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John couldn't stand it any longer.

 

The first few times had been rather amusing, but it bordered on strange by now and John only wanted to enjoy his afternoon tea - before having to get dressed - without worrying about Sherlock's behavior, the whole time. So, when Sherlock carried the red evening dress, Mycroft had gifted him with, into the living-room for the numerous time and regarded it longingly in the light of the afternoon sun, John was ready. He waited until his boyfriend turned around to carry the dress back to their bedroom, only to step into Sherlock's way and block his exit. "You know, that you'll look fantastic wearing the dress," he started and reached out to place a hand on Sherlock's shoulder. "I was there when you tried it on, remember?"

 

Sherlock nodded, but he wouldn't meet John's eyes and instead stared at the silky fabric in his arms. John frowned slightly at that. Since he knew that Sherlock was genderfluid, his boyfriend - and from time to time girlfriend - had worn whatever clothes, he or she - Sherlock didn't like the pronoun they as he had told John once - felt like wearing on any given occasion. So, what stopped him - or maybe her today - from wearing a beautiful dress, that was tailor made?

 

"You know that I don't care if I go to the violin concert with you as my boyfriend or girlfriend, right?" Sherlock should know that much by now, but John would rather make sure of it, before they jumped, head first, into a misunderstanding. As it was, stormy eyes frowned at John at his statement and then a quiet sigh escaped Sherlock's slightly parted lips. "And would you also go to the violin concert with your boyfriend, if he wears a dress?"

 

The question was barely above a whisper and John had to strain his ears to catch every word of it, but when he was certain that he had understood Sherlock correctly, his eyes widened in confusion. Why should Sherlock think that John would have any problem with that? He was about to say as much, when Sherlock shook his head sadly, obviously mistaking John's expression for something else. "Never mind, I`ll just wear my tuxedo. There will certainly arise a chance to wear the dress some other time."

 

Sherlock made to move around him, but John stepped in his way once more. He didn't really understand what Sherlock's problem was, but if he had learned one thing in his relationship with the genius, then that communication was the key to solving problems. Especially, when John was confused about any aspect of Sherlock's gender identity. It didn't happen often, but when it did, asking was usually better than taking a shot in the dark.

 

John opened his mouth, closed it again and then grabbed Sherlock's wrist and led him to the kitchen table, where he forced him to sit down in one of the chairs. Not, that John would ever be able to force Sherlock to do anything, therefore it would be correct to say that Sherlock allowed John to manhandle him like this without protest. Obviously, they had both learned that a discussion should never be held while standing around. Tea and a comfortable position were usually calming for both of them. Not that John needed calming, but Sherlock looked like his nerves had grown wings and were fluttering around in his body like an army of hummingbirds.

 

"So," John clicked on the kettle and leaned against the counter as he watched Sherlock stroking the silky fabric in his lap. "You identify as a man today, but you still want to wear the dress, correct?"

 

Sherlock's eyes wandered from the counter to the floor and back to the table, without meeting John's gaze. "Yes," he whispered. "I know that it's silly and that I shouldn't wear a dress, when I don't identify as a woman, but..."

 

"Whoa, stop right there, Sherlock!" It spoke of Sherlock's distress that he headed John's command without protest and John sighed quietly. Maybe it was more complicated than he believed it to be, but he truly didn't see Sherlock's problem. If he wanted to wear a dress, why shouldn't he?! John allowed the thought to circle around in his mind, while he prepared their tea - black and with two sugar for Sherlock and black and unsweetened for himself - and then sat down at the table across from his boyfriend, without having arrived at a different conclusion. John nudged the mug of tea in Sherlock's direction and took a sip of his own.

 

"You can wear whatever you want to wear, Sherlock," he started again, but it only earned him a humorless laugh from his boyfriend. "And how are you going to introduce me if we have the misfortune to become involved in a dull conversation?"

 

John blinked slowly at that, as the question didn't make much sense to him. "As Sherlock Holmes, mad genius and brilliant consulting detective, who I have the fortune of calling my boyfriend."

