Many lazy minutes pass, Y/N's little body slowly and shyly loosening below Sherlock's touch.
They haven't removed any clothes yet---besides Sherlock's jacket---although he'd taken that off because they are rather near a radiator. Would he have preferred Y/N had torn it off with desperate, grappling fingers? Yes, but he doesn't mind this either; slow, lazy kisses, gradual exploration, Y/N moving them along with almost glacial slowness.
He has decided that he likes kissing very much; the soft presses, the way Y/N's leg tightens about him whenever he nudges his way into her mouth. The way she pulls his hair.
It is this; Sherlock's kiss falling deeper, and Y/N's hands tightening luxuriously amongst his curls, that leads his mouth to gasp, all on its own:
"Do you want to...move this to the bedroom?"
He'd heard that line on TV and hopes she finds it seductive. He doesn't really mind whether they're in the bedroom or not. The sofa is fine. Or up against a wall. Or the lush rug spread out before the bookcase.
Y/N trembles a little at the suggestion, her breath sharp and fast---but something like exhilaration flares in her eyes. She's hungry for something, something she can't quite name and---if she could---would be too shy to ask for. "...Yes please." She nods, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips. "If you...if you're sure you want to."
"I do want to," Sherlock says earnestly, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. "But only if you're ready. We don't have to do anything today. We could kiss some more. Or just cuddle. Or go out for a meal---"
With surprising conviction, Y/N shakes her head. "I am ready. I...I do want to, Sherlock. You're the only person I've ever..." she hesitates, daring to meet his eyes:
"You're the only person who's ever made me feel ready."
Flattered, he can't help a proud grin.
She makes a surprised little gasp as he plucks her up, clinging to him.
Between messy kisses, he carries Y/N to her bedroom, almost stumbling over a coffee table. He tries to lower her down onto the bed like he's seen in the movies but loses balance, toppling onto of her, both of them giggling nervously in a heap.
He smiles down at her pinned beneath him, her smile fragile and a little wobbly, but there, brilliant and bright. "You look beautiful."
A red flush creeps up from the neck of her T-shirt and stains the tips of her ears.
Leaning down, he kisses them, the shell warm against his lips. "You go very red when I flatter you."
Y/N's legs tentatively curl around his, tugging him nearer. Delicately, like a flower unfurling, the stretch of her neck arches giving him more room. "People don't flatter me much."
"They should." He plants a kiss on the curve of her jaw. "I'll do it every day." He flushes this time. "If you want."
Y/N doesn't seem to mind. She grips him tighter. "I want that very much."
He smiles and presses another kiss to her neck, the movement urging her head back.
Her lips part delicately, expectant and wanting.
It makes something in Sherlock's chest flair as he remembers he's the first person to touch her like this, and redoubles his efforts at the thought.
He'd like her to enjoy it. He's enjoying it, it's the best thing he's ever felt and he hopes she feels the same way. Sliding his leg carefully between Y/N's, he kisses her again, persistently, slowly, until they're both dizzy.
His voice low against her tempting, innocent mouth. "What else do you want?"
She goes red again, her cheeks contrasting starkly against the pale bedsheets. "What do you want?"
He shakes his head, his freshly shaven chin grazing her jawline. "I want to please you." He feels her fingers tighten on him.
"Thank you," Y/N stutters, so endearingly and almost pitifully Sherlock finds his face softening with sympathy.
He understands.
He can't imagine someone wanting to please him either.
Dipping his head, he nudges his nose behind Y/N's ear, letting the smell of her shampoo sweetly surround his face. He could live here, he thinks, wrapped in her limbs, her heart thrumming against his chest. "How about I explore? And you can just tell me if you like what I'm doing."
He's working his way down her neck, pulling away to check her expression.
She doesn't stop him so he nudges his nose into the collar of her T-shirt, his palm sliding from her hip to her T-shirt-covered side.
"...I like that," Y/N stammers, the words breathy against Sherlock's hair.
Softly, his thumb wriggles under her shirt, rubbing a questioning circle onto the pointed bone of her hip.
It makes her wriggle.
"Okay?"
"Yes. Keep going."
Slowly, he inches the cotton up, exposing a narrow slither of vulnerable skin.
Y/N gasps a little as Sherlock's palm gravitates to the inviting softness of her stomach.
Lingering there, letting her acclimate to the foreign touch, her presses his mouth carefully against hers.
She melts onto the covers as he gives a lazy massage, slow circles becoming wider until the back of his hand graces the underside of her breast.
He expects her to tense, but she hums against his lips, her fingers clutching on tighter to his shirt. Experimentally, he lets that hand wander up, higher.
She makes a bitten-down sound as the pad of his thumb smoothes over the crest of a nipple.
Unable to help moaning into her mouth, he sweeps over the pert little bud again, feeling it harden excitedly below his touch.
Breaking the kiss to gasp, Sherlock finds Y/N's eyes closed, her body loose and pliant, and watches in fascination as hungry, unexpected little noises fall from her parted lips as he rubs soft, teasing circles.
She goes pink when her eyelids flutter open and she realizes he'd been watching her. She bites her lip, stifling a breathy gasp, and Sherlock shakes his head.
"Don't. I like to hear you."
Y/N giggles, her gaze flicking from his pale eyes to his muscled arm disappearing below the hem of her T-shirt. Quietly:
"You can take it off if you want." She sits up a little, lifting her arms.
In awe, like unwrapping a present at Christmas, Sherlock tugs her T-shirt up and over her head.
Her skin tightens as the night air greets it, and he feels a shiver of something exciting travel down his spine and pool in his toes.
He can't help it anymore, and leans down, letting his mouth connect with the soft skin of her breast.
They both hum, Y/N's skin prickling with goosebumps.
She hitches when his nose nudges over a nipple, his wide lips tracing hot circles around the delicate areola.
Unable to help it, his jaw drops open, the wet heat of his tongue rolling the pert, deliciously responsive little bud.
Squirming under his assault, Y/N's weak moan rolls straight to Sherlock's hips.
His grin grazing roughly against her skin, he lifts his head to give the other equal attention.
He's running rough circles around the blushed nub of flesh when he realises Y/N has untucked his shirt, her hands scrabbling to get below the cotton. He pulls away, leaving both her breasts flushed and shining and Y/N gasps up at him.
"Sorry. I just---I wanted---" She's let go of his clothes, her fingers retreating, but Sherlock takes a slender wrist in one hand and guides them back.
"It's okay," he says, delivering a kiss to her lips through a smug smirk:
"Please. Do whatever you want to me."
Y/N's legs cling tighter about him as his low tone rumbles into her ear, and after a few moments, he feels her fingers tentatively return to the buttons of his shirt.
Her kiss addictive, he barely notices as the cool air greets him, but he finds himself tensing as her hand meets his chest.
The touch is new and warm and more than welcome.
"Relax," Y/N says, and it startles a nervous laugh out of him.
He's not relaxed, but he is enjoying himself. He's excited and painfully aroused and a little nervous.
What if he isn't what she'd been expecting?
What if he's not what she had wanted, for her first time?
What if he's too pale and angular and nothing like those big burly men she likes to watch in those superhero movies?
"Gorgeous," Y/N mutters, her fingers splayed over his beating heart. The tips of her ears go pink as if she hadn't meant to say it out loud.
"Thank you," Sherlock says, meaning it. "...People don't say that to me either."
"...I did. In my head. The first time I met you."