Sherlock hunched over the newspaper that rested on the table as he flipped through it, scanning the articles on the off chance a case was interesting enough to catch his eye.
Dog Fighting Ring Discov –
No.
Amusement Park Terror, Two Attendees Hospitalized –
Dull.
Homeless Man Found Nearly 300,000 –
Sherlock's train of thought crashed abruptly when he heard an implausibly distracting wet suction sound from the man sitting next to him on the sofa. He looked in his direction to find John sucking vigorously on his index finger.
Sherlock caught himself staring at him for a moment before he asked, "What on earth are you doing?"
John looked up abashedly and extracted the digit from his mouth with a wet pop. But there was something wrong with it. It was a strange dark red color, made reflective from the saliva that coated it generously. It took him less than a second to realize it was not his skin, but some sort of exterior wrapping. Sherlock noticed the open cardboard box sitting on the armrest next to John before he replied, "Fruit Roll Up," and grinned cheekily. "Haven't had these in ages. Saw it in the shop and just felt like one."
Sherlock frowned. "But why are you eating it like that?"
"Lasts a lot longer than just chewing on it, I suppose," John shrugged, and took it back into his mouth, apparently having gotten over his previous embarrassment.
"Well, it's incredibly distracting." It was, more than Sherlock was willing to admit. Once he caught the sight of John probing his mouth like that, he felt a twinge down below, and couldn't help but imagine something else in replace of his fingers. But it wasn't as if he was about to say that out loud.
John didn't bother looking at him and scoffed. "Turn away from me, then."
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "It's not just the sight of you; it's the obscene noises you're making. It sounds as if you're snogging a fish." Sherlock's lip twitched at John's abrupt snort but continued, "How is that even appetizing? It just looks awfully messy."
"You'd never know it until you've tried it." He grabbed one from the box and tossed it to him, which Sherlock caught instinctively.
He peeled the wrapper off easily enough, but found the sheet of candy annoyingly difficult to peel neatly from the plastic. After a solid minute of wrestling with the sticky sheet with increasing irritation, John sighed and shifted over to take it from his hands. He leaned against Sherlock's side as he focused on picking at the corner of the sheet with his clean fingers, trying to keep his wrapped right index finger jutting straight up and out of the way.
As John seemed to be struggling with the wrapper just as much as he did, Sherlock kept his eyes on John's candy wrapped finger. It didn't look very appealing on its own. Must be dreadfully sticky. But then again, there were... other situations where people would put up with sticky substances for the sake of enjoyment.
It wasn't until John lifted his head subtly that Sherlock caught himself subconsciously licking his lips, and he clamped his mouth abruptly. His mind was apparently too busy imagining what it would be like to taste John's own candy coated finger, and didn't even realize that John had already taken Sherlock's right index and wound a strip of the red waxy sheet around the tip of it.
Sherlock brought it to his mouth and licked it tentatively. Overly sweet, but not unbearable, so he continued to suck his digit into his mouth. He heard a sharp intake of breath from the man beside him. He felt a strong pang in his chest at the sound but didn't let it show in his face. Was John affected by this?
Chancing a glance, Sherlock noticed John's eyes dilated wildly, fixed on Sherlock's lips. John looked up to meet Sherlock's gaze and must have caught on that he was staring, because he immediately recoiled from the eye contact and looked away, a hint of crimson blossoming on his cheeks.
Sherlock kept his eyes on John's face, deciding to further test his theory. He slowed his hand and sucked more aggressively, mimicking the image that had popped into his mind earlier when John had been devouring his own finger. He let his eyes flutter heavily and a sound of satisfaction escaped him.
He heard John readjusting himself and Sherlock looked over to him as he removed hand from his lips. John now assumed a rather uncomfortable position, crossing his legs tightly and leaning his arms awkwardly against his legs, as if to block something underneath from Sherlock's view. John still refused to look in his direction and Sherlock smiled to himself, wondering why John bothered trying to conceal anything from him in the first place if he was going to act this transparent.
