+12: Addicted To You -Avicii [REQUEST]

Request from @CarmenRavenscar

Smut was requested, smut was given (that was a warning by the way...) So yeah.. SMUT. And I'd just like to say this is a great song to write smut to.

-

It was so wrong - probably why Jim loved it so much. He'd always known that Sherlock Holmes held a very special position in his life but never had he imagined that the detective would also take an extremely special place in his heart.

In hindsight, it's not a big surprise (although it certainly caught him by surprise). The man was a genius; solving 95% of the puzzles Jim gave him, always outsmarting him and proving himself one of the most intelligent on the planet. And, God, he was gorgeous too, wasn't he?

Ever since he drove away in that taxi... Jim had realised Sherlock had that place in his heart that he never expected to give to anyone. He knew Sherlock would find a way to survive the fall and he knew he could too. He did it to ensure that Sherlock would never, ever find out that Jim had gone and fallen for him. But he had to come back, he couldn't just let Sherlock die for heavens sake!

So, he'd come back. That meant Sherlock would come looking - eventually. And what was he to do about that?

He couldn't hide his feelings from Sherlock, he'd see it straight away. Jim would have a better chance of convincing the police that he was a nice guy who meant them no harm.

When they did come face to face, Jim had a plan. He wasn't going to hide it, he'd let Sherlock see it all and Sherlock... He had smirked. That's all. Just smirked at him like he'd known all along and for all Jim knew he may have.

They were standing across from each other, in a small field that didn't hold any meaning (for Jim) but Sherlock had asked to meet here and so he came. Sherlock had opened his mouth to speak and if he did speak, Jim didn't hear a word of it. He just could not stop staring. Sherlock was right there and.. Fuck... He looked like he'd purposely dressed to try and get every man and women within a mile radius to drop their trousers for him.

That was when he smirked. Jim noticed right away. Sherlock's whole body seemed to relax and when Jim looked up to the man's face, he had a smooth smirk on his lips that made Jim feel like Sherlock knew every dirty thought he was having.

That's where Jim is now.

Standing in a field, Sherlock across from him and smirking. Jim numbly murmurs something about his latest scandal, involving the case Sherlock currently had, and Sherlock nods, looking as if he weren't paying much attention and didn't really care much either.

Unsure what to do, Jim looks to the side and scalds himself for thinking that in any universe this would be a good plan. Sherlock had swept into his life all those years ago when he noticed Jim took the shoes and even though Jim's life was already upside down, Sherlock had had turned it over again and given Jim a reason to continue.

Falling in love was never part of Jim's plan but still, it happened. He fell. Hard. And for the one person that he shouldn't full in love with.

"I saw it, before you 'shot' yourself" Sherlock says then, eyes locking with Jim's and refusing to release them.

Jim swallows, wanting to go over there and pull Sherlock into him, give him one long bruising kiss just in case it's the only one he'll ever get. He doesn't do that though, he just stares and waits for Sherlock to tell him how he's ruined this for them. How it won't be the same now because Jim's part of the losing side now, he's let his emotions overrule his part in The Game and because of that, Sherlock doesn't have time for him anymore.

Sherlock doesn't speak. Jim continues to wait, still having no clue what to say.

Seconds, minutes, hours, Jim doesn't know, pass that way. The two just staring at each other.

Then something in Jim decides that he doesn't care. He's going to take that one kiss.

Confidently, Jim strides over to Sherlock with his eyes on those plump lips that belonged to the detective and, not stopping to check Sherlock's reaction, takes hold of Sherlock's chin and covers Sherlock's lips with his own.

His breath seems to leave him and he has to pull back a millimetre to suck in air. Then Jim's back on Sherlock, his lips forcing Sherlock's own to cooperate with his. Jim's hands slide down Sherlock's arms and then circle around his waist, joining at the small of his back.

He tastes even better than Jim imagined.

So much better.

God.

Jim has to breath again and so he presses short kisses to Sherlock's lips as he does. That's when he realises... He's not being pushed away or hit. He's being kissed back.

Sherlock is kissing back.

Pleasantly surprised, Jim doesn't stop to question it and dives in for another kiss. This time, he pries open Sherlock's mouth and thrusts his tongue into the other's mouth. Jim whimpers and that seems to make Sherlock more responsive because the next thing Jim knows is that Sherlock's hands are on his shoulders and they're tumbling to the floor.

They hit the grass with a thump and the kiss is broken. Jim gasps, scared that this pause will mean Sherlock's going to leap up and evaporate.

