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Sherlock is squirming beneath him and John pushes his finger deeper inside him, making sure not to touch his prostate. He needs to make this last, to make Sherlock lose control entirely, to see him come undone under his touch. John loves him like this, craves him like this.
“John, please.”
Sherlock’s eyelids are fluttering closed as John adds a third finger, stretching him slowly, just how Sherlock likes it. He’s already close, his cock leaking on his stomach, but he makes no move to touch it, and it’s driving John made with desire, knowing Sherlock is waiting for him. John pushes Sherlock's legs higher on the bed, both of his feet planted on the sheets, as he settles between his thighs. Sherlock is staring down at him, teeth biting at his lower lip and John can’t look away. Sherlock is breathtaking.
John reaches for the bottle of lube, keeping his eyes fixed on Sherlock’s as he pours some on his fingers, lubing himself quickly. He leans down, kissing the corner of Sherlock’s mouth, his full lower lip before sliding his tongue inside his mouth, swallowing down Sherlock’s gasp. John takes himself in hand, rubbing the head of his cock along Sherlock’s cleft before pushing in slightly, barely breaching Sherlock open.
“John!”
“You feel so good,” John pants, thrusting inside him slowly, “Fuck, Sherlock.”
“Yes, yes.”
John tugs Sherlock’s knees up, Sherlock automatically locking both legs around his waist, and John begins to drive into him. He can feel Sherlock’s muscles contracting around him, his heels digging into his lower back, fingers leaving marks on his shoulder and John has never felt more aroused in his life. He can’t believe he’s actually making love to Sherlock, after all these years of dreaming about it.
“Christ, Sherlock.”
His moans are echoing in the room, the sound of their bodies coming together filling John’s head. He grips at Sherlock’s thighs and pounds into him faster. Sherlock is whimpering under him, head thrown back, neck offered and John bends down, lips aiming for the skin he knows is warm and tender there. He let his mouth ravish it, tongue licking and lips sucki-
“John, god.”
John snaps awake, his every sense on alert as he takes in the dark room, unknown. A hotel room. They’re here for a case, hadn’t planned to spend the night and ended up sharing a room. No, sharing a bed. Suddenly John is very much aware of his own hand closed around his hard cock and the ragged breathing next to him. Closing his eyes for the briefest second, John dares to turn his head just enough to confirm what he already knows.
Sherlock, on his side, watching him.
But not only. John barely manages to hold back a moan at the sight of Sherlock’s hand down his pajama pants, and his obvious erection hidden underneath, the covers apparently forgotten at the bottom of the large bed. Sherlock’s eyes are fixed on him, his mouth tightly shut and it seems as if his entire body has frozen. John can’t seem to move either, the images of Sherlock’s naked body beneath him still running through his head. He can’t exactly say how many times he has had dreams like this one before. Too many if you ask him.
His cock is still rock hard in his hand, the bare hunger in Sherlock’s eyes making his belly feel warm, so very warm with desire. Sherlock is making no sign of moving either, the muscles of his throat working slowly as he swallows, his tongue darting out for a second to lick at his lower lip and John’s eyes follow the movement, pure want running through him.
WIthout breaking eye contact, John rolls to his side slowly. Sherlock’s breath catches, loud in the silent room, and John represses a moan. He’s not thinking properly, or else he wouldn’t be considering this. Sherlock’s eyes flutter closed for a second as John settles on his side before staring back at him.
John tugs on his cock slowly, eyes not leaving Sherlock’s and a quiet moan escapes Sherlock’s mouth, echoing in the room.
“Fuck,” John gasps, heat pooling down his abdomen as his cock hardens further in his hand.
Sherlock is still not moving, eyes traveling down John’s body only to stop at his crotch. John’s hips thrust up of their own violation, Sherlock’s stares making his skin burn. He wants to remove his pants, to let his cock spring free and stroke himself to orgasm with Sherlock watching. God, he wants-
“Hmm.”
John’s hand stops as Sherlock’s starts to slide up and down his own shaft.
“Oh, god,” John growls, stroking himself from base to tip.
Sherlock is matching his rhythm to his, and John is deliberately going slow as the most delicious, lustful sounds come out of Sherlock’s throat. John lets go of his cock, already dangerously close, and runs his palm along his length, fingers fondling with his balls. He arches his back, hips thrusting forwards as his thumb caress at his head. Sherlock’s breathing is filling the room again, ragged and broken, and John has never heard anything more arousing. He wants to make it his, to take these tempting lips between his own and swallow every moan and whimper coming out of Sherlock.
“John.”
John focuses back on Sherlock’s figure in front of him. His hand is moving faster inside his pants now, the head peeking out from the waistband and John’s mouth waters. The urge to see more of Sherlock almost overwhelms him and he quickly slides his pants down until they’re resting around his ankles, Sherlock’s loud moan making his cock throb in his hand.
