Regarding 400 follower requests! I'll need some time to get the Dragon Age requests done, then I'll post an update for the next request session. I'm thinking I'll need a couple weeks before then, just to keep you all updated. Also I need time to make it as epic as possible ;)

Sunday, June 23, 2013

A John Watson Lemon -- London Calls


Character: John Watson

Fandom: Sherlock

OC: Katherine, long brown hair, warm eyes

Inspiration: First Sherlock lemon!! Finally!  :D  Who else can't wait for season 3 to come out?  Lol.  I've been sitting on this lemon for almost 2 months, thinking that it sucks.  Finally decided to publish it anyway.  Let me know how it is?


Katherine usually wakes up at 8:00.  She usually gets up, takes a shower, and is at work by 9:00.  She rarely sleeps in.  And she rarely enjoys it so much.  But there is something undeniably simple about sleeping in with another body pressed warmly against your own.  And it is not something that Katherine wants to miss, especially not after the crazy night she'd had. 
London has long been up, has long since spread her tired wings and started the day.  But the Saturday sun has yet to instill its usual vigor within Katherine, and she finds herself very content to remain nestled between two arms and pressed against a broad chest.  And those arms and that chest seem very happy to keep here there.
She shifts a little, inclining her head so she can look at her lover.  His eyes are closed but it is apparent that he is awake, because his arms tighten momentarily around her and his breathing is off.  She stares at him for a few moments, and he finally opens his eyes, looks at her, and smiles.  His smile reaches the corners of his eyes and she holds her breath at the beauty he graces her with.
"Good morning," she whispers.  It is a soft whisper, and a sacred set of words.  A little hesitant, a little shy.  Because even though this has happened before, the emotions behind their actions are still enough to shock Katherine each and every time.  She has never before felt so strongly about anyone.
He seems to sense a little of what she is thinking, because his eyes soften and his smile turns gentler.  His calloused fingers lift up to touch her forehead, her temple, and then drag lazily down the sharp edge of her cheekbone.  She closes her eyes.
"Good morning," he finally murmurs back.  His voice is rough like his fingertips, calloused and scratchy.  She is not surprised.  The night before had been wrought with alcohol and sex.  Sleep is still weighing heavily on their minds.  He is probably suffering from a hangover.
Her lips quirk up a bit and she stretches, raising her arms high above her head as she basks in the sunlit glow of the room.  She'd forgotten, it seems, to shut the blinds in her bedroom the night before.  But she doesn’t mind, not now, because the feel of the sun on her skin is like experiencing a little shard of what heaven must be like.
John's hand slips to her abdomen as she stretches.  He watches her with a strange fascination, his blue eyes sharp but warm, so warm.  His fingers slid easily up her body, and she turns her eyes on his as he touches her.
"You're lovely today," he tells her, and she smiles.  He wants to tell her that she is lovely every day, that there is never a time when she is not lovely.  But the moment is already past, and Katherine is already leaning into him, lips seeking his and initiating a delicious, sun-soaked kiss.
Her leg slides over his, the sheets slipping away.  John finds himself sinking into the pillows as she hovers above him.  His hands are still touching her, still clasping her hips as though to say 'don't move, you are perfect just like this, just like this.'
And she is, to him.  He will never tire of her flushed cheeks, of her mussed hair, of her bruised, parted lips.  And the look in her eye as she looks down at him will always, always strike up that delightful fervor, that feverish desire.  Even now it is running its course through him, thudding its way into his veins and his sinew and his bone.
She is amused by it.  Not in a cruel way, never, but he can see the curiosity that shifts in the warmth of her gaze, and knows what it is targeted at.  She is wondering how he can want her so easily, how just one kiss can make him react so intensely.  But what she doesn’t realize is that it isn't just one kiss. It is her, and it is the atmosphere of the room, and it is the promise of the entire day laid out before them.  And yes, it is the physicality of their position, of the way her body is tossed over his, her legs tangled with his, her arms a cage around his head.  Mostly, it is the fact that John cannot imagine a life without her, or a morning that isn't spent pressed against her between sheets.
They lean forward to kiss again and it is like a second stroke of heaven, of muddled perfection.  He cannot even describe her kiss, only that it makes him see the entire world differently.  And all at once he is a king and a knight and a peasant, rolled up into one jumbled mess that isn't supposed to make any sense but does.  So, so much.
"Stop thinking so much," she whispers to him, her voice breathed over the skin of his cheek.  He opens his eyes again and sees her wrapped up in that sunlight and his arms.  And he suddenly wants to do something similar, and wrap himself into her, again and again until he is finally, truly satisfied.  Which, he supposes, will not be for a very very very long time, because he is never completely satisfied around her.  He always wants more.  There is not a moment that goes by where he doesn't want to press kisses to her skin or make her cry out in pleasure.  Or protect her.  Or warm her.  Or love her.
Katherine raises one delicate eyebrow and lifts herself up a little, staring into his brilliant blue eyes.  The sun caresses them in just the perfect way, bathing them with honesty and an openness that makes her catch her breath.  She shakes her head and asks idly, in a too-casual voice, "What did I just tell you?"
And he chuckles, because the situation calls for it and because the way she speaks, in that faux-superior tone makes him want to put her in her place.  Which is everywhere, all at once, because Katherine cannot fit into any one category and he'd be loath to discover it even if she could. 
He sighs out and touches her cheek, fingertips brushing delicately over her skin.  "…To stop thinking," he murmurs, and they share secretive smiles.  What, exactly, they are keeping a secret is entirely unknown to him.  Perhaps it is the moment itself, and all the others before it and all the others after, and the way they are together in such bliss.  Regardless, John can't help but drag her back down to him, press his lips against hers, move his hands down her neck and her back and her hips. 
