Title: Undivided Attention
Author: Ella Jane
Word Count: 483
A/N: Originally written for a songfic challenge, but let us not pretend that I even remotely followed the rules. Therefore, this is vaguely inspired by "Little of Your Time" by Maroon 5.
He’s moving over John, holding himself up with hands that are wrapped around John’s wrists, pressing them to the bed on either side of John’s head. He is only barely staying out of contact, lowering himself just enough to ghost his lips here and there over John's neck and upper torso. John inhales deeply, a trick to lift his chest, but Sherlock, wise to the ploy, rises with him, maintaining the thin space between them. He tries thrusting his hips, but Sherlock's high on his knees, well out of reach.
Every attempt is futile. John hates when he does this, loves when he does this. He raises his head, his mouth angling for Sherlock’s, but no. Sherlock allows John’s nose to glance off a sharp cheekbone. He hovers his open mouth just out of reach, a breath is shared, and then he pulls up, smirking.
John groans as his head drops back to the pillow. He screws his eyes shut tight and concentrates on gathering every piece of sensory information he can. The weight on his wrists, a pressure he craves more than he’d care to admit. The presence and heat emanating from the body just above him. The unruly hair that brushes his chest, preceding by a fraction of a second the warmth of a breath, the touch of a lip, or if he’s lucky that time, the dart of a tongue.
John sucks in a breath as his luck holds, and the tip of Sherlock's tongue tastes the dead center of John's sternum.
A sharp buzzing on the table beside the bed breaks the spell. Sherlock’s mobile.
John opens his eyes to find Sherlock pulled up, looking at the phone, his brows knotted with instant curiosity.
In the next three seconds, John does several rather unexpected things. First he lunges up, easily breaking free of Sherlock’s grip, which had relaxed during the detective’s moment of distraction. John rolls them over, reversing their positions, and quickly captures one of Sherlock’s wrists.
Before securing the second wrist, though, he grabs the mobile from the table and whips it over his shoulder. It smashes against the wall and clatters to the floor, in several pieces, judging by the sound.
Sherlock looks up at John as the bits of phone come to rest, his eyes wide and questioning. He doesn’t try to move. John is breathing deeply, adrenaline pumping, but he also looks like he’s trying not to smile.
“I’m afraid I’m going to require your undivided attention,” John says.
Sherlock’s mouth opens and closes as though he meant to protest, then decided not to. He presses his lips together for another moment. A gleam appears in his eye.
“And so you shall have it,” he finally says, in a voice quite intentionally deep.
John slams his mouth into Sherlock’s, determined to keep the attention undivided, as long as he possibly can.