John Watson couldn't believe it. He just couldn't. It had all started with that damn milk. Damn wonderful milk.
It had been a year since he and Sherlock had, well, he supposed they were a couple. Sherlock had told John he loved him. John had said it back. They had continued living together, their relationship only changing slightly. Now, in the morning, John usually found himself wrapped up inside Sherlock's miles of thin limbs. They hadn't really done much, in the standards of relationships, in fact, kissing and cuddling was about it. Not that John was complaining, he was after all, dating Sherlock Holmes, the most brilliant man on the face of the Earth.
But now, now this was different. John had opened up the flat door to a very naked Sherlock who was standing in their kitchen, bent over to find the milk in the small refrigerator. After a shocked gasp and a few seconds of noiseless whines, the doctor found himself choking out his boyfriend's name with very little coherent thought. The pale white spine before him stiffened and Sherlock had smacked his head on the fridge, trying to make an escape back to his room. "John, John, what are you doing here, you weren't supposed to be home until-" Now Sherlock was just babbling, which John somehow found incredibly hot. "Sher- Sherlock, I'm sorry, oh Jesus, uh…" Embarrassed as his boyfriend, the smaller man found himself with quite a problem. He stiffened, trying not to draw attention to himself, hoping Sherlock would just scurry away and pay no mind. But of course, such was his luck.
"John… John you um…" "Yes Sherlock. I am aware." "… I did that?" A tone of curiosity crept into the thin man's voice, making his eyes glitter suspiciously. "Yes Sherlock. You did. Now can we please… Let this go?" John gritted his teeth, staring at the ceiling and evening his breathing. His eyes flew back to his love as the other man made his way closer. "But… I don't want to, John."
Sherlock's usually crystalline eyes were ringed with something darker, his pupils slowly growing. John whined before stopping himself, "Sherlock, we can't, I don't want you to be uncomfortable, I won't-" "Uncomfortable? Why would you think that I would be uncomfortable? I thought you were uncomfortable." The babbling was back, and John found himself tensing. "Slow down, calm down. What do you mean, I was the uncomfortable one? I… I've always… Wanted you." John found himself drawing it out, not wanting to pressure the taller man before him.
Sherlock inhaled before him, his eyes still filled with something indescribable. "I have felt… Similarly. However, in light of our current problems, I believe this conversation can wait." John wrinkled his brow, daring a glance down and gulping. Suddenly, he was against the door and Sherlock's heated skin was under his and his chapped lips were against his and John was making a high pitched whine before he could stop himself. At the small noise, Sherlock's breathing hitched, and John felt slim fingers pushing his shirt up. "Bedroom. Now." John commanded, stripping his shirt off as he went. Sherlock bounded after him, his usually alabaster skin flushed.
Once the couple reached John's bedroom, clothes began littering the room. "John, this- damn- jumper-" "Here, here, let me." The two men danced across the bed, long legs intertwined with short ones. Sherlock was the first to break, his tiny squeal when John ran his hands down his sides. 'Sherlock, are you okay? Should I slow down?" John felt guilty now, his hands back up in the safety zone of his boyfriend's shoulders. "No- oh- no, don't stop, please-" Sherlock was nearly begging him, every syllable shooting straight to John's cock. John's hands moved forward, and he slowly began rolling one of Sherlock's nipples between his deft surgeon's hands. Another loud moan broke from his lover's lips, John watching in amazement as the revered Sherlock Holmes arched his back and shivered under him. Kissing his boyfriend slowly, he slid his hand down the other man's stomach, smiling softly into their kiss at the fine dusting of hair there. Suddenly, Sherlock's hand was an iron vice on his arm, his blue eyes completely blown. "John, I need, can you please-OH GOD!"
Smirking, John slowly pumped his fist along Sherlock's cock again, rubbing his thumb over the tip. Suddenly, the detective was screaming something unintelligible into a pillow, hips thrusting into John's hand erratically. His mouth hanging open, the doctor moved back up the bed to where his boyfriend was shaking, head buried in a pillow. "Sherlock… Look at me…" he whispered, in awe. "I- I can't." "Can't or don't want to?" Sherlock didn't answer, his ears burning pink through a mess of curly hair. "That was really hot." John stated, kissing across the bony shoulders in front of him. Sherlock shivered, shrinking into the contact. "I didn't mean to… You know." the other man whispered back, turning his head sideways in the pillow as John reached for the night table. "Scream my name into a pillow while I was wanking you?" "Well… Yeah."
John ghosted his breath across Sherlock's back, debating what he was about to do. Fuck it. Literally. He opened the bottle of lube he'd grabbed while Sherlock was talking, the slight click rather ominous. He felt the eyes of his lover on him, and a small moan broke from the thin man as realization hit him. "John, oh please God yes, please." Sherlock kissed John fiercely, and John felt the other's desperation burning through. Slicking a finger up, the doctor pushed against Sherlock's entrance slowly, watching the beautiful face of his love for any pain. "This might be uncomfortable, tell me if- OH!" John's mouth hung open again as Sherlock fucked himself on John's finger, tiny breathy moans escaping him. After a second of shock, John responded enthusiastically, meeting Sherlock's thrusts with his own.
As Sherlock arched his back gorgeously, his now uninterrupted cry echoing around the room, John felt his dick grow even harder. Moaning against his boyfriend's shoulder, he slowly slid another finger in, scissoring the lovely heat of his lover's ass. "This is so much better, oh God John, so much better-" "Better? Sherlock, do you… Have you done this to yourself?" John was again at a loss, two fingers buried inside of his love. Sherlock opened his mouth to reply, but instead a piercing scream came out as John pushed his fingers in farther. Satisfied that medical school had taught anatomy well, he began easing another finger in, brushing his fingertips against Sherlock's sweet spot every so often.
John was achingly hard now, his weeping cock pressed against Sherlock's thigh. He watched in pure desire as Sherlock's dick twitched in every sweep of John's fingers. "Now, now, now, John fuck me now-" After a few lovingly placed bites to Sherlock's collarbone, John replied with his lover's request. Pushing the tip of his cock against Sherlock's opening, he felt the other man tense and relax, trying to control his cries. "Please, Sherlock, I want to hear you…" John pleaded, stroking the soft curls of his boyfriend. Sherlock pushed his hips down, and John wheezed at the sensation, struggling not to come then and there as Sherlock drug his name out.
After another wailing moan from Sherlock, John found himself balls deep in the most amazingly tight heat he'd ever felt. Pulling out and slamming flush again, John shivered as his name was screamed into his shoulder. Definitely the hottest thing he'd ever heard. A few seconds later, the two lovers had set up a frantic rhythm, John panting as Sherlock's wailing cries reverberated around their room. "Sherl- oh Jesus, Sherlock I'm not going to last," John cried, his own voice breaking as he felt short nails digging into his back. Suddenly, ice blue eyes were focused on his, and a steely tone came from the man beneath him, "Come for me, John. Come in me. Please, fill me up." Three thrusts later, John was spurting warm liquid into Sherlock, who immediately bucked at the sensation, before covering John's stomach and his own in sticky semen.
Resting his forehead on Sherlock's, John breathed out slowly, trying to calm his racing pulse. Pulling out of his lover slowly, John rubbed the taller man's shoulders as he whimpered. "Sherlock Holmes, I love you." "And I you, John." "That's… Nice." "Yes, it is." John felt Sherlock's smile in his tone, and shivered as the chill of the room began to sink in. "Sherlock, can we take a shower?" he asked, knowing the detective would deduce his real motives and agree anyway. "Of course, John."