Author Notes: This story is a sequel to "Summer Heat" and it will make more sense if you read it first.
Trigger Warnings: Body dysphoria, sexual situation between two consenting teenagers (if this bothers anyone.)
Btw, I will be away on holidays from the 3th September to the 17th September and not be online much.^^
And now, enjoy the story. =)
The First of Autumn
"Christ, Sherlock, you just did thirty laps in under twenty minutes."
Sherlock smirked at the disbelieving tone in John's voice and allowed his friend to pull him out of the swimming-pool, only to collapse face first on the bath towel. The muscles in his arms and legs were aching from the exercise and his body couldn't seem to get enough air into his lungs as his chest heaved with the effort to get oxygen into his bloodstream. Yes, he had most certainly overdone it, Sherlock admitted to himself as he bedded his head on his arms and tried to get his breathing back under control. Thirty laps were nothing - his record was sixty-five laps in one go - but usually Sherlock didn't swim so fast. He used the in-house swimming-pool to improve his stamina and build up some muscles and it didn't matter to him if he swam for two or for three hours. Usually though, Sherlock didn't have an audience - Mycroft didn't count - that he wanted to impress.
Color crept into Sherlock's cheeks as he turned his head towards his best friend - and boyfriend - who managed to sigh in exasperation, while returning Sherlock's look with a fond smile at the same time. "You shouldn't overdo it like this! I doubt that even any member of our school's team would be able to get such an impressive time."
Sherlock sneered at this and turned onto his side - partly to have a better view on John, but also to breath more easily. "The members of our school teams are all only interested in being cool and getting laid, it's not like they are truly interested in sports."
"Hey!" John nudged Sherlock's shoulder playfully. "Our rugby team has made it into the quarterfinal and you said yourself that we have a chance to make the top four, this year."
"Only because you're such a good captain." Sherlock winked at his friend and noted the exact moment, when John's chest and face flushed an attractive pink.
"Charmer!" Soft lips found his in a brief kiss, before John's face turned serious. "But really, why aren't you on our swimming team? We would have a real chance on winning the school championships if you were to compete."
Sherlock raised an eyebrow at this. Usually, John wasn't in the habit of mocking him - teasing, certainly - but it appeared that there was a first time for everything. It was disappointing that John - who had accepted his gender identity more easily than even Mycroft had- would make such a cruel joke, when he should know better. After all, his friend wasn't blind, he only needed to take a look at his chest to understand why Sherlock would never join any sports team.
Sherlock glared down at the ground between their bath towels. Maybe, it had been a mistake to invite John to join him at the swimming-pool at home. After all, his friend had only seen him topless once - when Sherlock had collapsed at the zoo and John had taken off his binder - and therefore hadn't gotten the chance to make any rude comments about Sherlock's body. Not that Sherlock thought that John was in the habit of insulting someone - they wouldn't be together, if he was of this opinion - but maybe the temptation to make a remark had just been too strong.
Stupid, Sherlock cursed himself, he shouldn't have felt the need to make good on his promise to John to go swimming with him, when the summer was already over. They hadn't found the time to go swimming when it had still been hot - Sherlock was glad that their swimming-pool was roofed - and therefore they should have postponed it. They could have gone swimming next summer. Next summer, when they would have finished school and Sherlock would have already turned eighteen. If everything went according to plan, Sherlock wouldn't have to worry about running around topless anymore. No one would see a difference and John...
"You know that the popular students only leave me alone, because they don't want to get on the bad side of their rugby captain. They hate me, because I'm smarter than them... what do you think would they do if they know that I am transgender?" Sherlock glared at his friend. "Because there really is no way that I could compete for our swimming team, without..."
"Oh God!" Sherlock frowned, when John clasped a hand over his mouth, his eyes wide as saucers as they met Sherlock's confused gaze. "I didn't think about this. It's just... you are a boy and you are good at swimming, so... I forgot..."
"That I'm transgender?" John shook his head at his question - looking more uncomfortable than when he had been forced to play clarinet in front of the whole music course. "I forgot how stupid some people are, that they will just look at your chest and... judge you."
Relief flooded Sherlock at John's words, even as he berated himself for his stupid doubts. Of course, John wouldn't make jokes at his expense. His friend had been nothing but supportive so far and Sherlock should learn to trust him more, although... that was easier said than done, considering how nervous he had been, before meeting John today.
The swimming trunks fit perfectly. Sherlock allowed himself a moment of vanity as he turned in front of the mirror and admired how the fabric clung to his arse and legs. The cut of the trunks highlighted his well-muscled legs - gained through hours of swimming - and his slender hips.
