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

[wearsthecoats]

"Happily," he says, and does.

[semicharmed]

Speaking of things you'll never get tired of, kissing Sherlock's chill lips when Matt's feel so warm--

He may have just discovered the sensation today, but he thinks it's a keeper.

[wearsthecoats]

It's not so bad from the other side, either.

"Mm."

[semicharmed]

His hand slides around the back of Sherlock's neck.

[wearsthecoats]

His eyes flutter closed; he hums with pleasure.

[semicharmed]

His fingers knead into the back of his neck, while he sucks at Sherlock's lower lip.

He's ... probably not that far off from straight-up asking him to touch his tattoo some more.

[wearsthecoats]

Although he is halfway melted, psychologically at least, by that wonderful hand on his neck, Sherlock is still Sherlock. He lets one hand slide down Matt's back.

[semicharmed]

He sighs contentedly against his mouth.

[wearsthecoats]

His hand settles into place over the tattoo, cool but not cold.

[semicharmed]

And immediately, Matt's contented sigh turns into a hitching gasp.

[wearsthecoats]

He lets that hand chill, cold and then colder.

[semicharmed]

Oh that cold, that cuts right through him--

Matt's hips roll forward, and his hand clutches at the back of Sherlock's neck.

[wearsthecoats]

Sherlock digs his fingers into Matt's hip.

[semicharmed]

His head tips back.

"Umm," he breathes, urgent. His free hand tightens over Sherlock's arm.

[wearsthecoats]

Moving with slow deliberation, he wraps his other hand around Matt's cock.

[semicharmed]

"Mmm--"

It's a bit tricky, in this position, to buck his hips to meet Sherlock's hand. Nevertheless, the attempt is clear.

"Not too fast," he murmurs, "please."

It's total torture, but he wants to feel it for longer this time-- Hanuman burning, the cold of him, the effects of the cardamom and magic in his blood.

[wearsthecoats]

"Whatever you want," he promises.

Slow. He can do slow. Slow and cold and gentle.

[semicharmed]

Matt lets out a low groan.

"That's good ..."

[wearsthecoats]

He makes a pleased sound.

If only he had an extra pair of arms to hug Matt with, this would be just perfect.

[semicharmed]

Matt works to keep steady, to not thrust too much, though he knows he's working at every step against the spell he cast himself.

It's fascinating, and deeply frustrating.

[wearsthecoats]

The conflicting tensions are a thing of beauty. He could do this for hours.

Maybe he will.

[semicharmed]

He presses absent kisses along Sherlock's collarbone.

The hand kneading the back of his neck drifts up, fingers running through his hair.

[wearsthecoats]

He makes a soft, pleased sound.

[semicharmed]

Matt shudders, mouthing at Sherlock's shoulder to disguise the moan.

It's not that he doesn't want Sherlock to hear it.

He doesn't want himself to hear it.

[wearsthecoats]

For research purposes, he makes both his hands cold.