sortinghat_rp | (no subject)

[He chuckled again, leaning his head away to look at John.]

We could look for the Room of Requirements.

[John raises an intrigued eyebrow.]

I've always wondered what it would be like to find that thing, ever since I found out it exists. Never had any luck coming across it, though. Seems like if anyone could track it down, it'd be a super sleuth like you.

It only appears to those who need it. And we happen to be two young men of different houses who need a place to spend the holiday together.

[Sherlock pulled away, slipping John's card into an inside pocket of his robe before taking John's hand and pulling him to follow.]

I think we will have a good chance of finding it today.

[John laughs as he's tugged back toward the castle.]

Now I'm wondering how many pairs have gone on this exact same quest. How many times must the room have been summoned by a simple "We need a place to snog" request.

Oh, quite often people have tried, I'm sure. The room is probably rather tired of the summons. Let's try to be a bit more specific, shall we?

We need a place to... enjoy a nice fire with a spot of tea, perhaps a nice rug on the floor by the hearth with soft pillows for sitting on or reclining.

God, that does sound nice. Yeah, all that. With toast and black raspberry jam.

We ask for things like that, and I'm sure we'd sound like very respectable patrons for a magic room.

And we can leave the debauchery as a surprise for later.

[He smirks, leading them down a few halls, waiting to see a door he doesn't know. He thinks he does as they walk past what had been a blank wall in his memory. He pulls them to stop in front of it, hand on the handle to test if it's locked. He opens it slowly, peeking inside.]

John, sometimes you make my life far too convenient to be believed.

[John snorts at that, though it's a fond scoff far, far more than it is a frustrated one.]

Honestly, Sherlock. Already spoiling the next card I get. "You make life infinitely more convenient and/or increase productivity and efficiency in living, Valentine".

[Still, he can't hide his wonder and curiosity.]

Is it the room, then? If we've already found it, then it might be worth a bit of concern on how eager the school is to provide. Might be a bit of a voyeur.

To be fair, I have always found this particular part of the hall to be oddly bare. It was my best guess for where it might be and as it happens,

[He holds the door open for John to see the nice fire and seating area with food already waiting.]

I was right. Though a voyeuristic castle does sound like an interesting hypothesis.

[John steps in, and since he's still hand-in-hand with Sherlock, he's getting tugged in as well. He lets out a surprised whistle.]

I don't think this castle will ever stop impressing me. Even if our new little hypothesis is true and it's a bit too concerned with the love lives of its students.

[Sherlock closes the door behind them and, letting go of John's hand, helps him out of his robes to hang on the coat rack beside the door.]

Have a seat. Have a tea. Have whatever you like. We won't be disturbed here. We can make a whole day of it if we wanted.

That sounds great. Though we ought to at least attempt to make it back to our dorms before curfew. Nothing's more conspicuous than trying to sneak in late on Valentine's Day. Though that still gives us loads of time.

[A little hint of something decidedly devilish creeps into John's smile.]

And 'whatever I like', you say? Well, if you insist...

[He leans up on his tiptoes to plant a kiss on Sherlock's lips.]

[Sherlock smirked, bending down to meet his lips to make it easier on him. He rather liked the impishness of John. He liked it a lot when it was focused on him.]

I think reclining will spare us both the neck strain if you care to join me on the floor. I'll leave you in charge of keeping things in perspective but I'd like to feel you. Even if it's just through your shirt, I'd like to have my hands against you. Would that be alright?

[A faint, warm blush creeps over John's cheeks. His pulse hammers in his chest, and a little part of his brain jokes that this reaction is probably all Sherlock would need. Eager proclamations not necessary. But still...]

God, yeah. [He laughs a little, realizing how that must sound.] I mean, it sounds good to me.

Just be glad we're both blokes and you don't have to fumble around with bras. It's a nightmare.

[Sherlock smiled, ducking his head bashfully as he pulled John over to the pillows. Well, he must be doing some things right for John to be so pleased with his request. He sat, pulling John with him before tentatively pressing his hand to his stomach to push him to recline, leaning in to kiss him as he did so. He tried not to loom so much as lean over him, going very slow to make sure he did not do something wrong.]

[Sherlock's pace was a little on the glacial and ponderous side, but John couldn't quite bring himself to be frustrated by it. The slow but thorough and satisfying kiss coupled with the warmth of Sherlock's body was worth a little savoring.

