Ultimate Choice series, part 3/3
Title: Ultimate Choice, pt.3
Author: Marumaru, originally in Japanese
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Wordcount: 1286
Translated by: leopardseals
Beta-ed by: Lilithemm, lazy-like-a-fox
Rating: PG-13~NC-17
Warnings: Swearing, sexual content (part 3)
Summary: John comes to terms with his feelings.
Notes: Any awkwardness in the text is purely my fault -- the original text is absolutely beautiful! Thanks again to Marumaru-san for giving me permission to post this here :)
The original Japanese text for part 2 is located here.
The curtain was closed, but it was clear that morning had come; light still seeped through the thin material, softly illuminating the room.
John opened his eyes, realizing that something was a bit different as he felt a dull pain in his hips. He had been sleeping on his side, when he usually slept on his back - perhaps that was the cause of the pain. When he looked over and saw Sherlock’s sleeping face, that thought flew out of his head and was immediately replaced by memories from the previous night. He felt his pulse quicken and he shifted, a bit uncomfortable.
Right, last night we did...
He tried to get up from the bed without waking Sherlock, but he realized belatedly that he was completely naked and he immediately stopped moving, flustered. Both his feet were on the floor, but it was only because he was still sitting that he was covered, thankfully, by the edge of a blanket.
“What did we do?”
Everyone knows this is what happens the morning after going to sleep naked, wrapped in another’s arms, John mused. But every time he moved even an inch, Sherlock's distinctive scent wafted up from his own skin, and he didn’t know what to think. It was just, so real, and it was the first time he had felt this way in his life.
“…I suppose I should go and shower…”
“…Mm.”
It seemed like he had accidentally woken Sherlock up through the sudden creaking of the springs underneath them. Turning, John saw Sherlock peering up at him with half-closed eyes, looking rather irritated, with a crease between his brows and his face buried in the pillows.
“Um..”
“I’m cold, John.”
“Oh…sorry, Sherlock.”
Because John had tried to get off the bed, the blanket had fallen away from Sherlock’s body, exposing him to the cool air. John put it back in place carefully as he apologized, but his flatmate looked even more annoyed when he looked over at him.
“That’s not what I meant.”
Sherlock lifted one of his arms, along with the blanket, making a John-sized space next to him on the mattress. This gesture seemed to signify a command to get in.
John rather obediently slid in next to him, but he faced away from Sherlock, still feeling a bit embarrassed.
He thought he heard the click of a tongue behind him, and he suddenly felt himself pulled close from behind by long, slender arms.
“Sherlock -“
“I told you I was cold, John.”
Sherlock’s warm body felt good against his back, but he felt oddly abashed by the feel of those pale arms holding him from behind, his hand on John’s chest.
He also felt a different sort of heat, pressing against his hip - and felt his heartbeat quicken at the sensation.
“Sherlock…?”
“What is it?”
“…You’re -“
“Oh. Well, it is morning, John. I’m sure you’re the same way - doesn’t it happen to everyone?”
“I know, but…”
John couldn't say anything more. He felt an embarrassing flush spread over his face and onto his ears. Though he hoped Sherlock wouldn’t notice, doing things contrary to John’s wishes was a key component of his flatmate’s relationship with him. He licked John’s earlobe and nibbled at it gently.
“Ah!”
“You’re just as sensitive as you were before,” Sherlock murmured against John’s ear.
“Do you really have to say those things out loud?”
“Why not? You’re enjoying it. See?”
Sherlock swiftly moved his hand over John’s belly and onto his hard cock, wrapping his fingers around it.
“...Wait, stop --”
His hand moved slowly at first, but as John’s cock responded and precum beaded at its tip, the movement of Sherlock’s hand became smooth. With every up-and-down stroke, or each squeeze at the base, a shudder of pleasure ran through the base of John’s spine, making his body quiver.
“Ah --”
After countless repetition of this, John laid a hand on Sherlock’s arm to stop his movements, but his hands then moved of their own accord over Sherlock’s body, his fingertips brushing over his lover’s skin as his breaths became more ragged. Sherlock found this quite endearing.
“Look at me, John.”
“Mm...”
John’s blue eyes were wet with unshed tears. He grabbed Sherlock’s long, dark brown locks and pulled him in for a feverish kiss.
Sherlock took both of their erections in his hand and guided John’s hand there as well.
“Oh God, Sherlock -- it’s so hot...”
“Me too.”
