John sat in the chair he'd claimed all that time ago in the flat, opposite to the squishy leather counterpart that Sherlock had allocated himself to, fingers tracing the now fuzzy red material, a green checked blanket draped over it, picking off 'bobbles' that formed from wear, and he then cupped his hands around a luke warm cup of tea. He lifted his laptop and rubbed the hot patches which burned uncomfortably into his jeans. He'd had it on his lap for a couple of hours now, watching various porn videos after trying to write up the latest case to no avail. There wasn't really anything else for him to do that day other than have a wank. He hated days like that, and wondered how Sherlock kept himself so wonderfully amused all the time, except he didn't. Sherlock was bored too.

Besides the videos that flashed on the screen took his mind away from the glorious sight he'd witnessed earlier that day; Sherlock's bare behind.

He'd seen him in the shower earlier that day, and yes, he looked probably a little bit longer than he should have, but the lean, muscled figure was too enticing for him to look away.

The tiny droplets of water sliding down his arched back towards firm buttocks.

That image remained in John's head and clouded his thoughts.

'Damn it.' He shouted more loudly than he meant to, snapping down the lid of his laptop and dropping it heavily on the crowded table beside him, disrupting his empty mug.

'Are you ok?' Sherlock himself said, sauntering into the living room, the lack of interest dripping from his tongue.

'Yes, now put some damned clothes on. I know you have them because i'm the one who has to wash them, how hard is it to put a shirt into the washing machine and press the 'on' button?' John yelled in reply, realising he'd gone into a somewhat unnecessary rant and eyeing up Sherlock's form once again. How he wanted every part of him, some suppressed part of him clawing its way out. He had wrapped a small white towel around himself after his morning shower and had yet to remove it and put on a shirt and trousers, despite the fact that his shower was over 4 hours ago and he was, by now, most definitely dry.

'No, I will not succumb to my oppressors.' Sherlock replied curtly.

'Now.' John fumed. Teeth grinded. This was all he needed, more images of a naked Sherlock Holmes in his head. He was freaking out. Finding Sherlock...attractive was messing with his head.

'Why?'

'Because I don't want to close my eyes at night and picture you parading around the flat in your underwear, besides you look like some creepy insect.'

John melted slightly at the thought of seeing Sherlock fully naked then reminded himself that we was not acting like himself right now. That was exactly what he wanted, and yet the one thing he didn't ever want, both running parallel alongside each other.

'I can't see why not, and i'm not concerned about the way my body looks, unlike you who stares at himself in the mirror relentlessly.' Sherlock smirked.

John felt a familiar feeling, all his blood rushing down. Not now, not now. Arrogance always got him.

'I'm going out for some fresh air.' He gulped, the flat suddenly feeling a lot smaller and mustier. He also felt like Sherlock was closer to him, breathing down his neck and getting him all hot and flustered.

John stepped out of the flat, slamming the door on his way out. He didn't really know why he was so angry, so unable to perceive what was happening to him, but the dark haired figure in the flat behind him was currently making his blood boil.

Sherlock Holmes had aroused John, and this was not okay. It would never be an okay thing because John believed himself to be as straight as it was possible to be.

'Hey.' Sherlock's voice purred out of the now open window.

'What?' John replied in an annoyed tone. Sherlock still had no shirt on and his head rested in his hand, a bored look on his face but smug nonetheless.

'I'm a consulting detective you idiot, I know how you feel right now, your pulse is racing and I know you're angry, seething really, all for one reason.'

'Keep your voice down Sherlock, you know people are already talking.'

'Oh it's all people do nowadays, and it's getting worse isn't it, the longer I talk, the longer I hang out of this window. It's driving you insane.'

'No Sherlock, it's not, now go back inside or you'll catch a cold, and then who's going to have to look after you?'

'I'll close the window when you admit it, I've turned you on.'

'I thought you were meant to be good at deducing?'

'I'm never wrong John Watson, I'll be waiting for you.'

….

After a couple of slow laps around the park in which he had a lot of time to just think, John returned to 22B1 Baker Street, heart pounding in his chest, so hard he could hear it. He hoped Sherlock had forgotten the whole nasty business that occurred earlier that day and that he could just make them both a cup of tea and it would all be over and done with, but who was he kidding, that man could probably remember his own birth.

After a brief nod of recognition to Mrs. Hudson, who was standing in the hallway, John hurried to his room and closed the door behind him. He thought about putting a chair in front of it, barricading himself in but decided this was probably too drastic, and Sherlock would probably climb in through the window if he needed to.

'John is that you?' Sherlock called through faded wood.

'Not now Sherlock.' John replied.

He opened the door anyway.

