Summary: John and Sherlock finally make love.
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Sherlock.
Rating: M
Pairing: Sherlock/John.
SHARED DESIRES:
It was night, the flat was quiet, even Mrs. Hudson was deep in sleep. Sherlock pushed John into the door, moved in tight against his companion, and sealing his lips to John's. The man tasted of the coffee he had had that morning; it was addicting. Sherlock plunged his tongue deeper into John's mouth, running it along the top and bottom of John's teeth. John didn't fight him off, didn't push, instead he kissed back and brought his hands up to tangle in his curly black hair. They couldn't stay at the door. Maneuvering them, Sherlock guided John over to the chair, got him to turn. Aggressively he pushed his partner down, made him kneel on the seat. "I want you." Sherlock rasped. He had tried to fight this connection, this desire to Watson; saying that it was pointless, that he had no time to indulge, but no more. Enough was enough. Sherlock had to have him. He had finally reached his breaking point where it came to John.
John gasped; he could hardly breathe with Sherlock pressed so tightly behind him. He could feel Sherlock's hardened manhood pressing into his backside. His heart was beating so hard, so fast that he wasn't sure if it would ever return to normal. John felt Sherlock's right hand, his strong hand, come around shoving down the waistband of his pants; a cold hand gripped him drawing a moan from John throat. Sherlock stroked him, tightening his hand up and down, adding a twist of the wrist, as best he could with the denim of his jeans still in place. "Don't tease me all night." John groaned bowing his spine when pleasure raced through his nerves. Sherlock kissed along the side of his neck, where the collar was pushed down.
Sherlock pulled back from John, turned his companion, soon to be lover, around and pushed him all the way down to the cushion of the chair. He then went to his knees, hooking his hands behind John's knees pulling him closer. Quickly Sherlock kissed John's lips, needing the taste of John on his tongue. Pulling back he set his hands to the belt John was wearing unfastening it, then the button, and finally lowering the zipper. Tonight John wore nothing under his jeans. "How presumptuous," Sherlock scolded with a wicked smile. Then he pulled free the straining erection licking his lips, eagerly he sucked the flushed head past his lips. Sherlock swirled his tongue around John's head sinking down on him an inch at a time.
John tangled his fingers in Sherlock's hair as he went down on him. He arched his back, trying to regulate his breathing. Sherlock definitely had a talented mouth. His tongue massaged the underside of him while his teeth scraped the top of his hardness. John growled tightening his hands in Sherlock's hair. "I'm going to come." He shouted trying to in vain to keep his voice down. John could feel Sherlock chuckling moving up and down on him faster. Inside his shoes he could feel his toes curl, he was close. Sherlock was going to suck him dry.
Sherlock went down on John as far as he could go feeling John's release. He felt the hot ejaculation slide down the back of his throat. Sherlock raised his head to see a happy satisfied smile paint John's lips, but he wasn't finished yet. Getting up he shucked his shirt and then set to work on John's who sat boneless in the chair, in his chair. "Can you get up?" Sherlock asked, his voice low; barely a rasp. John stood up, wavering slightly, but looked him in the eyes. With a small nod of his head, Sherlock signaled for John to kneel on the chair again, hands braced on the back rest. "So much more to come," He teased slowly sliding the fabric of John's jeans down.
John didn't have the strength to turn his head, to see what Sherlock was doing. He heard clothes rustling, the sound of a zipper, and the snap of a lid. His breathing went even more ragged when he felt Sherlock's fingers spread him. A warm gel touched him, coated his skin. He knew what it was and his muscles clenched as soon as Sherlock's index finger slipped inside of him. "Oh, sweet god."
Sherlock leaned over him, slowly stroking his finger in and out, loosening up John's virgin opening. "Relax," He whispered. "Don't fight it." Sherlock advised slipping his second finger in along side the first. Gently he slipped his fingers in and out; timing them with each breath John took. He was eager to take John, to finally give into the desire bubbling through him. "Breathe…" Again his fingers moved inside John enticing the muscles to relax, for his virgin hole to open to him.
John reached back placing his hand on Sherlock's hip. There was nothing he could say in this moment that he couldn't convey with his touch. Sherlock knew what he wanted, knew how he wanted it. His fingers slipped free, a moment of discomfort before he felt the tip of Sherlock's manhood push against him. John cried out with that first initial thrust feeling his sensitive skin parting, swallowing Sherlock inside of him. His fingers dug into the back rest, into the blanket draped over it.
Sherlock chose well in being with Watson, in letting in the sentiment he had so long denied himself. John opened up parts of the world that had seemed trivial to him before. Stretching his long arms around John, he rested his hands over the man under him, lacing their fingers just as he thrust all the way inside of his lover. John's spine bowed, the back of his head resting on Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock slumped over John giving in for a moment, moaning in shear pleasure.