A small smile ghosted around Sherlock's lips as he let his hands wander over his flat stomach and to his narrow hips. It was a blessing that he had started taking hormone suppressants at twelve, never giving his body the chance to shift fat to where it wasn't needed or welcome. Of course, one year on testosterone had also done its part in changing his looks in desired ways. Faster increase in muscle size, for example and Sherlock really liked the thick hair on his legs and the few dark curls that adorned his chest. There wasn't much stubble in his face to speak of just yet - he only needed to shave once a week - but considering that many boys his age couldn't grow anything, if they tried, he wasn't overly concerned about it. Besides, Sherlock had decided ages ago that he didn't fancy growing a beard. It wouldn't go well with his cheekbones and dark curls. No, his body was fine - insofar as he looked like the boy he was... as long as he wore a loose shirt or a binder.
Sherlock swallowed hard as he met his nervous gaze in the mirror, before he glanced down at the binder that flattened his chest. He really didn't want to take it off, but... he couldn't swim with a binder - he didn't fancy fainting in the water. Besides, he had already told John that he would swim topless and his friend - boyfriend - had seen his chest uncovered once already. So, it wasn't that he had to fear to shock or disgust John, but... what if his boyfriend couldn't get the image of the bumps on Sherlock's chest out of his mind. What if he started to see Sherlock as more feminine, because of this unwanted addition to his front.
For a second, Sherlock entertained the thought of keeping the binder on and just watching John swim from the sidelines, but... No, that would be the coward's way and Sherlock had also planned to impress John with his swimming skills, so... Before, he could change his mind again, Sherlock took off the binder and threw it on his bed. There, done.
Sherlock held his head high as he looked in the mirror once more. It wasn't as bad as he had feared. Yes, there were two unmistakable bumps on his chest, but they weren't bigger than these of some guys at school. Admittedly, these guys would do well to lose twenty to thirty pounds, but still... it could be worse. Nevermind, that Sherlock had hoped for his chest to get smaller, once he had started with T - and maybe it had had some effects - but it was still too large to fit to the rest of his body. Maybe, if he was Mycroft's size, then no one would think anything of it, but...
"Darling, John is here," his mother called from downstairs and Sherlock straightened his shoulders, before he grabbed his towel and headed out to greet his boyfriend.
Despite Sherlock's nervousness, everything had gone better than expected. John had greeted him with a kiss - to the delight of his mother - and then had complimented Sherlock on how good he looked. No mention of his uncovered chest, neither then nor when they had finally been alone at the swimming-pool.
Really, Sherlock thought as he leaned forwards and stole a kiss from John's lips, he should give his boyfriend a little more credit. "It's their loss, they won't even make it through the preliminary round."
A small chuckle escaped John at this and for a second Sherlock believed that he would go in for another kiss - a real, long kiss, with tongue and everything - but the moment passed and his boyfriend jumped up to his feet. "I think I will do a few more lapses, before your mother calls us for dinner. It's still on that I stay overnight?" Sherlock nodded slowly and then watched his boyfriend dive into the pool.
Strange, Sherlock mused, as he stared up at the vitreous ceiling, John hadn't initiated anything besides a few chaste kisses, since he had arrived today. It wasn't that they had gone much farther than snogging - fully clothed - but there had certainly been wandering hands and flushed bodies pressed together. And now, John had only tousled Sherlock's hair twice, touched his shoulder three times and massaged his ankle once - yes, he was counting.
Sherlock frowned. Maybe, John was put off by his body or...
"Boys, dinner will be ready in half an hour!"
Sherlock threw a look over his shoulder to where his mother was standing in the passage to the house and reassessed his fears. John wasn't one for showing his affection in public - excluding holding hands and a few chaste kisses - so he had probably only held himself back, because there was a high chance that one of Sherlock's meddling family members would watch them. Well, at least they could spend the whole evening and night undisturbed in his room... after they had survived dinner.
Sherlock rolled his eyes at the prospect of sitting around the table with his whole family - Mycroft was home as well - and hope with all his might that they wouldn't embarrass him in front of John.
OOO
"It's so nice that Sherlock has finally brought someone home."
Sherlock groaned in annoyance. There, he had thought that dinner was finally over - they had just finished dessert - and that he would be spared any embarrassment. So far, his parents had only indulged in small talk with John and even Mycroft had kept his mouth shut - thanks to Mum's delicious roast pork. Obviously though, his mother didn't intend to let them get away so easily.
"I was really worried that he wouldn't find anyone."
Oh God, his mother was stirring the conversation in that direction. Sherlock wondered if it would have negative consequences if he knocked over the burning candle just to stop this torture. He didn't want to listen to his mother's worries that he wouldn't find happiness, because he was transgender. Not that they had ever discussed such things - his family wasn't very good with emotions - but Sherlock had always assumed that this had been a concern for his mother. Of course, there were worse things than a mother, who was concerned for her child's happiness, but... Sherlock didn't want his mother to share her worries with John. His friend should feel welcome and at ease, when he visited him, instead of feeling like he was responsible for Sherlock's happiness. He was, in a way, but...
