Sherlock X Reader One Shots || 𝐹𝐿𝑈𝐹𝐹 + 𝑆𝑀𝑈𝑇

A Cure For Insomnia (Part 3)

"Sorry," Sherlock mutters quickly, releasing the back of Y/N's head. Guiltily, his hand retreats to his side and curls into a self-conscious fist. "I don't know what came over me."

He tries to will his other hand to let go of her waist too, but for some reason can't make himself do it. It likes the warmth, the softness. His palm fits perfectly into the elegant curve.

"Don't be sorry," Y/N says. She says it to his mouth rather than his eyes.

Sherlock can feel each syllable on his chin; soft words meeting slight gritty stubble. His lips can feel it too; every letter. They're still tingling; his nerve endings alight, prickling. Alive.

Y/N's hand slips from his curls, sliding down his body like a raindrop down a window. It reaches his side and the warmth of her fingertips touch to his knuckles.

Like flower petals relaxing to let in the sun, his fingers loosen.

Y/N's slip into the spaces between them.

Her face is fuzzy, she's so close. The tip of her nose grazes Sherlock's cheek as she turns her head to look at their clasped hands, and then back to his eyes. "Did you like it?"

Sherlock nods, his hair mussed up around his head like a curly dark halo. "Yes." He wonders if Y/N can feel his heart flurrying away between their chests. He can feel hers; her heartbeat, her chest against his. It's making his breath come out all shaky. "It was amazing."

It had been amazing. He'd not wanted to stop.

Y/N's smiling and it's lighting up the whole room. For a second, Sherlock wonders if morning has come already, the sun leaking through the curtains.

She pushes his hand up the sofa cushion until it's level with his head and Sherlock shifts below her weight. When Y/N presses her lips to his chin he forgets all about the night. And the day, and everything.

She works her way along the hard line of his jaw, up to the little dip below his nose. The tip of hers nudges his cheek, her hair tickling his face.

Even if he had a hand free, Sherlock wouldn't tuck it back behind Y/N's ear. He likes it, hidden behind it like a curtain, the little world it creates; just him and Y/N, humid breath and cheeks crinkled with smiles.

When Y/N reaches his mouth again, he makes a grateful sound; at the attention, in surprise, in relief.

Thank the stars he gets to kiss her again.

It's a quick press but it doesn't feel quick; time elongating, stretching out, oozing like the honey Y/N had spooned into their hot chocolate.

Y/N tastes like hot chocolate; Cocoa. And honey and cinnamon. And her.

Sherlock can just about taste her, her jaw gently parted.

When she gives his lip an experimental suck it brings a moan from his lungs, his hand balling up a handful of her pyjamas.

He likes being under her, all laid out. He's sort of cocooned her without noticing; his legs wrapping about her little body, his arms bundling her closer---apart from the hand she's trapping against the sofa. He clutches it every time Y/N's tongue flicks his bottom lip.

It keeps doing that; the wet heat of it pressing, licking, exploring. Deftly, it nudges Sherlock's jaw open and he groans, a deep sound that sets the springs in the sofa buzzing.

Disentangling their fingers, he takes Y/N squarely by the hips, lifting her up. She makes a little surprised sound, gripping his shoulders for balance.

Her hands haven't left his shoulders as he places her astride his lap. They remain there as she gets comfortable, wriggling herself forwards on Sherlock's thighs. When her stomach is pressed against his he gasps into her mouth.