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A Bit Worse	By : VulpineBeesKnees Category: S through Z > Sherlock (BBC) > Sherlock (BBC) Views: 2624 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Chapter List
- 13
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- 15
“Tell me what to do.”
Sherlock closed his eyes so John couldn't see how much it ripped him apart to hear those words. He took a deep breath and motioned to the bottled water that had been left on the table from the Christmas party.
"You'll want to mix just enough water to fill the spoon once the powder is in there." He took the spoon and measured out a little of the powder, considerably less than the amount he'd used with Moriarty then handed the spoon to John.
"From there you'll stir it with the toothpick and draw it up into the syringe." He looked up at John then, his eyes clear and sharp, "You know the rest from there." One hand, his uninjured one, left the armrest and touched John's hip, a comforting but stable pressure emitting through his fingers.
"You don't have to do this..." He whispered finally.
John had finished stirring the solvent and was drawing it up into the syringe. Head was bowed in concentration, only his eyes flicked up to look at Sherlock.
Setting everything but the syringe to the side he ran his free hand up Sherlock’s arm, tracing the still visible track lines until he came to the crook of his elbow. Horrible as it was, this was a part of Sherlock now, and the time to argue about it was over.
Running his thumb over the vein John looked back at Sherlock, their eyes locked. Of course
Sherlock understood, he always understood everything. "I really do though. If this is the last thing I can do for you, I need to be the one to do it."
His eyes left Sherlocks long enough to make sure he wasn't missing his mark as the needle broke through the pale white skin, and then they were focused back on Sherlocks as he gently pulled the needle away.
Sherlock felt the flat go fuzzy after a few moments, but John stood there, the only part of his world in focus. He looked up at the doctor then, and suddenly all the want and need of the past three years and the past two weeks crashed into him, spurring him into motion.
The hand that had been on John's hip had fallen back to the chair while the man had administered the drug, but now both hands shot to grip his hips, pulling them forward so that the blonde was straddling Sherlock's lap. There was room for the man's knees around the detective's thin frame, and he reached up, one threading into the short military cut, the other cupping his face.
"John..." He breathed, and then even that small space was too far. He pulled the soldier into himself, crushing their lips together in a needy gesture. His mouth was hungry as he pressed against the solid man in his lap. He'd never felt more addicted to something in his life as he did now. The taste of John’s lips was enough to stop his heart prematurely.
If John had been startled, he didn't show it. He was quickly pressing his knees into the back of the seat, forcing their bodies closer. He couldn't get enough.
His hands roamed down the detectives chest unbuttoning the flannel shirt as he went. Pulling his mouth away from Sherlock’s, he bowed forward, pressing their foreheads together. John was breathing heavily, his eyes still closed as he pushed the shirt back off Sherlock’s shoulders, dropping it to the floor once he'd slipped it off the detective.
Sitting back John ran his hand through Sherlock’s hair and down to the back of his neck. Lacing his fingers through the hair there before dipping back down, slower this time. He paused, his lips just brushing against Sherlock’s, their breath mingled and John had never found any sensation so arousing.
"I'm sorry I didn't let us have this before." Their lips brushed as he whispered softly. All he wanted now was to explore every bit of Sherlock’s body. John was desperate to give everything he could in the little time they had.
"What did I tell you about apologies? Honestly John, do keep up..." He tried to be calm as he connected their lips again, but as the chemicals burrowed deeper through his veins, he became more agitated and insistent. Hands slipped down to the doctor's waist, tipping his hips forward.
Cool fingers skittered up beneath John’s shirt, left hand playing Chopin on his ribs, right hand hesitantly scoping out the edges of the starburst scar where the bullet had exited that tanned flesh. They danced and flitted over John's warm skin.
Warm lips drifted downwards over the line of John's jaw, up to his ear and back down his throat where a row of pearly white teeth nipped at his collar bones. Then the detective stilled and pulled away, as if seeing the fading hickeys for the first time.
"I'll erase every trace of her on you and replace it with my own..." He growled, his normal baritone deeper and huskier than usual.l
Suddenly, with the right leverage, Sherlock pushed them both from the chair, standing, his arms beneath the soldiers thighs. John wasn't light, but the drugs coursing through him made him feel almost invincible in that moment.
John wrapped his arms around the thin shoulders, only slightly surprised by the random bout of strength. Starting at Sherlock’s ear he worked his way down to his collarbone, nipping softly at the skin as he went. His words were almost lost as be breathed them out heavily against the mans elegant neck. “I know... Only you…”
He worked his way back up, and their lips quickly found each other again. John sucked softly at Sherlock’s bottom lip and deepened the kiss, before letting out a soft moan. One hand cupped the back of Sherlock’s neck holding them close together while the other desperately grasped at his back, leaving light marks across the delicate skin.
Sherlock groaned heartily into the other's mouth, his fingertips gripping the man's thighs harder than he meant to, before letting John’s feet find the floor. Everything was painfully out of focus now as he moved, pulling John to his room. Something in the back of his mind nagged that in the two weeks he'd been home John had slept in there every night and had even moved his clothes. No, this room at one point had become theirs.
He quickly pushed John forward, laying him out on the bed. Sherlock looked down at the smaller man and felt desire coil in the pit of his stomach. Without a moments thought, he slid one knee between the blonde's and let his hands slide over John's pectoral muscles. His fingertips were light as they moved down his arms, but when they reached his wrists his eyes found the purple marks on the doctor's chest once more, and something feral was opened inside of him.
With a low growl, he pulled the man's hands above his head, holding them there gently as he lowered his head to bite his way down the tanned throat, hard enough to leave marks until he reached the fading bruises left behind by the late Mary Morstan.
