


John let his head fall back against the wall, the hand that was still wrapped around Sherlock’s, squeezing desperately. He didn’t know what to do with himself. He was everywhere all at once, coming apart under Sherlock’s mouth. He was thankful for the wall at his back because his legs were as soft as butter beneath him, trembling and weak. ♡
Commission for holmesianpose ! Based on chapter 8 of her great story “Thirst”, which you guys can find here :)
















AGES GUYS. IT’S BEEN AGES. I wasn’t sure if I was still able to draw this silly stuff


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