Chapter Text
John plopped back down on the bed with a grunt, spent and content. Sherlock turned on his side and curled over him, placing a hand on his chest. They were sticky, but they still had time until they reached the critical point and had to go get a flannel. Until then, John would bask in the comfort of the downy pillow, the warmth of Sherlock, and the lingering rush of endorphins.
A younger John would claim that nothing could beat a good shag. Current John, lying with Sherlock half-draped over him, mused that the afterglow could be just as enjoyable.
