Title: You and me Together in Denial
Rating: R -NC17
Summary: John has broken up with yet another girlfriend but won't say why. Of course Sherlock investigates.
Warnings: angst, Sherlock being Sherlock.
Disclaimer: The whole concept of Sherlock © the awesomeness that is Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and developed by Mark Gatiss & Steven Moffatt, don’t sue because the contents of my bank account is only worth about a third of the amount in European currency. Plot mostly based on fiction…i.e not real….but a girl can wish<3 Title © End of Fashion.
Author Notes: My first time writing as Sherlock, hope it's not too OOC. Concrit appreciated and comments = Johnlock PWP <3
It was always a curious case....watching John participate in what he liked to label as a social life with any woman who flashed a glance in his direction. I was no stranger to being surrounded by male individuals who were constantly dating those kinds of women but in the past I have never seen it as any of my business. I mean if they wanted to waste their potential on someone of the female gender in whatever aspect they so chose, then that was their right. But what didn’t seem right was the amount of women that John seemed to use; there gradually arose a pattern which someone like me can see so easily if they choose to look. I’d note it in every eventuality but never pay it much heed. I didn’t want to upset John and that was something I had grown to realise about John since we had started to flat together, where I was concerned any number of things could upset him. Not doing the washing up upset him, not keeping the kitchen clean enough for him to make dinner for his girlfriend upset him, hacking his laptop when mine was all the way in my room upset him, shooting at the wall when boredom plagued me upset him...and the list went on and on. I wouldn’t always steer clear of these specific things as you would assume....after all being a consulting detective is busy work at the best of times.
But back to John’s dating behaviour. He would come back from somewhere, often work, the supermarket or St Barts and he’d have a number written on his hand. He’d make a date with the girl and spend the next week fretting about the date in question wanting to make a good impression. He’d make the good impression once he stopped fretting and then speak about nothing but her pointedly as though trying to hint that if I were a normal individual.....god forbid that I would ever be one of those.....I would be asking him about this woman and pretending that I actually cared. Even if I didn’t he’d still drop hints about her in conversation which I’d merely roll my eyes at and change the subject which seemed to be another thing that also upset him. By the third week he’d been spending all nights out with the woman in question....he’d maintain he was sleeping on the couch but I am nowhere near gullible enough to believe that to be the truth. It would be quiet around the flat without all his prattling on about Tina, Diane or Helen. But of course by the fourth week he would be quiet about the woman in question....he would be back in his own bed....wouldn’t be leaving for dates....and then he would tell me on the nights I would let him drag me to local public houses for the sake of getting him out the strop or circle of pain whatever you want to label it he’d tell me he’d broken up with her. I’d fain a sense of sincere lament to help him get the woman out of his system and by the time the pub closed he’d be over her and looking for someone else.
So when he started to date Sarah and it lasted longer than the usual four weeks a sense of curiosity seemed to lurk around me. Why it was that she was so different compared to the others even after the first date which had definitely not been one of his best. I tried to let it go, focus on work Lestrade was passing to me but John seemed to be finally working himself into a proper relationship which I honestly didn’t know how to feel about. I was used to the deadly cycle but for him to actually find someone willing to stick it out with him was something new....that I wasn’t sure if even he knew how to react to. Still work helped to push the situation and curiosity to the back of my mind and it wasn’t until they had been together a total of six months that I began to question him as to why he had pulled himself out of his usual pattern. He couldn’t seem to come up with a response that satisfied me and when I got to my most demanding in relation to the subject he would grab his coat and maintain he was going to stay at Sarah’s.
Though as he made the long stretch into eight month territory I noticed he started to act like he did in his fourth weeks previously and it was worrying. Yet he hadn’t done the usual ritual of telling me he’d dumped her yet telling me something else in the pattern had changed which nagged at me. By the time he reached the third week of still acting in the fourth phrase of his usual pattern I needed to know what was going on....desperately to the point it was driving me to utter madness.
