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Guilty Pleasures	By : CodyMThomas Category: S through Z > Sherlock (BBC) > Sherlock (BBC) Views: 8167 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or content associated with BBC Sherlock, I am merely playing with them for my own amusement and make no money from this fic

Chapter List
- 1-Guilty Pleasures
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-9
- 10-10
- 11-11
- 12-Chapter 12
- 13-13
- 3
- 4
- 5
The arms are warm and safe and absolutely glorious around his shoulders. Sherlock buries his face into John's jumper and just breathes in the man's scent. This is it, this is what he loves most about his Noble Soldier, when the warmth from his hands and arms seeps through into his skin and he is surrounded with the scent of John. When he can feel all of that strength contained in a frame that shouldn't be able to hold a fraction of it, and that strength is holding onto him, it makes Sherlock feel invincible.
When John's entire focus is on him, it becomes his drug, and he can't ever get enough of John. He knows he can't, and he doesn't want to. Maybe this is love, maybe this is the madness that poets and lovers have written about for millenia that he always used to scoff at. If it is, then he's okay with it, he understands, he finally knows WHY it can drive people mad, or sane, or both at the same time and they accept it. He wouldn't mind it either if it means he gets to keep this.
"Do you still love me John?" And he knows the answer, of course he knows the answer. John is an open book, who has always worn his heart on his sleeve, but still, there is something about the man saying it that he can never hear enough of. Those fingers card through his hair, gently massaging his scalp, and warm lips press against the top of his head as his John holds him tight.
"Yes." John murmurs against his hair, "Yes I do." The words filled with such certainty that there isn't room for an atom of doubt.
"Show me." He says, and knows that John will not refuse him.
Sherlock is led, gently and without rush, back to his bedroom. John lays him out on the bed like a priceless treasure and feathers kisses all along his forehead and face, and Sherlock wastes no time in unbuttoning his shirt so he can be touched more. Fingers and lips, both incredibly tender and worshipful, travel over every new expanse of flesh revealed. If he could melt, Sherlock knows he'd be doing it now. He's held close and wrapped up in all of John's attention and affection and... and he just wants more of it, all of it, he never wants it to stop, because this, this is a fix that won't kill him, or run out, or leave him a twitching mess wracked in the pains of withdrawal. This is a drug that makes him more, makes him better, makes him strive to try, to want to be something even better than what he is, to become someone who glows just as brightly as John glows. Sherlock has always been an addict, and John is a drug he refuses to fight. The man gives him a high that nothing else compares to, and he's never going to let it go.
It's no wonder he gets aroused, it's John, of course he does. And Sherlock guides John's hand down to palm him through his pajama bottoms. The man is hesitant for all of two seconds before he slips his hand inside and takes what Sherlock wants him to have. Neither of them even notice that the first sound Sherlock makes is actually one of pain from his bruised hips being touched. Warmth and strength and John are wrapped around him and yes it's so glorious, wonderful, perfect, there aren't enough adjectives in the world to describe it.
He doesn't even notice until pain mixes with the pleasure and somehow makes it even better, that John is kissing and licking at the marks on his hips and Sherlock arches, head spinning. It takes ages for John to literally cover every inch of his body with tender strokes and gentle lips, and by the end of it Sherlock is so close to crying that he's had to cover his eyes with the crook of his arm. There isn't a spot on him that hasn't been absolutely loved by John, and he's hard as marble and yet even as John takes his cock into that skillful hand and with a few strokes has Sherlock cumming so hard the edges of his vision blank out, cumming isn't the best part.
In fact it barely compares to the feeling of being drained of all his energy, all his will, and even his thoughts are completely silent for a few blessed moments. It's at the point when Sherlock knows that John understands he is completely, absolutely, and totally helpless before him, and John, with a few words could do anything to him, could break past all of his barriers, destroy him utterly, could change him however it suited him to do so and Sherlock would never be able to protest once it's done, that's when John, his Noble Soldier, pulls him back up into his arms, holds him against his chest, and wraps the duvet around both of them tightly.
No abuser in the world would pass up that kind of opportunity, and it's just further proof of his belief in John when the Brave Doctor just holds him, cards his fingers through his hair, and doesn't speak, merely places a few kisses against his hair. John says nothing, does nothing, until Sherlock is in control of himself once more. That's the best part, when he knows utterly and without the slightest doubt, that John cares for him exactly as he is, and that even when given the power to do so, there is nothing he would truly change about Sherlock. There is no force on earth strong enough to make him give this up.
- 3
- 4
- 5
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Guilty Pleasures