Title: Focus...
By: nancy
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Fandoms: Hannibal/Sherlock
Rating: NC-18
Summary: Shmoop.


John had long since learned how to ignore the world around him when needed. Bombs going off and bullets flying in war zones had been a great teacher, but he'd first learned it when his parents had screamed at each other and he'd needed to study for school. And then Harry had reinforced the lesson by screaming at both parents while he'd needed to study for school. After that had been drunk and loud uni roommates while he'd needed to study for school. War had really just been the final lesson in a long string of classes in focus and concentration.

Despite all the considerable focus he could bring to bear on any particular situation, there was one he had as yet to defeat: Sherlock's mouth.

At first, John had just stared in fascination because he could hardly believe the words coming out of Sherlock's mouth. The words never really grew commonplace as such, but they did become a kind of routine that was never quite routine enough for John to relax. Once that happened, though, John stared for a completely different and utterly inappropriate reason. He fantasized about having that mouth on him, everywhere. He imagined what Sherlock would look like on his knees while sucking John off. He obsessed, in his own head at least, with the image of Sherlock's tongue sliding around, over, and into every part of John's body.

Then they'd become lovers. Sherlock had turned out to be startlingly passionate and inventive given his reputation as frigid and/or possibly a virgin, even at his age. When John had the brain matter to actually think about it, he wasn't truly surprised by the turn of events. Sherlock was nothing, if not thorough; of course he would learn or figure out how to bring someone to their knees with a few, simple touches.

Or maybe it was just John.

As long as Sherlock didn't involve his mouth for much other than kissing, they could go for a couple of hours at a time. John was thrilled with their sex life. They fit hand-in-glove, the compatibility astounding and yet expected, given how in synch they were with everything else. Really, John's only complaint was how quick off the mark he was when Sherlock decided to suck him off or torture John's nipples with teeth and tongue. Then again, 'complaint' was such a strong word.

John moaned and writhed under Sherlock, the other man going down on him with a ferocious intensity. Sherlock sucked on the way up and then went down all the way again, John's cock breaching the back of his throat. That was it. John cried out and came, thrusting without any force thanks to Sherlock's arms imitating iron bars across his hips.

By the time he came back to his surroundings, John blinked fuzzily at Sherlock who was nuzzling at his dick as though wishing it would harden again right away. He laughed weakly and rasped, "Going to have to give me some time to recover, Sherlock."

Sherlock smirked a bit and slowly pushed two slick fingers inside John. "Perhaps less than you might expect."

John groaned and sagged back against the pillow. He waved a hand at Sherlock and said, "Go on, do what you like. I'll just lie here and recover."

Sherlock hissed and the bed moved unexpectedly. John frowned curiously and looked down again to find Sherlock panting silently, resting his forehead on John's hip. He'd obviously come. A grin slid over his face as he realized that he wasn't the only one who could be quick off the mark.

Sherlock looked up at him and scowled. "Oh, do shut up, John."

John laughed and pulled him up for a kiss.