Work Text:
It is our first time and I must parse every atom into memory, John warm beneath my hands, warm everywhere, his mouth opening beneath mine, his sigh becoming my name, his tongue answering yes and more and again and harder, and I retreat to map him with my mouth, silvered scars on his shoulder, seam along his hip, violence written across the body I watched, desired, nearly lost, soft wrist, jut of hip, tender crease of thigh, until he shakes, hands in my hair, saying please, Sherlock, and I answer with push and pull, learning what makes him gasp, and when I press into him, he exhales my name as though he has held it for years, legs drawing me deeper, body opening around me with a trust that undoes every cold, calculated thing I have been, while histories remain, women whose mouths knew his, one man from the army remembered through silence, and I want none erased because desire and grief carried him towards this bed, this night, towards me, and when he says Sherlock again, wrecked and wondering, I understand forgiveness as his palm against my face, his heat receiving me without judgement, and I kiss him until longing becomes light and love passes beyond deduction into proof, incandescent, living, John choosing me as I pull him closer.
Mine.