 

Something about his words, made Sherlock's head snap up in surprise and his eyes scanned John's face hastily. Whatever Sherlock noticed in John`s expression, it was enough to make him swallow and lower his eyes once more. He looked even more uncertain than before and John hated that look on Sherlock. He hated the silence between them even more, when it stretched on for minutes and John contemplated getting up and giving Sherlock a hug, when his boyfriend found his voice once more. "You would introduce me as your boyfriend, even if I wore a dress?"

 

John cocked his head to the side at Sherlock's disbelieving tone and nodded slowly. "Yes, since you told me that you identify as a man today, I would introduce you as my boyfriend, although if you didn't want me to, that would be fine as well. Sherlock," John added and reached across the table for his hand. "You know that I love you no matter what gender you identify with or what you wear, don't you?"

 

Long fingers closed around John's and dark curls popped up and down, when Sherlock nodded once. "Yes, but usually, my clothes express my gender identity - if I'm not on a case - and this time it wouldn't... fit."

 

John opened his mouth to answer and then closed it again, studying Sherlock closely over his mug. His boyfriend was fidgeting with the cup in his free hand. A sign of his nervousness, if John had ever seen one in Sherlock. Something made him anxious, but John couldn't figure out what it was. Sherlock certainly didn't have any problems with wearing dresses or skirts in public and he usually didn't care what labels others used to describe him. So, that couldn't be the problem here, could it? John didn't think so. Obviously, it must have something to do with the fact that he wanted to wear a dress, while he identified as a man, but John didn't really see a problem with that either. It wasn't as if someone could tell from Sherlock's clothes alone with which gender he identified, at any given day. Maybe, that was it. Maybe, Sherlock didn't want to be seen as a woman, only because he wore clothes that were regarded as female clothes by most of society. John felt his head starting to swim at all the possibilities. Gender really was a difficult concept and he was certain that he wouldn't get to the origin of Sherlock's feelings if they didn't talk about it.

 

"Look," John started carefully. "I think that there aren't clothes specifically for women and men. Yes," he added, when Sherlock frowned at him. "Certain clothes are seen as such, but hundred years ago people would point at a woman, who dared to wear trousers and today that's not a problem at all anymore. And if you want to wear a dress, then I'm the last one, who is going to tell you that it's somehow wrong, because it isn't."

 

Silence settled between them. Sherlock gazed thoughtfully at John, until - finally - he joined his deepest worry with him."People will react strangely if you introduce me as your boyfriend, while I wear a dress. They will assume... if you introduce me as your girlfriend, then they either don't question it at all or they come to the conclusion that I'm transgender, but...

 

"And you think I give a damn about what some strangers think about us?" Sherlock hesitated and then, gave a tiny nod at which John rolled his eyes. "They can all go screw themselves. I don't care what some idiots think about us. I only want to spend a wonderful evening with you and if you decide to only wear a sheet, then I'm all for it, too."

 

The nervous movement of Sherlock's hand stilled at that and wide eyes met John's in disbelief. "You really mean it."

 

John merely snorted at that, much too happy that the anxiousness had left Sherlock, to feel offended by that statement. "Of course, I do. You utter prick. Have you never listened when I told you that I love you?!"

 

If possible Sherlock's eyes widened even farther and for a second, John truly believed that Sherlock had somehow missed his declarations of love in the past, when the most brilliant smile, he had ever seen, lit up Sherlock's whole face. "You are extraordinary, John!"

 

John didn't have time for a reply as Sherlock leaned across the table to press an enthusiastic kiss to his lips, before jumping up and hurrying in the direction of the bathroom. A small sigh left John's lips as the door fell close behind Sherlock. Obviously, he would have some waiting to do, until it was his turn in the bathroom. Not that he minded, John grinned to himself and took a sip of his tea, it was always worth the wait to admire the result in the end, when it came to Sherlock.

