The first thing Greg was aware of when he awoke was the smell of coffee. He rolled over onto his back and stretched. John didn't often wake up earlier than he did, and--
The events of the previous night flooded his mind and his eyes flew open: everything had changed overnight, hadn't it?
John was sitting in a chair wearing a fairly dazed expression and staring at the screen of his laptop. He didn't look up when Greg walked through to the bathroom and he was in the exact same position when Greg exited a few minutes later. The small padded envelope that had come in the post several days prior was on the floor, torn open and empty, and John was clutching something tightly in one hand. His forehead was furrowed now, as if he was lost in thought.
"Good morning," Greg said at last.
John looked up at him and blinked, clearly startled to see him standing there. "Morning."
"Sorry about leaving you on the sofa like that. You were out cold and I reckoned you could use the sleep."
John exhaled slowly through pursed lips and closed the computer. "No, it's fine. Sorry I fell asleep on you."
"Well, it was a bit awkward, considering I was saving my best moves for round two."
"God, how embarrassing." John finally smiled, just a bit. "It didn't mean I didn't want to, you know… or that I don't now."
Greg feigned looking at a watch. "Right now? I'm a much better shag after a cup of coffee, to be honest."
John laughed and Greg crossed to the kitchen. He'd just finished stirring sugar into the cup when arms encircled him from behind.
He closed his eyes and leaned back into the embrace, astonished by how good such a small gesture felt. It had been a long time since he'd been touched like that, he realized. Far too long.
He set the coffee down and turned in John's arms, and he didn't even have a chance to speak before John pulled him into a kiss. It was gentle at first, even playful, but within a minute it had become heated. John pushed him back against the hard edge of the counter and Greg's hands slid across John's back, pulling him closer.
"I think I could get used to this," Greg said against his lips. John pushed his tee shirt up with one warm hand, lips trailing down his neck, and Greg closed his eyes. "Mmmm, that's--"
In one smooth movement, John tugged Greg's pyjama bottoms down and dropped to his knees, right there on the kitchen floor. He looked up at Greg with an intense expression on his face, something Greg couldn't remember seeing directed at himself in a long time.
"Oh God," Greg said, staring down at him. This was the sort of thing he fantasized about, that made him wake up with a raging erection in the middle of the night, or that helped him finish himself off in the shower -- not something that really happened to him. Perhaps he was still asleep. God, wouldn't that be a tragedy?
John closed one hand around his cock and tugged the foreskin all the way back before swiping his tongue slowly across the head, never dropping eye contact. No, Greg was definitely not asleep. Fucking hell.
"Is this all right?"
Greg whimpered. "I can't believe you're even asking that question."
John smiled again before closing his lips around the glans and sucking lightly, his tongue flicking against the underside with maddening precision. Greg clung to the countertop behind him for support, certain his knees were going to give out before this was over. John's mouth slid down the shaft and back up again, his tongue wriggling against sensitive skin. There was a bit more suction now, and Jesus it had been a long time since anyone had done this for him. He'd almost forgotten how good it could feel. Jodi hadn't sucked him off in years -- and never with this level of enthusiasm.
He wanted to last, to hang on for a while, but it was too good. John tugged gently on his balls and nudged his thighs apart enough to massage the skin just behind with two fingers, and his tongue; God, it felt like it was everywhere at once, with the perfect amount of pressure and suction and--
"John--" was all he managed before he came, his eyes squeezed tight against the bright sparks in his vision, the rush of pleasure nearly knocking him off his feet. John kept sucking gently when it was over, like he didn't want to let go, finally just holding Greg's cock in his mouth without moving until it had softened enough that he could just work the foreskin with his tongue a bit, not putting any pressure on the over-sensitive glans.
"Oh God, that's amazing," Greg said after a moment. He might actually get hard again at this rate, which was something that hadn't happened to him in quite a while.
"So that's how to shut you up," John said at last, and Greg laughed.
"What brought that on? Not that I'm complaining."
"I don't know, I…" John pressed his face into Greg's hip and made a sound almost like a laugh. "I just wanted to give you a proper good morning, I suppose."
"Good morning to you too. My turn." Greg pulled him to his feet and kissed him. "God, you… Jodi never swallowed, you know."
"Are you seriously comparing my oral sex skills to your ex-wife's?"
"There's no comparison, trust me. Here, I want to finish what I started last night."