The night I decided to ask him John was late home from the surgery after not responding to any of my texts about the current case at hand or turning up when I hung my usual bait in front of his nose. I was about to actually try an experiment myself in relation to the actual sell buy date on pickled onions if they were stored constantly in a microwave, comparing them to a murderer who liked to remove eyeballs and put their previous victim’s eyeballs in the new victim’s sockets, when he appeared looking worn out. I paused from putting the whole jar into the microwave and set them back in the fridge, another experiment for another day.
I heard him sigh as he put his brief case on the table amongst all my case notes and sink into the chair; I noticed he was using his walking stick again, never a good sign at the best of times. I leaned against the doorframe as I watched him lean his walking stick against the wall and grab one of the newspapers I’d brought this morning as part of another experiment.
He didn’t look up, instead made a noise of faint interest like he usually does when he’s trying to fob me off when I’m going on about a case he usually doesn’t want to hear about. I sighed indignantly and took the newspaper out his hands, throwing it into the fire causing an annoyed “Oi! I was reading that!” to come from his lips.
“Well you were ignoring me!”
“For good reason Sherlock. It’s late; I’m not in the mood ok? I just wanted to read my paper and go to bed.” He glared, pushing himself up a little in his chair like he meant to get up causing me to push him back down by the shoulder.
“What the hell are you doing now!” he sighed tiredly though the hint of anger still remained in his voice.
“I want to know why you’ve stopped speaking about and going over to Sarah’s. Usually at this stage in your cycle you’ve moved on.” I said simply, sitting on the chair arm to make sure he didn’t get up again.
“I still maintain that the fact you have even noticed anything not to do with your cases is a miracle in its own right.” He said, staring at the charred pieces of his paper in the fire but it was obvious to me that he was avoiding my queries.
“Just tell me this John did you dump her or she dump you?” I asked, simply hoping that by doing some process of elimination I’d be able to work out the root of the problem myself. But some part of what I’d said seemed to be too close to the truth as he pursed his lips and didn’t say a word.
“I’m going to bed.” He said, the tone of his voice changing from its previous wary anger to a neutral tone that I barely ever heard him use.
“Not until you’ve answered my question.”
“As it remains none of your business Sherlock I’m not going to dignify it with a response of any kind. Now if you’re going to stay up at some insane hour again please at least try to refrain from playing your violin again.” He said his tone still neutral but with a clipped edge like he wasn’t going to explain it any time soon if he could get away with it. Hmmm.
I didn’t agree or disagree with his request which he seemed to read for what it was, not an exact promise, causing him to get up and leave the room in the direction of his bedroom, the door of which closed behind him. I slid into the chair he’d previously occupied and tried to put together what little I knew to come up with an answer but still came up with nothing satisfactory. Well that definitely calls for me to do some digging up myself about the issue if John wasn’t going to co-operate. I would have thought he’d know me well enough by now to know I wasn’t about to drop it so easily.
But for now....back to the heating of pickled onions.
The majority of the weekend I spent still trying to worm information about the situation out of John but he finally left the flat on Saturday night maintaining he wouldn’t be back until Sunday night but wouldn’t tell me where he was going, leaving his cell phone behind so I couldn’t bother him with texts like I would have done regardless. So it left me to try and do some snooping once he left, deserting my second pickled onion related experiment of seeing how long they could remain fresh in the coldest part of the freezer, and going up to his room which John didn’t condone in the slightest. But what he wouldn’t know wouldn’t hurt him....unless I found something and then I would have no choice but to bring it up.
I opened the door and saw what I would have expected of someone in John’s situation who had been practically brought up in a military environment. Everything seemed to have its place, the bed was made and curtains open. His clothes for the next week were arranged by colour in his wardrobe aside from the suit for Monday which was hung on the door matched with a simple white shirt with a faint chequered print and an equally simple stripped tie. His row of shoes was sat in a perfect line at the bottom and each pair was polished to the point that they were blinding....telling me John had too much time on his hands to care about the appearance of his shoes.
