"Sherlock, stop running around without me you jerk!" I shouted, though a smile remained on my face. We slept in late today, seeing as after breakfast yesterday we had to go chase another criminal all around London. Today though, Sherlock and I were at the park. The weather had surprisingly warmed to a sunny 25 degrees.
Currently, I was chasing Sherlock. He was running off again and rambling about this and that. In order to catch him, I decided that tackling was the best maneuver. In this instant, it actually wasn't.
Upon tackling him, we both decided to trip, fall, and roll down a small hill until we splashed into the water. I felt like such a teenager again, though those years weren't far behind me seeing as I was only twenty-five now.
"John!" Sherlock complained from below me, resting in the shallows of the water. Looking down at him, I couldn't help but giggle at the sight of the two of us dripping wet in the pond. Then someone decided to ruin our moment.
"Look at those queers, people like that aren't fit to show themselves in public," a female voice sneered from somewhere up the hill. I couldn't pinpoint who it came from, but I know that it made me quickly move away from Sherlock and stand.
I know I should not let these types of things get to me, but they do. It's all the little things in life that can make my emotions change dramatically. Sherlock knew this, and stood up himself to try and console me. I pushed him away from me and started walking the direction opposite of where the voice came from.
I could hear him following, but he kept a safe distance away. I felt myself fuming with anger, but most of all I had the ache of pain from the woman's words. In my haste, I forgot Sherlock and I were dripping wet. It didn't matter to me at this point. All I wanted to do was go home and curl up under the covers and just cuddle with Sherlock.
I stomped all the way back to the flat with Sherlock at my tail, leaving trails over water and dripping everywhere. Stomping up the steps, I pounded to Sherlock's and mine bedroom to get dressed in dry clothes. As soon as that happened, I dove under the covers and curled up.
Soon enough, Sherlock's arms wrapped around me from outside of the blankets and pulled me close. I was facing him, so I popped my head out the place it under his chin.
"You are perfect, John," Sherlock told me in his deep, rumbling voice. He always knew exactly what to say to me and how to say it when I was upset. I simply nodded my head and curled up closer to him. "I love you," he told me gently, kissing my forehead.
"I love you too," I managed to say, but my voice sounded so small compared to his. Sherlock pushed the covers down from around my shoulders and pulled my torso into his. He must have changed into dry clothes when I was sulking under the covers.
"You are amazing," he consoled me again, kissing my cheeks. I sighed and reached my hands up to draw his face closer to mine. I placed a kiss onto his lips and held it there for a long period of time. Sherlock drew apart from me first and we stared into each others eyes. It was his way of asking permission from me. I gave a small smile and gave my head a slight nod.
His head dipped down and once more our lips met, this time with more force. Sherlock's arms dipped down and wrapped around my waist, pushing the blanket further down. I placed my own hand on his hips to draw us together completely. We broke away for a short breather to catch our breaths.
Then next times our lips met, we parted them and let our tongues meet. Sherlock controlled the reigns on this and I just let me emotions wash over me. His warm hands drift to rest upon my bottom and grip tightly. A short gasp followed as I pulled away from him. I could see his mischievous grin and his dilated pupils before he moved onto kissing and suckling at my neck.
"You are," he paused to places another kiss down my next, "wonderful," another kiss here, "beautiful," a small nip there, "and most of all you're mine."
I smiled up at the ceiling as Sherlock's hands trailed up to slip my shirt off. I gave some extra help and took his off as well. After long enough no clothes covered our bodies at all.
We both sighed at the bare contact and our lips met in a hungry kiss. Fire surged through my veins and my pulse skyrocketed. In the background, I heard the click of a cap as Sherlock popped open the bottle of lube. I didn't pay any mind and kept kissing him as thought my life depended on it.
Sherlock trailed kisses down my neck and to my chest, nipping around and teasing my nipples. I gasped and let out little moans as he continued his ministrations. His hands reached back around and one gripped onto my backside again.
Slick, lube covered fingers delved into the cleft and teased at my hole with taunting circles. I cried out and arched off the bed at the sudden pleasure.
"Sherlock," I whimpered to him, pleading with him to continue. He hummed in response and prodded into me with one of his fingers. I cried out again, tightening my muscles and then loosening them.
"You're so impatient," Sherlock chuckled out, looking up at me and letting our eyes meet. I had to stop and admire him for a moment.
His dark curled framed in his pale face, elongating his cheekbones further and drawing attention to his blue eyes. Those perfectly shaped cupid's-bow lips were drawn into a smirk as he continued to pleasure me.
"I love you," I moaned out as he struck my prostate and added another finger. My muscles quaked and I just managed to reach a hand down to still his. "Please Sherlock, just do it," I begged him, feeling my cheeks flush dark. He leaned up to place a kiss upon my lips.
"Of course," he husked out, sitting up and spreading my legs apart. His rested himself in between my thighs and I glanced down at his arousal. Just like every other part of him, it was gorgeous; standing tall and proud amidst a mass of black curls.
I keened when he suddenly thrust into me, snapping me into awareness as my back arched up. The burn of pain raced up my spine as he stretched me and I squeezed my eyes shut. He hadn't used any more lube or completely prepared me, but sometimes it was better like this. That way I could feel everything he had to give me.
"All right?" he asked, leaning down to speak into my ear. The movement caused him to slip in further and I sucked in a breath. When I opened my eyes to look at him, they felt glossy and tear filled.
"Yeah," I stuttered out, wrapping my legs around his waste, "Move," I ordered him. Sherlock complied and pulled out before thrusting back in.
It continued like this for a while, the sting of pain morphing into that of pleasure and soon enough I was calling out to him in a pitchy voice. His own groans and gasps of pleasure were muffled by my neck as he nipped at my pulse point and left marks. My nails dug into his hips and left scratches up and down his back, marring the pale flesh. The mix of pain and pleasure soon had the two of us calling out as our climaxes rocketed through us.
Afterwards, I lay limp under Sherlock with my head thrown to the side and my eyes closed. Our chests heaved up and down in rhythm. His arms anchored him above me and I whimpered as he pulled out of my. My muscles clenched at the loss of him.
"Tired?" he asked quietly, already knowing the answer. He moved to lay beside me and to pull the long forgotten covers up around us. I knew it was only the middle of the afternoon, but I was exhausted.
His long arms once again wrapped around me and another kiss was placed onto my forehead. I made my muscles move so I could snuggled closer to Sherlock. I was about ready to pass out.
"Just go to sleep," he whispered, "I will be here when you wake back up."
I just dazedly nodded and let blackness wash over me.