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]

"Come up here," he suggests. "I like you in my lap."

[semicharmed]

Matt smiles.

And, wordlessly, he gets up and slides back onto Sherlock's lap, straddling.

[wearsthecoats]

Sherlock wraps his arms comfortably around Matt's waist.



And if a hand should happen to slide down over Matt's hip...

...let's not kid ourselves; it's totally intentional.

[semicharmed]

"Oh," he exclaims, instantly breathless.

[wearsthecoats]

"I don't think," he says, contemplative, "I will ever get tired of that."

And that is saying something.

[semicharmed]

Matt breathes a laugh.

"Mm-- I'm still into it."

[wearsthecoats]

"I can tell."

[semicharmed]

Matt shifts in his lap, amused.

Pressing closer, "Kiss me?"

[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.