I closed the wardrobe door and started to try and be more specific about what I was looking for. Ok so....if he had been sleeping with Sarah....there would be condoms somewhere in this room, any implication as to how many remained would show how regularly. I licked my lips as I began to look through the drawers of his desk, where I learned he hid his laptop to keep out of my reach, well that was one mystery solved anyway, but found no sign of any condoms. I then moved to the dressers either side of his bed and stopped when in the top drawer of the second dresser I found lubricant but no sign of condoms. There were none in the bathroom because I kept my own in my room for the rare occasions I would even consider needing them so that was interesting. So either they’d done it raw....which I found hard to believe considering they were both doctors and wouldn’t risk any sexually transmitted diseases at all...or they hadn’t had sex. Wait....there was something interesting in that train of thinking.
How could he have been in an eight month relationship with a woman and not have sexual intercourse? It made no sense to me at all. I mean sure there was oral sex but being in a relationship I doubted oral sex would cut it every time Sarah asked. But I’d found lubricant....so that couldn’t be right. I frowned as I closed the drawer and sat on the side of his bed as I tried to figure out my second line of elimination.
Maybe his computer would behold something of interest, it was worth a try. I took the laptop from its treasured drawer and quickly cracked his password before turning to his internet history. I had no idea as to what email carrier he used and he didn’t seem to use outlook express for it like anyone else would so that would hard be to crack....probably as he intended it. But his internet history did give away some interesting articles he’d been looking at....mostly about break ups....the kind of thing a teenage girl would turn to for guidance but then the content seemed to change the further through the history I browsed. They also seemed to revert around sexuality confusion....and also there were several advice pages in the favourites about loving someone unattainable. I went into a couple and found John’s comments to the articles asking for advice....the only way I could tell was a certain phrase he seemed to use over and over.
‘....The guy I’m interested in maintains he’s married to his work....
Crap. I could remember having that conversation with him at Angelo’s and the way something in his eyes had faded a little when the words left my lips. I had wanted to continue with a more respectful explanation but he’d maintained there was no possibility of that happening....that he was straight. Which had obviously been a complete lie. Damnit why didn’t he just say something instead of entering into a hurtful cycle with women he had no real interest in? It would explain the sexuality confusion....if he was actually attracted to me....and had been straight up until that point it was easy to be confused about what he wanted and if it changed who he was. Still there was also the point of view that he actually believed me to be straight and that I was unattainable for that reason because of the negativity I had surrounded the connotation with. But there was also no truth in that either.
I only maintained I was married to my work to keep any interested parties at a distance so I could decide for myself without there being any pressure involved as to how compatible we could be let alone how I actually felt for that person. In retrospect it did lead some interested parties to the wrong conclusion....like the conclusion John had ended up at. I sighed as I closed the internet history and the browser before closing the laptop and replacing it.
Well I had looked for some answers and found some of them but not the two that were the most important. Why was Sarah so different... and who had ended the relationship? Those seemed like I would have to get the answers from John himself....and I knew he wasn’t going to be happy when I revealed that I had been in his room and gathered the evidence for the conclusion myself.
I left the room intending to go back to my experiment and push the information to the back of my mind. But it seemed like it refused to be dismissed so easily and after checking the progress of the pickled onions I retreated to the lounge with my violin to try and think things through at my end. It was all well and good knowing that John wanted me but I had never considered that I would ever want John in that respect. We had a good partnership when it came to cases and the rent but when it came to anything romantic I had never actually thought of him that way. Though there were times where I had wanted to kiss him but I always tried to maintain that those times were thoughts of madness....but that was back when I thought he was straight not trying to hide his own attraction to me. So the question arose of when it came right down to it would I willingly let myself try foreign territory with the only man in this stupid world who could appreciate my brilliance for what it was.....on the days he wasn’t cursing me and telling me to take body parts out of fridge so there was space for useless food.