"He always was such a complicated child. Wild and full of imagination, but also smarter than most children. Of course, Mycroft had prepared us for the possibility of another extraordinary child, but... Sherlock has always been different from his brother. You see, John." His mother leaned across the table to fix John with a conspiratorial look. "While Mycroft knows when to keep his mouth shut, Sherlock always speaks his mind. Dear God, I still remember Aunt Maggie's look, when you told her that Uncle Greg cheated on her with the stable boy."
"He didn't?!" Where John had appeared like he was merely enduring the conversation a second ago, he seemed more interested now and Sherlock resigned himself to waste even more time with his family, when he wanted to be alone with his boyfriend, already. At least, his mother didn't appear keen on sharing anything about Sherlock's transition with John, although he wasn't sure if stories about his earliest deductions and experiments were much better.
"Let her have the fun, brother mine," Mycroft murmured next to him and Sherlock rolled his eyes. "It's not as if I could stop her anyway."
His brother glanced at their mother, who was just describing how Sherlock had burned down the couch, when he was five years old, and smirked at his brother. "No, not even Dad could stop her now. She always worried that you wouldn't find any friends or a significant other."
Sherlock sighed quietly. "Because I'm transgender."
A frown appeared between Mycroft's eyebrows as he sipped from his wine. "No, because you are smarter than average, rude and have a hang for the dramatic, as she is telling John in length right now. Maybe, you being transgender added a few more worries to her list, but I assure you that it's not the main reason, why she is so relieved and happy to see you with John."
Sherlock pursed his lips and glanced at his laughing mother and his fondly smiling father, as John shared something Sherlock had deduced about a fellow student. They both seemed very content that John was here. Maybe, Mycroft was right, but...
"How do you know this? Did Mum talk with you about it?"
"Really, Sherlock, can you imagine that Mum would share her thoughts with me on these matters?" A sigh escaped past Mycroft's lips, when Sherlock shrugged. "No Sherlock, but I observe and it was very obvious that Mum didn't only start worrying about you, when you came out to us. In fact, I'm certain that she worried less afterwards- once she had gotten used to the idea that she has two sons, instead of one - because she believed that you only hadn't found any friends, because you didn't feel comfortable in your own skin."
Sherlock raised an eyebrow at this observation, but he didn't argue with his brother, because Mycroft had obviously thought more deeply about their mother's feelings and actions than he had. For him, it had only been important that his parents had accepted him and given him the chance to transition. Of course, Sherlock knew that it spoke volumes of how much his parents loved him that they hadn't made much of a fuse about it, but he had been too busy to figure out his own feelings at the time to give it much thought. And considering how rarely his parents were at home - both away on business trips more often than not - then it wasn't surprising that Sherlock hadn't taken the time to analyze them. In fact, Sherlock realized belatedly, when his father got up to get them all more wine, while Mummy kept entertaining John, he could barely remember the last time, they had sat together like this, when it wasn't someone's birthday or a public holiday.
"They cancelled their meetings, so that they could meet John and to make sure that he is as nice as you told us," Mycroft answered Sherlock's unvoiced question.
"And why aren't you questioning him, then?"
A smug smile played around the corner of his brother's lips as he tousled Sherlock's curls affectionately. "I have observed him, since you mentioned him the first time, little brother and your continued smiling is proof enough that John is good for you."
"Please!" Sherlock rolled his eyes in exasperation, but couldn't prevent a smile from forming. Until this day, he hadn't known how much his parents' acceptance and love truly meant to him - and he would never admit it - but if the price for it was one more hour of John's and his time together, he was willing to pay it... but not one minute more.
OOO
"So," John started, when they climbed up the stairs to the first storey. "Where am I going to sleep?"
Sherlock could only stare at his boyfriend in utter bewilderment as he gestured to his own bedroom. "With me. I mean... my bed is big enough and... of course, we have guestrooms, but..." I had really looked forward to falling asleep next to you, Sherlock didn't add, but some of his feelings must have been written all over his face, because John smiled sheepishly up at him. "Sorry, that's fine. I just didn't want to assume... it's more than fine, really."
Soft lips touched his right cheek and Sherlock smiled in relief. He wouldn't have known what to think, if John had insisted on staying in a guestroom. After all, boyfriends usually shared a bed - or at least a room - when they stayed overnight... right? Sherlock didn't have any former experiences to rely on, but from what John had told him about his previous relationships, it was customary to sleep with your partner - sometimes in the biblical sense.
