Sherlock slowly stretched, revelling in the after orgasm euphoria he felt lying next to John. Idly his hand trailed down his body to his crotch. He was relaxed and blissed out, toying with his penis he was surprised to feel it harden as his thoughts turned to their lovemaking.
He turned slowly onto his side, his cock thickening more as he watched John sleeping. Leaning closer he inhaled the scent that was uniquely John, a mixture of tea, gun oil and shampoo. There was the faint scent of sex in the air too.
Sherlock had never wanted anyone as much as he wanted this man. John was his best friend, his conductor of light, his blogger and more importantly his anchor in a world of social niceties that he could not understand.
He watched John breathe, had done it many times before, originally from the doorway, and once or twice he had stood at the side of the bed. Until now, he had never imagined that he would be here in this bed with John.
He moved closer, feeling the warmth of John’s body against his own, his erection pressing against John’s bum. Gently he draped his arm over John to reach for his cock. In his sleep, John moved back against him.
John snuffled, half asleep. “Sherlock”, he mumbled “Behave!”