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When lightning strikes

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”I told you it was a bad idea. Look, it started raining. We’re going to get soaked if you keep sniffing around in that bush.” John was obviously irritated as he pulled his coat collar closer to his chin, but there was no answer to his complaint. “Sherlock, are you even listening to me?”

There was a rustling of leaves and cracking of twigs and Sherlock climbed out of the bushes. His hair was covered with small leaves and parts of twigs and he looked like a mad scientist with his hair standing in all directions.

“Yes, John, always. I just don’t find it as horrendous as you do. A little rain, that’s all. You’re not made of sugar, are you? You won’t melt. Also, I know for a fact that in Afghanistan you endured far worse than getting soaked.” Those two words were spoken in an imitation of John’s voice and were followed by the roll of his eyes.

“As you might know, smartarse, the weather in the Afghan desert lacks rain most of the year. I am used to drought and hot winds, but rain is something I became unused to.”

“Then it’s a good thing it’s raining,” said the detective and flashed a charming – and completely false – smile at John. “We might have a case in the future where we’ll have to run around town in rain, John. You know how English weather can be in autumn.” Sherlock shook his head in a scolding manner, smoothed his ever-flawless coat and headed back to where civilization was.

John muttered something under his breath that sounded like ‘That’s not even an answer to what I was saying!’ and ‘That old lady in the post office said that there’d be a storm but no, you don’t believe her. You’re Sherlock bloody Holmes and you don’t mind rain.’

As they were climbing down the hills, the rain started beating even more heavily. John felt that his coat was soaked now, and drops of water started down his back. He almost fell face first into a puddle of mud when he heard an unbelievably loud crack of thunder just a few miles away from them. ‘And it’s not just raining now. Bloody marvellous.’


By the time they got back to the small cottage where their room was – “Sorry, we couldn’t do a double room for you, boys.” “That’s… fine?! We… We’re not a… ah…” – it was raining like never before and the coat of darkness of the night was interrupted by sudden flashes of lightening that were followed by the rumbling of thunder.

“Thank God I could go out to examine the scene before the rain. Think about all the evidence that we could have lost. It will be raining now for almost all night which means we’re locked in here.” Sherlock was pacing the floor while John was standing in front of the window and looking out into the almost complete darkness. When lightning hit through the velvety coat of the night, the surroundings were suddenly lit and he could see everything perfectly. John smiled to himself when he remembered Mike’s (was it him? Or was it Lestrade?) joke: They’re taking photos for Google Earth.

Sherlock stepped behind John, startling him for a moment then he could feel Sherlock’s still wet shirt pressing into his back, soaking his own shirt. John shivered and crossed his arms around himself.

“We should put a few logs on the fire,” he turned around to look at Sherlock who didn’t move an inch away from John.

“Oh, I think you’re hot, John,” huffed Sherlock in John’s ear as he leant closer. John shivered again as Sherlock’s hot breath chased the cold feeling away from under his earlobe.

“What are you doing, Sherlock?” John tried to steel himself against those soft words but, oh God, Sherlock knew how to stir his libido.

“I thought you’d realised. I’m seducing you.” Sweet mother of Jesus. Sherlock’s mouth was touching John’s neck as he spoke and goosebumps rose all over his skin where those sinful lips traced it. While he spoke, he stepped even closer to John, pressing his wet – and still clothed – body tight against John’s, pushing his thigh between John’s legs.

“Hnng… Sh… Sherlock. I’m still angry with you for taking me out into the bloody storm. I’m cold, I have mud all over my shoes so a few sweet words can’t make me forget it.” John needed all his strength not to grab Sherlock’s shoulder, turn them around and push him right against the window. He thought about someone passing by under the window and seeing Sherlock’s curvy little ass squeezed tight against the glass, his hands pinned above his head as a lightning illuminated the street. This idea worked right against him. Well, to be precise, it worked right against Sherlock’s thigh.

Sherlock felt John’s erection getting heavier against his thigh and smirked at John.

“I could make you warm, John, you know that. And believe me, I can make you do other things, too.” Sherlock lapped at John’s skin under his ear and lifted his hand to graze John’s buttocks with ten neatly trimmed nails. Through his jeans John couldn’t really feel the scratching but the touch made him jump, accidentally pushing his groin right against Sherlock’s bulge.