 

OOO

 

Sherlock fidgeted nervously with his dress. Mycroft's gift looked absolutely beautiful and fitted Sherlock like a second skin. Only one shoulder was covered by a broad strap - which was designed to look like a twine - while his other shoulder was left bare. The dress clung tightly to Sherlock's upper chest, only to end in a long and wide skirt that made his legs appear even longer. No, the dress was perfect just like the jewelry and the flat court shoes, that had come with it. Sherlock would make a beautiful woman if only... He frowned slightly at his flat chest. The dress was designed in such a way that you could vary the size around the chest. Sherlock could have easily added a bra with pads, but he hadn't felt like it today. No, he didn't want to express himself as a woman today. No matter how strange it sounded, while he stood in front of the mirror in his evening gown. Sherlock had just felt like wearing a dress today - as well as some make-up and jewelry - while still presenting as a man. He had had such urges before - not often, but sometimes - but he had never given in to them, until today and only because John had told him that it was completely fine. Still, would John still see it this way, if someone made a rude comment or - what was more likely, considering they were among the higher classes this evening - whisper about them behind their backs? Sherlock swallowed hard and for a second his hand reached towards one of the drawers, where he kept his padded bras, when the door to their bedroom opened.

 

"Ah, there you are and I already feared that you weren't finished." Sherlock turned guiltily at John's voice and his breath caught in his throat, when he lay eyes on his boyfriend. All his insecurities were forgotten for the moment as he took in how attractive John looked in his tuxedo. The cut of the jacket underlined his broad chest and his well muscled arms, showing that John led an active life. His bow tie gave him something of an aloof look, but... the huge smile on John's face made him look ten years younger.

 

"You look great," Sherlock breathed out and made a note to check how John's ass looked in the fitted trousers, as soon as he turned around. Either John had read his thoughts or it was due to Sherlock's compliment, but his face lit up even more as he all but beamed at Sherlock. "Thanks, but if someone is winning the contest for best looking bloke tonight, it will be you." Appraising eyes wandered over his body and Sherlock felt himself relax, the nagging doubt - that had just returned - vanished at seeing John's unmasked love and lust, while he took in Sherlock's appearance. As long as John looked at him like this, then Sherlock could care less what anyone else thought about him.

 

Of course, Sherlock was aware that he shouldn't make his sense of self depend on another person like this, but... this was John, the man he loved and the first one - after Mycroft - who had accepted him as he was. Sherlock hadn't dared to really experiment with his gender expression, until recently and it was thanks to John's support that Sherlock dared to take some tiny steps in this direction. So, if John's opinion mattered more to Sherlock than anyone else's, then this was only to be expected and completely fine with him.

 

"Shall we go?" Sherlock asked brightly and allowed himself to show something of his anticipation for the upcoming concert. Michiwa was an exceptional violinist. John merely nodded and they extended the flat hand in hand to catch a taxi to Her Majesty's Theater.

 

OOO

 

Michiwa had been fantastic.

 

Her music was still floating through the wings of his Mind Palace and Sherlock allowed himself a second to indulge himself in the memory of her interpretation of Wieniawski`s piece. Rarely, Sherlock had heard such an interesting take on the violinist's music and he was sure to revisit this moment numerous times in the near future.

 

"You are practically glowing with happiness." At John's obvious deduction, Sherlock's smile grew even wider. "Of course, it was a fantastic evening. The commitment of Miss Michiwa to her music... Not that I would expect you to understand such things, considering what you think passes for music, John. Still even a philistine like you must have realised how beautiful Michiwa's music is."

 

From anyone else, Sherlock would have expected an insult or a punch for the insult, but John merely acknowledged them with a small smile. "If you don't stop slobbering about this violinist, I'm going to get jealous," John teased lightly and held out Sherlock's coat for him. Sherlock only hesitated a second, before he allowed John to help him in his coat and then returned the favor for his boyfriend. If the other people in the foyer stared at them, then Sherlock ignored it like he ignored most things any of these stupid snobs did. They had stared all evening long - when John and he had taken their seats and during the fifteen minutes break - and Sherlock had decided that he didn't care how they labeled him. If they assumed that he was transgender or that he was in fact a woman and had had his breasts removed due to cancer - Sherlock had overheard a few speculations - didn't matter to him. Especially not as long as Sherlock held John's hand in his as he led them towards the exit of the theater. They had just set foot on the sidewalk and Sherlock was looking down the street to hail them a taxi, when a hated voice froze him on the spot.

 

"Sherlock Holmes, is that really you?!"

