Catching the Ghost (Sheriarty/Jimlock) 18+

Chapter 10

The way the sunlight fell over the planes of Jim's body as his back arched off the parlor floor was an image that Sherlock committed to memory forever. He sucked him deep, sliding one hand up Jim's flat stomach, finding that subconsciously his body began to writhe in tandem with the body below him. He was drunk on the way Jim's fingers scratched at the floor, on the soft moans Jim tried to hold back, on the way Jim's body blushed when he was aroused. And there was no doubt of Jim's arousal. Nor Sherlock's.

The effect of Jim's reaction had made Sherlock harder than he'd ever remembered being. It took every ounce of control to resist holding Jim down and burying himself inside of him to satisfy his overwhelming lust. The closest thing he'd ever wanted before with such urgency was a hit during withdrawal. His jaw beginning to hurt, he pulled away with a wet pop, growling and exploring Jim's stomach and chest with his mouth as he stroked the man. "Come for me Jim, please," he whined, finding one of man's nipples and teasing it ruthlessly with teeth and tongue.

Jim's laugh choked off into a gasp. He thrust up into Sherlock's hand, but gave no sign of being any closer to climax. Sherlock groaned with tension. Jim was toying with him even now? He pulled Jim's hair, wrenching his head back, mouth agape, which Sherlock promptly took advantage of, inhaling him with his kiss. When he finally came up for air, Sherlock pressed his mouth to Jim's ear and rumbled, "I need to have you."

Jim slipped from Sherlock's hold and managed to flip their positions before he had a chance to realize what was happening. The smaller man straddled him, holding Sherlock's head pinned to the floor by a fistfull of curls as he slid his arse back, guiding Sherlock's cock to slide tantalizing along his crevice. "Which is it," Jim purred, looking down at him with a smile not quite sane. "Do you want to suck me off or fuck me?"

Sherlock moaned, grabbing Jim's hips and trying to move him to where he really wanted, but Jim only pulled away, keeping every touch a torturous tease. Sherlock hissed with frustration. Someday he was definitely going to tie the man up. The image that sprung to mind, strained, tight muscles and even tighter bounds, did nothing to help elevate the urgency of his need. Sherlock strained against the hold in his hair, a few strands breaking free in Jim's fist as he tried in vain to reach him. He snorted in frustration, collapsing, desperate. "Please," he whined.

Sunlight broke at sharp angles along the planes of Jim's face as he leaned in, sunlight catching one eye, turning it amber. "Please what, Sherlock," Jim hummed, his breath brushing Sherlock's lips.

A stuttering breath caught in Sherlock's throat, just by the sight of him like this, half in shadow, half in the sun. "Please let me have you Jim," he whispered, transfixed. "I want to be inside you."

The fist in his hair uncurled, fingers threading lightly as Jim's hand withdrew and he stood, one leg to either side of him, looking down with a smirk. "Come on then," Jim said, walking toward the bedroom.

Sherlock blinked. No. Jim had looked perfect in the light there in the parlor. Like a dream. "Why are we moving?"

Jim paused, glancing back at him. "Supplies moron. Am I going to have to teach you how to put on a condom?"

Sherlock scrambled to his feet, hurrying after Jim. He bit his lip, staring at the back of the man's head for a moment. There Jim went again, taking every opportunity to rub his inexperience into his face. Sherlock the novice. He hated being put on the back foot again. For such a small cute thing, Jim didn't give up power easily. But when he did, he was gorgeous and it made Sherlock feel incredible. An impulsive thought flickered through Sherlock's mind. His lips curved into small smile. He grabbed the criminal, throwing him over one shoulder.