John's peculiar behavior diverted Sherlock's attention, keeping him from noticing the candied saliva gradually beginning to drip down his hand. He screwed up his face crudely. "See? Messy. And it just seems unnecessarily unsanitary." Finding another opportunity to test John's reaction, he licked up the dripping glucose with obvious fervor, and observed him from his peripheral vision.
John seemed quite flustered and he cleared his throat harshly. "Well, it isn't as if you can't just clean off afterward," he managed to respond. "It's still delicious." He was about to bring his almost forgotten candy-wrapped finger to his own mouth before Sherlock stopped him, grabbing it and admitting it into his own.
"Sherlo –" John's exclamation was cut off when a look from Sherlock quieted him. His lips tight around John's finger, his cheeks concave from the suction, making his cheekbones even more prominent than normal. This effectively distracted John from keeping his position and Sherlock felt the impulse to peek at what John had been trying to cover up. But John's slightly bewildered but impassioned stare kept Sherlock from shifting his gaze until he extracted John's finger from his mouth with an satisfying slurp.
"You seemed to like yours much more than I liked mine, so I thought you might have a different, better flavor," Sherlock said by way of explanation, even though he didn't think for a second that John would believe him. "But now I remember, that box has only the strawberry ones."
"Oh," John exhaled and only just then realized he'd been holding his breath. "Right. Well, you should warn me next time before you start sucking me." He heard the double meaning too late and hurriedly followed it with, "Finger! I meant warn me before you suck my finger again." John's discomfort overwhelmed him as heat began creeping violently again to his face. "Not that you're going to, I mean." He looked away and stuck his finger in his mouth instinctively, forgetting where it had just been, and pulled away too late.
Sherlock smirked to himself. It was no longer a question of whether John was attracted to him. He'd figured that out the moment he noticed that John was trying so inadequately to conceal his erection from him. But the question was to what extent was his attraction?
If John hadn't felt the same way, he would have questioned him further and called him out on his conspicuous lies. He would have acted more annoyed, or at least more distressed in response to the unsolicited performance. But the fact was that John was embarrassed. Not embarrassed for Sherlock, as he should have been, but embarrassed for himself. Embarrassed of his thoughts, embarrassed of how he felt when faced head on with a sexual response from his best friend.
Sherlock could barely contain his gratification in being able to prove himself correct, in provoking John to reveal his true feelings, and, most of all, in knowing that he wasn't the only one in 221B overwhelmingly infatuated with his flatmate.
He returned his features before John faced him again. "I knew you wouldn't have minded, so that would've just been a waste of time."
"How on earth could you have assumed that?"
He said nothing, but instead looked intensely into John's eyes, raised an eyebrow, then glanced pointedly down at his crotch. He watched as realization flooded John's face, understanding that Sherlock knew. Sherlock could see John frantically trying to work out an explanation in his mind, but he knew that it wouldn't matter. He could read John as easily as the newspaper he was working on earlier. The same seemed to occur to John, and finally it looked as if he couldn't bear the embarrassment any longer. He sputtered out a "That's not – I don't know what you're implying, I just – I, I have to go to the ..." His voice trailed off as he moved to get off the sofa and walk into his room and away from this conversation, determined to leave the problem for Future John and Future Sherlock.
Sherlock hesitated. If his next move left no room for doubt what his intentions were, he was almost positive that John would reciprocate with equal enthusiasm. But was 'almost positive' good enough? Whatever he did next, he wouldn't be able to take back, and he wasn't sure if he was willing to lose John, however unlikely it seemed to be.
But as he watched John distancing himself from him, his resolve disappeared and he gave into his impulses. He gripped John's arm before pulling him back down onto the sofa, moving off his own seat and landing his knees on either side of John's legs in one sharp motion. The forceful movement jostled the sofa, causing the box of sweets to fall on its side, spilling its contents onto the cushions and floor.