She melts against his touch.  Her heart thuds dramatically in her chest and she sighs out.  Then she listens to her own words and decides to stop thinking and just feel.  Feel the way John's large, calloused hands make her shiver.  Feel the way he is already hard and burning against her thigh, so so ready to bury himself within her and ignite her into pleasure.  Feel the strength that curdles just beneath his skin, and the way it puts her at ease and makes her feel safe at the same time.
She breaks the intense movements of their lips and kisses down his skin, tasting that strength and imbuing it with her own.  Her teeth nibble gently at his neck, feel him shiver beneath her as she leaves red mark in her wake.  He drags her ever closer, skin brushing skin in the most wicked, sinful ways.  And he can hardly breathe when her fingers reach down to touch his member.  His entire body explodes with that touch.
"Katherine…" he groans, and watches her turn her eyes to his.  For a moment, the connection of their gaze makes him wonder if she's going to be particularly mischievous with him today.  Make him beg for her, make his arousal shift into the cusp of an orgasm before dragging him from it like cold water over hot, steaming skin.
But she doesn't.  There is too much at stake and she doesn't care to wait.  Her body is already aching something awful for him, her own arousal all but thundering through her.  She wants to impale herself on that desire, to send it into a fervor of victoriously timed thrusts.  And so Katherine doesn't really even wait.  She isn't exactly ready for him, but she doesn't care.  The moment later, she is leaning back, fingers curled around his length, and guiding it into her.
And below her, John watches with dark, lustful eyes that scream out at her, at her pace, at the sight she makes.  And he can barely stand it.
She whimpers a little because it hurts.  She isn't as wet as she should be, perhaps, and he doesn't slid right into her as a result.  Instead, it takes a few painful seconds for him to be completely surrounded by her, by her heat and her tightness and her essence.  But when he is, John can scarcely wait any longer.  He pulls her back down, leaning up to meet her halfway and to drag her into a deep, delicious kiss that makes their bodies erupt into shivers.  The new position makes them gasp and makes the pain turn to pleasure, pleasure that is so bright and wild that for a moment, all they can do is lay there and soak it up.
But then she moves and it intensifies a thousand times greater, exploding into a myriad of delirious passion that sends them hurtling forward.  John's hands slid to her bottom and he dominates her thrusts, pulling her against him so diligently that the world seems to almost pass them by. 
Katherine gasps and kisses down his chest again, because it helps distract her from coming.  Her orgasm wants to overpower her, so quickly and harshly that it shocks her.  So instead she just bites down on his skin, digging her nails against him, curling her fists into the sheets.  And she moans and whimpers and breathes him in and out, trying to save herself and him at the same time.
For a while, her methods work.  She immerses herself in the perfect quality of his thrusts, and the way he rams his cock so deeply into her that breathing isn't even an option anymore.  She just hangs there, like a shard of moonlight, like a ghost, a soul that hasn't truly accomplished what it needs in order to be free.  She grasps onto her lover and looks into his eyes and what she sees there, the indescribably love, the wailing, whimpering way the blue of his eyes shatter against hers, makes her come.  Makes her give into her orgasm so quickly that she doesn't even know it's happening until the first wave of it has already taken a hold of her.
And then she is coming so fiercely and so harshly that Katherine throws her head back and moans, loudly, wildly, in that delirious passion that makes John want to follow after her, feel what she is feeling and embrace it.  She tightens around him and he gasps, thrusting harder, rougher, until the edges of his vision turn cloudy and the primal part of him takes care of the rest.  And then he is thrumming his body against hers and he doesn't even know what he's doing anymore, only that he's with her, within her, together.  And that makes him warm with a happiness that can only be felt, only be understood until it has a hold around the heart.
He comes after her, spilling himself within her unashamedly.  And it feels so good, to have him in her like this.  Not just his manhood but his essence, the heat of him.  Katherine closes her eyes as her body explodes with that warmth, curling around within her like a promise.  And when she opens her eyes again, John is staring up at her with a similar warmth.  A warmth that touches the farthest reaches of his eyes.
She lowers herself back down and whimpers a little when he slowly pulls himself away from her.  She is immediately wishing he'd take her again, simply because she doesn't ever feel as utterly complete and sure of herself unless they're together.  But John is already pulling her close to his chest and she is already closing her eyes, and the London that stretches outside their window beckons to them, whispers to them. 
Soon, they would go out to greet the sun, and the clouds, and the changeable London weather.  But they would go out together, hand in hand, hearts burning away their passion and their secretive smiles and their love, which stretches out before them, just as sprawling as the city itself.

~~~

10 comments:

  1. OMG can you please make a Moriarty one?!

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  2. Please make a Sherlock lemon. That would be the best. You're such an amazing writer.

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  3. Could u do a khr Belphegor x reader lemon and it be based on childhood up until 10yrs later think u 3rd person think u and your a amazing writer

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  4. hehe~ My name is Katherine so lucky me~ e u e

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  5. A Sherlock lemon for sure! Please!

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  6. I'd love if you could do a Lestrade one..
    It seems as if there aren't enough

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