Missing Piece - BBC Sherlock (Johnlock) *finally completed*

Chapter 17

Heavy panting and an occasional moan or gasp was drowned out by the still running telly, but none of the two could bother to turn it off. Sherlock's fingertips ghosted over John's skin, elaborately exploring every inch of his body, doing the same with his mouth when he couldn't hold back anymore. Starting with John's knee, he slowly worked his way up to his stomach, leaving open mouthed kisses along its trail, tongue tracing the outline of John's hipbones, relishing the little breathless noises it evoked from the doctor.

Every sound and reaction to the touch of a particularly sensitive area was filed away for later references. Sherlock wanted to categorize them all, from intensity to the art of the noise. He sucked just above the bellybutton, making John squirm under his mouth. He then proceeded to move up until he was just above the gash on his chest, sedately nibbling at his collarbone, bracing himself on the piece of armchair between John's legs, who spread them to give him more room.

He didn't get the time to devote himself to John's neck as the doctor impatiently grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him up to press their mouths together. Sherlock wasn't experienced in the act of kissing, his few encounters with another pair of lips had been more of a scientific verification with moderately pleasing outcome than actual desire. He had been content with having experienced it physically and having felt the endorphins it could produce, but it had never been worth repeating for him until now. Surely the emotional component had been amiss.

John proved to be just as practiced with his tongue as he was with a gun, taking control over the kiss which Sherlock gladly gave him, fully engaged with the task of not toppling over and clutched John's shoulder in need for balance, barely missing the wound on his upper arm. Sherlock moaned into the kiss at an especially swift move of John's tongue paired with the feeling of a hand squeezing his buttock. Much too soon he drew back, head dizzy and thoughts blurry from the lack of oxygen and arousal.

Hasty moving finger fumbled with the buttons of his shirt while Sherlock sucked a bruise on John's neck, smiling against the skin when John let out a frustrated grunt.

"There are too many of those bloody buttons" How badly Sherlock wanted to record this voice filled with lust and breathless from their kiss so he could listen to it when John was at work and Sherlock had no case he could occupy his from boredom decaying brain with. John probably wouldn't approve of it though.

Eventually he managed to unbutton the last stud, quickly pulling it down his arms and heedlessly tossing it on the ground. Eager fingers roamed over his back, pulling him closer to capture his lips in another breathtaking kiss. Sherlock hummed in approval when one hand went resumed kneading his buttock, arching slightly into the touch. Skilled fingers stroked over his chest and Sherlock accidentally bit down on John's tongue when he pinched his nipple.

"Oh god, John, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-" he hastily apologized, the metallic taste of blood unfurling in his mouth.

"Thank the painkillers. It doesn't hurt that much" John giggled and Sherlock was a bit taken aback, not sure what was so funny about being bitten in the tongue in the middle of kissing.

"You should have seen your face" John buried his face in the crook of Sherlock's neck, laughing helplessly. The consulting detective pursed his lips, waiting for John's laugher to cease. When that didn't happen, Sherlock purposefully grabbed the bulge in John's boxers and squeezed, a choked off sound somewhere between a laugh and a moan escaped John's lips. Sherlock smirked victoriously when there was no giggle to follow. Instead he couldn't seem to open Sherlock's fly fast enough and Sherlock stood up to give him better access. John moved up from the armchair, hand clutching around Sherlock's neck to bend him down for a kiss and they stumbled towards the bedroom, Sherlock nearly tripping when his feet got tangled in his halfway shoved down trousers and John swore loudly when he bumped against the doorframe of Sherlock's room.

They more or less toppled onto the bed, the doctor already pulling down Sherlock's briefs, who was straddling John's hips, faintly aware through the desire that clouded his mind that he needed to be considerate of John's injuries. He dragged his thumb over John's kiss swollen lips, admiring the flush that had spread across his face. Momentarily, he forgot to breathe as John's fingers wrapped around his erection, setting a slow pace and Sherlock arched his back, hand digging into the mattress.

Teeth sunk into his lower lip as John's thumb circled around his tip, smearing precum, before a throaty groan escaped Sherlock's mouth.

"Do you like that, Sherlock?" the doctor repeated the motion and Sherlock most definitely did not whimper.

"I think you...ahhh...should be able to see that" John rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips and brought up his other hand to stroke Sherlock's side.

"So, no dirty talk" Sherlock frowned. Of course he could do that. If that was what John wanted he'd even read poorly written erotic novels until he'd have mastered it to perfection. Supporting himself with a hand above John's head he leaned forward until his mouth was at John's ear, panting heavily.

"Your hand on my cock feels better than anything I can imagine. I never want you to let go of it again" John's hand sped up slightly, making it difficult for Sherlock to form coherent words "When your injuries are healed I...hmm...want you to fuck me so hard that Mrs. Hudson can..ah...hear it over the noise of her telly" he slipped his other hand down John's boxers, gripping his shaft and John's pace faltered as he moaned.

He used the opportunity to sit up and push his underwear down and circled his hips, grinding their erections together. John arched up under the touch, mouth falling open in bliss. Sherlock's brain might have short-circuited a bit when John's hand started to move again, wrapping about both their cocks. Gathering his thoughts, Sherlock continued where he'd left off. John hadn't complained yet about his dirty talking so he must be doing a decent job.

"Don't stop, John. I want you to..hahhh...make me beg for release. Even if Mycroft would appear in the doorway I..ah...want you to keep your hands on my dick until I come" John blinked a few times and looked at him with wide blown pupils.

"I really don't want to imagine that" It would have been a blow to his pride in another situation to not excel at something even the most ordinary person seemed to can do, but as it was speaking had become quite difficult anyway. He'd start reading erotic novels tomorrow.

He captured John's lips in a needy, open-mouthed kiss, body rocking in sync to John's pace. Heat coiled at the pitch of his stomach and the movement of John's hand had grown frantic. Sherlock couldn't recall digging his fingers into the mattress, knuckles turning white. He arched his back when he came, moaning something incoherent against John's mouth and he could feel John trembling beneath him a few moments later. Rolling over, Sherlock collapsed beside the doctor, gasping for air.

"Why haven't we done this sooner?" John turned his head to look at him, grinning widely.

"Because you consider yourself married to your work"

"One could say it's more of an open relationship"

"That's good, I wouldn't want to have an affair" John leaned towards him and pressed a chaste kiss on his lips.

If anyone dared to try and take John away from him again they wouldn't live to regret it.