A hot shudder ran through Sherlock's body at this. It would be the first time that John and he shared a bed and also the first time that they were alone, without being pressed for time - like on their way to school - or being out in public. Adding to these facts that John was more experienced than Sherlock - four sexual partners as far as he had counted - then it was a given that John would initiate some sort of sexual activities.
Sherlock's heart fluttered nervously in his chest, even when a content warmth bubbled up in his middle at the prospect of sex with John. He had fantasized about his boyfriend's hands on him, about his lips and... Yes, about his penis as well. Sherlock longed to see John completely naked, to touch him and memorize every part of his body, but... he didn't know if he would enjoy the same in return.
Sherlock bit down on his lower lip as the warmth feeling was replaced by a dead weight in his stomach that threatened to make him sick. He had touched himself often enough to know what he liked - in terms of sexual stimulation - but he wasn't certain if the same rules would apply, when John was the one touching him. He trusted his boyfriend - no doubt about that - but that didn't guarantee that he wouldn't react badly, if John touched his genitals or...
"Sherlock? Any chance that you could continue building your Mind Palace, when you have shown me to your room?" John's amused voice interrupted Sherlock's panicked thoughts and he blinked slowly to focus on his grinning boyfriend. He had told John about a memory technique that would allow him to sort and filter important data and how he worked on building his own Mind Palace. It was probably better that his boyfriend assumed that he got stuck at it, in the middle of the staircase, instead of guessing on Sherlock's real thoughts.
"Of course." Sherlock turned to his right and opened the first door in the hallway to gesture John inside.
"Wow, your room is huge." John's eyes flickered from the monstrous desk - which was covered with papers and books - over his wardrobe - which occupied a whole wall - to his work bench - an array of chemicals, cuts of plants and his microscope were arranged on it - and finally landed on his double bed. "Nice," John commented with a grin that made Sherlock blush to the tips of his ears. "If I had known that you had such a fantastic room, I would have come over much sooner."
The words acted like a cold shower and Sherlock lowered his head to the floor. "Sorry that I didn't invite you sooner, but..." He shrugged. He had already explained to John that he hadn't wanted him over, before they had become boyfriends, because he had feared that John would find something in his room that might out him as transgender. In retrospect, it had been a stupid fear, but Sherlock hadn't wanted to lose John - his one and only friend - and... he still felt like a total prick for not inviting John to his home, sooner.
"Hey," Sherlock jumped, when a warm hand landed on his shoulder and gentle fingers stroked the exposed skin at his neck. "It's fine. I wasn't complaining and besides... it just means that I have to spend more time here to make up for it, right?"
Sherlock couldn't say how John always managed to lighten the mood, with nothing more than a smile and a few gentle words, but he treasured him even more for this gift. When dark thoughts had pressed on his mind during the last year, then John had been like a light for Sherlock. Sometimes, not more than a dim glimmer, but always enough to draw him back to his feet.
"Your bathroom is through there?" Before Sherlock could so much as nod, John had already snatched his overnight bag and headed into the adjoining bathroom.
Sherlock blinked and then shrugged. Obviously, they would get ready for bed separately, which seemed to be a sensible move on John's part, because Sherlock wouldn't have known what to do if they had started anything in the shower. Not that he really knew what to do in bed either - theoretical knowledge and fantasies excluded - but the bed was more comfortable than their bathtub.
A new wave of heat washed over his cheeks and Sherlock decided that it wouldn't do him - or his heart pressure - any good if he stood around in his room and waited for John to come back. For John, who had just turned on the shower and was naked... No, wrong direction of thoughts.
Sherlock forced his eyes away from the closed door - through which he could hear John's terrible interpretation of Queen's Headlong - and turned towards his wardrobe. Usually, Sherlock preferred to sleep in nothing but his shorts - as long as the temperatures hadn't dropped past the freezing point - but he feared that this would come over too wantonly. Besides, he didn't know how he would react if someone touched his chest directly and a barrier between John's hands and his skin didn't sound like a bad idea.
He had just decided on a shirt - a black one with a bee on the front - when the bathroom door opened and John emerged in a cloud of steam... dressed in his pajamas already. Sherlock barely hide his disappointment, when he took in his boyfriend's flushed expression and wondered what the rest of his body looked like - freshly showered and warm.
"My turn," Sherlock muttered, before his body could betray the direction of his thoughts and hurried to take a shower. A cold one, as it wouldn't do him any good, if he got worked all up just yet. They had the whole night ahead of them, after all.
OOO
"Goodnight, Sherlock." John pressed a soft kiss to his forehead and then turned onto his side.
