"And you went off to your bedroom for a massive sulk."
Sherlock chuckled, clenching around John then relaxing again. "Not even close," he murmured, raising his eyebrows suggestively.
John's jaw dropped. "You didn't!"
"To use a phrase which seems current, I SO did." Sherlock grinned. "Best wank I've had in years."
John's eyes widened, then he giggled. "Sorry, but it sounds very odd to hear your voice saying 'wank'," he explained.
"It's fine - the giggling feels amazing." Sherlock moaned appreciatively. Any pain or discomfort was fading fast and the urge to move was taking over. He scratched his nails lightly down John's back.
"Come on."
John drew back a little, then pushed in again, his eyes steady on Sherlock's face.
"Harder."
"Kiss me first."
Sherlock obeyed, welcoming John's tongue into his mouth, then sucking on it while clenching his internal muscles around him, pulling as much of John's body into his own as he could manage and holding it there. When John finally raised his head, he looked dazed.
"Fucking hell," he said quietly. It sounded like a compliment.
Sherlock held on to his shoulders as he started moving, his face becoming tense and focused.
"You," John said firmly, "are the most gorgeous," he punctuated his words with thrusts of his hips, "brilliant," another thrust had Sherlock panting beneath him, "breathtaking creature I have ever seen." Sherlock was struggling to concentrate, but he didn't want to miss anything. "You feel incredible," John told him, "absolutely, fucking incredible, and I really hope you're enjoying this because, if it's all right with you, we're going to be doing it a lot."
Sherlock nodded emphatically and John kissed him hard, then kept him in place with an arm around his waist as he knelt up, pulling Sherlock's left leg over his good shoulder. The new position afforded an excellent view of John's chest, which now bore a faint sheen of sweat, and Sherlock raised his hand and trailed a finger through it, then brought it to his mouth and licked, tasting the salt.
"Fuck!"
He looked up and John was staring, his pupils blown wide. Sherlock licked his finger again, then drew it into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks as he sucked on it, working pretty much on instinct by this stage but it seemed to be effective as John drew a sharp breath and visibly reined himself in before gripping Sherlock's hips firmly and tilting them up, holding him in position as he drove into him again and again, every thrust hitting his prostate bang on target, and soon Sherlock was shaking and moaning and chanting John's name, completely unable to stop himself and not even trying.
"Touch yourself," John told him. "Unless you want me to..."
"Don't you dare let go," Sherlock growled, his voice virtually unrecognisable. He wrapped one hand around himself and started stroking, fast and hard, watching John watching him and distantly amazed by how absolutely fucking incredible that made him feel, to let John see this, to show him, to give him everything.
John was talking again, telling him he was beautiful, and brilliant, and that he loved him, and the words poured into his mind, filling his head with John, John, John, until John was everywhere and everything... John was flooding him, filling him, pouring into all the empty corners of his life and Sherlock came with a shout that seemed to claw its way up from the dark hidden places where he pushed down all the insults which he brushed off and all the hurt feelings he pretended not to have and they faded away with the echo of his cry, leaving him shaking and breathless and wondering what the bloody fuck just happened.
"What the bloody fuck just happened?" asked John.
Sherlock opened his eyes, blinking and disoriented. "John, I..." He glanced down to where John was carefully pulling out of him. "Did you...?"
"Hell, yes, I did," John replied, disposing of the condom then grabbing another random sock to clean Sherlock off with. "With you yelling and thrashing and clamping down on me like that, not coming was not an option."
He settled down on the bed and Sherlock curled into him immediately, still trembling. He felt John draw a breath as if to ask more questions, but then he seemed to changed his mind, his arms coming up to hold Sherlock close, hands stroking soothingly. "Can you reach the quilt?" he asked.
Sherlock stretched a leg down and gripped a corner of the duvet with his toes, dragging it off the footboard and up until he could reach to spread it over them and for a long while they lay cocooned together as their heart rates gradually slowed and their breathing steadied.
Eventually, John spoke again. "Are you all right?"
Sherlock nodded against his chest.
"So, what was that, Sherlock? Because there was more going on there than just an orgasm, no matter how strong."
"I don't think I can explain."
"Well, you can try. And you can keep trying until I get it, because we're in this together now and there is no going back."
"Does the shagging mean I have to answer questions?"
"Yes. Always read the small print."
Sherlock smiled, starting to feel more like himself. He eased back just far enough that he could focus on John's face. "It was like... a catharsis."
"A catharsis?"
"I don't know how else to describe it. As if a lot of bad things I'd locked away just got deleted." He frowned in thought. "I feel lighter."
John chuckled. "That should work out well since you seem to like me picking you up."
Sherlock stared at him. "I'm going to kiss you at a crime scene," he announced, and John let out a burst of laughter.
"So that's the 'going public' discussion sorted then," he said.
"Well, you should have thought about that before you did this." Sherlock pointed to where John had bitten him earlier, knowing the mark would be livid.
"If you fastened your collar..."
"I do not fasten my collars!"
"You don't mind people knowing?"
"That someone actually loves me? I think I can cope. In fact, I'm hoping the shock might be too much for some of them." He lowered his voice confidingly. "Anderson may even faint."
John snorted. "Well, let's make sure he's standing next to a puddle before you start groping me."
"You wouldn't mind, then?" Sherlock checked, diffidently.
"Anderson face-planting into a puddle? No, not at all."
Sherlock huffed and John's face grew serious. "I would be proud. Am proud. Of you. Always. Just being your friend puts me head and shoulders above the crowd. I'll take whatever you give me, and I won't ever let go." He pressed their foreheads together. "I promise."
Sherlock cleared his throat. "So, how's your refractory period?" he asked. "I mean, I know you're older and..."
John nipped his earlobe. "I think you've halved it," he said, his hand sliding down Sherlock's spine. "But about what happened before...?"
"I think that was a one time thing," Sherlock decided. "Still, best to check."
