Re: FILL (3/?) Crying
anonymous
January 9 2011, 19:40:57 UTC
It keeps happening. In fact, after their encounter with Moriarty, it becomes more frequent. Usually about once a week, John will look up from the newspaper, or walk out of his room, or step inside the flat, and Sherlock will start crying. It’s always the same: slow build-up of tears, red eyes, flushed cheeks, damp skin.
And John’s absolutely mad for it.
Once, it happens after they’ve solved a crime. Sherlock is giddy, striding away with his usual flourish, but once they’re in a cab, he starts crying. He even sobs, and hides his face in his hands, ignoring the driver’s furtive glances.
John can only stare as the tears flow, all the way back to Baker Street. The sex is mind-blowing, of course, and Sherlock is more than smug afterward. Neither of them can walk straight the next day.
All together it’s happened seven times now, and once they’re done, Sherlock dries his tears, usually with a piece of John’s clothing, and they don’t discuss it.
But John is in love with Sherlock, and has been since the first week he moved in. There’s nothing for it - John’s hopelessly smitten, and he’s afraid it’s starting to show.
John doesn’t bring it up though. He doesn’t want to hear Sherlock’s scorn, or derision. He imagines Sherlock saying something like, “John. My time is far too valuable to engage in trite discussions about your feelings.” He’s not ready for this to end, and he’s willing to play along for however long Sherlock will have him.
One day he comes back to the flat after a movie with Sarah - she’s been kind enough to stay friends with John -- and Sherlock is sitting on the sofa, staring at the ceiling.
His eyes are red.
John’s breath hitches.
The last time was only two days ago.
Maybe Sherlock wants to do this more often. Maybe - No, John’s not going to think about what ifs. He’s going to be happy with what Sherlock can give him, and he’s not going to push.
He goes and sits down next to Sherlock, running one hand down his friend’s thigh. But Sherlock doesn’t respond. John jerks his eyes toward Sherlock’s face - his eyes are glassy, and still red-rimmed, but there aren’t any tears. “Has something happened?” John asks. He has no idea what it could be. If something were wrong with Mycroft or Sherlock’s mother, or even Lestrade, surely Sherlock would tell him.
“No,” Sherlock says, and his voice is cold and flat. “Nothing has happened.” He pulls his legs away from John and stands. And before John can grab his wrist, Sherlock is gone, locking himself into his room.
John paces, rubs his forehead. Idiot. Sherlock was upset about something - what could it be? - and John had been insensitive. He’d sidled up to Sherlock and groped him, and offended him. Hurt his feelings? Likely, from the way Sherlock had spoken.
They’d never even touched each other outside of Sherlock’s rounds of forced crying. John had wanted to - he longed for it, actually, and if it were up to him, John would have Sherlock in his bed every night.
His stomach twists. He needs to apologize and before he can rethink it, John knocks on Sherlock’s door.
Re: FILL (4/4) Crying
anonymous
January 12 2011, 01:37:46 UTC
The door opens, and Sherlock stands there in his suit, looking just as composed as ever. “Did you need something?”
All the redness is gone from Sherlock’s eyes. He’d probably created some perfectly functional eye drops with a beaker and some test tubes while John paced.
“I um,” John sits on the bed. Might as well be comfortable. “I want to be with you,” John blurts out. Oh god. He hadn’t meant to actually say that.
Sherlock stares at him.
John can feel his face heat up. This was why he’d avoided this conversation for weeks -- this feeling of utter humiliation and rejection. “All right.” John scratches his eyebrow. All of his skin itches. “Now that’s sorted, so I’m off,” he says, pushing himself to his feet.
“Wait.” Sherlock narrows his eyes. “What are you referring to?”
John closes his eyes and sinks back down on the bed. If the crying weren’t addictive enough, the man’s voice would do him in.
“You. And me.” John opens his eyes and does his best to look at Sherlock through the utter embarrassment. “I’d love to have -“ He swallows. “More. If you wanted to as well.”
“You mean a relationship.”
John nods.
Sherlock is the one pacing now.
Clearly, John is going to have to move this conversation along. “What do you want?”
“You,” Sherlock says, but he doesn’t elaborate.
John is - he doesn’t even know what he is. Shocked? Thrilled? Both, probably. “Me?”
“I did say that.”