'It's okay John, I remember telling you I was married to my work and I have no time for others, but from your perspective I think I see where you're coming from-charming, intellectual...' He smirked.

'Not in the mood.' John said, raising an eyebrow. He pushed Sherlock aside and went to the kitchen, filling up the kettle and flicking it on, putting tea bags in his and Sherlock's allocated mugs.

As he poured in the milk he felt a cool breath on the back of his neck. He stood to attention then turned around to come face to face with Sherlock who sported a stupid smile.

He tried to take his tea and nudge Sherlock out of the way but two arms had found their way behind him, trapping John between Sherlock and the counter.

'I turn you on don't I?' he smiled, brushing a hand on John's hip briefly.

'No, go away.' John said bluntly. His hips buckled slightly, enough for Sherlock to feel it.

'You're lying, do you not think I can tell when a man is lying, it's my job for God's sake.'

'Stop it.'

'No.' he tilted his head.

Sherlock pushed John against the counter, hurting him slightly.

'Admit it, you find me attractive.'

'I'm not admitting anything, get off me.'

Sherlock pushed harder.

'You're starting to annoy me Sherlock.' John said as calmly as he could.

'Good, I like angry sex.'

'What did you just say?' John spat.

'I said that I liked angry sex.' Sherlock repeated impatiently, lowering himself so their eyes met directly. John wasn't entirely sure if he liked the darkness Sherlock's eyes had taken on, it was too sinister but oddly beautiful.

The thought of Sherlock angry made John hard. He cursed out loud. 'I'm not gay!'

'Yes, I can see that.' Sherlock said sarcastically, feeling John get gradually closer.

'Oh God.'

'See I knew it, I make you horny, submit.' Sherlock grinned.

'I was in the army, I don't just 'submit'.' John spat, saying the words with less enthusiasm than he'd hoped to. He could feel himself slipping.

Sherlock looked at him, determined and lustful, a dark smile playing on his lips, a look which soon turned into his infamous puppy dog eyes.

'No don't do that.' John reasoned. 'Im just...'

'You know what, fine I admit it.' John sighed, shaking his head. 'I give up, there's just something that you do Sherlock and I think you made me gay, but i'm not sure that's even pos-' he gasped.

Sherlock's hand had reached towards the hard bulge that had formed underneath John's trousers and he flinched causing Sherlock to move his hand away.

'Please don't resist it John.' Sherlock soothed, running the other hand through John's short hair.

'I won't.'

'I don't trust you.' Sherlock half smiled, distrust evident. He grabbed both of John's hands with his and stroked his knuckles.

'You have very soft hands John.'

He made his way behind John and forcefully pulled his arms behind his back, police arrest style, and turned his head to kiss John's neck lightly.

John groaned slightly.

'Interesting, dominance is a turn on for you.' Sherlock said, noting another level of arousal wash over John. He'd have to write that down later, or make a spreadsheet of some kind. It could be his new hobby. Sherlock was already enjoying himself.

'It'd seem so, yes.' John replied, looking down at himself, slightly disgusted that he was acting like such an idiot and that he couldn't control himself.

Sherlock pressed himself closer to John, his front against John's back. He leaned into John's ear.

'So John Watson, what do you want from me?'

'Don't be a tease Sherlock' John warned, finally glad of having all his sexual frustration and his thoughts leave his head. Sherlock lifted John up on to the counter, John's legs wrapped around Sherlock's body, and kissed him. A shy innocent kiss, filling John's stomach with the butterflies that he thought had gone back to their cocoons a long time ago. Sherlock's light eyes darkened, all innocence leaving the room right there and then. He pressed John as far back as he could go, cupping his cock through his trousers and grabbing him, watching his eyes close and feeling him go hard all over.

'Bedroom.' He whispered into John's left ear. John felt Sherlock's erection pressing against him, and it just made him all the hornier. All he could do in response was whimper slightly.

He let go of John and stepped towards the door, opening it without a word, his usually pale face slightly flushed.

As John entered into Sherlock's room long fingers smacked his buttocks and Sherlock winked at John whilst he took a moment to realise he was about to have sex with his flatmate. A man he'd dreamed about, and…wanked about once, not that he'd admit that to anyone. Sherlock probably knew he did it anyway, noting John sneaking off and locking doors behind him, then coming out five minutes later with red cheeks and a guilty look on his face. The fuel for his masturbation was often someone dominating him, consuming and conquering him, John whimpering for them to do bad things to him, and those thoughts got him off so quickly. Sherlock knew now.