Dumbfounded, Sherlock stared at the lump under the covers as he tried to work out what had gone wrong. He had taken a shower and changed into his shirt and pants, before joining his boyfriend in the bedroom. John had remarked on the bee print on his shirt and Sherlock had gladly told him why bees were such fascinating creatures, while they had gotten comfortable in bed and then... nothing more had happened. They hadn't even kissed, just turned off the light and laid down to sleep.
Sherlock frowned into the darkness of the room. Maybe, he shouldn't have talked about bees at length, it wasn't the most romantic topic after all, but... John had also snogged him, after they had discussed the differences of fungi found on school grounds. So, it couldn't have been their topic of conversation that had turned John off. Therefore, what... Oh, of course! Sherlock balled his hands into fists on top of the covers as he realised what an idiot he had been to believe he would have sex with John tonight. Obviously, his boyfriend didn't want to touch his naked body. It had been plain obvious had the swimming-pool - although Sherlock had dismissed all the evidence back then - and they had only ever snogged, while fully clothed. John didn't have to deal with the differences of Sherlock's body to these of other boys when some fabric built a barrier between them, but if they were both naked, then there was no way that his boyfriend could ignore the fact that Sherlock was transgender.
These thoughts were more than a little unjust, Sherlock realised as he inhaled through grinded teeth. After all, John hadn't done anything to warrant Sherlock's mistrust. He hadn't treated him differently once, since he had found out about him, but... maybe this was the problem, somehow. Maybe, John really wanted to be with him, but he didn't want Sherlock as he was now. It was entirely possible that Sherlock's body - as it was now - put John off, instead of turning him on... and wasn't this a horrible realisation? After Sherlock had come to believe that he still had a chance to be with John, no matter his gender, his body got into his way, yet again.
He exhaled harshly through his nose - it wasn't a sob - as he tried to process this new information, when the mattress shifted next to him. "Sherlock, are you alright?"
"Fine," Sherlock rasped out and sighed in defeat, when the bedside lamp was turned on and he came face to face with John's worried eyes. "Don't give me this shit, when you lie there like a coiled spring. Does it bother you to share a bed with me?"
Sherlock shook his head against the pillow. "No."
Silence, obviously John waited for an explanation, before he sighed quietly. "What is it then? Did I do something wrong? Are you angry because I talked so long with your mother or... just talk with me, Sherlock. I'm not blind, I can see when something bothers you."
Sherlock closed his eyes briefly, before he turned onto his back and stared at the ceiling. It was better than meeting John's concerned gaze, when they were going to have this conversation. Not that Sherlock wanted to discuss his new findings and feelings, but he had learned long ago that John wouldn't give up, once he had adopted this persistent tone. Still, countless minutes ticked by, until Sherlock found it in him to open his mouth. "It's silly," he started, but John merely put a hand on his shoulder and waited. "I... we share a bed and... I thought that we would... do something."
Sherlock cursed himself for his stupid choice of words. Christ, what was he, a Victorian youth, who had never heard about sex before? Usually, he could cut down teachers with his sharp tongue, but when he needed his eloquence more than ever, then he couldn't even formulate a simple sentence. Great, just great!
"You mean, you thought we were going to have sex?" There, John could say it without stuttering, so it shouldn't be an issue. Instead of voicing these thoughts though, Sherlock merely nodded and kept staring at the ceiling. "And did you want to have sex with me or did you just assume that the situation demanded it?"
At this, Sherlock turned onto his side and frowned at his boyfriend. "Of course, I wanted it. I wouldn't do something, just because it's considered normal by society. But it's a mute point, anyway, isn't it?"
Now, it was John's turn to frown at him. "I don't think I understand what you mean by that. It's not like we only had this one chance to have sex and now we can't have it anymore."
"As far as I'm concerned, both partners should be willing and not..."
"But you just said that you wanted to have sex with me!" Now John sounded bewildered and Sherlock groaned in annoyance. Why did his boyfriend have to be nice all the time? Couldn't he just tell Sherlock that he couldn't imagine sex with him and be done with it? At least then, Sherlock could deal with his feelings and curse the unfairness of it all, in private, instead of baring so much of himself.
"Yes, but you obviously don't want to have sex with me," Sherlock burst out and held his breath as John blinked slowly at him, like he sometimes did when they had to solve an especially difficult problem in chemistry.
"I don't want to have sex with you?" John's voice was laced with disbelief, but Sherlock still nodded. "Obviously. You haven't kissed me all day long and avoided touching me, when I wore less clothing than usual. You like snogging, when I'm fully clothed, but didn't make a move at the swimming-pool or now, ergo you only find me appealing, when you can't see or feel... how my body is different from yours. Conclusion, you don't want to have sex with me." It felt easier sharing his thoughts like Sherlock usually shared deductions with John - just the bare facts and no emotions. Never mind that it was hard to keep his feelings at bay, while he was lying in bed with his boyfriend and discussing why they wouldn't have sex. It was one of these moments, when Sherlock wished that...