John blinks. Scratches his forehead. “I wasn’t aware.”
“You think I’d do the,” Sherlock gestures toward his face. “For anyone?”
“No. I thought you wanted to get off with me.”
“Quite.”
“Sorry, what exactly are we discussing?” Before he makes a total fool of himself, John wants to be sure exactly what Sherlock is talking about. Could John have misunderstood Sherlock’s intentions?
Sherlock stops pacing and stares at him. “You went out with Sarah tonight.”
“As friends.”
Sherlock’s stare turns into a grimace.
“Really. Other than a friendly hug, I haven’t touched Sarah,” John says, and Sherlock’s face relaxes. He’s sure Sherlock can tell John’s speaking the truth by the way John’s moving his hands, or the way he turned his head, or something. It doesn’t matter; all that matters is that Sherlock believes him.
Sherlock stands there, looking pleased, but he doesn’t move toward John. But by now, after the knotted up stomach and all the fretting and pacing, John’s tired waiting - he grabs Sherlock by the shoulders and gets right up close to him. “I love it when you cry. You know that. It turns me on. You’re fucking gorgeous. But I want you, even if you never cry again. I want you. Not Sarah. Not anyone else. No matter what,” John says, and he’s nearly out of breath by the time he’s finished.
“Likewise,” Sherlock says, with his usual aloofness and then he ducks his head. When he looks up, his eyes are shimmering, and he’s got a sly half-smile on his face, but it’s disappeared by the time the first teardrop falls.
“Oh god,” John groans. “You know what that does to me.”
“Precisely the point,” Sherlock whispers as he sinks to his knees, face already shiny with tears.
Re: FILL (4/4) Crying
anonymous
January 13 2011, 20:19:24 UTC
NNNGF.
Lovely. Absolutely lovely and heartbreaking and heartwarming and oh so hot. If I didn't have a crying kink before reading this story, I'd certainly have one now. Thank you for filling this!
Re: FILL (4/4) Crying
anonymous
April 15 2011, 21:27:38 UTC
Oh excellent! He is such a beautiful cryer!! I fourth the dacryphilia on this thread!! It's just so gorgeous and exciting and Sherlock's crocodile tear scene just threw me for a loop. Ben Cumberbatch, though, is amazing when he cries. If you haven't had the opportunity yet, do check out To the Ends of the Earth. Without giving too much away, in the second episode his character, Edmund Talbot, gets a bit punch drunk and is easily emotionally overwhelmed. Gorgeous (but not painful) tears ensue.
It keeps happening. In fact, after their encounter with Moriarty, it becomes more frequent. Usually about once a week, John will look up from the newspaper, or walk out of his room, or step inside the flat, and Sherlock will start crying. It’s always the same: slow build-up of tears, red eyes, flushed cheeks, damp skin.
And John’s absolutely mad for it.
Once, it happens after they’ve solved a crime. Sherlock is giddy, striding away with his usual flourish, but once they’re in a cab, he starts crying. He even sobs, and hides his face in his hands, ignoring the driver’s furtive glances.
John can only stare as the tears flow, all the way back to Baker Street. The sex is mind-blowing, of course, and Sherlock is more than smug afterward. Neither of them can walk straight the next day.
All together it’s happened seven times now, and once they’re done, Sherlock dries his tears, usually with a piece of John’s clothing, and they don’t discuss it.
But John is in love with Sherlock, and has been since the first week he moved in. There’s nothing for it - John’s hopelessly smitten, and he’s afraid it’s starting to show.
John doesn’t bring it up though. He doesn’t want to hear Sherlock’s scorn, or derision. He imagines Sherlock saying something like, “John. My time is far too valuable to engage in trite discussions about your feelings.” He’s not ready for this to end, and he’s willing to play along for however long Sherlock will have him.
One day he comes back to the flat after a movie with Sarah - she’s been kind enough to stay friends with John -- and Sherlock is sitting on the sofa, staring at the ceiling.
His eyes are red.
John’s breath hitches.
The last time was only two days ago.
Maybe Sherlock wants to do this more often. Maybe - No, John’s not going to think about what ifs. He’s going to be happy with what Sherlock can give him, and he’s not going to push.
