~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Slight bondage WARNING~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
John sat at the his temporary desk, slowly tapping away at the keys on the keyboard, adding a new chapter to his ever growing blog. Even as he watched, the counter recording the amount of readers was clicking over, a small smile creeping onto his face.
"Stop smiling, it's distracting," order Sherlock from where he lay sprawled on the couch fingers placed on his temples.
"You're not even looking at me, how could you have possibly known I was smiling?" inquired John, turning away from his laptop.
"I could feel it," answered Sherlock his previously closed eyes opening with a snap.
"So in other words, you couldn't tell," retorted John.
"Yes I could, you were smiling."
"But you couldn't see me. It was a guess."
"I don't guess."
"Then how did you know I was smiling?" asked John again.
"Be quiet, I'm thinking," answered Sherlock, shutting his eyes. Now John was truly smiling. It wasn't often that he managed to beat Sherlock in a verbal spar.
"I said to stop smiling, don't make me repeat myself," injected Sherlock.
"Your eyes are closed!" cried John.
"Yes, but if you believe that you won that little spat from before, you'd be smiling."
John sighed and shook his head. That man was impossible.
The continued in almost silence for the next hour, with only the sound of Johns typing filling the room.
Finally, Sherlock broke the silence.
"I'm bored."
"I need a cigarette."
"You quit."
"So what?"
"So no-one is going to sell them to you."
"Why?"
"You paid them not to. And I've told you this before."
"Well I still need a cigarette."
"No. Go asks Mrs Hudson for a cup of tea or something."
"She's not our housekeeper."
"Has that ever stopped you?"
Sherlock went silent. Another round went to John, although now that he thought about it, Sherlock might've won the first one.
"I need a distraction," the tall man stated, as he walked over the table and began to look around the room for something to do.
"Just play your violin or something," suggested John. Sherlock's head whipped around.
"Have you realised that you've been adding 'or something' to end of your sentences?" asked Sherlock walking towards the veteran.
"Here we go-,"
"It's probably because you're not confident in your answers and you think that by saying 'or something', even if I don't do what you've suggested you're still helping by ending vaguely, leaving the decision open to me."
"That made sense on some levels, but I think you were thinking faster then you were talking and it came out all... jumbled," said John, looking into Sherlocks steel eyes.
Sherlock stared at him. And John stared back. And they both stared at each other, unmoving, in total silence.
"I have an idea," Sherlock said suddenly, and he grabbed John by the wrist and briskly walked him to one of the two bedrooms.
"Sherlock, what are you doing?" asked John as they walked into the room.
"Something I've never done before, which seems to be a source of amusement to others," he answered, and he pushed John down onto the bed.
"Sherlock, what-" John started, but broke off as his hands where tied to the head of the bed with Sherlock's dressing gown tie.
The tall man paused at this stage, observing Johns squirming body, silently trying to figure out where to go from here.
"Sherlock, what ar-" he cut off again as Sherlock came to a decision, and John found himself with his pants and underwear around his ankles.
"Sherlock!" he exclaimed in shock, shuffling backwards away from the man as he too crawled onto the bed, putting his back against the head board and curling up his legs.
"Oh please John, it's nothing you haven't done before."
"That maybe, but never with a man!"
Sherlock raised an eyebrow.
"Really?"
"Really!"
"You're pupils dilated, you're lying."
"Tch," John looked at the man slowly making his way up the bed. "You're impossible."
"Obviously not, I'm here aren't I?"
He hands slid onto Johns knees and the man lashed out with his foot, trying to kick the other man. He missed, and Sherlock caught his leg by the ankle, pulling back to stretch the limb out. John quickly yanked his foot out of Sherlocks grip, bending it back in front of his body.
Sherlock, gave an annoyed 'tch' sound with his tongue. Eyes determined, he placed his hands back on Johns knees and wrenched them away from each other, exposing Johns slowing standing manhood.
"Sherlock," growled John. "That's far enough."
"Actually," answered Sherlock, his salutary eyes calmly easing up to look into Johns. "It's not far enough."
And his head sank between Johns legs.
"Sher-" John began, but stopped as his eyes closed and his whole body jerked.
"Oh Christ," he whispered, leaning his neck into the head of the bed. Sherlocks tongue was slowly slurping up the sides of his shaft, his hot breath causing Johns toes to curl and breathing to become laboured.
"Sherlock," he gasped, his spine tingling with tremors. The grey eyed man stopped and climbed up so he was face to face with John, staring into his eyes momentarily before softly pushing his lips down onto Johns, gently parting his lips, touching his tongue to his teeth, all the while reaching down with his hand, using his fingers in a way that made John moan and groan in pleasure. He can not be a virgin.
A few minutes like this and Sherlock ended the kiss, leaving John breathing heavily and his face flushed, his manhood standing in all its glory.
"Spread your legs," the genius whispered huskily, his words alone sending waves of pleasure through his being. Obediently, he did as Sherlock said, inhaling sharply as he relished the feeling of Sherlocks mouth engulfing his length, expertly teasing it with his breath, tongue and teeth. His whole body throbbed with lust, and he could it boiling up inside of him, threatening to burst out.
"Sherlock!" he cried, twitching all over.
"Sherlock!" he cried again, his whole body arching upwards, toes curled so much that they nearly pointed up.
"Sherlock!"
"Sherlock!"
"Sherlock!"
And the tall man stopped, looking into John's eyes with his own steely pools.
"John," he whispered.
And John lost it, his whole body spasming as he came. Sherlock merely stared at him, that quizzical look that rarely appeared on his face, before he quickly stood up and walked briskly out of them room.
Still panting, John easily slipped his hands out of the lousy restraints Sherlock had put them in.
About fucking time.