Sherlock shut his eyes as John whispered to him. It was a strange mix of Old English and modern English. He didn't even try to think about how his brain understood the words that his ancient lover said to him.

When John moved his hips, that was Sherlock's cue to start moving. He pulled back until only his head remained, then pushed in, harder and faster than the first time. He pulled back and snapped his hips forward again, increasing in speed and pressure. He held onto John's hips hard enough to bruise.

"John... my Merlin... Nnngg..." He grunted through his thrusts, a fine sheen starting to ghost the edge of his hairline.