When they eventually broke to gasp for a bit of air, John couldn't help himself. He smirked a little.]

So... I hope your touching request isn't all scientific, because it'd be awfully hard to keep my hands to myself.

No, I uh... no.. science reason at all, really. Just.. want to.

[It felt rather naked to be without intellectual curiosity as his excuse but with things as they were, there was no foul in admitting to desire.

He ran his hand up over John's chest, pleased with how supple but firm he felt with well-padded bones and a healthy enough build for the non-athletic. He liked the flat of his stomach as it rose to the crest of his chest then fell to the roll of his shoulders. He liked his the strength of his neck and his arms. And he liked the way John moved when he trailed his large hands down his sides to start all over again to zero in and focus on reaction alone as he kissed his lips and face.]

[For someone so awkward and inexperienced with romance, Sherlock is amazing at this. John leans into and encourages the touches, a bit bowled over by the whole experience. This is easily the most intimate experience he's had, even taking into account the fact that they're both still fully clothed. But it can be even more so.

He gulps, which makes his suddenly dry throat burn slightly.]

I thought about what you said, a while back.

[His voice is a little rough. He clears his throat.]

You can... you can touch the scar. If you still want to.

[Sherlock paused for a moment, looking down at John as though gauging that statement before nodding slowly and helping him out of his shirts. The Hufflepuff jumper he tossed not too far away as he started to undo John's button-down starting from the top buttons. He peeled the open shirt over the shoulder, feeling rather advised to leave the shirt on him in case he recanted and preferred to quickly cover it again.

As much as he wanted to be scientific about it and ask questions as to what it felt like, where the barrier of numbness and feeling started, he did not want to make John overly aware of his intellectual interest in this intimate setting. So he leaned down and kissed the marred flesh as his first touch to the scar, greeting it with the same affection he and John now often greeted each other with.]

[Being blond with relatively fine hair, John doesn't have thick patches of body hair. But he feels the small, thin hairs on his arm and chest rise up at Sherlock's touches. He manages to suppress a shudder, but surely Sherlock must feel the overwhelming thudding of John's heart in his chest.

His breath hitches when he feels Sherlock's lips against the marred flesh on his shoulder. It feels strangely good that the first touch someone else has given his scar is a loving one. Of course, Healers had touched it before, but... that just didn't seem to count.]

It's a bit weird, isn't it? We live in a world where bones can be regrown and all sorts of things, but you still get scars that refuse to fade.

Bones aren't an organ.

[Sherlock kisses the scar one last time before gently running his fingers over it, feeling out the texture which changes from smooth to textured. He kisses his neck to not make his fingers the sole concentration of his attention, nor his shoulder the only part of that region being singled out for inspection.]

[John's breath hitches at Sherlock's ministrations. The scarred flesh at his shoulder came part and parcel with a fair amount of nerve damage. On some days its numb, and the hard knots of the scar scarcely feel like part of him at all. But on others, it's oddly sensitive and prone to extended tingling, sometimes with just contact with his clothes as stimuli. Of course it'd be particularly sensitive today, with Sherlock examining the area with such thoroughness. It's an intense feeling, and the kisses Sherlock leaves along his neck just compounds things. It leaves John almost light-headed.

He gives a small, breathy chuckle, and he really can't help if his voice has gone rather husky.]

Last time I checked, a shoulder's not an organ either. Did they go and rewrite anatomy books while I wasn't paying attention?

Skin, John.

[Sherlock drags his tongue along the tendon of is neck then kisses across his jaw. He hooks one hand around John's arm, long fingers feeling out the other side of the scar and rubbing it in circles that learned the outside contours and wound around towards the center as his lips fell to kiss the forward facing mark once more.]

[John huffs a little at that.]

Think I'm a little too preoccupied for stuff like that to leap to mind, Sherlock.

My mind's... elsewhere.

[He leans his head back and shuts his eyes, letting a long breath out through his teeth as Sherlock's fingers trail over a particularly sensitive portion of the wound.]

Damn. You're much more of a natural talent at this sort of thing than you were with the first kisses.

Touch is easy. Touch is basic. Kissing requires two people.

[He's flush with the praise all the same. He likes that he's not making a mess of this opportunity. He likes that John is enjoying it and hasn't seized up in discomfort but rather fallen back in pleasure. There is no small amount of pride in this accomplishment.]

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