"Mine." Sherlock growled before latching onto the sensitive skin with urgent teeth and hungry lips.
John’s back arched as his body desperately attempted to get closer, to find more contact. "God yes Sherlock. All yours." John moaned the words like it was a mantra, "Always been yours." They were both desperate to prove it to each other, that all of this hadn’t been for naught.
He writhed listlessly under the detectives hold. Sherlock was stronger right now thanks to the drugs, John knew that. It probably should have hurt both of them, all the damage that had been done, but between the drugs and desperation neither man seemed to care. He wanted Sherlock to mark him in every way possible, he didn't want to look at the scars and bruises and think of anyone else, only Sherlock.
Wrapping his leg up around Sherlock’s hip he pulled him closer, their bodies flush once again.    Johns hips rose instinctually as he arched his neck, guiding Sherlock to a particularly sensitive spot on his collarbone. He was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath as Johns hips rolled up into Sherlock’s once again.
It was as if the detective had forgotten that part of his body and John had just acquainted him with it. His own hips bore down on the smaller man causing a delicious spark of pleasure at the center of Sherlock's arousal. He made a noise that sounded a little triumphant as the fading bruise was now bright red. It would be a delightful mixture of green and purple by the morning. He tried not to think of the fact that he wouldn’t see that.
Sherlock ignored the pulsing burn in his injured fingers as he shifted his grip so that both of John’s wrists were held by one hand while his good hand traveled down the soldier's side. Long fingers slipped easily into the back of the dark jeans and gripped one supple cheek as he laid claim to the other side of John's chest.
When it was as red and swollen as the first side, his kisses began traveling down John’s taut stomach smattered with golden hair. Teeth and tongue were abundant in his journey, and he finally released the other's hands as his own found a more suitable purpose, unbuttoning jeans and tugging at the zip.
Sherlock had done a few things with both men and women. He knew the mechanics, had gleaned how to be at least moderately proficient at giving pleasure to his partner. He himself had remained detached, but this was different.
Growling again darkly, he tugged the jeans and pants down John's hips, leaving John completely naked before him. A sure hand reached for the base of his cock as a hungry mouth gave one long lick up the entire length before encasing the head in the velvet heat of his mouth.
Sherlock knew John had never done anything like this before, he'd also been prepared since that first night he'd realized he wanted this. Although the desperation and need was coursing through his veins like the need for his next hit, he knew he had to ease John into it, at least a little.
A shiver ran through his body, drawing a moan from the detective, vibrating his lips around the sensitive member in his mouth.
The soft vibrations caused Johns good hand to find hold in Sherlock’s hair. Chancing a glance down he let out a soft moan at the sight. He'd had blow jobs before, but not like this, not from a man. The fact that it was almost taboo in a way made it all the more exciting, and it was almost enough to make him forget how little time they had.
Propping himself up on one arm he watched with heavy lidded eyes.   John had never considered how gorgeous Sherlock’s mouth was, but now, with his pronounced cupids bow wrapped around him, it was all he could think about. His hand carded through the soft curls that were already reemerging.
The green eyes flitted up, catching John's and he was undone. Falling back to the mattress with a soft thud Johns breathing picked up. He was vaguely aware that words were falling from his lips, but he wasn't entirely sure what he was saying.
He repeated the detectives name, his voice heavy with lust. "You're so bloody perfect Sherlock." Too many people had tried to convince Sherlock otherwise, he had to know that.
As heat and desire coiled in the pit of his stomach Johns eyes fell closed, all thought was lost. He felt like a ruddy teenager, driven by hormones and lust. He could feel his jaw quivering slightly, tears threatening to spill over despite himself.
Between the gorgeous heat from Sherlock’s mouth and the enthusiastic motions, as Sherlock bobbed up and down taking in almost the whole shaft, his tongue working at the head expertly, John was finding himself embarrassingly close to coming. Tugging softly on the detectives hair he guided him back up until they were face to face again, their lips crashing together greedily. His good hand roamed down Sherlock’s side until he found the waistband of his jeans. Tentatively he hooked a thumb under the material on the inside of his hip as his fingers brushed at the button.
John wasn't sure if he was asking for permission or guidance. Honestly it was probably a bit of both.
Sherlock let one hand come down to cover John's hesitant one. With guiding fingers, he helped the smaller man undo his now too tight jeans and tugged at the zip hurriedly. It felt so new and scandalous as he half laced his fingers with John's and guided them inside to lift the throbbing center of his need out of their restrictions.
Curling John's fingers over the sensitive flesh he let a moan spill into the doctor's mouth, and nipped at his lips affectionately. Once the hand on his member was no longer hesitant, he shifted slightly so that he could reach into his bedside table. He pulled out a bottle of slick liquid and when the strokes on his normally forgotten member grew almost too much, he pushed the hand away gently, and moved so that he was looking down into John's eyes as hands pulled both sets of jeans off completely.
"I want to be inside you... Will you give me that John?"
John’s eyes widened, slightly taken aback by the request. Of course he'd known that was where they were headed, but to hear the request so outright set his nerves of fire.
Biting his bottom lip, John nodded. He wanted to give Sherlock everything. Attempting to still his ragged breaths he focused on the eyes boring down into him. They were still blown wide from the drugs, but there was something else too. Sherlock was concerned, cautiously treading forward so as to not scare him off.
John wanted to be with Sherlock, and finally there was no fear as to what that made him. All that mattered was here and now, and for once he wasn’t running away
His breath a little more steady he nodded again, "Yes." John managed to sound sure and resolute, even with his voice thick with lust.
- 13
- 14
- 15
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A Bit Worse