John's eyes enlarged apprehensively as he stared up to meet Sherlock's eyes. It looked as if he was about to say something when Sherlock cut him off, firmly pressing his lips to John's. John tensed at Sherlock's approach and Sherlock suddenly feared he had done the wrong thing. The blushing, the quickened pulse, the dilated pupils, the obviously tented trousers; all the signs were there. Weren't they? Or did he just see what he wanted to see? He always thought he could trust his senses, but maybe his emotions compromised them. How could he have been so stupid to act on this? Sure, he had been contemplating it for months now, practically since they met. But every time an opportunity presented itself, he thought of a million different reasons why it shouldn't happen.
The one time he had a slip in controlling his emotions and inhibitions, and he carelessly endangers the only real friendship he'd ever had. He made to move off and write off his actions as an experiment. Nothing more, just wanted to test the taste of the candy from someone else's mouth. No, that sounded absolutely ridiculous. But it was better than creating more of a mess than he had already made.
It seemed like eternity had passed since their lips first touched without John responding in any way, neither pushing Sherlock away nor pulling him closer. Sherlock detached himself and kept his eyes shut as he mentally cursed himself, moving to lift himself off of John's lap.
But John unexpectedly grabbed his face with both hands, his still-candied finger clasping his cheekbone, and kissed him with much more enthusiasm. John took more control, gripping Sherlock's face as if afraid that he'd move away again, urging his tongue further into Sherlock's eager mouth. It was only when the need for oxygen overwhelmed them, they separated. Their foreheads rested together, their mouths inches apart, exchanging breath.
"I don't know about you, but I've been wanting to do that for ages."
A smile spread on John's face, his eyes still closed. "Why didn't you, then?"
"I wasn't sure about you," Sherlock admitted.
John's brow creased questioningly. "Unsure about how you felt about me or how I felt about you?"
Sherlock didn't respond, but the answer hung obvious through his hesitation.
Soft laughter escaped John's lips. "For all of your powers of deduction, I find it hard to believe you didn't notice anything."
It was Sherlock's turn to feel confused. "But I did notice, just now." And he grinded gently on John's erection just to remind him exactly what he pointed out just earlier.
John moaned and arched up instinctively, but stopped himself to ask, "Wait. Are you serious? You honestly haven't noticed me being absolutely fascinated with you since day one?"
Sherlock hid his grimace by leaning down and planting wet kisses on John's throat. Day one? He's allowed all this time go by when they could have started this from day one?
"Of course I did," Sherlock breathed into his ear.
John laughed again. "Liar."
Sherlock didn't bother retorting and recaptured John's mouth. His grazed his tongue behind John's swollen wet lips and John hummed his pleasure, the vibration running immediately to his cock and he urged his hips down more fervently.
They ran their sticky, frantic hands over each without hesitation. Sherlock's unbuttoned John's shirt, licking and sucking on every inch of exposed skin as he worked his way down. He fumbled with John's belt buckle, tugging his trousers down aggressively. He lowered his body slowly to a kneeling position on the floor, breathing hotly over his abdomen, following the trail of soft hair, and mouthed John's hard erection through his pants.
John leaned his head back and gasped. He spluttered inelegantly, and allowed his body to speak for him his hips canting up, but Sherlock pushed him back down. Sherlock stripped off his pants and pressed open mouthed kisses over John's fully erect cock.
'What do you want?" Sherlock asked as he continued to tease John.
John picked up head head to look into Sherlock's eyes. "You."
Sherlock smiled and rewarded him with a long stroke of his tongue against the underside of John's now leaking cock. "Well, I'd hope so. But no, I mean exactly what do you want me to do?"
John didn't seem like he could collect himself enough to decide anything at the moment. "Haven't the faintest. Surprise me."
Sherlock grin was bordering on down right devious. "I was hoping you'd say that."
He grabbed one of the candies that had fallen earlier and unwrapped it. His determination focused his hands, allowing him to peel the candy easily enough in one go. Sherlock gripped John's cock carefully and wrapped the Fruit Roll Up carefully from the head to the base. John's eyes widened but soon rolled back into his head as Sherlock engorged him into that slick wet heat.
