Better Than First Aid

Three: Better Than First Aid

"Yep. N-No kit." John averted his gaze from his boyfriend and tried to focus on finding the kit. 

Where the hell did he put that anyway?! And... what was that smirk doing on Sherlock's face? What was that for? Was he happy because he didn't find the kit? Did Sherlock hide the kit? Is Sherlock playing a prank on him? Was he mocking him? What was that smirk for? 

And what's he doing sucking his finger? Why the fuck was he acting so sexy? Was he even acting? What? And what's with all this thick sexual tension that's filling the room? What is this?! 

What with all this – 

Shit! Go away, naughty thoughts! John scolded himself and shook his head a little. He nervously cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. Dammit. He cannot perv on his boyfriend right now... He needed a first aid kit! 

"I, uh..." He cleared his throat again. Why was he feeling nervous and shit? "I'll go ask Mrs. Hudson then. Y-You... uh... you stay here."

John took a step forward but halted when Sherlock suddenly called his name in his raspy, deep, baritone and sexy voice. 

Shit. Too much adjectives. Not good. Noooo... 

"John," The detective called him again. 

"Y-Yes?" John spun on his heels and faced Sherlock. 

"It's bleeding... again."

The detective was simply telling him, informing him about the state of his wounded finger... but there was something else... John swore that he heard something else in his voice. 

Something... like... seduction...

Shit. 

He turned to look at Sherlock. The detective was still sitting comfortably on the couch. He kept on sucking his finger like he was thirsty for blood. John had to bite a bit of his bottom lip when he saw Sherlock's sexy tongue, licking and swirling around his finger.

To him, it wasn't just a normal "lick-and-swirl-because-my-finger-is-bleeding"... it was more like an invitation for him to kiss Sherlock. Hard. Just push him down on the sofa and make love to him until they both cannot get up and move. 

Fuck. 

His heart was beating faster than normal and breathing became suddenly a hard thing to do.

John gulped. 

Shit. What is this sudden... what is this?

He felt hot. His tummy felt funny so suddenly. His neck burned and he can feel his blood boiling... not with anger but with desire.

"John, did you hear me?" Sherlock's voice broke into John's thoughts. 

"I... uh... uhm, yes. Yes, I wa – What is it again?" John mentally kicked himself for for stammering like a highschool boy confessing his love to his ultimate crush.  

Sherlock smirked, "I said..." The detective untangled his crossed legs and stood... He slowly walked to John's direction. 

"Uh, Sherlock..." 

Step.

Step.

Step.

"Sherlock..." John swallowed hard.

Step.

Step.