Sherlock X Reader One Shots || 𝐹𝐿𝑈𝐹𝐹 + 𝑆𝑀𝑈𝑇

Fruit Punch ((Final) Part 7) (EXPLICIT)

"Are you sure you want this?" He asks; kindly but he's grinning, his voice low, Y/N's wide eyes unable to leave the proud length of him.

It's obvious she wants it, all of her hungry and expectant, and she nods, desperacy making her words come out shaky:

"Yes. Please." She stares at him, transfixed, as he dons some protection.

When he positions himself, she shudders, the bedsheets knotted tightly in her fists. Settled between the luscious curves of her thighs, he nudges her entrance teasingly,

Y/N whines. "Sherlock!" She tries to lift her hips, searching for the granite-hard length of him---

---but he pins her waist to the bed with a broad, possessive palm.

He can't help staring at her, flustered and wriggling---desperate for him---

It's the most arousing thing he's ever seen.

Y/N's back curves into a spectacular arch as, ravenous, he pushes himself into her.

A shudder rolls through them both and Sherlock halts, losing focus for a brief moment.

The feeling of her surrounding him; the warmth, the heat, the unpredictable movements---it's better than the most enthusiastic fingers.

Slowly, he takes up a steady pace, trying not to concentrate too much on the explosions of sensation every single movement seems to set off.

Getting used to the feeling, he works up a comfortable rhythm, but Y/N is rutting against him plaintively.

"More---Sherlock...I want..."

"Harder?" He asks, the word gravelly by her ear, and she nods frantically, her calves drawn tight against the backs of his legs.

Grateful for her enthusiasm, he plunges deeper, as deep as he can go, and she cries in answer, a stifled gasp against his shoulder.

They both groan together as he draws out and back in, his pace picking up instinctually, the movement smooth and insistent and primal.

He alters his angle a little until, searching for that part of Y/N that will make her eyes roll back into her head.

He knows when he's grazed against it because she sobs, tensing up all of a sudden, her nails clawing at his back.

They draw faint, bittersweet little lines onto his porcelain skin, her face creasing as Sherlock drives at that spot again and again, each time making her muscles curl tighter, her eyes squeezing shut.

Sherlock can feel it too, a low, fierce throbbing building deep in his stomach; a sweet promise of pleasure tickling just out of reach.

It grows as Y/N ruts her hips against him, her body moving entirely beyond her control. She's clutching his upper arms so tightly he's sure she'll leave marks, the absent, distracted thought making his lips tug in satisfaction.

Picking up the pace, he pins Y/N's leg against his hip with one hand so he can push deeper, burying all of him, root to tip into the slick friction between her thighs.

"Sher-lock---" the end of Y/N's sentence dies in her mouth, release jerking her body as if a bolt had shot through her.

The feeling seems to take her utterly by surprise, her mouth forming a silent little 'O'. Blindly, she writhes against the heavy body above her, her shuddering warmth pushing Sherlock over the edge instantly.

A spasm of unbridled, seering pleasure rolls over him like a wave, Y/N's name choking from his lips.

For several moments they rock together, drowning, blinding white light burning the backs of Sherlock's eyes, Y/N's tense little body wrapped around him, twitching with her own release.

Panting, they remain entangled, the final fluttering sensations fading from their bodies.

When Sherlock lazily peels his eyes open, Y/N is staring up at him, her colour high, her mouth a wide, sloppy grin. He can't help stooping to deliver a soft, breathy kiss to her jaw before gently drawing himself free.

Panting and sated, he flops down onto the mattress at Y/N's side, inviting her in for a cuddle with an open arm.

"Alright?" He murmurs, tugging her closer as she moves up to his side.

With a mixture of awe and gratitude: "Absolutely Amazing."

He grins too, beaming at the ceiling. "It was, rather, wasn't it?"

With a dreamy hum, Y/N nuzzles her cheek against his chest. "Better than I ever imagined."

Tenderly, one of Sherlock's hands runs affectionately through her hair. It's mussed up and flat from the pillows, all of her floppy like a rag doll.

"For me too. Amazing."

They're silent for a bit, exhausted breaths slowing to satisfied sighs.

Sherlock lets his gaze slide lazily around the room; the rows of books like a vibrant rainbow, the vivid house plants, the trinkets and memories lined up on shelves. They're all the colours Y/N makes him feel when he's with her; deep red and bright yellows and sky blues.

He tightens his arm around her shoulders happily, and she stretches an arm leisurely over his middle.

"...Thank you, for this" she says, quietly. Her fingers splaying sleepily at Sherlock's stomach. "I needed it."

Letting his eyes close, his muscles limp in a satisfying, content sort of way. "Entirely my pleasure...I think we both needed it..." He kisses the top of her head. "...but I think I specifically needed you."

Hesitantly, her voice small:

"...Did you need me? Or was I just...there?"

Sherlock smiles. "I was wondering the same thing about you the night you kissed me."

Y/N pushes herself onto her elbow, and he drags open his eyes curiously. "You weren't just there. Sherlock, the other day, when you said you were going to the Christmas party..." she forces herself to meet his gaze. "...I went out and bought that strapless dress especially."

He blinks up at her.

She's still glowing, her eyes alive with fiery sparks, her teeth chewing her lower lip.

He feels himself grin. "You wanted me to notice you?"

She nods, her hair tickling his cheek.

Tenderly, one of Sherlock's large hands draws up to cup her jaw, his thumb unable to help grazing over her lips.

The lips he'd kissed until they're swollen and pink.

The lips he's been sneaking glances at for months.

The lips he'd do anything to make crease with a smile.

"Y/N, I meant it the other day. I always notice you. I've been noticing you since the day we first shared a lab at Scotland Yard."

The tips of her ears have crested with a blush, and Sherlock curls a finger at her chin, bringing her eyes back to his.

"There was an empty one right next to yours, you know."

She's grinning, and he pulls her down enough to catch it with his mouth, the curve of it, the hard line of teeth.

More than pliantly, Y/N lets him nudge her back down onto the mattress, her fingers already submerging themselves into his curls. They tug, and he hums, the sound a low purr that sets the bed springs buzzing.

He doesn't break for air until her legs have curled delicately about his thighs.

"Tonight really was amazing." He mutters into her ear, feeling her tremble against the strong weight of him. He kisses her throat, the dip between her collarbones, down, between her breasts. "Do you want to do it again?"