 

There was a mocking undertone in the voice and Sherlock felt John stiffen at his side. He wasn't certain if it was due to the tone of the voice or if John was aware to whom it belonged, but there was no time for farther deductions, when Sherlock swung around and John followed his lead. There, looking for all the world like the respectable banker he pretended to be, stood Sebastian Wilkes, dressed in what could only be a ridiculous expensive tuxedo and wearing the most disgusting smirk on his face, that Sherlock had ever seen. And he had had years to study that smirk to the fullest. At his graduation, Sherlock had been able to tell, when exactly that hateful expression would appear on Sebastian's face and what it meant for him. Usually, it was coupled with humiliation for Sherlock - or some other poor sod - or at least with an especially hurtful comment.

 

Sherlock pushed the memories that jumped to the forefront of his mind away, before they could interfere with his ability to process things rationally. After all, he wasn't a naive loner anymore, who longed for a kind word or touch. No, he was Sherlock Holmes, only consulting detective in the world and with the reassuring touch of John`s hand in his, Sebastian Wilkes couldn't harm him this time. Still, Sherlock would have given his whole chemical equipment to replace his nemesis from Cambridge days with Moriarty. At least, the criminal mastermind wouldn't have spared more than a single glance for Sherlock's dress, before he had gotten to the point of their meeting. Sebastian, though...

 

"I always knew that you were a poof, but I never assumed that you weren't a man. Well," a diabolic smile passed over Sebastian's face. "At least that explains why you always were such a eager bitch for anyone's cock."

 

Sherlock merely raised an eyebrow at the insult, but remained otherwise silent. It wasn't that he didn't know what to say to Sebastian to shut him up, but rather that he feared his voice would betray him if he tried to speak. As perfectly as Sherlock managed to remain unmoved on the outside - and he hoped that he was successful this time - Sebastian's words still hurt and the last thing Sherlock wanted was for his old nemesis to learn how easily he could cause him pain. As it was, there was no need for Sherlock to say anything, as John's patience had only lasted long enough to hear Sebastian out and now he was practically seething with rage next to Sherlock. "Don't you ever dare to insult my boyfriend again," John snarled and Sherlock was certain that it was only thanks to the grip he had on John's hand that his boyfriend hadn't already jumped Sebastian.

 

Sebastian's lips barely twitched in amusement as his eyes landed on John and Sherlock knew that his nemesis had just made the mistake of underestimating John - like most people did. Sherlock just hoped that it wouldn't end with a broken nose this time. Not that he didn't want to see Sebastian bleed, but he really didn't fancy asking Mycroft for a favor to prevent a police investigation against John. And judging from the tense set of John's shoulders, he might even go for more than a broken nose, if given the chance.

 

Sherlock tightened his grip on John's hand and his action was met with a cruel laughter from Sebastian. "Oh, he is your boyfriend now and I thought you were just colleagues. Maybe, Sherlock's willingness to wear a dress has changed your mind." Sebastian took a step closer - probably to prevent the other patrons, that left the building, to overhear them - and had the nerve to wink at John. "If you ask him, he might even get breasts for you. Sherlock was always so eager to please and look at him now, he turns himself into a woman, just for you to fuck... Whew!"

 

John could still surprise Sherlock. One second, he had held his hand and the next, he had Sebastian pinned against the wall of the theater. John's left arm was pressed uncomfortable against Sebastian's larynx and Sherlock could deduce from the position alone that Sebastian's voice would be raspy for at least a couple of days if John held the position three minutes longer. Sherlock took a step towards them to shield John effectively from the looks of any pedestrians, while he hissed in Sebastian's ear in the deadliest tone of voice, Sherlock had ever heard from John. "I don't care what's wrong in this twisted mind of yours, but I won't listen to your insults of Sherlock. You aren't worth more than the dirt on his shoes and I won't allow such a filthy bastard like you to shame my boyfriend. I don't know what you posh pricks do in such a situation, but my military training has left me with a lot of inventive ways to make you regret the day you were born, if you ever speak disrespectful of Sherlock, again. Are we clear?" The question was almost purred and Sebastian had enough of his common sense left to press out a choked yes. Sherlock couldn't hide his grin, when his old nemesis slumped against the wall as John let go of him.

