Fic: Catharsis

[anarion]

Title: Catharsis
Words: 1700
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: rough sex, all consensual though
Pairings : Sherlock/John
Disclaimer: Sadly the characters are not mine and no money is made.

Summary: Sherlock stood in the middle of the living room, a wordless challenge if there ever was one. John felt himself grow hard in the few seconds it took him to walk through the room. He stopped just within touching distance and returned Sherlock's gaze, his whole posture saying 'challenge accepted'.






Catharsis

It was a good thing that Mrs Hudson was not home that day, because during the whole, err, process a chair was knocked over, a lamp got broken and all in all there was a lot of crashing, shouting and moaning going on in the upstairs flat.

Sherlock stood in the middle of the living room, a wordless challenge if there ever was one. John felt himself grow hard in the few seconds it took him to walk through the room. He stopped just within touching distance and returned Sherlock's gaze, his whole posture saying 'challenge accepted'.

Sherlock was the first to move and John could see that he was angry with himself for giving in. His hands grabbed John's upper arms, his grip firm but not painful, it only emphasized his presence and the depth of his emotions. Then he stilled again, eyes still locked with John.

This time it was John who couldn't stand the tension between them any longer. He crushed their mouths together, more assault than kiss, and Sherlock started tugging at John's shirt and jumper until he could pull both over his head together. John shivered as the cold air met his skin.

John pulled at Sherlock's shirt, ripping off a few buttons in his haste to get to the underlying skin, but Sherlock resisted when he wanted to push the shirt off his shoulders. John decided to let the shirt be and lowered his head to Sherlock's chest. He breathed on it, relishing the goosebumps he caused by doing so, and then bit down.

Sherlock yelped and raked his fingernails over John's back. Both men were rock hard and panting.

John was going for Sherlock's fly now and Sherlock batted his hands away. They stared at each other for a few seconds and then - because Sherlock’s action so clearly had not been a ‘no’ but a ‘God, yes, try to make me’ – John reached out again.

He palmed Sherlock’s erection and the tall man groaned before he batted John’s hands away again. This time John refused to remove his hands and Sherlock answered by grabbing his wrists, pulling John’s arms over his head and walking them backwards until John’s body hit the wall.

Then he lowered his head and crushed their mouths together once more, this time hard enough to draw blood that they both tasted when their tongues met. Whose blood it was? Irrelevant at the moment.

John refused to be immobilised and not in control, so he went on his toes and wrapped one leg around Sherlock so that he could rub their groins together. He rolled his hips and /oh, yes, perfect/. Sherlock’s body almost reacted with a similar roll of hips but he caught himself in time and pushed away from John, who had to put both feet on the ground to gain his balance.

Sherlock sucked John’s lower lip into his mouth for a moment before gracefully dropping to his knees. By the time John had his hands lowered as far as his navel, his trousers and pants were already around his knees. He closed his eyes, for a second forgetting about the whole fight for dominance and just waiting /God, yes, please suck me/ for Sherlock to take him into his mouth, hot and wet and willing...

Or rather not. When nothing happened, he opened his eyes again. Sherlock was kneeling before him, mouth shut tight and amused provocation in his eyes. The blood rushed in John’s ears and his cock – although it should be impossible – got even harder.

He took a small step forward until just the tip of his cock rested against Sherlock’s lips. Sherlock’s only reaction was to shut his mouth even tighter and the small movement of his lips against the glans of John’s cock made John’s vision go a little hazy.

He pushed his left hand into Sherlock’s hair and tugged. Nothing happened except that he thought he saw a hint of smugness creep into Sherlock’s gaze, right next to the provocation.

He tugged harder and pressed his hips forward to indicate his intent. Sherlock's lips did not open. But yes, now he could definitely see smugness. Sherlock’s eyes were mocking him.

John grabbed Sherlock's chin with his other hand and started to put pressure on his jaws. Sherlock tried to pull away, but John tugged at his hair again and he stilled, refusing to open his mouth until the pressure became too much and he hissed.

John at once pushed his fingers into the small gap between Sherlock's teeth and forced him to open his mouth wider. Before Sherlock could do anything else, John let his cock follow his fingers /warm, God, so warm and wet/. He felt Sherlock cover his teeth with his lips immediately to avoid hurting him and then he felt him swallow reflexively. Oh fuck, that felt good.

