Unexpected
Title: Unexpected
Author: jaune_chat
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Characters/Pairings: Sherlock/John
Rating: R
Wordcount: 440
Spoilers: none
Warnings: slash, tattoos, scars
Disclaimer: Sherlock isn’t mine.
A/N: Written for the Five Acts Meme, for the kink: tattoos and/or scars
Summary: Sherlock discovers something unexpected under John's quiet clothing.
Unexpected. Not entirely, but certainly a pleasant discovery. John’s hesitant intake of breath indicated he was uncertain of my reaction upon seeing the mark needled into the skin over his right deltoid.
“Professional work.” I trace the sharply-defined lines of the regimental symbol, velvet-dark and precise, and can feel John tensing under my touch. Unnecessary. Undesired experimental outcome. New methods needed.
“You went back for repeated ink,” I state. A lighter touch, barely enough to be felt, makes John shiver. “You needed it to last.” The tattoo has a slightly different texture, raised lines in faint relief, fascinating to touch.
John nods, eyes closed and head pressed back into the mattress. He’s tense again, but sweat has broken out. If he opens his eyes now, his pupils will be dilated, and his chest heaves under my hand. Success.
His eyes fly open, as if he could hear me (they’re almost fully black, obviously). He swallows once, and then moves.
He is rather quick. Being on my back might be a disadvantage, if John weren’t looming over me. Clearly it’s the most advantageous position for both of us. My own skills must be rubbing off on him.
John moves again, and I did not just make that noise. I don’t care for John’s little smile, but I do care very much that he-. I think I might have just gasped. Possibly. Yes, the man has very well developed musculature and I’m very appreciative of that fact, and dear unholy God I can feel everything when he rubs against me.
He’s far too close to me, and I can see the scar in his shoulder, puckered and rough. It feels strange under my tongue, tastes of fine salt-sweat, and John’s shaking goes completely away as his breathing goes harsh and frantic. I let myself fall open, push up; I’m already prepared for him (I’m three steps ahead of anyone, and if one step was premature anticipation, the results are still eminently satisfactory).
John’s stronger than I am, moves me to find the best angle without effort. He’s done this before-. (I think I may have squeaked. Remember to swear John to secrecy after coitus.) No matter. Further deductions are unnecessary. I bite hard into the scar as John pushes in, and the thrust rattles every single thought out of my head. It’s a fascinating place to be, and when the rush comes (I feel it though John’s cock and my body and the tense scarred flesh under my teeth) I dive into it deeply, held back only by a hand over mine, tracing the darkened lines on John’s skin over and over.
Author: jaune_chat
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Characters/Pairings: Sherlock/John
Rating: R
Wordcount: 440
Spoilers: none
Warnings: slash, tattoos, scars
Disclaimer: Sherlock isn’t mine.
A/N: Written for the Five Acts Meme, for the kink: tattoos and/or scars
Summary: Sherlock discovers something unexpected under John's quiet clothing.
Unexpected. Not entirely, but certainly a pleasant discovery. John’s hesitant intake of breath indicated he was uncertain of my reaction upon seeing the mark needled into the skin over his right deltoid.
“Professional work.” I trace the sharply-defined lines of the regimental symbol, velvet-dark and precise, and can feel John tensing under my touch. Unnecessary. Undesired experimental outcome. New methods needed.
“You went back for repeated ink,” I state. A lighter touch, barely enough to be felt, makes John shiver. “You needed it to last.” The tattoo has a slightly different texture, raised lines in faint relief, fascinating to touch.
John nods, eyes closed and head pressed back into the mattress. He’s tense again, but sweat has broken out. If he opens his eyes now, his pupils will be dilated, and his chest heaves under my hand. Success.
His eyes fly open, as if he could hear me (they’re almost fully black, obviously). He swallows once, and then moves.
He is rather quick. Being on my back might be a disadvantage, if John weren’t looming over me. Clearly it’s the most advantageous position for both of us. My own skills must be rubbing off on him.
John moves again, and I did not just make that noise. I don’t care for John’s little smile, but I do care very much that he-. I think I might have just gasped. Possibly. Yes, the man has very well developed musculature and I’m very appreciative of that fact, and dear unholy God I can feel everything when he rubs against me.
He’s far too close to me, and I can see the scar in his shoulder, puckered and rough. It feels strange under my tongue, tastes of fine salt-sweat, and John’s shaking goes completely away as his breathing goes harsh and frantic. I let myself fall open, push up; I’m already prepared for him (I’m three steps ahead of anyone, and if one step was premature anticipation, the results are still eminently satisfactory).
John’s stronger than I am, moves me to find the best angle without effort. He’s done this before-. (I think I may have squeaked. Remember to swear John to secrecy after coitus.) No matter. Further deductions are unnecessary. I bite hard into the scar as John pushes in, and the thrust rattles every single thought out of my head. It’s a fascinating place to be, and when the rush comes (I feel it though John’s cock and my body and the tense scarred flesh under my teeth) I dive into it deeply, held back only by a hand over mine, tracing the darkened lines on John’s skin over and over.