He unfastened John's trousers and slid a hand inside to find his prick hard and leaking. He did his best to make it last, but John was apparently so close he only needed a bit of friction, and it was over within a minute. Still, there was that rush of knowing he'd done that, had made John's eyes roll back in his head and made him groan out something unintelligible and come all over Greg's hand.
John pressed his face against Greg's shoulder and laughed. "I've wanted to do that for a long time, you know. I didn't think you'd ever let me."
"Between my wife and your boyfriend, I'm not sure it would have worked out very well."
John leaned back and looked up at him. "Oh, I don't know about that. Sherlock never thought about relationships in conventional ways." He paused and pressed his lips together. "And he had a bit of a thing for you."
Greg almost laughed before he realized John was serious. "He did?"
"I'm not certain he recognized it for what it was, but yeah. It was because of the way he looked at you that I started looking at you as well." John raised an eyebrow and Greg smiled. "You were the only person at Scotland Yard he thought was worth his attention, and he had a great deal of respect for you. In the end he considered you one of his closest friends."
"He had an odd way of showing it. But I'm glad to know." He didn't exactly feel glad, though. He felt the weight of something heavy settle on his chest; he blinked and looked away, and pressed one hand against his forehead.
"Hey, none of that." John kissed him again and tugged his pyjama bottoms back up. "You still haven't had your coffee. I'm going to take a shower, and then we'll talk."
"That sounds ominous."
"Just the usual sexual history stuff, you know. It's a bit late for it considering--" John waved a hand between them. "-- but still, now that we're officially having sex, we need to get it out of the way."
"Oh. Right." Greg watched him walk around the corner before turning back to his now-cold coffee. He hadn't had that kind of discussion with anyone in years, a decade, even. Well, not a pleasant one, anyway -- those sorts of talks with Jodi had been fairly humiliating, as had the trips to his GP to get tested afterwards, just in case she'd passed anything along. She'd always taken precautions in her dalliances, at the very least. Or she'd been damn lucky.
He dumped his cold coffee into the sink, poured a fresh cup, and crossed to the sitting room. John's laptop was closed now, and sitting on top of it was a small round, dark object. Greg frowned and picked it up, turned it over in his fingers. It was just an ordinary rubber ball, a child's toy, nothing special. The padded envelope was still lying on the floor by the chair and Greg leaned over to retrieve it. The return address noted the package had come from Molly Hooper, and there was nothing else inside it. Had she actually sent John a ball with no explanation? It clearly meant something, from the way John was clinging to it, but he hadn't a clue what that could be.
He placed the ball back on John's laptop and sat, already anticipating the blessed rush of caffeine. Not quite as good as nicotine, but far less addictive and significantly more socially acceptable. The shower started and an image of John standing naked under the spray flitted across his mind. He smiled.
*****
John was hunched over his laptop at the desk in the sitting room when Greg returned with the shopping that afternoon. He couldn't help peeking over John's shoulder as he passed.
"Updating the blog?"
"Yeah," John replied. "Almost done."
Greg set the sacks on the kitchen table. "So what are you planning to say about--"
"I'm not mentioning you by name, so don't worry." John turned towards him. "Unless you'd like me to do?"
"Ah, no. Probably not." Half the Met read John's blog as it was; a direct mention of Greg in there would probably make his return to work more difficult than necessary.
John sat back and regarded the screen through narrow eyes for a moment, then tossed something up in the air. Greg paused in his unpacking and watched John toss and catch the mysterious ball he'd received in the post, over and over.
"So that's what was in your package, then?"
John caught the ball and set it aside, turning his attention back to the computer. "Yeah."
"From Molly, was it?"
"Apparently, yes."
Greg set a bunch of bananas on the table and turned to face John, arms folded over his chest. "It didn't look much like her handwriting on the package though. Did you notice?"
John didn't look away from the screen. "Didn't it? That's odd."
Greg pursed his lips. John was clearly evading, but he had no idea why. "That's a strange thing to send you, isn't it?"
"Probably her idea of a joke."
John began tapping at the keyboard with great focus and Greg watched him another few seconds before turning back to the groceries. Something was going on here, something John wasn't ready to talk about. Even after what had happened between them that morning, Greg wasn't sure it was his place to push him on it.
"I think that's got it," John said a few minutes later. He pushed away from the desk and smiled at the screen. "Posted."
Greg crossed to stand behind him and squeezed his shoulders. "The Yapping Yorkie?"
"Shut up. I'm out of practice."
