HI MATT

[wearsthecoats]

Sherlock has:

• an armchair by the fire
• an expression of unreasonable cheer
• a mug of cold-pressed coffee
• a truly impressive collection of hickeys, accented by a well-bitten lip that only recently stopped bleeding.

Comments

[semicharmed]

Matt stops for a moment, his breath catching.

Then he presses a warm kiss to Sherlock's throat, and another.

[wearsthecoats]

Sherlock makes a sound like glaciers cracking.

[semicharmed]

Oh, whoa.

Given what he knows about Sherlock, he thinks that's an okay sound?

Still:

"You okay?" he breathes.

[wearsthecoats]

Emphatically: "Yes."

[semicharmed]

Well then!

Matt will just continue to kiss along his neck towards his ear. Thoroughly.

With occasional nips.

[wearsthecoats]

He makes that sound again—a low groan with notes of breaking ice.

[semicharmed]

Matt's hands caress his hip and smooth over his chest (for the moment, anyway).

He kisses his ear, warm breath gusting gently against the shell.

Then he bites.

[wearsthecoats]

He gasps softly.

[semicharmed]

Matt could listen to that sound all day.

His tongue flicks against his earlobe.

[wearsthecoats]

That's... nice. Nice is a word. He sighs, letting his head fall back against the couch.

[semicharmed]

This necessitates Matt's leaning forward just a little to follow him, but he hardly minds.

He kisses just below his ear, licks along the edge a little way, nibbles back down. His hands keep roaming.

[wearsthecoats]

Sherlock lets out a tiny whimper, stroking his fingers through Matt's hair.

[semicharmed]

Matt sucks on his earlobe, shifting against him.

His skin, as before, feels marvelous against his.

[wearsthecoats]

Yes it does.

He wriggles a little.

[semicharmed]

Matt makes a soft mm noise, teeth scraping.

"I could do this a while," he murmurs by his ear.

"But give a shout if you've got other ideas." He shifts again, so his hand can slide to Sherlock's thigh. "Questions, suggestions ..."

And his nails pinch his nipple again.

"Etcetera."

[wearsthecoats]

"I like this," he sighs, his hand drifting down the curve of Matt's spine.

"But I think I'd like it better if it hurt more."

[semicharmed]

"Ah," he considers.

A pause.

"Let me know if I'm getting closer, then."

When his nails scrape again, it's more of a scratch, and they dig in.

[wearsthecoats]

"Mmm... better," he says consideringly, but the word trails off—an indication that it could perhaps be better still.

[semicharmed]

He bites down on Sherlock's ear-- hard.

His nails only have so much scratch in them, after all. (The grip of both his hands tightens, though, on Sherlock's chest and thigh. Maybe it's tension.)

[wearsthecoats]

He makes a soft, pained noise and breathes out a shuddering, "Perfect."

[semicharmed]

Really, Matt could've figured this out before: There's no way the marks he's left are gonna bruise like the ones that were already all over him.

Still, that's the purpose of lots and lots of field trials. He turns his head and bites Sherlock's neck, lingering over it; he doesn't plan to break skin, but he lets his teeth dig in harder as he goes.

He presumes he'll be told to stop if he goes too far.

[wearsthecoats]

The pressure seems to gradually transmute Sherlock into a loose-limbed happy puddle, fingertips circling idly on the small of Matt's back.

"I like that," he says, soft and breathless.

[semicharmed]

"Good," he says, a little out of breath himself.

His nails trail inward along Sherlock's thigh, digging into the soft flesh.

It's weirdly liberating.

"Tell me when you don't."

[wearsthecoats]

"Mm. Will do."

But they're nowhere near that point yet. He didn't get there with Jim; he doubts he'll get there with this fluffy little thing.

[semicharmed]

In some ways it's exactly what he's afraid of, but it's also really good, on some level, to slash hot nails along soft, cold skin and not worry about keeping himself in line.

Matt traces the line of muscle down the side of Sherlock's neck, sometimes biting and sometimes sucking, following old bruises like constellations.

When he gets to the meeting of neck and shoulder, he lets his teeth sink down.