"Well, off hand, I'd guess you are wondering if I'm expecting another go, since you're eyeing me and you think I'm out to reclaim you in the name of John Watson." Sherlock had intended to be scornfully dismissive at John's attempt to read his mind, but was quite surprised to find he was entirely correct.
"I can, if you want. The rest of me is good to go, but anything involving my cock is going to have to wait another 20 to 30 minutes; I'm obviously pretty sated. And, impressively, you're not." Sherlock turned away at this statement.
"Oh. Now you're wondering if that is really a good thing. Well, it gives you options, so of course it is. But, what your body does is not necessarily what your mind wants, so... how about it? I don't need to reclaim you, you see. I never lost you. Did you delete it already? The first time I touched you? The first time I kissed you?"
"No. It doesn't work like that. I don't erase it. I just- choose not to save it where I can access it easily. It's stored somewhere else."
"You can talk to me. You can tell me what happened."
Sherlock hesitated. "No need. It doesn't serve a purpose to discuss it since this particular set of circumstances is a one-time occurrence."
"But, maybe we can get in the habit of... discussing things?"
Sherlock kept it curt. "Too much Mary." He found it embarrassing to say more, and it annoyed him that he was embarrassed. Sex does not alarm me. And it didn't. He had no moral qualms about anyone having as much sex as they wanted with as many people as they wanted. Separately. Together. With accessories. Of course, with Mary, he had good reason not to be trusting, but it occurred to him that maybe John would always want a woman, too. Someone more trustworthy, of course, but maybe he'd want this again.
"I can't do this, John." John was working hard not to jump to conclusions about what "this" meant. He bit his lip to remind him to keep his mouth shut.
"I know people would think I must be disconnected from my body to not have had any sort of sexual relationship for so long. That I must reject the physical plane somehow, or punish myself by strictly controlling sexual release or prohibiting pleasurable rewards. But, in actuality, my body and my mind are entirely too connected. My mind is supreme, my entire body a mere appendix... but that doesn't mean it is utterly useless, only subordinate. My body is the vehicle through which my mind expresses itself, and this time it was... too connected to my mind. I can't offer it to just anyone. Not Mary, certainly, but- not just anyone else either. Just. You." Sherlock frowned and avoided John's questioning gaze.
"And this upsets you?"
"It's childish," he mumbled, running his fingers through his curls while eyeing the weave of the sheet.
"And wanting to go slower? Is that childish?"
This time he met John's gaze, his confidence reestablished by determination to shift away from nebulous emotions to more concrete matters. "I want to try many things. I want to process them all. See what works. Quantify it."
John shook his head and smiled. "Doesn't sound at all childish. Sounds... well, that bit sounds very good, actually." His eyebrows shot up and his smile broadened. Sherlock was transfixed by the little wrinkles that appeared at the edges of his eyes. Smiles lines, they were called. They were fascinating. "And I suppose you wish to line your investigation up with the scientific method?"
"Since I can't rely on replication, I will need increased levels of repetition. For example, kissing."
"Anything for science," John whispered in his ear as he made his way back to his mouth for additional research.
FILL 18/18 END "Three" (Threesome fail)
"My turn to deduce, then, Sherlock?"
Sherlock huffed.
"Well, off hand, I'd guess you are wondering if I'm expecting another go, since you're eyeing me and you think I'm out to reclaim you in the name of John Watson." Sherlock had intended to be scornfully dismissive at John's attempt to read his mind, but was quite surprised to find he was entirely correct.
"I can, if you want. The rest of me is good to go, but anything involving my cock is going to have to wait another 20 to 30 minutes; I'm obviously pretty sated. And, impressively, you're not." Sherlock turned away at this statement.
"Oh. Now you're wondering if that is really a good thing. Well, it gives you options, so of course it is. But, what your body does is not necessarily what your mind wants, so... how about it? I don't need to reclaim you, you see. I never lost you. Did you delete it already? The first time I touched you? The first time I kissed you?"
"No. It doesn't work like that. I don't erase it. I just- choose not to save it where I can access it easily. It's stored somewhere else."
"You can talk to me. You can tell me what happened."
Sherlock hesitated. "No need. It doesn't serve a purpose to discuss it since this particular set of circumstances is a one-time occurrence."
"But, maybe we can get in the habit of... discussing things?"
Sherlock kept it curt. "Too much Mary." He found it embarrassing to say more, and it annoyed him that he was embarrassed. Sex does not alarm me. And it didn't. He had no moral qualms about anyone having as much sex as they wanted with as many people as they wanted. Separately. Together. With accessories. Of course, with Mary, he had good reason not to be trusting, but it occurred to him that maybe John would always want a woman, too. Someone more trustworthy, of course, but maybe he'd want this again.
"I can't do this, John." John was working hard not to jump to conclusions about what "this" meant. He bit his lip to remind him to keep his mouth shut.
"I know people would think I must be disconnected from my body to not have had any sort of sexual relationship for so long. That I must reject the physical plane somehow, or punish myself by strictly controlling sexual release or prohibiting pleasurable rewards. But, in actuality, my body and my mind are entirely too connected. My mind is supreme, my entire body a mere appendix... but that doesn't mean it is utterly useless, only subordinate. My body is the vehicle through which my mind expresses itself, and this time it was... too connected to my mind. I can't offer it to just anyone. Not Mary, certainly, but- not just anyone else either. Just. You." Sherlock frowned and avoided John's questioning gaze.
"And this upsets you?"
"It's childish," he mumbled, running his fingers through his curls while eyeing the weave of the sheet.
"And wanting to go slower? Is that childish?"
This time he met John's gaze, his confidence reestablished by determination to shift away from nebulous emotions to more concrete matters. "I want to try many things. I want to process them all. See what works. Quantify it."
John shook his head and smiled. "Doesn't sound at all childish. Sounds... well, that bit sounds very good, actually." His eyebrows shot up and his smile broadened. Sherlock was transfixed by the little wrinkles that appeared at the edges of his eyes. Smiles lines, they were called. They were fascinating. "And I suppose you wish to line your investigation up with the scientific method?"
"Since I can't rely on replication, I will need increased levels of repetition. For example, kissing."
"Anything for science," John whispered in his ear as he made his way back to his mouth for additional research.