"You know for such a genius, you are acting like a very daft idiot!" Sherlock raised an eyebrow at this, unsure if he should be flattered or insulted by his boyfriend's comment, but John's next words took his mind away from this decision. "Of course, I want to have sex with you. Hell, I doubt that there are many people, that could be with you, without wanting to touch and yes - just for the record - I want to touch you, but..." John sucked on his lower lip, his eyes filled with insecurity, as Sherlock waited with bathed breath for the death blow. "I don't know how."
That... wasn't what he had expected and it didn't make sense at all. "But you had sex before - with boys and girls alike."
John nodded grimly. "And most of the time, it was more fumbling around in the dark than anything else. Still, I wouldn't mind this with you, but... I don't know what you like."
"What I like?" Sherlock could barely follow the conversation anymore, as it didn't go the way he had expected. John had told him in no uncertain terms that he wanted to have sex with him, but all of his actions today spoke of the contrary. Besides, hadn't they agreed - when they first became a couple - that they would figure out together what they liked? So how should Sherlock know that, when he had never had sex before.
"I mean... is it okay for me to touch your chest, when you don't wear a binder or would that... I don't know, trigger a bad reaction?" An exasperated huff of air left John's lips. "I don't want to do something that makes you feel uncomfortable and that's why I didn't initiate anything. I thought, I should wait until you make the first move."
The pieces of the puzzle finally clicked together in Sherlock's mind and the whole picture was revealed to him. John wasn't put off by him, he was just as considerate as Sherlock had always thought. "I'm an idiot," he muttered to the pillow and was startled, when a thumb stroked his cheek lightly.
"No," John smiled slightly at him. "We are both idiots. We should have talked about it, instead of making assumptions. I'm sorry that you thought, I didn't want you. Nothing could be farther from the truth."
Sherlock was well aware of the awed look on his face as he met John's gaze, but he couldn't help himself. There, he had beaten himself up about the fact that his gender might get in the way of his relationship with John and here, his boyfriend was the most considerate person, he had ever had the fortune to meet.
Minutes ticked by as they just stayed like this, looking at each other and processing what they had just learned, until Sherlock broke the silence. "I don't mind if you touch my chest in passing, but don't pay it too much attention."
"No sucking on your nipples and such things?" Sherlock blushed at John's blunt question, but nodded nonetheless. "Exactly, although I might be comfortable with it, once I got the... additional parts removed."
"So, you're getting a surgery?" John's voice was laced with well-meaning curiosity, before his eyes widened in shock. "Sorry, I know that it's rude to ask such questions, it's just..."
"I told you myself that I would get top-surgery, you just asked for clarification. That's fine," Sherlock hastened to put John's mind at rest. "I won't get any other surgeries," he added as an afterthought and sagged inwardly in relief, when John smiled in understanding.
"Alright," he murmured and it was obvious that there were some questions on his mind that he didn't dare voicing and Sherlock rolled his eyes at him. "Yes, that means that I'm comfortable with how my genitals are and I like to be... touched there."
Sherlock hated himself for how easily he blushed, but considering that John's cheeks were also slightly flushed, it was barely acceptable. "How do you like to be touched?"
"I thought we would figure this out together." This time, Sherlock's cheeks felt like they were heating up in preparation to fry an egg. It might be considered immature, but he didn't want to discuss his masturbation habits with John. Maybe, sometime in the future, but not now.
"Well yeah, but it's probably better to set some ground rules beforehand. It's one thing to touch your partner in a way that doesn't turn him on, but quite another thing to touch him in a way that he is adverse to or only likes sometimes. Like, if you - for example - grab my dick too hard and I tell you to adjust your grip or if you push your finger up my arse, without asking first. That makes a huge difference."
"Oh!" Sherlock blamed it on the wine that he was so slow today - and filled away the information that John might not object to a finger in his arse, if asked first. "Sometimes, I like to penetrate... Well, yes, I would like to be asked first as well."
"Deal!" John grinned at him and a second later they were both laughing, the tension of the last hours - at least in Sherlock's case - vanished as they clung to each other, while laughter shook their frames, until they ended up cuddled together under the covers.
"I know we have talked about sex a lot now, but..." Gentle fingers stroked through his curls, when Sherlock bedded his head on John's shoulder and threw an arm across his chest to get even closer to his boyfriend. "I would prefer it, if we didn't try anything tonight."
Sherlock nodded tiredly against John's chest. After the rollercoaster of emotions, he felt rather drained and he doubted that a sexual encounter would end satisfactory for either of them, if it felt more like a necessary deed than a pleasurable activity.