I hadn’t realised what I was playing on my violin until I came out of my inner thoughts and the music echoed around the empty flat. It was a piece I hadn’t played much since I was a young teenager and having bad days with bullies and starting my reckless life style with cocaine, my drug of choice. I had only really played this piece when I was having what could be considered a good day, where Mycroft didn’t interrupt me getting my hit....or where mummy would be proud of me for doing something extraordinary. It was a complicated piece....and I only ever did the complicated pieces knowingly when I was in that good place. So it did leave me to wonder if that was why I was playing the piece on autopilot....the thought of me being with John, if that was actually what he wanted, made me happy. I just hoped my own expression in that direction would not make him reject me....as I had unconsciously done to him.
I spent the rest of the weekend wondering if John would actually stay out till the end of the weekend or come back when he couldn’t find anyone’s couch to stay on.....or his leg played up. I was betting on the latter as he’d left the walking stick behind....in such a bad mood that he forgot he even needed it. I was laid on my back tuning my violin and playing snippets of certain pieces to pass the time instead of looking at case notes Lestrade left me....all of which were by the same person who had a gambling problem and was stealing to fuel the debts. It wasn’t until early on Sunday morning that John came back, I heard him cursing as he walked up the stairs....his psychosomatic limp and the ache that attached itself being painfully felt.
I bit my lip as I pushed myself upright and picked up the first book within grabbing distance on gambling habits....which was related to the case.....as I heard him open the door. I dared to look up and see him leaning against the doorframe.
“Ah....I didn’t expect you back until tonight.” I said, putting the book to one side and watching him limp towards his chair.
“Yeah well....I would still be out if I hadn’t left my walking stick behind.” He sighed, sitting down with a groan and resting his foot on the footstool, kicking off many case files to make room.
“Um hm....cup of tea?” I asked, getting up and ignoring the case files on the floor as I walked towards the kitchen.
“Yes....” He said suspiciously. Usually I only offered when I had done something wrong....or an experiment had gone wrong costing us more rent for the repairs. I was definitely thankful this was not one of those times.....unless you count me going into his room of course. “Sherlock what have you done this time?”
“Hm? Oh nothing....” I said, putting the kettle on and grabbing some semi-clean cups from the sink of washing up that John had said he’d planned on doing this weekend before he walked out.
“Really? I find that hard to believe....” he sighed.
“You shouldn’t always be so suspicious John.” I said, grabbing the milk from the fridge and sniffing it to make sure it hadn’t turned to yoghurt. Not exactly something I’d want in my tea if I could get away with it, but thankfully it was fresh.
“Well I do know what you can be like with your experiments, boredom and overlooking other peoples’ presence in the world.” He said, a sense of something more in his voice...as though he was thinking of his situation in relation to how he felt about me and knowing it would never happen. Ah.
I didn’t reply to the comment, settling for making the tea and setting the cups on the coffee table before sitting on the couch and trying to pretend that I was going to carry on with my reading though his gaze rested on me like there was ‘guilty’ painted on my face.
“Ok seriously Sherlock what have you done? You wouldn’t be this quiet by choice.” He said, taking a sip of his scolding hot tea. I swear his taste buds died while he was in the army.
I made a show of sighing and rolling my eyes from behind my book but he wasn’t buying it anymore than before.
“Did you go in my room while I was out?!” he demanded, funny that his first guess ends up being true for once.
“I was looking for a pen.” I lied, gaze on a paragraph I’d already read multiple times.
“Sherlock! We’ve spoke about this before! I let you make a mess of the rest of the flat without snide remarks but my room is well....MY room.” John spluttered, like he was worried I’d seen something incriminating.....which I had but I couldn’t possibly imagine what was incriminating in his squeaky clean room otherwise.
“Actually you do make snide remarks....several actually. Usually when you fall over a pile of books in the morning or mistake a decapitated finger for a butter knife.” I said, my tone remaining nonchalant.
“That’s not the point Sherlock! How would you like it if I just barged into your room while you were out and messed things up?” he asked, the stress still more than obvious in his voice.
“In honesty I wouldn’t care. You wouldn’t be able to find anything in my room anyway since you don’t know the system I use.” I quipped finally turning the page of my book ignoring the glare he cast my way, but it did seem to make him drop the issue at hand anyway. Ok one issue down...several more to go.