 

"You will... hear from my... lawyer," Sebastian managed to rasp out and Sherlock glared down at him, while he reached for John's hand and drew him to his side. "I don't think so. At least not, if you don't want your business partners to know about your inside dealings concerning the Indian market."

 

"How..."

 

"A trick, of course, Sebastian, like you have always said." Sherlock relished the way Sebastian's eyes widened comically for a second, before he decided that his old nemesis had ruined enough of their evening already and turned back towards the street to hail them a taxi and get them back home to Baker Street.

 

OOO

 

This bloody motherfucker!

 

John grinded his teeth, while the hateful words of Wilkes replayed in his mind. He hadn't been able to stand the posh git, when he had met him the first time at the bank. Still, John's instant dislike of Wilkes paled in comparison to the anger and hate that rose within him, when he thought of the son of a bitch. It was one thing to flash your success and money in everybody's faces and act like a total bastard towards a former fellow student, it was quite something else to verbally harass someone for their sexual history and gender expression.

 

John clenched and unclenched his hands on the seat, while the taxi maneuvered through the traffic of London. A random stranger wouldn't have noticed that Sherlock had been effected by Wilkes' insults, but John knew his boyfriend far too well to be fooled by his indifferent masks. He had noticed how Sherlock had stiffened next to him, after Wilkes had thrown the first insult. It had been in this moment that John had decided to take the bastard down a peg or two. To hell with the consequences and if it ever became a court case, John would happily tell the judge why he had attacked the bastard. Wilkes should be thankful that they had been in a public place, otherwise John wouldn't have stopped at a few threats. He just hoped that Wilkes would be stupid enough to cross them again, in order to introduce him to John's fist.

 

"You aren't asking." It took John`s mind a second to process the quietly spoken words and to remember that he was still sitting in a taxi next to his boyfriend. Even then, the words didn't make much sense and John turned towards Sherlock and raised an eyebrow at him. "What should I ask?"

 

Sometimes, John assumed that Sherlock had already held most of a conversation in his Mind Palace, before he deemed it necessary to share his results with John. But... No, Sherlock didn't look like he had just exited his Mind Palace to re-enter the world of the mere mortals. John knew Sherlock's almost dreamy and disorientated look - when he resurfaced from his Mind Palace - well enough to tell the difference between heavy thinking and wandering around the Mind Palace. And judging from how Sherlock was fidgeting with the pendant of his necklace, while he stared of the window at the same time, without meeting John's eyes, Sherlock had been thinking about something rather unpleasant. Which brought John back to Sebastian bloody Wilkes and he clenched his fists even harder. If that stupid git had managed to ruin the evening for Sherlock, after he had enjoyed himself so much during the concert, then John would...

 

"You didn't ask me why I didn`t defend myself, when Sebastian attacked me." John blinked slowly and stared quietly at Sherlock, who's rigid posture spoke volumes. New anger at Wilkes flared up in John, but he pushed it aside - with some effort - in order to focus on Sherlock. After all, his boyfriend was more important than this bloody wanker. "If one of my former lovers had insulted me like that, I would have been at a loss for what to say, as well," John answered truthfully, although he wasn't sure if that was what Sherlock wanted to hear.

 

For a second he even feared that he had said the wrong thing, when Sherlock's head wiped around and incredible wide eyes stared at him in astonishment. "How did you know?"

 

Not the reply, John had expected, but it was at least easier to figure out what Sherlock was asking this time, although he still thought it wiser to ask for clarification. "That Wilkes and you were more than... mates?" At Sherlock's nod, John shrugged. "Dunno, it probably was the way he was talking and how he looked at you."

 

Sherlock cringed, either at the memory of the conversation or at something that had happened a long time ago. John couldn't tell, but he could at least try to make him feel better. Slowly, he inched closer to Sherlock, until he was able to put an arm around his shoulder and pressed a brief kiss to his beloved's cheek. "And here I thought you had a better taste in men than that."

 

A small chuckle escaped Sherlock at that, before his expression fell once more. "I'm sorry that I never told you... about him."

