He whimpered and swallowed. Dear fucking god. John ached and wanted. He rolled onto his stomach and rocked his hips against the pillow that was under them. The sensation against his cock causing him to sob.

John wanted Sherlock to touch him, feel him, claim him. He wanted it. Wanted it all. And never wanted it to stop. Ever. He hiccuped and shifted. God. Oh fucking god yes.

"Please." He begged again uselessly.