Fa subito (part 3)
anonymous
March 19 2011, 13:41:00 UTC
He eventually found John on the terrace.
He was standing close to the balcony, hands in his pockets and legs spread, simply breathing in the night air. Sherlock paused for a moment at the French windows, watching him. He admired the pull of the silk-wool blend across John's shoulders and the contrast of the off-white of his shirt with the tan that still lingered on his skin. There was a slight breeze tousling John's hair and ruffling the vent of his suit jacket and giving Sherlock a perfect view of his arse. Which, to his not very great surprise, looked excellent in those trousers.
The conviction that had been building all night finally settled itself in Sherlock's stomach. As excellent as John looked in that suit, Sherlock wanted nothing more than to get him out of it.
He approached John quietly, moving to stand behind him. John didn't look at him, but shifted slightly towards him, leaning into the warmth of Sherlock's body. Sherlock leaned as well, and they stood, not quite touching, in companionable silence.
"Enjoying yourself?" Sherlock asked eventually.
"I suppose," was the reply, a smile accompanying it. "Just needed some air."
Sherlock noticed for the first time that John's face was flushed, a dull pink spread across his cheeks.
Wine? he wondered. The heat of the room? Something else entirely?
John abruptly turned to face him.
"Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked, a strange cadence to his voice.
Sherlock studied him, not answering immediately. This close to, he could see the little flecks of silver in John's tie and the shiny lining of his lapels. He could smell John's cologne, a rich, earthy scene and the wine he'd been drinking at dinner. He could feel John's body heat and John's breath, warm on his neck.
"Do you know," he said at last, "I rather think that I am."
John rewarded him with a huffing little laugh.
Sherlock reached out and brushed an imaginary speck of dirt off John's right shoulder, and decided that his hand was rather comfortable just there, so he left it. John didn't shrug it off. Instead he said, unsteadily,
"Sherlock, I think I - " He broke off, licking his lips, his eyes darting away from Sherlock's.
Sherlock was struck by how extremely important it was for John to finish that thought. He slid his hand along John's shoulder until it came to rest curled around John's neck. He felt John shudder, so he stroked soothingly along John's jaw with his thumb.
"Yes, John?"
John was still not looking at him, but he leaned into the touch, and Sherlock was sure, absolutely sure, that John wanted this too. He tilted John's head back, forcing John to look at him. John's eyes were dark and glorious and Sherlock could read everything that he wasn't saying in them.
"John," he repeated, barely more than a whisper this time.
John licked his lips again, and then gave Sherlock a tiny nod.
Sherlock smiled. He brought his other hand up to grasp John's shoulder, and felt John's delightfully solid, steady hands settle on his waist. He threaded his fingers in the curling hair at the nape of John's neck, and leaned down slowly, until their foreheads were pressed together, their lips were no more than a centimetre apart. The sensation of John's breath on his lips was heady, intoxicating, and Sherlock was content to simply enjoy it for a moment.
John made an impatient noise, and fisted his hands in Sherlock's jacket. Sherlock chuckled a little, and moved forward, his lips just brushing John's, when -
"Dessert is served, gentlemen."
Sherlock actually growled, his face whipping up to glare at Mycroft. He left his hands on John's neck and shoulder, but he felt John's drop away. John gave him a small, almost apologetic smile, before stepping away carefully and sauntering past Mycroft.
"I am going to kill you," Sherlock hissed at him as he passed.
Mycroft smiled serenely.
*** A/N: I wan't nothing more than to keep writing this, but it's nearly 1 am and I have to get up at 8. More tomorrow!
Anon, you are fantasic and I love you. This is the first prompt of mine that has been filled and so far I'm really loving this, can't wait for more :D
And in-depth, meticulous research about suits, including rewatching Sherlock episodes is always needed, even if you don't happen to be writing fix about it ;D
Re: Fa subito (part 3)she_burns1March 19 2011, 21:15:37 UTC
GRAAAAAAAAA!!!!! Why is there no more?! DAMN YOU, MYCROFT!!!! Why did you interrupt?! *high pitched whines* This story is fantastic - and suits. *SUITS* Soooo hot! *_*
Re: Fa subito (part 3)
anonymous
March 20 2011, 01:59:19 UTC
This is beyond perfect - the descriptions of the two of them in their suits, the slow build of intimacy, the tension, it's all fantastic. And addictive. And delicious. Oh, please, please, I hope you have time to write more when you wake up!
