It had been a warm and breezy summer day, comfortable and somewhat unusual for London. Sherlock had been locked up in the house all day reading. John, on the other hand, had been out all day. He took a walk in the park and went to the grocer. It was a pleasant day out; he enjoyed the birds singing, the sun shining. He had text Sherlock numerous times, all to the effect of:
Beautiful day. Wish you were here. -JW
Got to read. Maybe another time. Or not. -SH
John was getting incredibly frustrated, mostly because everywhere he went, he saw one thing: couples. Gay, straight, young, old. And John was getting jealous. And that's why he decided tonight, he would get into Sherlock's pants.
He bought cologne and a new shirt, and went home to Sherlock, who was on the couch reading.
"Get your going-out clothes on, Sherlock. We're going out."
"Why?"
"Because," John tried to explain. "We never do. You're incredibly introverted and anti-social, and for as much as I love you, I hate you."
"What? You...hate me and...what?"
"I'm...sorry. That came out wrong." He could feel his face getting red and hot. Sherlock saw the tears filling his sparkling blue eyes.
"Don't cry. Please, John, please don't cry. We''l do out, all right?"
John looked up at Sherlock like a small child; weak, innocent, and searching for someone to shelter him. But behind that young facade, there was a man on a mission to get what he wanted.
That night, they went to the local pub to have a few pints and make small talk, which was going rather well. John loved watching Sherlock's eyes turn from green to blue when he was frustrated, and becoming flecked with gold when he laughed. But John realized he wasn't Sherlock drunk enough, so he ordered up a few shots for the both of them. And they got slammed. Well, mostly Sherlock got slammed, and eventually decided to get home. During their walk home, John and Sherlock held hands and talked about their still-celibate relationship.
"Sherlock, we've been living together for over a year. We both know we love each other, so why haven't we done 'it' yet?"
"Because, John. I don't know how. Who would want to do it with someone like me?"
John stopped. "I would. I would right now. Sherlock, you are the greatest man I have ever met in my entire life. And don't you forget that, mate." They kissed there in the street, and John suddenly pushed Sherlock into the alley and against the wall. Their tongues danced with each other as their hands felt and groped around. John got down on his knees and slowly began pulling down Sherlock's pants zipper. He pulled down both his trousers and underpants, exposing his bulging manhood. "Are you sure you're ready
for this?" John asked.
"Yes, John. Please. I am ready."
John took Sherlocks entire cock in his mouth, sucking hard and fast. He kissed and flicked his tongue around the head, all while his hands were massaging Sherlock's balls. "Oh John...oh yes...oh god John." Sherlock moaned under his breath. John was completely immersing himself in the experience of pleasuring Sherlock. It was what he had been waiting for. "John...oh John you're going to make me cum!" Sherlock cried. His body erupted with pleasure, sending his sweet juices into John's mouth, which he swallowed happily.
Sherlock pulled up his trousers, took John's hand, and led him to their flat. "Come along, John. We have some fun to have at home."