I watched him out the corner of my eye as he downed half his tea and sighed as he laid back in the chair, his closed eyelids directed at the ceiling like he hadn’t managed to get a good night’s sleep the night before.
“If this is about mine and Sarah’s break up I would have thought you learned your lesson already.” He murmured.
“Just a couple of questions and then I won’t push it anymore.”
He opened his weary eyes and cast an unimpressed look in my direction but reluctantly nodded.
“Ok....four questions and then the subject is officially closed are we clear?” he sighed.
“Sounds fair.” I nodded, setting my book to one side and turning my full attention to him as I picked up my cooling cup of tea and took a sip. I felt his gaze following my lips as though he was waiting for me to ask the first question....though there did seem to be another reason behind it which elaborating on it in my mind at that moment wouldn’t be advisable.
“Ok...So why did you break your usual dating pattern for Sarah?” I asked, tilting my head as my fingertips remained securely around my tea cup.
He rolled his eyes as his gaze moved back towards the ceiling but he did actually answer it which was progress of some kind in the least. “When your first date involves being kidnapped by some psycho gang member it does help build a bond between you. We agreed to go slow and learn more about each other at that pace so I wasn’t exactly timing how long our relationship was lasting.”
I nodded, that did sound reasonable. Any other sane woman would have run a mile at being kidnapped because her partner had a case of mistaken identity but she had stuck with him so there was definitely something special about Sarah of that much I was sure.
“Who was it that ended the relationship?” I asked, watching him stiffen a little at the question for all of ten seconds before sighing as he replied “She did.”
I definitely hadn’t expected that response which definitely led to another question....I was just glad he gave me another two questions. I took another sip of my tea as I contemplated the possible explanations she would have used to explain the end of the relationship. I’d heard several of them before...mostly reasons why Mycroft’s relationships went to hell in a hand basket but surely none of them applied to John right?
“Did she give an explanation as to why and care to explain it to me?” I asked softly, as he closed his eyes again like he didn’t want to look at me when he repeated it which told me it was obviously to do with me. But what aspect specifically in relation to me? Him always coming on cases with me and leaving her high and dry, him speaking about me constantly, him refusing to sleep with her because he wished he was with me....or was it as simple as him having feelings for me and using her as a beard of sorts?
“She did. And it was because of you....everything to do with you Sherlock. The cases, the fact I would rather be in this flat with you than at her apartment....that I’d have to check in with you if it was ok for me to go on a date at a certain time....and how I’d just leave her in the middle of a date if you text me.” He said, it was equally as soft as my own tone....but at the same time it was like he was hoping if he didn’t say it loud enough it wouldn’t be true.
“I’m sorry John.” I said, pushing some form of apology into my tone which I know he wasn’t accustomed to, because from his reaction he wasn’t sure if it was filled with sincerity or sarcasm. “Really I am.”
“It’s fine.” He sighed, eyes still closed like he was hoping this was now over...but from where I was sitting it was anything but. I downed the last of my tea, replacing the cup on the coffee table, before getting up from my chair and sitting on the chair arm of his chair, knowing my last question was going to be sensitive...and there was the possibility of rejection at both ends...but it needed to be asked.
He opened his eyes and gave me an unsure look as he looked up at me. “I believe you have one last question before we drop this whole thing. Choose the question wisely.”
I nodded, locking my gaze with his, as I tried to find the words and put them in an appropriate order. Do you feel the same way about me that I do about you? Do you feel something for me more than as a colleague? Do you love me? Do you want me Sexually, John? As I thought about it the last one seemed like it was the most likely one I could use.
“John....was part of her dumping you because you want me sexually?”
By that point he’d picked up what remained of his cup of tea and had downed a tepid mouthful, his eyes went wide as he nearly spit it on the rug and various case files. He managed to swallow it with some effort before replying, “Excuse me?!”