 

John frowned. "There is no reason why you should tell me about all of your exes. I haven't told you about all of mine either, although you can probably make deductions about most of them." A fleeting smile passed Sherlock's features and John continued. "I don't care what you did with Wilkes at university, only... if he did anything to hurt you, I'll gladly make a trip to his office and rip his balls off." John glanced at Sherlock, but there was no indication in his expression that anything especially painful had happened in his past with Wilkes and John let it go to focus on more important aspects. "And I also want you to know that I don't give a damn about the lies this bastard spread about you. I love you and I don't want you any other way than how you are and... Hmpf!"

 

Obviously, John had managed to find the right words this time, if the feeling of Sherlock's eager lips on his were anything to go by. His hands found their way into silky curls, as John angled his head to the side to deepen their kiss. He didn't even spare a thought for the taxi driver, when he sucked Sherlock's tongue into his mouth and groaned longingly, when it was pressed against John's own.

 

Wilkes could go screw himself, John decided when sharp teeth nipped at his lower lip. They had better things to occupy their evening with than thinking about the bloody motherfucker. He just prayed that they would get to Baker Street before Sherlock could manage to unbutton John's shirt completely.

 

OOO

 

"God! Sherlock!"

 

"Your tendency to call upon some imaginary guy in such a situation, always surprises me." Sherlock smirked down at John and then claimed his boyfriend's mouth in another passionate kiss.

 

Somehow they had managed to get out of the taxi and stumble upstairs to their own flat, before the first parts of clothing had fallen victim to eager hands. Sherlock didn't recall where his coat was or when it had come off and he highly doubted that John could tell him where his bow tie and jacket had gone, but these were all irrelevant facts. Sherlock was far too busy with pressing John against the wall in their living-room to pay attention to such minor details. And judging from John's groans, he didn't care about the fate of his clothes either. Sherlock grinned and leaned down to press his lips to an especially sensitive spot on John's throat, scratching his teeth lightly over the exposed flesh. A startled cry escaped his boyfriend and Sherlock repeated the movement. He delighted in the knowledge that he could undo John with his mouth alone if he chose so - Sherlock had put this special skill to good use several times, already. And it would be much too easy to unzip John's trousers, fall to his knees and suck him until John was a quivering mess of want and desperation.

 

Sherlock allowed the scenario to play out in his mind for a second, before he pushed it aside. Another time, but tonight, he wanted something else. More than just John's mouth or his hands. Sherlock wanted all of John. He wanted to be as close to John as was humanly possible. He wanted to insert himself in his boyfriend and stay there forever to become one with John and to never let go of him again. Some part of Sherlock's mind pointed out to him that it wasn't possible to melt to human beings together and that any union - on the physical level - was merely temporary, but for once Sherlock ignored such rational thoughts as he claimed John's mouth in another passionate kiss. Their teeth clashed together. Spit ran down their chins. Fingers tore at Sherlock's curls. John's belt buckle dug painfully in Sherlock`s hip. In short, it was perfect!

 

Exactly what Sherlock wanted... No, what he needed, after what had happened with Sebastian this evening. Sherlock was still angry at himself for staying silent, when his former lover had insulted him so horribly. Especially, as John had been there to witness Sherlock's weakness, when faced with Sebastian. After they had gotten into a taxi, Sherlock had been prepared for any kind of accusations or at least questions from his boyfriend and he still marveled at how John could still surprise him. He had neither scolded Sherlock for not fighting back against Sebastian nor forced Sherlock to tell him everything about his past lovers. Instead, John had shown Sherlock what love truly meant and that was what had sparked the fire in Sherlock. The reason why he needed to get as close as possible to John and convince himself that this magnificent man had chosen him - Sherlock - out of everyone he could have. It was humbling and frightening at once and Sherlock burned with the need to take John on the spot.

 

"Oh God, please, yes!" The words stumbled from John's lips between kisses and Sherlock took a small step back to glance down at his boyfriend. Had he just said aloud what he wanted or was John just...