“You,” John whispers, fisting his cock but not moving until Sherlock is also getting rid of his pajama pants.
Sherlock’s cock is gorgeous, lean and hard, and John wants to know the exact feeling of it in his hand, in his mouth, against his own erection.
“John,” Sherlock pants, teeth biting at his lower lip as he glances down at John’s groin.
“Yes,” John moans, thrusting into his fist, “yes.”
Sherlock is miming his action, his large hand closed around his cock, and John can’t look away. His own cock is impressively hard now, precome driping on his fingers with each thrust, and John licks his lips as a loud whimper escapes Sherlock. John’s balls tighten, a sudden spike of pleasure running through his body and he slows his thrusts, not wanting the moment to end. For all he knows, this could be the only time he’ll come so close to having Sherlock. John needs this to last, he needs to remember everything, he needs-
Before he can think properly, John is shifting closer, heart pounding in his chest and his head spinning. Sherlock meets him in the middle, their bodies collapsing against one another, and John can’t barely register the exact feeling of Sherlock’s body against his own, Sherlock’s lips crashing against his own. Sherlock’s lips are firm, plush against his, and John moans into the kiss, the sound low in his throat as Sherlock’s lips part slightly. John pushes his tongue in, licking at the upper lip before sliding the tip of his tongue against Sherlock’s.
John gets lost into the kiss entirely, letting go of his cock to roll Sherlock onto his back, settling between his legs quickly. Sherlock’s own hands are running up and down his back, gripping at his shirt and tugging as John deepens the kiss.
“Oh, John!” Sherlock cries out, throwing his head back when John presses their groins together.
John slides Sherlock’s shirt up and over his head quickly, lips kissing at the revealed skin. Sherlock is writhing under him, both hands on John’s head as he holds it pressed against his chest when John begins to suck at his nipple. John pulls Sherlock’s left knee higher, forcing Sherlock to spread his legs wider as he locks one leg around John’s waist, the pressure against their erections making them both moan.
“John, please,” Sherlock pants, tugging at his shirt again and John straightens up to remove it.
He takes a moment to stare down at Sherlock under him, his eyes wide and his lips swollen. John is certain he has never seen anything more beautiful.
“John?”
John rocks his hips lightly, Sherlock’s eyelids fluttering closed, “Yes, yes.”
He lowers himself back onto Sherlock, capturing his mouth again as they settle into a rhythmic pace, moving together. Sherlock’s erection is hot against his, and John marvels at the sensation. John drags his hands up Sherlock’s side, shoulder and neck before threading his fingers inside his curls, tugging just enough for Sherlock to whimper into their kiss, body arching underneath John. John circles his hips, seeking more contact and Sherlock takes a shuddered breath against his lips.
“John, please.”
John grinds them together more firmly, feeling the first tremor of his orgasm low in his belly. Sherlock is thrusting up against him, nails digging into his lower back. They’re all but panting against each other’s mouths now, John rubbing his nose along Sherlock’s with each thrust.
“Oh fuck, Sherlock,” John moans as Sherlock grabs at his arse, pressing them even more closer together.
“John, I’m-”
Sherlock goes still under him, his body arching against John as he comes between their joined stomachs. John watches in awe, and only needs to thrust once, twice more before he’s coming too, his entire body shivering as he collapses on top of Sherlock. John isn’t sure how long they stay like this, Sherlock’s hands still on his back and John’s lips pressed against his neck, but he finds himself hoping he could fall back asleep right where he is.
“John, I-” Sherlock whispers before stopping, and John can feel him shiver against him.
“I’ll clean us up,” John says, reaching for his shirt on the other side of the bed.
He reluctantly removes himself from Sherlock's body, swiping their mixed semen from their belly quickly before throwing the shirt on the floor. John hesitates for a second before rolling next to Sherlock. They aren’t touching anymore and John can feel his heart sink inside his chest. It can’t end like this, he can’t fall asleep without knowing.
Allowing himself a second to breathe in slowly, John slides his hand towards Sherlock, resting between them, and laces their fingers together without a word. Warm relief runs through him as Sherlock squeezes his hand back, and John dares to look at him. Sherlock’s eyes are fixed on him, and despite the darkness, John can discern the hope laying there. He brings their joined hands to his lips, kissing Sherlock’s knuckles softly.
“John,” Sherlock murmurs before rolling to his side again.
John lets go of his hand only to welcome him into his arms, Sherlock nuzzling his head against his neck and tangling their legs together. John closes his arms around him, nose buried in his curls, and breathes him in. They need to pull the covers back over them or they’ll end up waking up shivering, but John doesn’t move. He doesn’t care. He’ll be waking with Sherlock in his arms.