Greg grinned and planted a kiss on his temple before leaning over him to read.
The Yapping Yorkie
First, I want to say thank you to everyone who has expressed condolences over the last month. It's meant more to me than you can imagine. I'm also grateful to those of you who've defended Sherlock's memory on the internet and in the papers. I knew him better than anyone and I KNOW he was for real. Anyone who spent even an hour with him saw what he can do and knows that he was a true genius.
Second, I've decided to try my hand at solving cases on my own, with the assistance of a friend who also knew Sherlock well. I appreciate the opportunity to apply the methods of deduction Sherlock taught me. I suppose it's my way of keeping some small part of him with me.
The post went on to detail the case and describe how they had worked out that one of the servants had abducted the dog. John hadn't even taken sole credit for that bit of deduction. Greg shook his head.
"You could give me a pseudonym, you know. The whole 'a friend' thing is just going to make it look like you're hiding something."
"Well, I thought 'the on-leave DI I'm having sex with' was probably a bit much for the blog."
"It's a fair point. Speaking of sex…" Greg crossed back to the kitchen table and returned with the box of condoms he'd bought at Tesco. "I got us a little something."
John raised his eyebrows. "I hope you picked up some lube as well."
"Shit." Greg frowned. He hadn't thought about that, oddly. It wasn't as if he was used to buying supplies for sex in recent years. "Don't you have any from when you and Sherlock..." Oh, not good. He winced.
John only looked thoughtful, to his relief. "I may have some stashed somewhere. It's been a while since I've needed it, to be honest."
Greg's eyebrows rose. "Oh. So you… wait, how did you… or did you just…?"
John's eyes widened. "Oh, no, nothing like that. We didn't… Well, Sherlock wasn't fond of anal sex, so it wasn't something we did very often."
"Oh." Greg frowned.
"What?"
"Nothing, I just… I thought you said he liked to fuck you after cases."
"It's a figure of speech." John smiled at him a bit mischievously. "What, were you imagining him pounding me into the mattress after every case?"
Greg bit his lip. "I was imagining me pounding you into the mattress, to be honest."
John appeared to have been rendered speechless for a moment. "Well then," he said at last. "Let's add lube to the shopping list. In the meantime--" He hooked his fingers in the waist of Greg's jeans and pulled him close. "--there are other things we can do."
"You'll have to show me." Greg pulled him to his feet and leaned in to kiss him.
John's hands were already unfastening Greg's jeans; a moment later Greg stepped out of them awkwardly while trying to keep his mouth pressed against John's.
"Wait, let me," John said, and a minute later Greg felt John's cock press against his, John's fingers wrapped around them both.
"Oh, God, that's…" That felt far better than he would have expected. "Are we going to do this standing up again?"
"The sofa's right over there, you know."
They stumbled to it as best they could and ended up standing next to it, both of them reluctant to break contact long enough to lie down. Greg was reeling at the feeling of John's prick pressed against his own. Soft skin over hard heat -- he'd had no idea something so simple could feel so good. He broke the kiss long enough to look down between them to where one of John's hands held their pricks together while the other worked the heads with short strokes.
"God, look at your foreskin," John said as he tugged up and over the glans. He paused and grinned. "There's something I've always wanted to try. Do you mind?"
"As far as I'm concerned, it's all yours."
Greg watched as John took a step back and held just the tips of their dicks together with one hand. With the other he stroked along the shaft of Greg's cock and pulled the foreskin down over the head and then over his own as well. He held it there with a tight grip and stroked back and forth, and oh God that was amazing. Greg was used to the feeling of all that sensitive skin sliding over his own glans, but the feeling of it sliding over someone else's was fascinating. John's strokes were perfect, just enough pressure, and after two minutes the combination of sensations brought Greg to the edge of coming much faster than he would have anticipated.
"I could come like this," he said, unable to keep the note of surprise from his tone. He hissed as John tugged his foreskin down a bit more and adjusted his grip. "Jesus… It's like you're fucking my dick."
"Yeah, that's it, I am." John's voice sounded strained; his tongue darted out to wet his lips. "And I want to feel you come this way." He stroked faster and twisted his hand just slightly, and it was glorious.
"Keep doing that, just like that, oh fuck…" He put his hands on John's shoulders and pressed his forehead against John's and held on tight as he came. His semen leaked out from under his foreskin to coat John's shaft and fingers, and a moment later they were both a sticky mess.