 

"Yes, Sherlock, do it! Fuck me!" Well that solved this riddle, Sherlock thought in amusement, while he drew and pushed John in the direction of the couch. Their bedroom was too far away and Sherlock's cock pushed painfully against the restriction of his knickers. And he knew in that instant that this wouldn't end in slow and tender lovemaking, but rough and desperate fucking. Sherlock's cock gave a twitch at that thought and he could almost feel his pupils dilating, when John unbuckled his belt with one hand and then stumbled backwards in his haste to get his trousers off. Thankfully, John only fell down on the couch and Sherlock was on his knees a second later, stripped John of his trousers and pants and threw them carelessly to the side. The only remaining fabric on John's body was his unbuttoned shirt and Sherlock decided that it wasn't worth the time to take it off, when he already had free access to John's nipples as it was. Instead he reached behind himself to unzip his dress, when John's hand on his wrist stopped him.

 

"What..." Sherlock's breath hitched in his throat, when he met John's eyes. His pupils were huge and almost swallowed the blue of his irises completely. Sherlock quirked up his lips, when the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. "You want me to keep the dress on, while I fuck you."

 

Sherlock watched in fascination as John's Adam's apple popped up and down as he swallowed hard and then gave a tiny nod. "Yes, if that's... fine?"

 

Sherlock almost snorted at that, but instead grabbed John's legs and drew him closer to the edge of the couch, until his arse hung off of it like a perfect offering for Sherlock, who sank down between the spread thighs. "It's all fine," Sherlock repeated John's own words from a lifetime ago and then swallowed John's cock almost down to its root.

 

"Ahh... Sherl... Fuck!"

 

Sherlock smirked around John's erection and sucked him even harder, while he reached under the couch with one hand and retrieved the tube of lube, which had rolled under the couch during their last frantic lovemaking in front of the fireplace. His cock was throbbing painfully inside the prison of his knickers and Sherlock spread his legs farther to give himself a little more freedom. Soon, soon, he reassured himself as he slicked his fingers with the lube and pushed two fingers inside his boyfriend.

 

"Oh God!"

 

John arched his back and Sherlock almost chocked on his cock, when John's sudden movement caught him by surprise. His eyes flickered up to the face of his boyfriend, to make sure that he hadn't accidentally gone faster than John had been prepared for. It wasn't the first time that they had rough sex and it was usually fantastic, when they were both in the mood for it - like this evening - but Sherlock still didn't want to risk hurting John by accident. Though, judging from the flush on John's face and chest and his still hard and twitching cock in Sherlock's mouth, he hadn't caused his boyfriend any pain.

 

"Sherlock... continue or I will... Ah yes!"

 

No, John was definitely not in any kind of pain, if he could still complain about Sherlock's lack of movement like this and push back against Sherlock's fingers at the same time. Encouraged by that realisation, Sherlock scissored his fingers inside John and hollowed his cheeks simultaneously, forcing a scream from John's throat in the process. Sherlock shifted uncomfortably on his knees as the sound sent heat straight to his groin. If he couldn't have John soon... Sherlock gritted his teeth and pushed his fingers deeper into the tight heat of his boyfriend. The memory of how John would feel around his cock was enough to force a groan from Sherlock's throat and he received an answering sound from John, when the vibrations stimulated his cock farther.

 

"Enough!" At John's sudden declaration, Sherlock let go of John's cock right away and withdrew his fingers at the same time. His own erection was throbbing painfully in his knickers, but Sherlock wouldn't continue if John had changed his mind, even if it killed him.

 

"I didn't mean stop!" At the amused tone of John's voice, Sherlock glanced up and watched how his boyfriend took one of the cushions and positioned it under his hips - his legs spread in silent invitation. On any other day, Sherlock would have scolded himself for jumping to conclusions, without taking all the possibilities into consideration, but he was far too turned on to feel bad about his false assumption. Sherlock had already jumped to his feet and stripped of his knickers, before he asked breathlessly: "Are you sure?"

 

John's only reply was to sling his legs around his waist to draw him closer until Sherlock's erection nudged against John's arse. "Hold up your dress and... fuck me already!" It was all the encouragement Sherlock needed before he pushed into John's tight heat and a wanton moan fell from both their lips.