"Let's sleep then," Sherlock murmured and smiled, when he felt the vibrations of John's giggle. "Goodnight to you as well, Darling," John teased him lightly and Sherlock couldn't stop himself from pressing a sloppy kiss to his chest. "Sleep well, Honey," Sherlock retorted and still heard John's quiet laughter, when he fell asleep.
OOO
Sherlock woke to the feeling of being sweaty and...horny. Obviously, one night of being pressed tightly against his boyfriend did this. Especially, when said boyfriend had turned in his sleep, so that Sherlock spooned John and his groin pressed against a plush behind. Sherlock snuggled up more closely to John and buried his nose in the soft hair at the base of his neck. The scent - so purely John after eight hours of sleep - sent a thrill directly to his groin and he couldn't help the longing groan to escape from his lips.
"Morning," John's sleepy voice sounded, half muffled be the pillow. "Interesting way of being woken up." There was a teasing note to his words, but Sherlock still blushed in mortification, when he noticed that he was all but rutting - he wasn't a primitive animal - against John's backside. Christ, and here he had thought that he had his libido under control - after a whole year of getting used to the effects of T - but it seemed to be a different matter, when another warm body was involved. Especially, when said body belonged to a sleepy and very sexy John Watson.
"Sorry, I didn't mean..." Sherlock made to turn away, but John's hand on his wrist - which had rested on the stomach of his boyfriend - stopped him. "It's fine. You aren't the only one... feel." Slowly and in a way that gave Sherlock to understand that he could withdraw anytime, John led his hand down his body. It was obvious where this was leading, but Sherlock still gasped in surprise, when his fingers brushed against an unmistakable bulge in John's shorts.
"Yeah, did you think, you were the only one affected?" Sherlock could hear the grin in John's voice, but he was too busy to reply as he fanned out his fingers to touch as much of his boyfriend's cock as possible. The flesh felt warm, even through the fabric that separated them and Sherlock gave it an experimental squeeze and couldn't help the awed smile, when John pressed up into his hand. It was one thing to study anatomy in theory, but quite something else to actually see and feel the effects that were only described clinically in books.
"I guess that answers the question if you want to do anything about it." Sherlock allowed John to turn onto his side, so that they faced each other. The soft smile on John's face, as he regarded Sherlock with gentle eyes, did a lot to disperse the nervousness that had made his nerves flutter, when it became clear that they were going to... do something.
"I don't know what to do," Sherlock admitted quietly and with a little pout in his voice. He wasn't used to not knowing, but it seemed wiser to admit it now - when John already know that he was new to sex - than to screw it up.
A thoughtful look passed over John's features as he regarded Sherlock and then seemed to come to a conclusion. "What do you think of less clothes first and then we can continue."
Sherlock nodded slowly and John took it as his signal to scramble out of his shirt and shorts in record time. He remained on the covers as Sherlock took his time to take in how handsome a boyfriend he had. No matter that he had seen everything besides his cock and thighs already, it was still different to see John completely naked, instead of partly clothed. Still, Sherlock couldn't stop his eyes from wandering to John's erection that stood proud between his legs.
"Like what you see?" Sherlock was relieved to notice color in John's cheeks, even when he teased him about sex. At least, it meant that John wasn't light years ahead of Sherlock and still a little insecure, when it came to sex. It calmed Sherlock enough to get out from under the covers and to take off his shorts. He felt John's eyes on him and heat crept from his chest up to his ears, but he didn't try to cover himself. After all, John's attention wasn't uncomfortable and Sherlock had never had a problem with his private parts. Yes, it was new to be naked in front of someone, who wasn't a doctor or - when he had been much younger - a family member, but it wasn't an unwelcome sensation. Still...
"Do you mind if I leave on my shirt?" Sherlock wouldn't have minded taking it off, if he had worn a binder, but as it was, he didn't feel comfortable with being completely naked in front of John. Which was stupid, considering that he had run around topless all of yesterday and that John hadn't seen him any different for it, but... it didn't feel right and Sherlock didn't want his chest to ruin their first time.
"Of course, but if you could roll it up to your ribcage, so that I can see your sexy abs, that would be great." Sherlock feared that he would never stop blushing if John kept on saying such things, but he didn't complain. It felt better this way, more familiar, if they kept on their easy banter that had made up their relationship from the start - even before they had become boyfriends.
"You are sexy as well," Sherlock tasted the unfamiliar words on his lips, unsure if he even should give back a compliment, but when John's reply was a heated kiss - that pushed them both back onto the mattress - he knew that he had gotten it right.
