{"id":210730,"date":"2014-05-19T00:15:16","date_gmt":"2014-05-19T00:15:16","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.merindab.com\/private\/2014\/05\/19\/traumachu-the-first-time-sherlock-kisses-him\/"},"modified":"2018-09-20T02:13:36","modified_gmt":"2018-09-20T02:13:36","slug":"traumachu-the-first-time-sherlock-kisses-him","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.merindab.com\/private\/2014\/05\/19\/traumachu-the-first-time-sherlock-kisses-him\/","title":{"rendered":""},"content":{"rendered":"<div id='gallery-1' class='gallery galleryid-210730 gallery-columns-3 gallery-size-thumbnail'><figure class='gallery-item'>\n\t\t\t<div class='gallery-icon landscape'>\n\t\t\t\t<a href='https:\/\/www.merindab.com\/private\/2014\/05\/19\/traumachu-the-first-time-sherlock-kisses-him\/attachment\/210731\/'><img width=\"150\" height=\"150\" src=\"https:\/\/www.merindab.com\/private\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/05\/tumblr_mmw7i7xez31ra2su1o1_1280-150x150.png\" class=\"attachment-thumbnail size-thumbnail\" alt=\"\" loading=\"lazy\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.merindab.com\/private\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/05\/tumblr_mmw7i7xez31ra2su1o1_1280-150x150.png 150w, https:\/\/www.merindab.com\/private\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/05\/tumblr_mmw7i7xez31ra2su1o1_1280-100x100.png 100w\" sizes=\"100vw\" \/><\/a>\n\t\t\t<\/div><\/figure>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\n<p><a class=\"tumblr_blog\" href=\"http:\/\/traumachu.tumblr.com\/post\/50649703769\/the-first-time-sherlock-kisses-him-its-up\" target=\"_blank\">traumachu<\/a>:<\/p>\n<blockquote>\n<p>The first time Sherlock kisses him, it\u2019s up against the lockers in warm, hazy afternoon and John watches it happen in slow motion, the way they say that your life slows before your eyes right when you\u2019re about to die. \u00a0<\/p>\n<p>John had seen Sherlock around school, of course &#8211; as if anyone could miss him &#8211; leather jacket and dark styled hair and an attitude that would give the devil himself a run for his money. He\u2019d seen him on his motorcycle showing up late in third period, seen him in his fancy purple racing car, seen him perched on the rails on the stairs, smoking on <em>school property<\/em>, real casual-like. The devil was in a boy like that, was what John\u2019s Aunt Aggie would have said, but she was miles and miles away, back home someplace John could not call home anymore. <\/p>\n<p>&ldquo;Don\u2019t you know? That\u2019s <em>Sherlock Holmes<\/em>,\u201d Molly had said, when John had first asked, in tones that John thought you really ought to save for church. Or Elvis.<\/p>\n<p>John didn\u2019t know. He didn\u2019t know how a person could be like that, talk like that, live and breathe like that. And he would have gone on fine not knowing, lived his whole life not knowing, but the problem was, Sherlock had seen him too.<\/p>\n<p>Sherlock had eyes like the pale blue fire that flared when you first lit a stove. He had eyes like frost on metal pipes in winter. \u00a0And when he looked at you, he really looked at you, straight through you, straight to the core of you, down to everything that you were and up to everything that you are. Sherlock made John feel like his outsides were glass and his insides were a museum. He made him feel like the plastic anatomy model in Bio lab. He made him feel on display. <\/p>\n<p>He made him feel hot and funny, too, in ways that John <em>definitely <\/em>didn\u2019t know anything about, but kind of wanted to.<\/p>\n<p>Sherlock caught him looking once. He\u2019d caught John watching himself being watched, \u00a0and Sherlock, he\u2019d smirked, just a twist of his lips that somehow made something reflexively twist inside John\u2019s body, as if the two could be somehow connected. Sherlock\u2019s lips, John\u2019s body. Oh God. What a connection to make. He\u2019d tingled all the way up to and through last period, and when he got home later, he couldn\u2019t make sense of any of his notes from that day.<\/p>\n<p>Nothing makes any sense at all when Sherlock finds him after practice, school hallways empty and Sherlock\u2019s eyes on him like frost and fire. There\u2019s a look in Sherlock\u2019s eyes that\u2019s like a coyote after a lean winter gone on too long. <\/p>\n<p>And John, he\u2019s never felt so stupid, knees and elbows bruised up from practice, hair wet and flat against his head from his shower, shirt sticking uncomfortably to his skin because he didn\u2019t have the patience to wait to dry properly. He\u2019s parceled out to awkward pieces under that look, indexed down to his smudged glasses and the spot he forgot to wash behind his ear. <\/p>\n<p>When Sherlock hedges close John tenses, knowing much about fighting and what to expect. Growing up small he\u2019d had to learn kids some respect, had himself learned the taste of blood early on in life. He can sidestep a punch easily enough but doesn\u2019t know how to miss this, something else this, hands on his shoulders and his back slammed up against the locker, and time slowing to molasses when Sherlock\u2019s face comes close and then closer and then &#8211;<\/p>\n<p>It happens honey-drip slow, John\u2019s eyes bright wide open and watching Sherlock\u2019s face come close the whole time like waiting for the moon to eclipse the sun, going cross-eyed from looking until Sherlock becomes a blur of pale skin and dark hair and Sherlock is closing his eyes and John wonders whether he should close his too and then, contact, then &#8211; oh my god, this. For the first time in his life, another person\u2019s mouth is pressed to his. <\/p>\n<p>This. <\/p>\n<p>This is a kiss. \u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>John\u2019s lungs contract with breath stopped and his body tense and stopped and his brain tries to catch up but then that stops, too. <\/p>\n<p>It\u2019s an impossibility, isn\u2019t it, two boys kissing? It doesn\u2019t feel so impossible when Sherlock slips his tongue &#8211; soft, wet, hot &#8211; right into his mouth. John didn\u2019t even know you could do that, tongue into another person\u2019s mouth, but it doesn\u2019t feel wrong. It feels just fine. Better than fine.