 

"Move!" John ordered and Sherlock obliged by withdrawing and thrusting into his willing partner, once more. John felt fantastic... he was fantastic and Sherlock just wanted to bury himself deeper and deeper in him and never let go. Since this wasn't possible, Sherlock contended himself with doing the thing that came closest to his hidden desire. He thrust in John over and over again, angling his hips until he tore groans and screams from John's throat with every of his movements.

 

OOO

 

"Oh Fuck... Yes, there... Sherlock... Oh, Christ!" John had lost all control of his tongue by the time Sherlock was pounding into him in earnest. It always amazed him anew how incredible it felt to have a part of Sherlock inside him like this. It was the closest they would every get - physically - and John loved every second of it. The stretch, the slight burn, the fullness, Sherlock's thrusts, which sent waves of pure pleasure through John's whole body, until he was holding onto the edge of his sanity with the tip of his little finger.

 

John tightened his grip around Sherlock's waist and forced his eyes open - which had fallen close at some point during their amazing lovemaking - and what John saw brought him even closer to the edge: Sherlock, dressed in his red evening gown, thrusting into John, while the fabric swung back and for with every movement of his hips to alternately reveal and cover where Sherlock's cock was joined with John's body.

 

"Oh sweet... Ahh!"

 

Sherlock grabbed his legs and almost lifted John from the couch. The new angle allowed Sherlock to stimulate John's prostate even more directly and it only took a couple of thrusts, until John's orgasm crashed over him. He heard himself cry out as his cock pulsed between them and stars exploded in front of his eyes, while John was reduced to the sensations that rushed through his body and left him lightheaded in the process. He was vaguely aware of Sherlock's groans and warmth spilling inside him, but even this was too much for his mind to make sense of right now.

 

When John finally came back to himself, he was lying on the couch - half on top of Sherlock, who was snuggled up next to him - and with a sticky mess between his legs and one his stomach. John grimaced at the uncomfortable sensation, but he was much too exhausted to get up and get cleaned up. A decision, he would probably regret in a few hours, when his legs were glued together, but John truly didn't care about later right now. It was much too comfortable, cuddled up against Sherlock and still high on endorphins to break the spell with something as mundane as cleaning up.

 

"How are you feeling?" John blinked his eyes open at the deep rumble of Sherlock's baritone next to his ear. "I'm fine... more than fine, in fact." he assured his boyfriend with a grin and pressed a kiss to the corner of Sherlock's lips. "Maybe a little sore, but nothing a few hours of sleep can't cure."

 

Soft curls tickled John's cheek, when Sherlock nodded against him and a content sigh left his mouth. John pressed another kiss to this sinful lips, before he rested his head on top of Sherlock's shoulder. Silky fabric moved against John's chest, when he snuggled as close as possible to Sherlock.

 

"Mhm, you are still wearing your dress," John stated the obvious, which earned him a chuckle from Sherlock. "Yes, I will probably have it sent to the dry-cleaner's."

 

A snort escaped John at that. "You mean, I will send it to the dry-cleaner`s." As far as John was aware, Sherlock had never once done something as dull as getting his clothes cleaned.

 

"What would I do without you?" Sherlock whispered against him and John smiled slightly, although his eyes were drifting shut. "I don't know," he murmured and felt the gentlest touch of lips against his. "I don't know, either," Sherlock admitted in a quiet voice and John tightened his arms around him in reaction. "Good that there is no way, you'll ever find out how helpless you would be without me."

 

"John." Sherlock's voice held a variety of emotions, John couldn't hope to identify in his exhausted state, but he somehow managed to force his eyes open once more and to send a brilliant - although tired - smile, Sherlock's way. "I won't leave you, Sherlock - if you didn't know that already. You'll never get rid of me. I love you."

 

For a second, John feared that Sherlock was going to cry - there was definitely a wet sheen in his eyes - but then, Sherlock only pressed a kiss to his forehead and returned John's smile. "And I'll never let you go, John. I love you, too."

 

John hummed happily at the declaration and settled more comfortably on top of Sherlock, as his eyes fell close, again. Nothing kept John away from the sweet lull of sleep this time and drifted off with Sherlock's heartbeat in his ear. The only music, John had ever really cared for.