Sherlock hummed in acknowledgement and circled his tongue on the rim of John’s ear, sending sparks through his body, then sucked in his earlobe and nibbled it gently. John felt the last bits of his self-control fall away and ran his hands through Sherlock’s curls, holding him tight and tilted his head to offer his neck to Sherlock’s ministrations. Sherlock scraped the sensitive and still wet skin with his teeth and sucked on it when he felt the hand in his hair scratching his scalp. John couldn’t help but moan and rock his hip against Sherlock.

“God, you’re a bad man…” panted John and slid his free hand up and down Sherlock’s side.

The only answer he got was a tantalizing “Mmmm…” and Sherlock’s hand sneaked under his jeans and pants. Those hands were warm and dry compared to his cold and damp buttocks, and they gave a small massage to loosen and warm up the cheeks of his arse. Sherlock’s skilled fingers ran in circles over the soft rounds and his devious thumbs made a detour to run between the two cheeks when the hands moved towards his thighs.

“Jesus, fuck, Sherlock. Don’t tease,” John whispered and nuzzled in the crook of Sherlock’s neck to find rain-wet bare skin. He bit down on Sherlock’s shoulder and Sherlock squirmed when John’s teeth touched his skin, almost breaking it, and unconsciously rubbed his hip against John’s hip. He traced the side of John’s neck with the tip of his tongue, and then moved upwards, licking alongside his jaw until he reached the tip of John’s chin and licked all the way up to his lower lip. Starting from the middle of John’s lower lip he moved his tongue first towards one then the other end of John’s mouth, pushing the tip of his tongue into the junction, where the two lips met.

John couldn’t stop himself from leaning closer and sticking out his tongue to meet Sherlock’s but Sherlock stopped massaging John’s butt and put his free hand on the doctor’s hips to hold him still.

Ignoring John’s whine of protest, he continued his work on John’s upper lip and finally sucked it in his mouth. John reflexively did the same with Sherlock’s lower lip and touched his tongue to the detective’s sensitive lip. Sherlock couldn’t hold back anymore and pushed his tongue into John’s hot mouth, only exploring at first, running it around behind John’s front teeth, then deepening the kiss and fighting John’s now active tongue for dominance.

When Sherlock backed off they were both breathing hard and their chests touched with every heave of their lungs. They were looking at each other, seeing only the other’s form, but when the dark room was lit momentarily, John could see his figure casting shadows on half of Sherlock’s face, keeping those delicious lips in the darkness. His eyes were glowing under his thick lashes and half closed lids, but John’s eyes were drawn to the swollen lips when Sherlock’s tongue darted out to gather the mix of his and John’s saliva on his red skin.

For a moment John forgot how to breathe at the sight of that pink tip running around those lush red lips that he kissed so vehemently just a few minutes ago.
Sherlock saw the sudden change in John’s breathing and knew immediately what he was thinking about – the feel of those lips around his now rock hard cock. He slid his hands up and down John’s torso and went to his knees, locking eyes with John and never letting him drop his gaze. He smoothed the denim over John’s straining bulge, just stroking it lightly and then drawing out the lines of it with his index finger. John let out a small moan and his hands stroked through Sherlock’s hair until they found their perfect place at the back of his skull.

Sherlock focused on his work as he unbuckled John’s belt and slowly unzipped his jeans. He kept his touches light, barely making contact with skin.
John gasped every time Sherlock’s skin touched his, so Sherlock tried to avoid it to tease John even more.

He slid his hands under the loosened waist of John’s trousers and gently pushed them off his hips, until they pooled around his ankles. John stepped out of them and quickly kicked them out of the way.

Sherlock leant closer to the fine material of John’s pants, inhaling softly, sending waves of heat right into John’s cock. He looked up at John who seemed mesmerized by what he saw, lips slightly parted and glistening with a thin coat of saliva after he had had to lick his lips when Sherlock had looked up at him. Sherlock idly ran his fingers over the prominent swelling at the front of John’s pants and John moaned encouragingly and thrust his hip towards Sherlock’s head, making his lips meet the engorged flesh. Sherlock took the hint and mouthed it, moving from the base to the head, almost sucking it in and flicking his tongue over the already damp cloth.