His fingers wandered over John's back and marveled at the way his muscles moved under his hands, until he dared to send one hand farther down. He stroked John's thigh and was rewarded with a content sigh and the tightening of his boyfriend's fingers on his arse.
"Do you want to touch me?" John asked in between kisses and Sherlock nodded, his index finger already playing with his boyfriend's public hair. "Can I touch you in return?" Sherlock nodded once more - heat coiling between his legs at the prospect of John's fingers on him - and leaned in to resume their former activities, when his boyfriend leaned away again. "Do you have anything? Lube, lotion, something to..."
"Ease some of the friction," Sherlock finished John's sentence and turned onto his side, to reach the drawer of his nightstand. He should have some kind of crème in there. Not enough for other activities, but it was enough for... manual stimulation. His fingers made contacted with a small bottle and he threw it to John, without looking.
"Wow, that's a nice brand of lube."
Sherlock stared at the tube in John's hands and sighed quietly - a mix of annoyance and amusement. Obviously, his brother just couldn't help himself, he always had to meddle with everything. Sherlock suspected that if he looked, he would also find a package of condoms, paper tissues and God knew what else. Thankfully, he didn't get the chance to become mortified at the thought of Mycroft thinking in depth about their sex lives, when John squeezed a healthy amount of the clear liquid in his right hand. "Okay?"
Sherlock nodded at the earnest look in blue eyes and then, they were kissing again. Hot mouth against searching lips. Tongues pushing against each other, tasting and teasing. Teeth clicking together as they angled their hands differently and... Twin groans filtered into the kiss, when slick fingers found their destinations. John's cock was warm against his skin - warm and smooth. Sherlock took his time to trace the full length of his erection with his hand. The head of it leaked, when he circled it with his index finger and he did it again, when John bucked up into his hand. Sherlock wondered if he should tease him some more - touch his balls, maybe - but all thoughts of making it last longer, flew out of his head, when John's fingers rubbed between his legs and... Hell, it felt even better than when Sherlock did it himself. He pressed back against John's hand, encouraging him to increase his speed and pressure as Sherlock wrapped his fingers around John's cock as well. He had read online that it was best to form a tight ring with his fingers and then move his hand up and down - if you didn't dare to try anything more fancy. The strategy worked well enough, after Sherlock had managed to find the right rhythm and pressure that made John push up into his fist.
They were merely panting into each other's mouth by now, both chasing their own orgasm, while getting their boyfriend of as well. Sherlock really wanted John to come first - wanted to see and feel how his boyfriend came apart under his hands - but he knew he had lost, when he felt a well known tightening in his belly, before a shudder took over his whole body. He gasped for breath - and screamed - when he came, his whole being concentrated on the point between his legs as wave after wave of pure pleasure crashed down over him.
"Oh God, Sherlock!" John's voice registered in his lust muddled brain, but Sherlock was too far gone to make a connection between the warm splatter on his hand and his boyfriend's groans as he rode out his orgasm.
OOO
"Sorry, we made a real mess of your sheets." Sherlock shrugged and scooted closer to John, until he could wrap his arm and leg around his boyfriend. "It's only semen, sweat and lube. It will wash out... I think."
"You think," John snorted and threw an arm over Sherlock's middle. "You know, this wasn't safe sex."
Sherlock rolled his eyes at his boyfriend and pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips. "I have never had sex before and my blood has been tested numerous times, in the past few years. None of us can get pregnant and we merely came onto each other's bodies, not into. Besides, I know that you had your blood tested, after you broke up with your last girlfriend, although you always used condoms and..."
"Fine!" John managed to sigh and laugh at once. "But condoms can minimize the mess on the sheets."
"Are you complaining?" Sherlock grinned against John's sweaty skin and wondered how long he could get away with cuddling, until his boyfriend would insists on taking a shower. He felt much more comfortable now - after their first time had gotten over so smoothly - and if John didn't mind, they could stay like this for another couple of hours.
At least for now, it didn't seem like his boyfriend wanted to go anywhere as he breathed butterfly kisses on Sherlock's face and neck and snuggled up against him. "No, not complaining at all."
They both felt silent afterwards, just dozing - and stealing some kisses from each other - and enjoying their first post coital bliss together. And it was just their first one, Sherlock reminded himself with a grin as he carded his fingers through John's hair. They would have many more times together and maybe at some point, Sherlock would be comfortable with taking off his shirt. Maybe, it would only happen after the surgery, maybe before that date, but Sherlock didn't worry about it anymore. John had shown him that it was all fine and Sherlock loved him for it and maybe... maybe, he would tell him some day. Not now, but soon. Yes, very soon, Sherlock decided with a smile as John kissed his forehead and they both ignored Mycroft's calls from downstairs as they stayed in their own little nest as the sun rose to herald a new day.