<\/p>\n<p>Thinks of Aunt Aggie thumping her Bible, hellfire and damnation. <\/p>\n<p>Brain must be working again.<\/p>\n<p> Stupid brain is broken; Aunt Aggie\u2019s the last person John wants to be thinking about right now. He thankfully doesn\u2019t think of her anymore when Sherlock\u2019s tongue slides against his, Sherlock\u2019s body pressing against him.<\/p>\n<p>Sherlock, with his hands on John\u2019s shoulders. A frantic skitter of a thought: the drop that trickles down the back of John\u2019s neck &#8211; is that water or sweat? \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>It\u2019s too much to process, all at once. The world is spinning around them. He pushes Sherlock off of him, energy uncoiled. <\/p>\n<p>\u201cI\u2019ve never been kissed before,\u201d John admits, breath tumbling out, words pouring out of him like he\u2019s in confession. \u00a0Realizes how uncool that is to say the moment he\u2019s said it; Sherlock with his eyes that could figure you out and a mouth that could undo a person like tugging out just the right string of a knot. <\/p>\n<p>Has to make up for it, do something cool, and he fists a hand in the lapel of Sherlock\u2019s leather jacket to pull him close. \u201cDo that again,\u201d he says, and his voice only trembles a little. \u00a0<\/p>\n<p>He\u2019d always imagined a girl, soft and fragrant, holding hands and going steady. Vague ideas of sharing milkshakes and dances, eventually white dress and chapel bells. He\u2019d never imagined this, lips wet with another boy\u2019s saliva and wanting to try it some more, hard body against his, stomach clenching and flipping when he thinks about it. The impossible feeling of his heart flipping like it\u2019s been turned upside down and is now trying to right itself, over and over again until it doesn\u2019t know which way is up. Sherlock\u2019s hand underneath his chin, leaning in to brush their lips together and John\u2019s whole body gone warm and tingling, trying to come alive, and he\u2019s not quite sure which way is up. <\/p>\n<p>There\u2019s silence in the space between them, the space between their breaths. Anything is a possibility in the space between their breaths.<\/p>\n<p>Sherlock says, \u201cNo,\u201d against his mouth, and everything in John\u2019s body crashes spectacularly. It\u2019s horrible. It\u2019s unfair. John now knows what it feels like to be kissed. He cannot simply go back to his previous life of being un-kissed, never-kissed, not knowing and not wanting. How did anyone live their lives, really, knowing this feeling and then not wanting?<\/p>\n<p>Sherlock adds, \u201cNot here, where anybody can cast an eyeball at you.\u201d And he smirks, smarmy, infuriating expression, damn him. John wants to rub the smirk off his face. He wants to rub the smirk right off Sherlock\u2019s face with his mouth. Wait. No.<\/p>\n<p>Well, maybe not no. John looks at Sherlock\u2019s mouth. \u00a0Maybe not such a bad idea.<\/p>\n<p>Sherlock has a smile like the devil himself, all empty promises and temptation. Eyes like hellfire, pale blue blazing in the night. <\/p>\n<p>He holds out his hand, beckoning.<\/p>\n<p>John looks at him, pinned by his gaze as much as he\u2019d been pinned by Sherlock\u2019s body against the lockers. His own breath is hot in his chest, still trying to catch up. Wants to press his fingers to his mouth to see if he can still feel the kiss there, body tingling all over in all the places they\u2019d touched, pressed together.<\/p>\n<p>Sherlock with all the knowledge in the world like he\u2019s holding out a shiny red apple, and just a little taste couldn\u2019t hurt. Just one little taste like the forbidden touch of tongue inside his mouth. The rush in John\u2019s body like running too close to the edge of the cliff, never knowing if the next step is fall or fly.\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>Sin with joy, sin with abandon. <\/p>\n<p>John takes Sherlock\u2019s hand. <\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>traumachu: The first time Sherlock kisses him, it\u2019s up against the lockers in warm, hazy afternoon and John watches it happen in slow motion, the way they say that your life slows before your eyes right when you\u2019re about to die. \u00a0 John had seen Sherlock around school, of course &#8211; as if anyone could &hellip; <\/p>\n<p class=\"link-more\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.merindab.com\/private\/2014\/05\/19\/traumachu-the-first-time-sherlock-kisses-him\/\" class=\"more-link\">Continue reading<span class=\"screen-reader-text\"> &#8220;&#8221;<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"gallery","meta":[],"categories":[1],"tags":[55,129,56,15],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.merindab.com\/private\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/210730"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.merindab.com\/private\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.merindab.com\/private\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.merindab.com\/private\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.merindab.com\/private\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=210730"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.merindab.com\/private\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/210730\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":210732,"href":"https:\/\/www.merindab.com\/private\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/210730\/revisions\/210732"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.merindab.com\/private\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=210730"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.merindab.com\/private\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=210730"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.merindab.com\/private\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=210730"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}