Work Text:
Sherlock sat against the old oak, watching the setting sun create sparkling patterns on the pond behind their Sussex cottage, John’s head in his lap.
His long fingers, spotted with age, but still nimble enough to play the violin, stroked John’s balding head. “It’s so beautiful here.”
“It is. And this was a lovely surprise. I’d never have guessed that the great Sherlock Holmes would not only suggest, but prepare and pack, such an amazing picnic.”
“I have many talents, John.”
“True. I'm a very lucky man. Say, is there any more of that ciabatta? It was delicious with your elderberry honey.”
“I am pleased with how this batch turned out.” Sherlock picked up the jar and sniffed it. “Bread’s gone, though.”
“Just the honey then.” John smiled, eyes twinkling.”
Raising an eyebrow, Sherlock smiled back. “My pleasure.”
Dipping two fingers into the jar, he coated them with the dark golden honey and held them above John’s mouth. “Open.”
John opened, extending his tongue as the sweet substance dripped from Sherlock’s fingers.
“Mmm, good!”
“More?”
“Please.”
This time, Sherlock slid his honeyed fingers between his husband's lips, closing his eyes as he sucked and licked them seductively. As the warm tongue circled the pads of his fingertips, and the first stirring of arousal suffused his groin, he almost forgot to breathe.