John felt almost delirious as he stroked both of them at once. As he slid his fingers between them and squeezed, stroking roughly, a moan spilled from Sherlock’s lips at the exquisite mix of pain and pleasure. The unexpected sound excited John further, and he lightly pressed a nail over the tip of Sherlock’s cock, wanting to hear more.
“...John!”
“Sherlock --”
Such intoxication -- what a thrill this would be, pleasuring him with his fingertips -- and his partner was Sherlock Holmes. The great detective was losing himself under his touch, closing his eyes and breathing heavily, savoring the pleasure. He thought he might come just from watching him.
These serene thoughts were interrupted and left broken in pieces when Sherlock kissed him. It was as if he were getting back at John for his thoughts by toying with him, using his lips and his tongue.
The sound of their kissing, the sliding of skin against skin, and the wet sounds coming from between their hands filled the room. Yet, nobody was in the room to listen -- the two of them lost themselves in giving each other pleasure.
“...I can’t -- I’m...”
John felt himself tighten inside his hand, and in the next second, hot cum splashed up between their bodies. Sherlock was not far behind.
“Oh...”
After a few more pulses, their bodies, so tense just a second ago, loosened and felt as if they were marionettes with their strings cut. Their hands and body were still wet, but they paid no mind -- with the strength they had left, they held each other, putting their arms around their still heaving chests and around their waists, saying nothing for a long time
“...Really, this early in the morning..?”
His mind was clearer now that they were done, and he was once again a bit embarrassed at the whole situation. He let go of his arms that surrounded Sherlock’s waist and looked down, quiet.
Sherlock, on the other hand, pulled out a part of the sheet that was wedged under the mattress, and he started to wipe down his arms and his chest, as well as John’s body.
“...Uh --”
“You should probably go have a shower.”
Yet, to tell the truth, John really wanted to stay like this for a little while longer.
What felt like happiness and contentment seemed to spread through his chest, and he felt a sense of security extending to the tips of his fingers and toes. He put his arms around Sherlock--Sherlock, who dances through life without a care for feelings of shame--around his neck, still spotted red in parts from where he’d left marks, and around his back, embracing him gently.
“John?”
“Let’s stay like this a while; we can wait to eat breakfast, right?”
“...Mm.”
Sherlock buried his face in John’s blond locks and breathed in slowly, closing his eyes.
For the next few hours until a text from Lestrade would wake them, they experienced some of the most restful sleep they’d ever had.
Author: Marumaru, originally in Japanese
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Wordcount: 1286
Translated by: leopardseals
Beta-ed by: Lilithemm, lazy-like-a-fox
Rating: PG-13~NC-17
Warnings: Swearing, sexual content (part 3)
Summary: John comes to terms with his feelings.
Notes: Any awkwardness in the text is purely my fault -- the original text is absolutely beautiful! Thanks again to Marumaru-san for giving me permission to post this here :)
The original Japanese text for part 2 is located here.
The curtain was closed, but it was clear that morning had come; light still seeped through the thin material, softly illuminating the room.
John opened his eyes, realizing that something was a bit different as he felt a dull pain in his hips. He had been sleeping on his side, when he usually slept on his back - perhaps that was the cause of the pain. When he looked over and saw Sherlock’s sleeping face, that thought flew out of his head and was immediately replaced by memories from the previous night. He felt his pulse quicken and he shifted, a bit uncomfortable.
Right, last night we did...
He tried to get up from the bed without waking Sherlock, but he realized belatedly that he was completely naked and he immediately stopped moving, flustered. Both his feet were on the floor, but it was only because he was still sitting that he was covered, thankfully, by the edge of a blanket.
“What did we do?”
Everyone knows this is what happens the morning after going to sleep naked, wrapped in another’s arms, John mused. But every time he moved even an inch, Sherlock's distinctive scent wafted up from his own skin, and he didn’t know what to think. It was just, so real, and it was the first time he had felt this way in his life.
“…I suppose I should go and shower…”
“…Mm.”
It seemed like he had accidentally woken Sherlock up through the sudden creaking of the springs underneath them. Turning, John saw Sherlock peering up at him with half-closed eyes, looking rather irritated, with a crease between his brows and his face buried in the pillows.
“Um..”
“I’m cold, John.”
“Oh…sorry, Sherlock.”
Because John had tried to get off the bed, the blanket had fallen away from Sherlock’s body, exposing him to the cool air. John put it back in place carefully as he apologized, but his flatmate looked even more annoyed when he looked over at him.
“That’s not what I meant.”
Sherlock lifted one of his arms, along with the blanket, making a John-sized space next to him on the mattress. This gesture seemed to signify a command to get in.