“Do you want me sexually John?” I repeated, wisely leaving out any implication of Sarah so that he realised my question had been a serious one. Even then it still didn’t seem to be sinking in. I took his cup from him and put it to one side before turning my gaze back to him.
“I....Sherlock what on earth makes you think that.....” he stopped mid sentence and groaned in his throat as he buried his face in his hands. “You saw my laptop didn’t you?”
“Yes...I wanted to know about you and Sarah’s break up and saw the articles...the favourite links....” I said, “But you seem to be missing the point of my question. It’s really a simple yes or no answer if you think about it.”
“You told me at Angelo’s....” he began
“I didn’t tell you I wasn’t bi John....I was merely telling you that so you knew about my work ethic and my lack of relationships. It takes me a while to find myself wanting to be with someone who actually interests me...” I said soothingly, guiding his hands from his face and resting my hand under his chin so he would look at me.
“So if I said yes....” he began carefully, his gaze flicking between my lips and eyes like he wasn’t sure about my reaction.
“Then I would assure you John that you aren’t the only one.” I said softly with a small smile on my lips.
“Yes.” He murmured, his hand resting on the back of my neck and pulling me into a deep kiss that I hadn’t been able to prepare myself for. It was intense and filled with pent up longing that I hadn’t realised a soldier would be able to feel. Yet Regardless I soon found my body moulded to his will, my legs rested either side of his thighs in the chair and hands clasping the back chair cushion for support as his lips plundered the breath from my lungs and his tongue did amazing things with my own. It really was like something I had never felt before and it only seemed to get more passionate as his hands rested on the small of my back moving down to brush against my buttocks like he had been imaging touching me in such a way since he saw me. I couldn’t stop the groan in the back of my throat which seemed to reverberate through every nerve in my body as one of his hands moved from anchoring me in position to the front of my trousers, undoing the button and the zip, his fingers brushing against the skin of my now bare hips.
“Ah....John....” I croaked, against his lips....the only two words he allowed me to say before his lips were corrupting mine again beautifully. I felt his calloused hand pushing my trousers and boxers down so they were settled at the juncture of my knees keeping me in position as his fingers brushing over the skin of my thighs. The mere feel of his fingertips on my body caused shocks to flow under my skin that he was touching my bare skin so freely that nothing could compare to what he was making me feel.
I was so engrossed in the sensations running through and from my body at having someone practically worshipping my body that I didn’t even realise his hands had moved to my inner thigh grazing up to cup my penis. It wasn’t until he began to stroke my length back and forth that I began to feel the effects, all the sensations coming together to build in the pit of my stomach, my grip on the back of the chair tightening desperately to keep me from losing my balance. My body began to contort the faster the pace of his hand moved, my back arching backwards in mid air and my head tilting back like I was resting against an invisible pillow, but my eyes were wide open and my breathing continuing to speed up, on the verge of panting as his hand on my back moved under my loose shirt so his index finger as brushing the space between my buttocks. His thumb and middle finger grazed patterns on the surface of my buttocks as though keeping me grounded until I reached a point he was waiting for....practically craving to experience.
Finally I felt something indescribable inside myself, like the feeling of pressure in my stomach building behind the very touch that John was using on my body. I could feel his gaze rested on my face as though wanting to experience a certain look on my face which I seemed to be getting close to as I felt his fingers around my penis apply more pressure, with them squeezing my length causing another jolt up my spine and what seemed like a cork being pulled off a champagne bottle. I groaned loudly, my eyes screwed closed as whatever was transpiring took complete control of my senses. I let my body give in from its stiff posture so I was leaning my body over John, my fingers letting go of the back of chair so my arms rested listlessly down the back. I felt soft lips brushing against my hip and swallowed as I tried to regain my bearings.
“You ok there?” he asked softly when I pushed myself back on to my knees and saw his hands still rested on my hips to keep me steady.
“That was....” I couldn’t even come up with a word to express what the feeling was like....it had felt natural. Like something I had been depriving my body of for too long. Before that moment with John’s rough hand around the most sensitive part of my anatomy I had thought needed no-one to bring me any kind of pleasure. I pleasured myself when I felt the need but it had never felt anywhere near as heavenly as that had.
