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John’s eyes shoot open.
There it is again.
The third night in a row that he wakes from Sherlock’s deep rumbling voice. Quietly, he looks at the sleeping man. Watchs his rapid eye movement and the growing amount of drool on the blanket under Sherlock’s open mouth.
John knows the madman could convincingly fake a deep slumber if he wanted. He also knows that Sherlock is a vain man.
While he is staring at the relaxed face, he hears it again. Unless Sherlock has taken a course in ventriloquism….
No, the voice didn’t come from up there at all.
Bending over the sleeping form, John strains his ears to find the source of the nocturnal interruption.
Seconds go by as he waits unmoving.
Suddenly, he hears it again.
Loud and clear.
Begging.
“Bite me, John!”
Alarmed, the doctor stares at Sherlock’s lower back in disbelief.
“This is imp….” He whispers as he is interrupted by just another plea.
“Bite me?”
Sherlock is still fast asleep, the only movement coming from him is the shallow rise and fall of his back.
“Excuse me?” John asks in a hushed voice.
“Bite. Me.” It’s definitely coming from Sherlock’s bare arse and the doctor is pretty sure that he’s lost it.
“Uh…” Is all John is able to say this time.
“Bite.” The plea is slowly but gradually turning into an order.
John doesn’t know why but his head is already hovering over the smooth globes.
“Bite!” The voice demands rudely.
As if on reflex, he bends down and sinks his teeth hard into the pale right cheek of Sherlock’s delectable arse.
“Ow…. F… JOHN!” Sherlock yells, turning around with a scandalized expression that would have been funny in any other situation.
“Why…” He begins to ask.
“It’s been asking for it.” John states simply.
There is a short moment of utter silence as both try to make sense of John's words but then Sherlock sighs dramatically.
“Why do people always say that?” He wonders in irritation.
John has a lot of questions right now but decides for the most important one.
“Which people?”