Greg felt a strange compulsion to laugh. "That was incredible. And bizarre, incredibly fucking bizarre."
"I think that's a keeper." John grinned at him. "So do you want to take care of this or should I?" He stroked his own prick slowly and Greg tugged his hand away.
"Sit. There's something I've been wanting to do." He pushed at John's shoulder and laughed as John sprawled backwards into an armchair. Greg settled on his knees and pushed John's thighs apart, and looked up at him with a sly grin.
"Oh, I was hoping you were going do that. Still a bit messy, though, so if you want to clean it up a bit--"
"You think I haven't tasted it before?" Greg smirked at him and then leaned forward to take the head of John's cock in his mouth. It had been so long since he'd done this that it was a bit of a blur, but he was certain he'd never really wanted to do it more than he did right now. That was the frightening thing about all of this: it had only been a day and yet he already knew he wanted to spend months, years even, in bed with John and never come out again. He wanted to do everything, try everything, even the things he'd previously been squeamish about -- it all sounded brilliant right now, anything to hear that moan of pleasure, to see John's mouth fall open, overwhelmed by sheer sensation.
John sighed and arched his hips up just a bit. "Oh that's… God, that feels good."
He slid his mouth down as far as he could manage and tried valiantly to ignore the urge to gag. He pulled back up again and sucked, one hand stroking the shaft while he wriggled his tongue, and tried to replicate what he loved in a blow job. John was beautifully responsive, something Jodi hadn't been for a long time. He'd forgotten how erotic it was to hear a stream of moans and intakes of breath and softly muttered curse words while he licked and sucked, direct feedback about what was working and what wasn't.
"Oh, fuck, I… Can you finger me?"
"Oh, God. Yeah, here." He tugged John's hips toward him to the edge of the chair and paused for a moment at the sight of him, naked from the waist down, cock slick with spit and jutting up from his body, his legs nearly around Greg's waist.
John grinned up at him. "You're wishing we had some lube, aren't you?"
Greg pushed one of John's knees back and spat on his finger, then reached down and circled it against John's arsehole. "I'd need an hour before I could be hard enough for that." He pressed the finger in slowly and groaned at the sensation of tight heat, at the way John's body almost seemed to draw him in. He pushed in as far as he could and drew his finger out again slowly. Jesus. He pressed in and out again, fascinated by the sight. "On second thought, this might get me there."
"I'm still here, you know."
Greg forced his gaze back up to John's face again: he wore a smirk worthy of Sherlock at a crime scene. "Sorry, you've been reduced to a hole in my mind."
"As long as you don't forget about my dick, I don't care."
"Right, of course. But first…" He leaned down and kissed John again, and John hummed against his mouth, pressed his tongue against Greg's and drew the tip into his mouth before sucking on it lightly. God. Greg pressed his finger into him again and again, fucking him slowly, and John wrapped his arms around Greg's shoulders.
"Two fingers, and angle up a bit if you… ah!"
"Oh, like that?" Greg hadn't even had a chance to add another finger, but it didn't seem to matter now: John's eyes rolled back in his head every time Greg brushed his fingers against what was undoubtedly his prostate.
"Like that, keep doing that… gently! Yes, there… and suck me, God, please."
Greg ducked back down to take John's cock in his mouth again. John's thighs were on his shoulders now and Greg sucked his cock with long steady strokes while he kept one finger moving inside him. He managed to get his other hand between them to fondle John's balls.
"Oh God, I… I'm…" John's fingers dug into the arms of the chair and Greg felt his body clench around his finger. He pushed forward, taking John's cock in farther, and sucked hard. John's thighs clenched around his head, holding him still, and he felt the very odd sensation of his mouth being filled. He'd forgotten how much semen was involved in this end of the process -- and how it took two good swallows to get it all down.
After a moment, John's body relaxed and his thighs fell open again. He reached down to ruffle Greg's hair and only then did Greg release his cock.
"Jesus, Greg. How long has it been since you've done that?" John pressed his hands over his face.
Greg kissed the inside of his thigh. "Longer than I care to admit. Was it that bad?"
"Are you kidding? I can't feel my fucking toes."
Greg laughed. "Let me get a bit of practice and I'll make sure you can't feel your legs."
"Do that and you can have me any way you want."
Greg exhaled and pressed his face against John's thigh. "That's a dangerous thing to say. You have no idea what I want."
"I can't wait to find out." John's fingers ruffled his hair again and Greg smiled.
*****