to the bitter end

John hated it. He utterly and truly hated it. He despised himself for it. It was going on his nerves. In fact it annoyed the fucking SHIT out of him.

That stupid, always present, torturing urge to be kissed.

It was plain out ridiculous. But he couldn't help it. He wanted- needed that kind of body contact. Where one was taller, the other smaller. Where one was the bold and made the decisive move. Where your heart stops and your breath catches and-

John put the tea pot down with too much force so the china chinked. He grabbed the newspaper off the table with an emphasis that really wasn't necessary and he walked over to his armchair with a frown on his face and heaviness in his steps.

He dropped into the chair and scowled at the news. He felt like a teenager, which dropped his mood even more.

"You're annoyed.", his flatmate Sherlock, eyes closed hands steepled under his chin, his legs half up half down, stated. And it made John even more grumpy. Because look at this arsehole! With his damn hair and annoying face and stupid athletic body he wouldn't struggle AT ALL finding someone to kiss him. Not that he would care for such mundane things.

"Yes.", there was no point in denying it, John decided but hid his face behind the newspaper again.

"Why?"

Behind the safety of the newspaper John rolled his eyes. "I just am."

Sherlock opened his eyes and leaned forward, "That's ridiculous every human emotion has its origin in a deeper-"

"Oh for fuck's sake. You of all people lecturing me about human emotions is really not a to-do-thing for today, okay?!"

Sherlock sat up and John - even behind the paper - felt his studying gaze on him and the irritation inside him flamed up even more. "Stop staring.", he grumbled

Sherlock tilted his head - eyes still fixed on his flatmate. He leaned forward, pushing the newspaper down and the sudden proximity made John uneasy.

"Ever heard of personal space?"

"Of course.", Sherlock said and invaded John's.

"Then why are you in mine?"

"Because you want it."

"I want- what?"

"You wanna be close to someone.", Sherlock said, both hands on either side of his armchair now.

"No", John awkwardly fixed his sitting position. "I think I am good. Go back to your seat, Sherlo-"

But then Sherlock's lips were on his and John froze. It was just a hint of a kiss. It was nothing really. He could back off and then they could just-

He put his hand on the back of Sherlock's neck and his hand barely touched his side. He hesitantly kissed him back and then Sherlock's lips pecked John's lightly. Sherlock opened his mouth and John sucked on the other man's lower lip. John (or more his libido) decided he'd go a bit further and used his teeth to tease. When Sherlock gasped, John pulled back quickly.

"Oh. Wow. I didn't- didn't expect to happen.", he said, Sherlock still hovering above him. His eyes were fluttering open and then stared into John's. There was something in his gaze that made John wanna hug him tight.

Sherlock straightened up and fixed his perfectly cuffed cuffs on his shirt. That heated look was completely gone. There was no evidence of what had just happened, except ,maybe, that John's trousers were a tad bit tighter than before.

Still uselessly fumbling with his cuffs (with elegant, slim fingers), Sherlock finally looked up. And with his look came a wall, being built brick by brick between them. "You needed stimulation. I gave you that. I hope you feel better now.", Sherlock said matter-of-factly, finally letting his cuffs alone, rolling his shoulders once. With four long strides he was at the hook with his belstaff, put it on with one swift movement and opened the door. "I'll be out. No need to wait up."

And John was being left behind. Completely stunned. He still felt lips on his own, still felt breath creeping over his jaw, still saw a heated look that John felt like had burnt him.

With a deep breath he heaved himself up, the newspaper forgotten on John's lap, flew to the floor. John needed tea. While the water boiled, John thought about what Sherlock had said. That he had offered him stimulation and that he hoped John felt better now. And he did, definitely, feel better but there was a tuck inside him that made him frown.

John grabbed a mug and put it down roughly. Then he remembered he already had made tea. He had completely forgotten about that. John stared at his mug and blinked. "Oh, I am so. fucked.", he realized and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Because John wanted to kiss his flat mate again.

---

[notes and tags under the cut]

“well, er, surprise me”

Sherlock A Scandal in Belgravia 2.01

“You are so dear to me that I do not mind, in the end, if it is you that kills me.” - Minamoto no Hiromasa