ironmonger | (no subject)

The way he slides into Obadiah's lap, when he does, bears little resemblance to the way Tony once did the same on this very couch. It is a matter of practical convenience, a deliberate, unhurried rearrangement of the world into a shape that best supports further kissing. Sherlock does not need physical contact now the way Tony did then. He does not avoid it, either. He just wants this to go on unimpeded, because it is fascinating.

It's a far more ideal - and comfortable - position. Obadiah approves.

He rests his arms around Sherlock's waist, mainly because it's the best place to put them. He doesn't clutch at Sherlock the way he had with Tony, because that's not what this is about.

(Because Sherlock doesn't have the same effect on him.)

He just arranges himself, as Sherlock did, into the most useful and least awkward position, and continues to kiss Sherlock without missing a beat.

It is really quite peaceful, which is not something he expected, although he supposes he should have. He treasures that. The peace and the unexpectedness.

For no easily explainable reason, he is beginning to smile.

Obadiah, in turn, finds that to be somewhat unexpected. He wouldn't have thought kissing him would be something Sherlock would smile over.

And he knows - he can tell - that it isn't because Sherlock's mind is wandering. The only place Sherlock is right now is here.

This isn't really about enjoyment for either of them. It's not even exactly sexual. It is an information exchange, an act of mutual inquiry.

And yet, he is smiling.

What was it he said?

When something captures his attention.

Obadiah tucks that information away for the connection to be made once the kissing is over. It's easier, sometimes, to wait to put things together after he's done gathering the pieces.

With anyone else, about now would be when his grip might tighten a little, or his hands might start to explore or just to caress.

But right now it would be an unnecessary affectation, so he skips it.

There is no 'with anyone else', for Sherlock. There is a 'with Tony', but none of it applies. Not whatsoever.

His hands settle onto Obadiah's shoulders and stay there. He makes a soft, thoughtful sound and, at last, opens his eyes and keeps them that way.

Someone is going to have to give something or they will not be exchanging very much information. So far they have gotten the point across that they are both good kissers and intensely curious.

Obadiah kisses with his eyes closed - he's never found the view of someone so close their eyes merge together to be all that informative.

He is, nonetheless, beginning to get the same impression as Sherlock; a moment after Sherlock makes his little sound, Obadiah leans back out of the kiss and looks up at him lazily.

"Get what you wanted?"

"No," he says cheerfully, "but I doubt I ever will. Do you mind if I play Tony to see what happens?"

Obadiah's eyebrows arch a little.

"If you like."

"Thank you," he says, and kisses him again—

—brightly, warmly, with boundless affection and a little bit of heat. Just the way Tony would, perfect in every detail.

His response is, inevitably, more self-conscious than usual. (Subject awareness of an experiment does tend to skew the data.) But he deliberately relaxes in his kiss, giving it the affection and desire he always gives Tony, and his arms tighten around Sherlock's waist, a combination of an embrace and pulling him closer.

(The most interesting thing about this kiss is that less of it is a lie than Obadiah thinks.)

He even laughs Tony's laugh, sweet and fond, as he snuggles down obligingly into Obadiah's lap.

It's far more convincing a show than the other Sherlock had managed to put on; when he chuckles low in his throat in response to that laugh, it isn't just because he knows Sherlock expects him to.

(The other Sherlock was relying on guesswork and his knowledge of Tony. This one has seen them together. There is no contest.)

With a happy little murmur, he slides his hands up to Obadiah's face, fingertips scratching through his beard.

He pauses - just a little, maybe half a beat - then kisses Sherlock more firmly to distract him. (Even though he should know better than to think that would work.)

It would on Tony, though. He sighs happily and doesn't pursue it, gives no sign he even noticed, just matches the escalation with obvious delight.

(And how far does he intend to take this, exactly?)

Obadiah is beginning to wonder that himself.

He can keep wondering a little longer.

While may-as-well-be-Tony kisses him.

He is interested to find out where this is going to go.

He offers no objection.

(But—and this is the important question—is he still treating this like kissing Tony?

There is no right or wrong answer, but getting an answer is imperative.)

(Almost.

But not quite. He's been jolted out of it.)

Fascinating.

The only thing to do is keep it up.

Still warm, still close, still loving. Somewhere inside, Sherlock is smiling, but on the surface and for several layers under that there is just Tony, who is smiling in a very different way.

Obadiah's performance begins to lose focus; he's still kissing with attention and skill, but it's losing depth. It's becoming a surface show, with other things entirely going on underneath it.