Sherlock's on top of him, still, though and he's looking down at Jim with that smirk.

Jim watches, eyes on Sherlock's face and taking in every detail he can. No words leave his lips, not wanting to say anything to make Sherlock leave.

This time, it's Sherlock that leans in and kisses Jim.

More than happy to cooperate, Jim kisses back. His eyes fall closed and he just allows the sensations to take over. He can feel Sherlock pressed again him, can feel his heart beating, can hear the sharp breaths he takes when he pulls back between kisses, can taste him.

Their tongues tangle in a feverish, hot mess and Jim allows a soft moan of pleasure past his lips. Much like the whimper, Sherlock's response to the sounds Jim makes is amazing. He slides up, his knees planting either side of Jim's hips as he sits up, the curve of his arse against Jim's crotch.

Sherlock's fingers work at the buttons of Jim's shirt, ignoring the fact Jim also had a blazer on. Jim watches, biting his bottom lip and briefly debating whether to say anything. He doesn't, in the end. Once again, he doesn't dare risk Sherlock stopping this.

When his top is hanging open, Jim feels cold, long fingers running down his chest none too softly. Then there's a hand at the back of his neck and he's guided into a sitting position, Sherlock claiming his lips once more.

His blazer and shirt are shoved off at the same time, falling limply to the soft grass below them. 

Are they seriously doing this? In a field?

Jim was tempted to pinch himself, to check it wasn't another of his dreams. Because he definitely had a lot of them that went this way.

If this was real... Jim wasn't sure how he was ever going to go back to how they were before. Sherlock was a powerful, magnificent drug that you got hooked on after the first hit. Jim was addicted to it. To Sherlock. He always was, even before he'd had those lush lips on his.

"Stop thinking. Makes you a bad kisser" Sherlock mutters against Jim's lips.

Chuckling, Jim's arm wraps around Sherlock's waist, his hand settling flat on Sherlock's lower back as their lips continue to move together.

They seem to slow down then, shifting into a lower gear. It scares Jim. A quick, animalistic fuck in the grass makes it easy to ignore feelings. If they go slow, Jim's going to feel his heart beating for Sherlock and it'll seem much more like love making than fucking. He's scared of that. He's already attached to Sherlock. A night of sweet love making would not help him - because he doubts Sherlock's going to stick around.

With a shuddering breath, Jim rocks forward so he's laying Sherlock down gently on the grass.

He unbuttons Sherlock's shirt slowly, looking at the detective's eyes as he does. He could drown in those eyes. Damn the pain, he thinks. It's worth it, to have a single night of passion with Sherlock - well, afternoon. It's worth all the heartache.

Soon, they're both topless and laying in the grass, exchanging lazy kisses as if drunk or just woken.

Maybe he is drunk, Jim thinks. Drunk on Sherlock.

Jim presses another kiss to the detective's lips as he pushes the button on his trousers through the hole and drags the zip down so carefully that it almost seemed like teasing. Sucking in another breath, nervous and excited, Jim's fingers push the fabric down as Sherlock lifts his hips.

Jim has to move to the side to remove the garment. They stay silent, removing every last piece of each other's clothing before Jim settles on top of Sherlock again.

Blinking, Jim pulls back, a horrid realisation hitting him. "I.. We don't have a condom.. or lubricant. We can't.."

Sherlock grins, arching his neck to kiss Jim. "Trouser pocket"

Jim's breathing hitches. Did Sherlock plan this?

Nodding, Jim reaches over with shaking fingers and produces a condom and a small tube of lubricant.

God, this was happening. He was actually going to have sex with Sherlock.

What was it like, he wonders, to touch and be inside someone who distanced from the rest of the world? Probably really fucking fantastic.

Swallowing thickly, Jim pops the lid off the bottle. He tries to put it on his fingers but he's shaking too much and it's dripping down the back of his hand. Sherlock takes hold of his hand with a small smile and Jim does his best to return the gesture, looking sheepish in his embarrassment.

"It's okay. I'll do it" Sherlock kisses his lips. "Put that on" He says, tapping the condom.

Jim nods, ripping the packet with his teeth and rolling the plastic on. As he does, he can't tear his eyes from Sherlock. He's got his hips in the air, a long finger moving and out of himself in a way that tells Jim this was far from his first time doing this.

Jim's cock was throbbing by now and he almost whimpered as he wraps a hand around himself, just holding himself to take an edge off the pain. Sherlock grins, breathing out as he does, and Jim meets those bluer than blue eyes for the second time.

Was it possible for him to fall even more in love with this man?