He moved his hips, fucking Sherlock's mouth because the lazy git was still refusing to cooperate, but that was fine, he didn't have to, John just needed a little more...

In his chase for relief he had forgotten to hold Sherlock in position, his right hand was clenched at his side, the left helplessly moving on his lover's head, and Sherlock at once used the opportunity to pull back, this time less careful with his teeth. John hissed, then growled at the loss of contact, and opened his eyes. He couldn't even remember closing them.

Sherlock was about to get on his feet, but John was not inclined to let him have that advantage again. He moved forward, crowding Sherlock who toppled over but managed to take John to the ground with him.

He tried to get Sherlock out of his trousers, managed to at least get one hand into them /hard as a rock, Christ, his cock is magnificent/ and then used the fact that his opponent was distracted by writhing and moaning and rubbing against his palm to finally strip him from the waist down.

Sadly he lost all advantage when he focused on getting his own trousers out of the way to straddle Sherlock, because the bastard used the small respite to try and take over again.

They wrestled for a while and John lost track of what exactly happened. The next thing he knew was that he was straddling Sherlock and they were kissing and he was rubbing his cock against Sherlock's and /God, I'm getting close, so close, yes... yes/ suddenly he was pushed off and manhandled until he was on hands and knees /take me, please, I don't care if it hurts, just please I need/ and then Sherlock's body was covering his, but of course he was not fucking him, he knew better, he just pushed his cock against John's cleft and started grinding against him.

Sherlock's breath was hot against his ear and he was moaning loudly. John could feel Sherlock get closer, his hips were starting to lose their fierce rhythm and John was almost sobbing /touch me, please, God, touch me, I need to come, touchmetouchmetouchme/ but Sherlock was too far gone for anything than his own release.

Suddenly his hips bucked and when he shouted John's name it was the first word spoken since the whole thing had started.

John couldn't wait a second longer, he pushed Sherlock's still shivering body off and rolled himself and then both of them until he was on his back and Sherlock on top of him /yes, your weight on me, good, perfect, oh my God/ and he frantically rolled his hips, moving against his lover, his fingers digging into Sherlock buttocks, until Sherlock moved to kiss him and sucked John's tongue into his mouth and /God, yes, there, YES!/.



When John came back to himself, Sherlock was a dead weight on him, he was sticky and every single muscle in his body hurt. He rolled Sherlock off, who protested half-heartedly against the loss of contact, and padded into the bathroom, where he draw a bath and cleaned himself up a bit.

He gulped down a huge glass of water in the kitchen on his way back to the living room and then stopped to look at Sherlock, who was still on the floor.

“You look like a crime scene.”

And he did. There were bruises and bite marks and love bites all over his body, his lower lip was swollen and bloody and he was smeared with sweat and semen. John was sure that he did not look better in the least.

Sherlock snorted at John's words and extended a hand for John to pull him to his feet. John did and then gently ran a finger along Sherlock's bloodied lip.

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. It was exactly what I needed. Besides, I repaid you in kind.”

“Come on, let's take a quick bath and go to bed.”

***

The water was nearly scalding, but it did ease all their sore muscles. John sighed contently. Sherlock was a heavy weight on his chest, exhaustion finally kicking in. John kissed his neck, his hands gently caressing Sherlock’s upper body and coming to rest over his heart. Rough sex was great but John always felt twice as gentle afterwards.

“Come on, we need to get you to bed. I want to kiss every inch of you until you fall asleep.”

Sherlock did not reply, but he did climb out of the tub, albeit lacking much of his usual grace.

He was half asleep on his feet already and it took John a while (and some outstanding coordination skills) to get them both dry and into bed. By now John was exhausted too.

“I think I need to pass out for a while. Can we postpone the kissing of every inch of your ridiculously lean and beautiful body until tomorrow?”

Oh, he was going to kiss and lick and suck until Sherlock spent himself in his mouth.

Sherlock hummed in agreement and turned over to lie on his stomach. Before John snuggled up to him, he placed a soft kiss on each imprint that his fingers had left on Sherlock’s pale bum.




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AN: There you go, all you impatient people screaming for the missing sex scene from Bring me down. :)

This one is for my darling atlinmerrick because it's her birthday today. <3

Not beta'ed, so if you find anything, let me know.



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