John rather obediently slid in next to him, but he faced away from Sherlock, still feeling a bit embarrassed.
He thought he heard the click of a tongue behind him, and he suddenly felt himself pulled close from behind by long, slender arms.
“Sherlock -“
“I told you I was cold, John.”
Sherlock’s warm body felt good against his back, but he felt oddly abashed by the feel of those pale arms holding him from behind, his hand on John’s chest.
He also felt a different sort of heat, pressing against his hip - and felt his heartbeat quicken at the sensation.
“Sherlock…?”
“What is it?”
“…You’re -“
“Oh. Well, it is morning, John. I’m sure you’re the same way - doesn’t it happen to everyone?”
“I know, but…”
John couldn't say anything more. He felt an embarrassing flush spread over his face and onto his ears. Though he hoped Sherlock wouldn’t notice, doing things contrary to John’s wishes was a key component of his flatmate’s relationship with him. He licked John’s earlobe and nibbled at it gently.
“Ah!”
“You’re just as sensitive as you were before,” Sherlock murmured against John’s ear.
“Do you really have to say those things out loud?”
“Why not? You’re enjoying it. See?”
Sherlock swiftly moved his hand over John’s belly and onto his hard cock, wrapping his fingers around it.
“...Wait, stop --”
His hand moved slowly at first, but as John’s cock responded and precum beaded at its tip, the movement of Sherlock’s hand became smooth. With every up-and-down stroke, or each squeeze at the base, a shudder of pleasure ran through the base of John’s spine, making his body quiver.
“Ah --”
After countless repetition of this, John laid a hand on Sherlock’s arm to stop his movements, but his hands then moved of their own accord over Sherlock’s body, his fingertips brushing over his lover’s skin as his breaths became more ragged. Sherlock found this quite endearing.
“Look at me, John.”
“Mm...”
John’s blue eyes were wet with unshed tears. He grabbed Sherlock’s long, dark brown locks and pulled him in for a feverish kiss.
Sherlock took both of their erections in his hand and guided John’s hand there as well.
“Oh God, Sherlock -- it’s so hot...”
“Me too.”
John felt almost delirious as he stroked both of them at once. As he slid his fingers between them and squeezed, stroking roughly, a moan spilled from Sherlock’s lips at the exquisite mix of pain and pleasure. The unexpected sound excited John further, and he lightly pressed a nail over the tip of Sherlock’s cock, wanting to hear more.
“...John!”
“Sherlock --”
Such intoxication -- what a thrill this would be, pleasuring him with his fingertips -- and his partner was Sherlock Holmes. The great detective was losing himself under his touch, closing his eyes and breathing heavily, savoring the pleasure. He thought he might come just from watching him.
These serene thoughts were interrupted and left broken in pieces when Sherlock kissed him. It was as if he were getting back at John for his thoughts by toying with him, using his lips and his tongue.
The sound of their kissing, the sliding of skin against skin, and the wet sounds coming from between their hands filled the room. Yet, nobody was in the room to listen -- the two of them lost themselves in giving each other pleasure.
“...I can’t -- I’m...”
John felt himself tighten inside his hand, and in the next second, hot cum splashed up between their bodies. Sherlock was not far behind.
“Oh...”
After a few more pulses, their bodies, so tense just a second ago, loosened and felt as if they were marionettes with their strings cut. Their hands and body were still wet, but they paid no mind -- with the strength they had left, they held each other, putting their arms around their still heaving chests and around their waists, saying nothing for a long time
“...Really, this early in the morning..?”
His mind was clearer now that they were done, and he was once again a bit embarrassed at the whole situation. He let go of his arms that surrounded Sherlock’s waist and looked down, quiet.
Sherlock, on the other hand, pulled out a part of the sheet that was wedged under the mattress, and he started to wipe down his arms and his chest, as well as John’s body.
“...Uh --”
“You should probably go have a shower.”
Yet, to tell the truth, John really wanted to stay like this for a little while longer.
What felt like happiness and contentment seemed to spread through his chest, and he felt a sense of security extending to the tips of his fingers and toes. He put his arms around Sherlock--Sherlock, who dances through life without a care for feelings of shame--around his neck, still spotted red in parts from where he’d left marks, and around his back, embracing him gently.
“John?”
“Let’s stay like this a while; we can wait to eat breakfast, right?”
“...Mm.”
Sherlock buried his face in John’s blond locks and breathed in slowly, closing his eyes.
For the next few hours until a text from Lestrade would wake them, they experienced some of the most restful sleep they’d ever had.