Sherlock X Reader One Shots || 𝐹𝐿𝑈𝐹𝐹 + 𝑆𝑀𝑈𝑇

Salt (Explicit)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Bit different to my usual stuff, but I promised this request to someone too long ago so here it finally is. LT3003 hope it's at least a little close to what you wanted. Sorry it's not very long; I'm pushed for time. Hopefully the rather humid plot will make up for it 🙃

__________

CONTEXT:  Honeymoon. Teasing. Ocean sex. Need I say more?

__________

Y/N doesn't think she'd ever seen Sherlock with a tan. He's been porcelain white since the day she met him, a consistent, marshmallow sort of colour. They'd picked Greece as their holiday destination with that in mind; somewhere warm but not so warm it might utterly fry their inexperienced Londoner skin.

Perhaps they needn't have taken that precaution, though. After only a week, Sherlock has more than settled into this sultry climate, his complexion now closer to 'toasted' marshmallow. His skin darkened easily to a lightly bronzed, soft sort of brown, his shoulders flecked with the lightest sparkling of freckles.

Y/N had no idea he freckles.

Now she knows, and can't stop thinking about it. She keeps kissing them one by one, tracing them like she's mapping constellations. She'll miss them when they return home and the miserable London sky scrubs him clean again.

Y/N turned onto her side when she felt Sherlock's shadow grace her face. She moved carefully as not to ruck up the beach towel stretched beneath her, flecks of sand already making their advance. She'd been sunning herself while Sherlock fetched an ice cream.

He'd already had one, he just wanted another one. The nibbling giving him something to do. He's not much one for sunbathing; he gave it---what was it? Three minutes stretched out on his front, then climbed aboard Y/N's towel to nose playfully at her ear.

Kissing and nibbling, that's what he's spent the past four days doing. Sometimes the nibbling is food. Usually it's Y/N.

"Welcome back, Mr Holmes," Y/N crooned from the floor.

Sherlock flopped down next to her, a smooth furling of limbs like a Japanese fan folding up. The corner of his lips turned up at one corner. "Thank you, Mrs Holmes."

That's who Y/N is now; Mrs Holmes. They'd married in a sprawling castle, as mystical and ancient as Hogwarts, nestled amongst the British countryside. They'd kept it small---in fact, Y/N had wondered if Sherlock would want a wedding at all---but apparently, he did, his hidden romantic side making a rare appearance.

That had been a fortnight ago. Now they're lounging on a squat little Greek island, gritty with sand, skin sun-kissed and hair stiff with salt.

Y/N watched as her husband devoured his ice cream; a show she would never tire of. She could regard that slick pink tongue for hours. Watch it and play with it. When he's done it'll taste of bubblegum sauce.

A rivulet of it was dribbling from the icecream's pique, and Sherlock lapped it up, looking much more content, his curls loose and falling floppily about his head.

"Do you want some?" he asked, offering her the ice cream. A smirk was playing on his cream-stained lips.

Y/N didn't entirely trust him when she leant forwards to take a lick, and rightly so.

She managed to get a decent amount of the treat onto her tongue before he raised his hand slightly, smushing the tip into her nose. She frowned at him. "I did know you were going to do that."