“Sherlock, stop teasing. Please…” John spit the words through gritted teeth and pulled Sherlock’s head back gently. He didn’t even care that he was almost begging.
Sherlock gave in and pulled John’s pants down, motioning John’s leg out of them. His erection stood proudly, inviting Sherlock to touch, to lick, to suck. Sherlock curled his fingers around the shaft and stroked it a few times, with feather light touches at first and firmer and firmer grip with every new slide. John moved against each stroke, wanting more, needing more.

When Sherlock let him go, John let out a frustrated little whine, but the huff of breath stuck in his lungs when Sherlock took as much of his cock in his mouth as he could. Sherlock let it slide out almost completely and started sucking on the head mercilessly. John had long before lost the ability to speak or think and the only thing he could focus on was the wet sound of Sherlock’s mouth on him, and the wicked fingers that were now massaging his balls. Sherlock really knew what to do and where to touch to make him come undone.
After a few fast bobs of his head, Sherlock let John slide out of his mouth and looked up at John, smirking devilishly.

“Oh, fuck… Don’t stop… Don’t you… dare stop… Sherlock...” John’s voice trailed off at every second word as Sherlock twisted his hand around the head of John’s cock and ran his palm over and over the sensitive tip.

“Stop… stop teasing… I can’t… please…” John was thrashing under Sherlock’s touch, unable to control the shuddering of his body, the tightening of his muscles as he thrust and twisted to get more friction because he wanted to, he needed to come. Please, please.

But Sherlock just grinned at him, a wicked and cruel grin and continued his lazy stroking. He licked the tip of John’s cock a few times and enjoyed John’s keening and whimpering sounds. He was too preoccupied with his thoughts about how well he proved his point to John that he can make him do anything, when a strong and surprisingly confident hand slapped his working hand away, grabbed it and twisted it behind his back, then pushed him against the window, his face meeting the cold glass.

“I told you to stop teasing, Sherlock.” He took a few breathes to calm his nerves and to ease his need for release. “Now let me show you how it felt on my end.” John moved away from Sherlock’s neck where he licked tiny circles as he spoke, let go of Sherlock’s hand and literally tore Sherlock’s shirt off of his body, the buttons popping in all direction, flying against the window and down to the floor. He grabbed Sherlock’s hand in one grip and pinned it above Sherlock’s head as he mouthed his way down Sherlock’s spine, sucking and nibbling between placing small kisses there.

“Do not move your hands, understood?” he asked as he slid his hands down Sherlock’s chest, scraping when he twisted his hands at Sherlock’s hips to end up cupping Sherlock’s bum.

“Ye… Yes… John… God yes,” Sherlock chocked and involuntarily pushed his arse back towards John’s knowing fingers, resting his heated forehead against the cool glass.
John knelt behind Sherlock, efficiently stripping Sherlock then rubbed his hands over the curves of the alabaster arse in front of him, bit both cheeks and as though kneading, he spread them with every outward motion. Sherlock canted his hips in unison with John’s hands and hummed along, his voice reaching a whine-like pitch when his arse cheeks spread.

Without any warning, John leant closer and licked between the round muscles when he spread them. Sherlock hissed and moaned obscenely then rubbed his face against the glass to spread the condensation over his hot cheeks. John then forced his hands even further away from each other to reveal the pink hole, leant closer and breathed over it while rubbing his face against Sherlock’s arse.

Sherlock whimpered in anticipation as John stuck his tongue out and lapped over it, from the base of Sherlock’s balls up to the base of his spine. Sherlock shuddered and shook his head in frustration.

“John… Jooohn…” His arms were moving but his palms rested firmly on the glass, not daring to move them because he was afraid of John stopping altogether.

“You’re so obedient when you want something, aren’t you?” John asked and pushed his tongue in Sherlock’s entrance when Sherlock groaned as agreement. “Do you want me to take you nice and slow?” he asked as he tongued Sherlock again. Sherlock shook his head forcefully and almost squeaked. “Of course you don’t. You like it fast and hard, my cock slamming into you without pausing.”

“Yes, John, yes, please, give it to me,” Sherlock pleaded, wriggling his arse in John’s hands.