John had only been in Sherlock's bedroom a number of times, and it didn't look any different, everything was exactly where it was the last time, no hint of any changes. It was cool, a light breeze swirling through the open window, which Sherlock closed. The room smelt of him, the only words to describe the scent being dark and heavy. It smelt of under the cover sweat and incense, the source being a small burner by the window. Sometimes john felt like he didn't really know Sherlock at all.

He didn't have much time to think about the room though, as he was pushed back against the bed, Sherlock's lips catching his, crushing his, into a passionate kiss full of urgency, lust and, and both men couldn't get enough, yet still felt that they weren't close enough to each other. Lips aggressive and demanding. John parted his lips slightly, moaning into his roommates mouth and Sherlock took this opportunity to slide his tongue into his mouth, brushing harshly sending jolts down backs. Hands slid over John, round to his chest, over his nipples. In that moment everything felt so right. John wasn't gay, he knew he wasn't, but having Sherlock's tongue playing with his own felt so normal, and this was the best kiss John had ever had by far even if Sherlock's mouth felt so different from a womans. Right now John didn't give a shit about his sexuality, he just wanted Sherlock Holmes.

John's tongue worked perfectly around Sherlock's and skilled hands worked their way around his body. John stopped for a minute and looked Sherlock in the eyes, seeing a determined lust, and then lifted his jumper over his head, leaving him in the shirt beneath. He dropped the awful jumper to the floor without a word and went back to Sherlock's lips, biting them slightly.

'Fuck.' Sherlock said quietly next to John's lips as he fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, his usually accurate hands somehow too excited for the delicate task in hand. He eventually got them all undone and slid the dark blue shirt over John's shoulders, kissing and sucking along his collarbones as the shirt fell to the floor. His body was firm and tanned from all the military training. John lifted his head revealing a perfect neck, which Sherlock soon got to work on, leaving little marks all over him to claim John as his own.

Sherlock stopped on John's neck and travelled down, kneeling, leaving tiny kisses down john's body. He began to unbuckle the leather belt that was keeping him from what he wanted and, after what seemed like a year to John, pulled down his trousers. Sherlock didn't even need to ask if he could get hard for him.

Johns' cock stood to attention and he ached for Sherlock. John looked down at Sherlock, a begging expression etched on his face.

'Patience.' Sherlock soothed, looking up at John with dark eyes. He grabbed John's hips and traced down his v-lines, before mouthing at his cock through cotton boxers, the art of the tease his aim for the night.

'Oh my God.' John exhaled, almost cumming right there and then just from the movement.

Sherlock slipped his hands into John's pants and wriggled them down painfully slowly until they fell around John's ankles. He cupped John's balls with one hand and stroked his shaft with the other, brushing the soft hair lightly, before licking his tip with his tongue, making John inhale quickly and slam his hands on to Sherlock's shoulders due to the unexpectedness of it all. A distracting hand stroked the inside of his thigh. He pulled up and down John's length, fascinated by the slight reveal of skin as he pushed backwards. He stopped and kissed between John's thighs, sucking as he got closer to John's penis. Sherlock wrapped his lips around John's tip, deciding it was time to play with some teasing licks and hurried flicks. He took John's cock in his mouth whole without warning, taking the head and swirling it with his tongue then moving all the way down, moving up and down it with such force that it took John's breath away, hot and hard. He moaned to himself as Sherlock placed kisses and licked along his length. He'd had his dick sucked by women before, and overall it was pleasurable experience, but with Sherlock bobbing on his cock it was a whole different matter, all the pent-up frustration and lust for his roommate being burnt at once in some huge bonfire. Seeing the black curls around his cock was the icing on the cake. He took John deeper, somehow expertly with closed eyes, knowing what he was doing, John pushing his head back and forth, whilst hips moved to compensate, nails scratching the surface of once delicate skin. John's body trembled, mind flashing with how wrong and right everything was, how dirty it felt to have Sherlock on his knees.

Sherlock stopped, pushing John's hands from the back of his head, revealing John's slick cock, throbbing slightly. Sherlock placed a sweet kiss on his length and took the time to suck the slightly dripping head once more wiping away pre-cum from John's tip with the end of his tongue, letting it linger. He was flushed and yet composed and stoic all at once. John moaned, glad Sherlock had stopped to give him some time to actually breathe.

'Am I any good?' He said breathlessly. Of course Sherlock fucking Holmes needed to be analytical of the way he sucked dick.

'Extraordinary.' John replied, putting a hand under Sherlock's chin and lifting his head up to look him in the eye. 'Fucking brilliant.'

Sherlock barely gave him any time to reply before he got back to work, catching John off guard. 'Fucking brilliant.' He repeated softly to himself.

MY FIRST ATTEMPT AT SMUT, DONT HATE ME.

It would mean a lot if you review!

[edited]