He goes and sits down next to Sherlock, running one hand down his friend’s thigh. But Sherlock doesn’t respond. John jerks his eyes toward Sherlock’s face - his eyes are glassy, and still red-rimmed, but there aren’t any tears. “Has something happened?” John asks. He has no idea what it could be. If something were wrong with Mycroft or Sherlock’s mother, or even Lestrade, surely Sherlock would tell him.
“No,” Sherlock says, and his voice is cold and flat. “Nothing has happened.” He pulls his legs away from John and stands. And before John can grab his wrist, Sherlock is gone, locking himself into his room.
John paces, rubs his forehead. Idiot. Sherlock was upset about something - what could it be? - and John had been insensitive. He’d sidled up to Sherlock and groped him, and offended him. Hurt his feelings? Likely, from the way Sherlock had spoken.
They’d never even touched each other outside of Sherlock’s rounds of forced crying. John had wanted to - he longed for it, actually, and if it were up to him, John would have Sherlock in his bed every night.
His stomach twists. He needs to apologize and before he can rethink it, John knocks on Sherlock’s door.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were upset.”
Silence.
Awkward.
John tries again. “Can I come in?”
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All the redness is gone from Sherlock’s eyes. He’d probably created some perfectly functional eye drops with a beaker and some test tubes while John paced.
“I um,” John sits on the bed. Might as well be comfortable. “I want to be with you,” John blurts out. Oh god. He hadn’t meant to actually say that.
Sherlock stares at him.
John can feel his face heat up. This was why he’d avoided this conversation for weeks -- this feeling of utter humiliation and rejection. “All right.” John scratches his eyebrow. All of his skin itches. “Now that’s sorted, so I’m off,” he says, pushing himself to his feet.
“Wait.” Sherlock narrows his eyes. “What are you referring to?”
John closes his eyes and sinks back down on the bed. If the crying weren’t addictive enough, the man’s voice would do him in.
“You. And me.” John opens his eyes and does his best to look at Sherlock through the utter embarrassment. “I’d love to have -“ He swallows. “More. If you wanted to as well.”
“You mean a relationship.”
John nods.
Sherlock is the one pacing now.
Clearly, John is going to have to move this conversation along. “What do you want?”
“You,” Sherlock says, but he doesn’t elaborate.
John is - he doesn’t even know what he is. Shocked? Thrilled? Both, probably. “Me?”
“I did say that.”
John blinks. Scratches his forehead. “I wasn’t aware.”
“You think I’d do the,” Sherlock gestures toward his face. “For anyone?”
“No. I thought you wanted to get off with me.”
“Quite.”
“Sorry, what exactly are we discussing?” Before he makes a total fool of himself, John wants to be sure exactly what Sherlock is talking about. Could John have misunderstood Sherlock’s intentions?
Sherlock stops pacing and stares at him. “You went out with Sarah tonight.”
“As friends.”
Sherlock’s stare turns into a grimace.
“Really. Other than a friendly hug, I haven’t touched Sarah,” John says, and Sherlock’s face relaxes. He’s sure Sherlock can tell John’s speaking the truth by the way John’s moving his hands, or the way he turned his head, or something. It doesn’t matter; all that matters is that Sherlock believes him.
Sherlock stands there, looking pleased, but he doesn’t move toward John. But by now, after the knotted up stomach and all the fretting and pacing, John’s tired waiting - he grabs Sherlock by the shoulders and gets right up close to him. “I love it when you cry. You know that. It turns me on. You’re fucking gorgeous. But I want you, even if you never cry again. I want you. Not Sarah. Not anyone else. No matter what,” John says, and he’s nearly out of breath by the time he’s finished.
“Likewise,” Sherlock says, with his usual aloofness and then he ducks his head. When he looks up, his eyes are shimmering, and he’s got a sly half-smile on his face, but it’s disappeared by the time the first teardrop falls.
“Oh god,” John groans. “You know what that does to me.”
“Precisely the point,” Sherlock whispers as he sinks to his knees, face already shiny with tears.
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Lovely. Absolutely lovely and heartbreaking and heartwarming and oh so hot. If I didn't have a crying kink before reading this story, I'd certainly have one now. Thank you for filling this!
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This was my first fill ever, and it was a delightful experience. YAY FOR CRYING! :D
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I loved how John's kink and Sherlock's skill go hand in hand. :D
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“Precisely the point,” Sherlock whispers as he sinks to his knees, face already shiny with tears.
OH--OH GOD.
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