He was standing close to the balcony, hands in his pockets and legs spread, simply breathing in the night air. Sherlock paused for a moment at the French windows, watching him. He admired the pull of the silk-wool blend across John's shoulders and the contrast of the off-white of his shirt with the tan that still lingered on his skin. There was a slight breeze tousling John's hair and ruffling the vent of his suit jacket and giving Sherlock a perfect view of his arse. Which, to his not very great surprise, looked excellent in those trousers.
The conviction that had been building all night finally settled itself in Sherlock's stomach. As excellent as John looked in that suit, Sherlock wanted nothing more than to get him out of it.
He approached John quietly, moving to stand behind him. John didn't look at him, but shifted slightly towards him, leaning into the warmth of Sherlock's body. Sherlock leaned as well, and they stood, not quite touching, in companionable silence.
"Enjoying yourself?" Sherlock asked eventually.
"I suppose," was the reply, a smile accompanying it. "Just needed some air."
Sherlock noticed for the first time that John's face was flushed, a dull pink spread across his cheeks.
Wine? he wondered. The heat of the room? Something else entirely?
John abruptly turned to face him.
"Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked, a strange cadence to his voice.
Sherlock studied him, not answering immediately. This close to, he could see the little flecks of silver in John's tie and the shiny lining of his lapels. He could smell John's cologne, a rich, earthy scene and the wine he'd been drinking at dinner. He could feel John's body heat and John's breath, warm on his neck.
"Do you know," he said at last, "I rather think that I am."
John rewarded him with a huffing little laugh.
Sherlock reached out and brushed an imaginary speck of dirt off John's right shoulder, and decided that his hand was rather comfortable just there, so he left it. John didn't shrug it off. Instead he said, unsteadily,
"Sherlock, I think I - " He broke off, licking his lips, his eyes darting away from Sherlock's.
Sherlock was struck by how extremely important it was for John to finish that thought. He slid his hand along John's shoulder until it came to rest curled around John's neck. He felt John shudder, so he stroked soothingly along John's jaw with his thumb.
"Yes, John?"
John was still not looking at him, but he leaned into the touch, and Sherlock was sure, absolutely sure, that John wanted this too. He tilted John's head back, forcing John to look at him. John's eyes were dark and glorious and Sherlock could read everything that he wasn't saying in them.
"John," he repeated, barely more than a whisper this time.
John licked his lips again, and then gave Sherlock a tiny nod.
Sherlock smiled. He brought his other hand up to grasp John's shoulder, and felt John's delightfully solid, steady hands settle on his waist. He threaded his fingers in the curling hair at the nape of John's neck, and leaned down slowly, until their foreheads were pressed together, their lips were no more than a centimetre apart. The sensation of John's breath on his lips was heady, intoxicating, and Sherlock was content to simply enjoy it for a moment.
John made an impatient noise, and fisted his hands in Sherlock's jacket. Sherlock chuckled a little, and moved forward, his lips just brushing John's, when -
"Dessert is served, gentlemen."
Sherlock actually growled, his face whipping up to glare at Mycroft. He left his hands on John's neck and shoulder, but he felt John's drop away. John gave him a small, almost apologetic smile, before stepping away carefully and sauntering past Mycroft.
"I am going to kill you," Sherlock hissed at him as he passed.
Mycroft smiled serenely.
***
A/N: I wan't nothing more than to keep writing this, but it's nearly 1 am and I have to get up at 8. More tomorrow!
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Anon, you are fantasic and I love you. This is the first prompt of mine that has been filled and so far I'm really loving this, can't wait for more :D
And in-depth, meticulous research about suits, including rewatching Sherlock episodes is always needed, even if you don't happen to be writing fix about it ;D
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This is incredible. I love the way you have Sherlock watching John. <3
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Mycroft smiled serenely.
SOOOO FANTASTIC! Can't wait for more
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