliding along the slick shaft of Sherlock's cock. "Yeah, I want to feel you fuck me."
"Excellent," said Sherlock and shifted on the bed. He drew his fingers back and John reached for Sherlock's hips, drawing him in close as the detective applied his talents to fucking John Watson. John could feel the slip and push, the heat that made him want to wriggle on the bed and the insistent buck of Sherlock's hips that pinned him still. John held his breath, bottom lip caught under his teeth as he watched Sherlock's face. The man was concentrating, holding back as he eased forward and inside John.
The burning ache beneath his balls made John tense up, but Sherlock relentlessly pressed forward, easing inside John as he leaned over him and pressed his mouth to John's own. John licked at Sherlock's mouth as he tried to move, to make it easier on himself. John pressed up, wanting to take every last inch of the man inside him. His cock twitched, not quite ready to grow hard but affected by the burn of being fucked. John arched against Sherlock as he felt the weight of Sherlock's cock sink past the tight ring of muscle and slide deeper inside.
John panted against the sheets and gripped harder, his hands at Sherlock's hips as he pulled. He'd never backed away from anything and if he chose to fight another war on the bed, then it would always be on his terms. He licked at Sherlock's mouth as the man braced himself and began to move. Each slow thrust burned, the slippery liquid smoothing the way, but John's body fought, succumbing in to Sherlock's demands with each rock of his hips. John's soul and heart had been Sherlock's for the taking, but his body was firmly under John's control and he gave it, fucking the man back as they clutched at each other on the mattress.
Sherlock moved eagerly, his control evident but worn hard as John's hands drew him in closer. He groaned as he rocked his hips and John held him firmly. They rolled on the bed, tied together by hands and cock and a gaze neither wanted to break. Each kiss promised more until Sherlock broke first, his hands grasping at John's back and buttocks as he thrusted harder. He fucked with abandon, his back arched as he spent himself inside John and at the point of orgasm, John thought Sherlock was never more a creature meant to indulge in every earthly pleasure.
Sherlock dropped down against John, face pressed up against his neck and his body shivering in the aftermath. John stroked a hand up and over Sherlock's back, and touched the dimple to the left of his spine. He grinned as Sherlock kissed his shoulder and then drew back carefully. John sighed as Sherlock slid free of him and let John have his body back again. John stretched out on the bed, his body his own once more, but his brain free to enjoy having seen Sherlock at his most vulnerable. He turned his head to watch Sherlock slow his breathing again and regain some semblance of control.
"Sherlock," he said and grinned when Sherlock looked back at him. "Thank you for staying in bed with me."
"We had plans."
"Still," said John. "Thank you. I don't like waking up alone."
"You usually walk out before they wake up."
"This is different," said John and shifted gingerly to his side. "If I was going to walk out I'd walk upstairs," he said and reached out to draw his thumb over Sherlock's jaw. "And you'd follow me."
"I don't like your bed," said Sherlock. "You need better sheets."
"You wouldn't follow me?"
"Of course I would," said Sherlock. "It's not always you catching up."
"Yes it is."
"All right, it is when we're on a case, but this is different."
"Because it's sex."
"Because we're a couple." Sherlock frowned and then shrugged at John. "And I enjoy your company. I don't like it when you're not here."
"That's fortunate," said John and rested against the sheets. "Because I intend to be a really good boyfriend."
"You've been mine for a while," said Sherlock. "All your girlfriends have said so."
"Yeah, well sometimes I'm slow," said John and grinned as Sherlock reached for his phone. "Sex before work?"
"Work, sex and now breakfast," said Sherlock and grinned at Lestrade's text. "And then work."
"Ah," said John as Sherlock climbed out of bed and grabbed for his trousers. "And then sex?"
"John Watson, you really are a demanding boyfriend," said Sherlock.
"Too much?"
"Never," grinned Sherlock and tossed John his dressing gown. "Get up, get the kettle on."
John laughed and shrugged his way into the slightly too tight robe. "I feel fucking amazing."
"Yes you do," said Sherlock and leaned over to kiss him. "And you're all mine."
"Hey," said John and kissed him back. "Behave, or I won't make you tea."
"That's blackmail."
John chuckled. "Absolutely." He grinned broadly. "Best thing about having a boyfriend."