John fought to breathe. There were too many things happening to him. Sherlock had stilled giving him time to grow used to him buried so deep inside. He had never had anything like this happen to him with someone he cared so much about. Everyone around them assumed they were together and now they were. "Move…. Sherlock," John moaned Angling back to scrape his teeth along Sherlock's amazing cheek bones. He cried out, passion clear in his throat. Sherlock had rotated his hips.
Sherlock moved slowly, in and out carefully. He rocked against John, kissing the slight raised knots of his spine. "You… feel…" He gasped thrusting into John, "So… good." Sherlock felt John's inner muscles tightening on him, massaging him. His release wouldn't be far off. Pulling nearly all the way out, Sherlock straightened getting John to straighten too, to have his back pressed to his chest. Sherlock pushed all the way in, slipping his hand down to grasp John's second hard-on of the night. As he thrust he also stroked John's renewed lusting organ.
John was coming undone between Sherlock's hand stroking him again and the hard length powering in and out of him. How had he gone so long with out the touch of this man who saw the world in a different way? "Oh yes, Sherlock!" John cried out freeing his right hand, angling his arm so he could tangle his fingers in Holmes's hair. "Yes! Yes!" He continued to cry out.
Sherlock increased his pace, easing in and out of John. He had to finish this, to bring them, to take them over the edge. In an out, he tried to keep the thrusts measured but even he was faltering. His hips jerked and his hand gripped hard on John stroking up, then down hard to the base. "Come for me John," Sherlock rasped. He thrust once more, hard and fast. His orgasm over took him, he allowed himself to spill deep inside of John. Both men leaned against each other panting and moaning. Sherlock's legs quivered with his arms still around John. He couldn't stand much longer. His strength waned taking them to the floor.
MORNING:
John had stayed up watching Sherlock as he slept on the floor after having a passionate round of love making in the chair of all places. It made him smirk and lightly run his fingers along Sherlock's jaw. He didn't want to wake his lover, not yet, not when the sun had yet to rise. John relished these rare moments when Sherlock was still, when he was doing one thing at a time. He was sleeping and he looked peaceful. Leaning over Sherlock, John kissed the man who had been his flat mate, a man he had some how fallen in love with.
Sherlock woke as soon as John's lips touched his. He never slept deeply, his brain wouldn't allow it. Holmes brought his hand up to cup John's face keeping the kiss going. Their tongues danced together sweetly, lips fusing together. There was still the small flame of ardent passion burning between them, but it didn't demand to be sated, not yet anyway. "Morning already?" Sherlock asked against John's even though he knew it wasn't.
John chuckled, "No, not yet." He answered knowing that it was expected a she ran his hand down Sherlock's bare chest feeling the light dusting of chest hair. It tickled the tips of his fingers. John should be shocked, should be reeling with horror that he had slept with a man, but this was Sherlock. The man could push him to do extraordinary things and push his limits. For reasons he could fathom he was smiling.
Sherlock watched John, studied John as he smiled down at him. Another new experience for him, his heart kicked up a notch just seeing the small smile John had on his lips. It warmed him inside. This was new territory for Sherlock. "Why are you smiling?" He asked genuinely curious.
"Nothing," John shook his head keeping his smile firmly in place. He was smiling because he had stopped lying to himself where it came to Sherlock. Love, desire, wanting; it had all come up on him when he was least expecting it. John was happy to not be fighting the tide, letting himself go with the flow of it. Then he asked, "Do you want tea?" John pulled back and got up off the floor to head into the kitchen trying to walk normally.
Sherlock watched Watson walk away from him. He stayed on his back for a moment fixing his pants, pulling the zipper up and he chose to remain shirtless. Standing up he stretched, felt his shoulders, his back, pop and crack from hours spent curled up on the floor. Then he followed John into the kitchen, showing his long hidden humanity, his normalcy, Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's torso finally secure enough with John to reveal this side of himself. "How about we just go to bed?" He whispered nipping John's earlobe.
John leaned back against him turning off the stove. Without a word he took Sherlock's hand to pull him along down the hall to where his bed was just off the living room. Serveral times he had been in here from when Sherlock would conduct his cockamamie experiments or when he would get so involved with a case that he would pass out in the couch or on the sofa. John would help him back to this bed, but now it would be his turn to spend the rest of the night under the covers with Sherlock. Dropping his hand, John turned and kicked off his shoes, shucked the rest of his clothes so he could climb into bed. Weariness had settled upon him suddenly.
Sherlock followed suit, kicking off his shoes, shucking his pants, all so he could join John in his bed. This would be another new experience for him; sharing a bed with another living human being, someone who wanted to be with him. How had Sherlock come by John Watson? Whatever had steered John his way, Sherlock was thanking the universe right now for it. He had someone who would stand with him when he caused trouble to solve a case. Sherlock smiled at that climbing into bed, slipping under the covers to mold his body to John as the lie face to face. He had never been so happy to be doing just one thing, to allow his mind the time to recharge. Trusting John, Sherlock once again fell into a deep sleep.