Failing Upward

Chapter 31 (part 1): Black Hole Sun

I heard the click of the hotel door locking behind us as my mouth and arms scrambled for Sherlock. God, he tasted good with my come on his lips. I stopped with a jolt. Fuck, I almost forgot.

"Wait," I said, backing away. "I don't think it's too smart messing around with this sand in my pocket. I really don't want us traveling anywhere else. I rather stay in this universe with you."

"I thought you had to be in direct contact with it."

"Well, it's on my pants, too. Let's not take any chances."

He leaned heavily against the back of the wooden chair next to the dresser and sighed. "Take them off first then, and I'll admire the view."

I unsnapped and unzipped, put my thumbs inside and pulled down. They didn't budge. I wedged my hands inside. Nope, I still couldn't get them down past my hips. I hopped around, struggling. Nada. They were fucking stuck. I'd sweated so much that the damn things had become part of my skin.

"Maybe I should help."

"No, I can get them off, just give me a few seconds." I bounced backwards on to the bed and threw my feet in the air, squirmed and shimmied and panted. Fuck, my exertions were making them cling more! Out of breath, I looked up at Sherlock with his arms crossed, smirking at me. "On second thought, why don't you grab on and pull?"

"I thought you'd never ask." Sherlock latched on to the bottom of my leather jeans like a dog on a bone, laughing the whole time. He snapped sharply toward the headboard, throwing me along with it, then he jerked me in the opposite direction toward the foot of the bed. Swinging me slowly back and forth broke some of the leather's grip. The bed springs squeaked and groaned under the effort; so did I, for that matter. With each of Sherlock's contortions, my legs released more. I grabbed for the headboard and hung on.

"Again, harder!" I instructed. He looked up at me with those yummy green eyes filled with lust, and I rocked my hips suggestively. "Where's your motivation, baby?" I panted. "Come and get it!"

"Trying," he laughed, and with one snap of his wrist, they were over my hips. Now my bare ass was half off the bed. "They got hung up. We should be able to get them off without a hitch now."

"Again!" I encouraged.

Sherlock threw his weight back in a hefty tug that I could swear pulled my legs out of their sockets. He yanked one more time, and finally the leather gave way, sending him and my pants crashing backward over the chair.

Three succinct raps fell on our door. We both jumped.

"Hey, you two!" Smith yelled from the hallway. "Can't you do it without waking the whole freaking hotel?!"

Sherlock muttered, picking the chair up. Then he remembered I was half naked on the bed and turned his predatory eyes to me. My heart was pounding, and my eyes watering. Erm yeah, and my dick was saluting.

"Go away!" I yelled to Smith, grabbing my cock. "Not you!" I said to Sherlock, "You, come here!" Sherlock was on me. His mouth, his hands, roaming my body. I thrust up against him, raising my back off the bed to get more.

I didn't hear anything more from the hallway. Not that I was listening to anything other than our hearts pounding like subwoofers. My hands worked frantically at Sherlock's trousers, trying desperately to get them unfastened and off. In the same time it took for him to groan twice, I had them undone and pushed around his thighs along with his underwear. God, I'd missed him.

I broke away from his mouth.

"I haven't needed it, but I kept some in my suitcase. Don't move!"