John slapped his left arse cheek to stop him and continued what he did; he spread Sherlock’s cheeks and pushed his tongue in as deep as he could and fucked Sherlock with it. With every motion when he pulled his tongue out, Sherlock pushed backwards, not wanting to let go of that deliciously wet intruder. John increased the speed until Sherlock was humming continuously, his voice trailing off as he sucked in a sudden breath when John pushed in even deeper. With a last long lick, John backed off, but one of his fingers returned and found Sherlock’s prostate with a few brushes. Sherlock screamed, literally screamed, when the tip of that finger and another one that joined the first one circled over his sweet spot. He hit the glass with his fist a few times because he needed to… “John, please… I want to… I need you to… I… Hng…”

John touched it one more time and pulled his fingers out. Sherlock writhed and whimpered at the loss, but John didn’t waste time; he licked across his palm and took his aching cock in his hand and wet it with a few careful touches. He grabbed Sherlock’s hip and moved him a bit backwards, his back bending and his arse even more open to John to enter. He lined his member up to the now wet and loose rim of muscle and thrust forward. Sherlock’s entrance opened up easily, taking him in with no resistance. John groaned as the wet heat of Sherlock engulfed his throbbing cock.

“God, Sherlock, you’re loose but so deliciously tight at the same time,” John said as he moved a little and pushed the head of his cock in. Sherlock couldn’t do anything other than push back, but John’s hands stopped him. “You need it, don’t you? You want my cock up in your arse, rubbing against your prostate, pushing you over the edge. But you have to wait for it because I want you to know that if you do something to me when I tell you not to, there will be consequences.”

Sherlock bit his fist to muffle a whine and nodded weakly, letting John do whatever he wanted to do. To his luck, John was a bit more than lost in the sensations and leant closer to Sherlock’s back, wrapping his right arm around Sherlock’s waist and holding him in place with his other. He found a nipple and pinched it, Sherlock bucking up against his hand and pushing his arse back, and John chose this moment to push into Sherlock completely.

A blinding lightning tore across the darkness and John saw perspiration running down Sherlock’s neck from under damp strands that stuck to his nape. He stilled for a moment, both of them fighting for breath and as the deafening thunder followed the sudden flash of light, John started to move, first a few teasing and experimenting thrusts then picking up the rhythm until Sherlock’s head was slamming against the glass with each thrust. They needed to close their eyes because the frequent flashes were too much for their overloaded senses, and the rumbling sounds of thunder silenced their ragged moans and groans. John circled his hips and bit Sherlock’s shoulder hard, causing Sherlock to throw his head back and rub his cheeks against John’s hair. John moved his right hand up to Sherlock’s neck and held his chin up, lapping under Sherlock’s ear with the move of his hips. His other hand snaked down to wrap around Sherlock’s neglected cock and followed the same rhythm, twisting with every upstroke and running his palm over the head. Sherlock was whining now, sucking on John’s finger that reached into his mouth.

“Sherlock… Yes… There… God… You feel amazing… I just… Just… Sherlock!” He tightened his hand on Sherlock’s prick as he came, his muscles stiffening, and burying his face between Sherlock’s shoulder blades. His hips slowed, but he changed the angle and hit Sherlock’s prostate while he rode his orgasm and the combined sensations of John’s hand on his prick, the smooth glide of John’s cock over his prostate and the tightening of John’s hand on his throat sent Sherlock over the edge. Sherlock’s legs gave out and they both slumped down to the floor, John hitting it with his bum and Sherlock landing in his lap. John put his head on Sherlock’s shoulder and pressed tiny kisses on his neck and Sherlock reached up to stroke his hair.

“John, that was…” Sherlock started.

“Yeah, it was,” he answered as he petted Sherlock’s chest. Sherlock moaned a little as John moved, touching oversensitive areas inside him.

“I told you I could make you warm.” Sherlock smirked and stroked John’s thigh with still shaking hands.

“Oh, shut up and just kiss me,” John huffed tiredly as he took Sherlock’s chin to turn his head to give him a passionate kiss just as the room was suddenly lit and their lips were still locked when they heard the rumbling of the thunder as the storm was passing over Dewer's Hollow.