Sherlock Holmes knew a great many things about his body. He knew he could stay awake for 73 hours, knew how long he could hold his breath both on land and underwater (1'58" maximum, with lung packing... it had provided him with an excellent motivation to quit smoking... and 3'28" submerged, due to a controlled mammalian diving reflex ), and knew that, in spite of his best efforts, writing produced with his left hand still looked visibly different than with his right. What he did not know, and in fact, never imagined he would have the opportunity to discover, was how long his refractory period was.
He wasn't sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing to have his body ready to go for another round so soon, and if his mind could keep up. John stopped for a moment, concerned. It was not surprising, given Sherlock's previous reaction to this particular act, but this was different. So very different.
"Talk to me, Sherlock. Tell me how it feels."
John's mouth was back on him and Sherlock struggled for speech. "J... Hhhuh...on." John vocalized his approval without removing his mouth and the vibrations elicited a shuddering breath and a sharp jerk of Sherlock's hips. "John. I ... I want you taste you, too. I want to have..." John stopped and kissed his way up his stomach and rested his hands on either side of his head.
"Well then..." John said, as he leaned in and kissed him deeply. Sherlock closed his eyes and his mind began its analysis. It was strange, knowing he was tasting himself, both of them, on John's tongue, and a bit shocking at first. Salty? Bitter? Surely diet would play a factor in... The analysis didn't last very long, because John was kissing him again, probing deeper, and Sherlock became more aware of texture, warmth, and more unquantifiable things. Sherlock kissed him back.
He began the process of overwriting all other kisses. John's previous kiss, from mere hours before, gone. He traveled backwards through time. Victor's, gone; Catherine's, gone; until there was but one sensation filed under 'kiss'. He hummed happily and entirely forgot to mention that this wasn't what he had intended when he had said he wanted to taste John. Well, there would be plenty of time for reciprocity.
John's mouth was perfect; his lips were soft, the pressure was firm. He captured Sherlock's lower lip between his teeth-- hard and soft... flawless-- and pulled back just slightly before releasing it. It was the most perfectly executed movement Sherlock had ever witnessed. Suddenly, Sherlock felt serious doubt. He hadn't even felt this much like a teenager when he was a teenager. He needed to do more. Needed to prove to John, to himself, that he could handle this. He nervously eyed John, who was still largely flaccid.
FILL 17/18 "Three" (Threesome fail)
He wasn't sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing to have his body ready to go for another round so soon, and if his mind could keep up. John stopped for a moment, concerned. It was not surprising, given Sherlock's previous reaction to this particular act, but this was different. So very different.
"Talk to me, Sherlock. Tell me how it feels."
John's mouth was back on him and Sherlock struggled for speech. "J... Hhhuh...on." John vocalized his approval without removing his mouth and the vibrations elicited a shuddering breath and a sharp jerk of Sherlock's hips. "John. I ... I want you taste you, too. I want to have..." John stopped and kissed his way up his stomach and rested his hands on either side of his head.
"Well then..." John said, as he leaned in and kissed him deeply. Sherlock closed his eyes and his mind began its analysis. It was strange, knowing he was tasting himself, both of them, on John's tongue, and a bit shocking at first. Salty? Bitter? Surely diet would play a factor in... The analysis didn't last very long, because John was kissing him again, probing deeper, and Sherlock became more aware of texture, warmth, and more unquantifiable things. Sherlock kissed him back.
He began the process of overwriting all other kisses. John's previous kiss, from mere hours before, gone. He traveled backwards through time. Victor's, gone; Catherine's, gone; until there was but one sensation filed under 'kiss'. He hummed happily and entirely forgot to mention that this wasn't what he had intended when he had said he wanted to taste John. Well, there would be plenty of time for reciprocity.
John's mouth was perfect; his lips were soft, the pressure was firm. He captured Sherlock's lower lip between his teeth-- hard and soft... flawless-- and pulled back just slightly before releasing it. It was the most perfectly executed movement Sherlock had ever witnessed. Suddenly, Sherlock felt serious doubt. He hadn't even felt this much like a teenager when he was a teenager. He needed to do more. Needed to prove to John, to himself, that he could handle this. He nervously eyed John, who was still largely flaccid.