A Name

Chapter 1

"Flip over." John's voice edged on husky. Almost there but not quite, still caring somehow. Sherlock obeyed and soon he was flat on his back, legs in the air, and with enough powerful lust to harvest a dying star. John knelt on his knees between Sherlock. The latter's dilated pupils glazed over John's torso above him. Oh the military had done this man good; well besides the shoulder and the limp and the nightmares and - oh who cared about the rest. What mattered was now, this exact moment, when John loved him and he wanted to show Sherlock how very serious he was about this love. What mattered was that Sherlock had found a reason to smile. What mattered was that John's fingers had found their way to Sherlock's chest and were gently running along his skin below his nipples and oh god that felt good. Sherlock writhed under his touch, impatient. Apparently, the man would throw a tantrum at any given occasion. John's eyes shifted from playful to a completely polar expression. Sherlock smirked, for that was the look found so commonly on John's beautiful face which meant Sherlock would have trouble walking for the next 2 days. The shorter man leaned forward, towards his lover, and allowed his lips to suck and lick down the taller man's porcelain neck. Their dicks rubbed ever so slightly together, eliciting moans from both their owners. John's hand dived between them and he began to stroke them both. Sherlock's mouth opened, yet no sounds escaped. Small, inconsistent intakes of air were heard from that gorgeous mouth instead. John took this opportunity to intertwine their tongues together. Moans and groans were muffled. One hand rested on a slightly stubbled jaw and the other on smooth skin over firm muscle. They pulled apart, both reluctantly. Long, slim fingers reached out to grasp a bottle of lube and that was that.

John thrusted in and out of Sherlock with fervor, basking in the slap-slap-slap of skin hitting skin. His head lolled back and he became faintly aware of a baritone voice whispering his name, maybe it was whimpering. The sound called John's attention.

"John, John, John", Sherlock's voice was not dissimilar to that of a yelping dog. Once confident he had John's full attention once more, he looked at his painfully ignored dick. John got the message quick enough and was soon pumping Sherlock in rhythm with his thrusts.

"Ah, Sherlock. Damn. God, you're so tight. Mmm." Then grunts replaced John's already limited vocabulary.

Sherlock closed his eyes and listened to nothing but the almost animalistic noises John made and felt nothing but the endorphins rushing through him. He could feel his orgasm building, as well as his partner's. That's when John leaned forward to nuzzle on Sherlock's left shoulder. Sherlock let his hands cradle John's head and back. His dick, caught between the heat of their two bodies, began to ejaculate. This feeling of big hands on him and Sherlock's cum on his belly and Sherlock's panting on his ear threw John over the edge and he felt his own release inside Sherlock, something they had both gotten accustomed to, yet it was completely different each time.

John made a breathy attempt at speaking as he felt his high decimate, "Oh, Sherlock."

Sherlock's mind blanked at the constant waves of pleasure rushing through him and he mentally punched himself square in the jaw as his final whisper of the day was not 'John' but instead a very breathy, very hoarse and very pleasured, "Oh, Paul."

A/N: oooh shurlock betta get slapped who he think he is. anyway this was meant to be a very long short story, if that makes sense, but I've been so lazy this thanksgiving break so I'll break it up into chapters. you wanted smut and now youve got smut; early Christmas present. please comment and vote, I know its really short but I was kind of rushed. xx