If it is, Jim's sure that he just fell twice as much as he had already. Sherlock was just.. perfect and beautiful and insane and just so god damn right for Jim.

It wasn't fair. If Sherlock allowed him, Jim would spend the rest of his life by his side. But Sherlock isn't and would never be like that. He didn't want anyone by his side, much less Jim.

Jim's heart gives a painful flutter and he sucks in a breath, his eyes still on Sherlock. As he refocuses on the man, who had slid another finger into himself, a fresh lurch of arousal rushes through Jim and it's almost impossible for him to keep still and not rock into his warm hand.

It's a while later when Sherlock nods and breathes out the words "I'm ready"

Jim eagerly moves closer to the detective who's sprawled out of the grass with the sun reflecting off his pale skin. He's quite the sight.

As he lifts Sherlock's hips and pulls him closer, Jim takes a moment to lean forward enough to place a kiss on Sherlock's lips. He wasn't going to be able to reach once they started.

"Ready?" Jim asks, voice lower than usual making him sound slurred.

"I just said I was" Sherlock snickers, his legs wrapping around Jim's waist.

With a small, nervous smile, Jim lifts Sherlock's hips higher, pushing himself up on his knees as he guides his erection towards Sherlock's entrances. They both grunt at the first breach and Sherlock squirms, panting, as Jim gradually sinks further into the other's body.

"Oh, God..." Jim murmurs once he's fully seated inside Sherlock.

Breathing in and out a few times, Sherlock turns his head towards Jim and stretches his neck to look at him for a moment. "You can move.. I... I feel so full. Jesus, Jim"

"Just Jim" Jim smirks, a hand squeezing Sherlock's arse.

Sherlock jumps in squeeze and they both moan, Jim burying his face in Sherlock's chest. The top of his head just reached Sherlock's chin. As Sherlock's body was pulled closer again and his hips raised further, Jim slides his hand round to Sherlock's lower back, holding him.

Then, Jim begins to rock his hips. Slowly. Torturously.

Sherlock's trembling beneath him, letting out little puffs of air. They'd barely begun and Sherlock looked ready to come undone. Jim feels Sherlock relax slightly and, confident he wouldn't harm the other, he moves his hips faster.

But it's still slow. It certainly doesn't feel like the animalistic session that wouldn't cause Jim mountains of heartache once it was over and Sherlock walked away.

Jim feels his heart squeeze painfully as he glances up to see Sherlock's face. His eyes are closed and he looks blissful. His lips were partly and Jim watches as a pink tongue darts out to wet them. Without realising, Jim speeds up again.

"Ah, ah" Sherlock was practically sobbing.

Worried he was hurting the other, Jim slows his movement. This earn him a growl of protest. Smirking, Jim bumps up his speed again, tearing the most beautiful sounds from Sherlock.

Nothing could compare to this. No one would ever compare to Sherlock.

"Oh, God. F...Fuck. Jim, touch me" It wasn't a question.

Obediently, Jim wraps his fingers around Sherlock and strokes him with no mercy. Sherlock's cries grow louder, bouncing off the trees and echoing. Jim smiles, guessing that if Sherlock did plan for this than he couldn't have picked a better spot.

Sherlock was leaking and it made it easier for Jim to slide his hand up and down. Sherlock was trembling again - maybe he never stopped. His hips jerked and Jim would feel Sherlock's muscles beginning to contact and flutter around him.

The pleasure was building with each second and Jim would feel the familiar tension in his abdomen, the warmth swirling. Building and building.

"Sherlock.." Jim warns, his hand speeding up.

He'd get Sherlock off first. He had to. He wanted to be inside the detective when the orgasm ripped through him. He wanted to watch Sherlock as he came undone at the seams.

And that's just what he did. He watched as Sherlock's mouth formed a perfect 'o' and he gave an impressive moan of Jim's name, his hips jerking forward as he paints Jim's hand with his semen.

To think, Jim thought he was a sight before... But now... Hell.

A moment later Jim too was pulsing inside Sherlock and filling the condom. He can't keep his eyes open and he gasps, hips slowing as he rides out the sensation. He pants, pulling out and falling to the side. He peels off the condom and tosses it to the side.

They lay there for some time. Completely shagged out, sweating and satisfied.

Jim barely believes his luck when Sherlock rolls and cuddles against his side, giving an adorable yawn as he lays on Jim's chest. Not saying a word, Jim just wraps his arm around Sherlock's shoulders and closes his eyes to absorb this sensation for as long as he could.