Johnlock oneshots (2009, RDJ version)

Couch

(this was a prompt i wanted to write with these two-)

"I want you." Holmes hooked his arms around Watson's neck, their mouths less than an inch apart.
Watson grinned. "Of course you do." He took Holmes' wrist and lead him to the couch. They hadn't hit it before they were kissing, Watson pinning the detective down, hungry and lustful, straddling his waist. Holmes ran his hands through Watson's hair, tugging it. Watson broke off, breathless, and Holmes pressed his lips to his neck, kissing and licking and biting, trailing up to his jaw and then to his mouth. He licked the doctor's lips and Watson groaned, biting him back. They locked mouths again, pulling at each other's shirts, all while kissing passionately. Upon hastily unbuttoning Watson's shirt, Holmes stroked his bare torso, Watson squirming at the cold hands on his warm body. Holmes traced his back and pulled him closer until they were chest to chest, skin against skin. Watson teased his partner's thighs through his trousers, holding his hips down. He pulled away from the kiss and let his lips wander down Holmes' neck, past his collarbone to his chest. He took Holmes' nipple in his mouth, and Holmes started like he'd been electrocuted, his back arching sharply, making Watson jump. In fact, he jumped so hard he fell off the couch.
He shook his head and looked up at Holmes. The detective was quiet in shock for a second. Then he started laughing. Not the chuckle kind, the real kind. Watson scowled. But the more Holmes laughed, the harder it was to be annoyed at him. It was sort of funny. He must have looked quite a sight, his shirt undone, his hair a mess, red in the face. He started laughing with Holmes, who kept asking him if he was alright, which would have been sweet if he wasn't gasping for breath between words.
After at least five minutes of hysterical laughter, they'd calmed down enough to speak properly.
"Perhaps," said Holmes, "next time we'd better use the bed."