He didn’t seem offended at my silence, smiling as though he was pleased that he had managed to make me speechless. He brushed his hand against my cheek and directed my gaze to meet his gaze.
“I know. I could see it written all over your face.” He said softly, pressing a deep kiss to my lips that seemed to make the whole process want to start again with merely one gesture. I’d never imagined that anyone could have that kind of impact on my body, one kiss and I was practically willing to beg to get him to give me a hand job again.
He pulled back as I tried to deepen the kiss, raising an eyebrow as he guided my underwear and trousers back into their previous order. I was about to object that replacing clothing on my figure was the last thing I wanted at that moment but he managed to persuade me to get out of his lap so he could get to his own feet before his arm rested around my waist. “I think that should we want to continue it would be more advisable for us to do so in a bed...I don’t think I could do half of what I wanted to do to you in that chair.”
I nodded, feeling partly eager and partly still unsure about whether or not going so fast was such a good idea. But either way I didn’t voice myself, my nod seemed to be all he was looking for as he smiled and led me in the direction of his bedroom before I could even suggest that we go to my own.
The door closed behind us with a click and I let him direct me towards his bed, his fingers moving nimbly to remove my trousers and boxers again followed quickly by my blazer and shirt, leaving me to remove my shoes and socks before I was backed on to his crisply precise bed. He seemed to ignore the mess we were about to make in his perfect environment as he pressed kisses to my neck, causing a shaky breath to immerge from between my lips as I felt his teeth nipping at the skin like he was intent on leaving some evidence there for those looking for it. I tried to manoeuvre his attention down to my chest but his hands guided my own so they were clasped around the edge of the headboard. It was only then that his attention moved down my torso.
He spent what felt like a life time kissing every inch of skin on my shoulders and biceps before moving down to my chest where his lips and teeth encircled and teased my nipple to the point of madness, but it was good kind of madness. I was gasping by the time his tongue moved down to my navel, leaving a trail in its wake which shone against the light of the lamp beside us. It wasn’t until his lips began to move across my hips and down my thighs that I felt the sense of anticipation building in the back of my mind. I wanted him to bring that sensation out of me again but knew there was a high possibility he would just consider teasing me again and again until I just began to beg.
He soon settled between my thighs, pulling his sweater and the shirt beneath it over his head and throwing it aside leaving my gaze to look longingly over the bare chest that was revealed. It was muscular and slightly tanned as I had expected from someone who had been in the army, to some degree I’d expected him to lose shape a little due to his lack of fitness regime but he was still as toned in a way I knew would be put to good use when I got my turn. It was then that he moved towards the dress drawer where I knew the lubricant was kept causing me to lick my lips which seemed to have been going dry through this whole ordeal but when he immerged a condom was also in his possession which I must have over looked when looking for them. I watched mesmerized as he put lubricant on his stronger hand of the two....while he wrote with his right hand he seemed to do everything else with his left hand which could have been due to his days of doing surgery. I swallowed as I pushed myself upright a little to watch what he had in mind at the moment. I felt his index finger prying deep inside me and my inner muscles clenched of their own accord trying to stop the intrusion causing John to hush softly and tell me to relax or it would only hurt more than necessary. It seemed like with everything happening it wasn’t just dating advice that he had been looking up online...interesting.
I gasped as I felt his index finger slide past my now relaxed muscles, as though it was trying to find a certain spot in particular, though I didn’t understand what exactly until I felt a sense of euphoria and exhilaration flow through my body. He must have found it. He pressed a soft kiss to my inner left thigh as he back tracked his hand gradually before I saw him adding more lubricant to his hand. It seemed to take a while before he’d stretched my inner muscles to what he believed to satisfactory lengths, each time his talented digits were inside me driving me to insanity when his fingertips grazed that one spot. I swallowed as I watched him pull his hand out for what I hoped was the last time. I watched him wipe his hands free of the clear substance on a tissue which seemed to have appeared from nowhere before he thought to see fit the removal of the rest of his clothing as he slid off the bed.