The candy was a relatively thick layer and Sherlock knew this would dull his sensitivity much more than a condom would have, so he made sure to make up for it with aggressive suction and extra heat while tugging gently at his balls. John's chants of Oh yes yes yes Sherlock, shit, do that again, yes, just like that, Sher– fuckfuckfuck yes encouraged Sherlock further, and he enthusiastically licked away the layer of candy until it was nearly dissolved. He held John's cock and stroked firmly a few times before licking long stripes from base to tip, tasting the sweet and salty mixture as the dripping sugar mixed with leaking precome. John groaned and gripped the nape of Sherlock's neck and lifted his hips, taking Sherlock by surprise. His gag reflex kicked in and he choked, and John let go immediately.
"Shit, sorry." John's face was filled with worry as he stroked Sherlock's cheek with his thumb.
"No, I just wasn't expecting that." Sherlock pressed on, moving down to John's balls and mouthing them gently before coming away. He panted, "Do it again. It's okay, really," before taking it back into his mouth.
The expression on John's face read that he couldn't stop himself if he tried, and he bucked violently into his mouth. Sherlock kept himself in place as John fucked his mouth, pushing back and forth, needing more, more.
Sherlock inhaled deeply through his nasal passage, relaxed his throat and shifting forward until his nose crushed, buried in John's curls. His senses dulled as he focused on keeping his position and he was faintly aware of John exclaiming Sherlock's name, his voice filling the room. It must have been all too much for John, and with a violent shudder, Sherlock felt the thick liquid pulsing down his throat.
John collapsed on him, leaning his entire torso on Sherlock's shoulders, continuing to breath heavily in his ear. Sherlock took out his now achingly hard cock and stroked it in sync with John's panting. InhaleUp. Exhale. Down. But as his breathing slowed down, Sherlock sped up, grunting into John's neck.
Sobered up from post-orgasmic bliss, John realized what Sherlock was doing and he pulled him up on the sofa and pushed him to lie on his back, as John settled himself on top of him. He nuzzled his face in Sherlock's neck, pressing his lips at his throat. He pried Sherlock's fingers off his cock and replaced it with his own, a soft whimper slipping from Sherlock's tongue.
John was having trouble finding the right angle and speed, and Sherlock could tell that he had never done this before, not with anyone else's besides his own. Sherlock attempted to guide him by panting encouragements whenever John twist his hand just right. John lowered his head to lick gently at his ear lobe, causing Sherlock to shiver ever so slightly.
"Come for me, Sherlock. I need to see your face, your expression, with your hard cock throbbing in my palm. I need to feel your hot wet spunk seeping through my fingers. I need to see you, you beautiful genius, coming apart in my hands." With the combination of John's heat, friction, his voice whispering in his ear, it all became too much and he shuddered against John's body, splattering thick streams of come between them.
John continued to tug at his softening cock until Sherlock stopped him, taking John's hand and intertwining their fingers. Only then did it register how sticky they both were, covered in sweat, come, and sugar.
They simply laid there, staring into each other's eyes, not speaking. Silence fell upon them, interrupted only by heavy breathing and the distant sounds that drifted through from the world that seemed miles away.
John was the first to interrupt the silence. "What are you thinking right now?"
"I was thinking about how..." Sherlock's mind flitted back and forth from thought to thought. He was thinking about how long he's wanted this, and how perfect his life felt at this moment. He was thinking about what John meant when he said he's wanted this from day one. He was thinking about the taste of John's mouth, his skin, his cock, and how he couldn't wait to taste it again. He was thinking about how vocal John was during sex and now really wanted to test John's restraint in a public enough area, and was wondering how willing John might be to the suggestion. He was thinking about how he never thought this would happened, and how it did because John has an elementary craving while at the supermarket.
"I think I like Fruit Roll Ups after all."