Work Text:
William lay bare beneath Sherlock, the other man standing before him at the end of the bed equally in a state of undress. Their movements had been slow, exploratory, sensual as they had worked their way from the door of their New York apartment to the bedroom. It had been a trying day of teasing touches and later too close calls on their mission. They had needed this: the grounding presence of one another, assured of their breath, their lives, their safety.
Sherlock had treated William like a porcelain doll since they had left Billy at the office. Normally William would protest such treatment, but he understood. He too had seen the possibilities of an outcome that would have shattered him to the core; and the only thing to bring him back was to have Sherlock in his arms.
“Liam,” Sherlock picked up William’s hand and gave the back a gentle kiss. For a long while he said nothing. He had seemed to be deep in thought many times on the ride over, brushing his thumb over William's fingers within the privacy of the hansome. “Be mine.” Sherlock brought up his other hand and tugged at his own finger while never letting go of William’s. The cold metal held out around the tip of William’s finger while Sherlock looked to him, hopeful and determined all at once.
“I’m yours, Sherly.” Crimson stared at Sherlock in anticipation and William took a slow breath to lull the fluttered beating of his heart.
The skull ring slid over William’s finger, Sherlock’s ring, the one he had always worn and never removed until this moment, and kissed the finger he had placed it on. Turning over William’s hand he left a soft kiss on his palm. Lips moved down to Liam’s wrist, kissing and caressing the spot he had once held, the grip then firm opposing the gentle grasp that wrapped around him now, forever grounding him just the same, changing him, bringing color to William’s world.
Lips found their way along the inside of his arm, across his shoulder, stoking fires at the gentle press of lips at the crook of his neck, up the column and on his jaw, his cheek. He pressed a soft kiss to William’s unseeing eye, the one he left open and exposed only for Sherlock to see. Finally their lips met and William let a soft sigh escape his lips, his newly ringed finger joined the others, sliding through messy locks to pull Sherlock closer, forever closer. William was his, always his; as if the life he lived before, the one he nearly gave his life to atone for, was the story of another in this moment and all he had now to live for was here, with Sherlock. His thoughts weren’t always this way, but in this moment he could allow them to be. He was Liam, Sherlock’s Liam, and the heart he held only beat because of him.