I watched captivated as he turned his back on me to throw the tissue in a bin out of reach. It was then that I saw the scar on his shoulder from where he got shot...it was something he didn’t talk about....along with his limp though the latter may have something to do with my agreeing with his therapist that it was psychosomatic when we first met. I was usually one to push about those sorts of details but thought it wasn’t the right time to ask about them when he could get angry about the subject and walk out leaving me unsatisfied with no likelihood of it happening again.
He slid the shoes and jeans off in a flash, his boxers following suite and disappearing out of view, it was only then that he reappeared in his full glory before me, a smile on his face like the sight of me laid out for him was all he had ever dreamed about. He climbed back on to the bed but this time crawled over me so his body was above mine warming it up from the cold that had been making goose bumps immerging across my chest and my nipples pebble at the lack of attention from his furnace like mouth. His lips were back on mine like our mouths had never been parted, one of my hands moving of its own accord to rest on the back of his head while my fingers curled around the hair at the nape of his neck. He didn’t reprimand me for the action like I would have expected but gladly deepened the kiss for me even more, tilting his head as our tongues played together in my mouth. My heart was racing in my chest by the time he pulled away and flashed me a grin as he guided my legs up so they were rested between our chests and my feet feeling like they were detached from my body as they were positioned either side of my head. I could feel my body trying to worm itself out of the position but ignored the urge as John’s lips met my own again, it was then that I felt him slowly entering me my body jerking a little with pain at the intrusion....still not used to the feeling of something in that part of me...but I managed to focus my mind on John and being as close as a human can be with a man I had never realised I wanted until I found out he wanted me.
A groan radiated from my throat as he hit that spot that he had been looking for before with ease. Yet this time there was no coyness behind it, it was like he was trying to crush it to make me feel the most extreme amount of pleasure from the gesture and it was working. My hand on the back of his head was back on the headboard as the frantic pace began making everything seem like it was happening in slow motion. It was a lullaby but with the feeling of someone inside you settling you while giving you something that you never realised could be so pleasurable. I couldn’t stop the groans and moans coming from between my lips as he kept murmuring my name reassuringly against the side of my neck, like it was something he had wanted to do every time he had even contemplated being with someone else.
Sweat was gleaming over every inch of my skin on my torso and my back was arching painfully against the mattress as I tried to maintain some sort of skin to skin contact with him but finally as I felt myself on the brink I heard him cursing against my neck. Regardless he continued on with the punishing pace as though he knew I was only so far away from coming myself and was willing to punish himself as much he punished me until it happened. Finally the same sensations and emotions as I had experienced from his hand job down stairs exploded through every nerve and cell in my body, my eyes closing at the brightness of the stars that appeared before them.
When I came around I was sighing softly for breath and found my body was under the covers, no sign that I had been doubled over in half while John was inside me on my skin. But as I turned my head to the side I saw John lay on his side, resting his chin on one hand, watching me a smile on his lips when he saw I was awake.
“Hey.” He said softly, his free hand brushing against my cheek wistfully like he knew any other kind of gesture was uncalled for that moment though I wouldn’t exactly say no to another explosive kiss.
“Hi.” I smiled, catching his hand with my own and lacing my fingers between his. He pulled me closer to him by our interlinked hands and catching my abused lips in a soft kiss.
“What was that for?” I whispered, meeting his gaze and seeing the depths of them filled with more arousal then I’d ever seen in a male’s eyes before. Yet this time I knew I was the cause behind it and it made something close to pride flow through me.
“I thought when you woke up it would turn out to have been nothing but a dream.” He said, brushing some of my sweaty fringe from out of my eyes, “but now that you are awake I’m definitely glad it was a reality.”
“You and me both.” I said softly, pulling him close to me and resting my head against his chest. At that moment nothing was more soothing to me than the sound of my lover’s heart beat against my ear and the feel of his arm rested around my waist to keep me close. And to think that before this day I had never believed in needing someone so badly in such a way.