John woke first, feeling a height on his chest and averted his eyes downwards, noticing Sherlock had fallen asleep on him. They had been watching crap telly at the afternoon and didn't even bother to wash their teacups. He felt comfortable like this: Sherlock curled up on his chest with his arms on John's belly and all the expanse of his long, narrow body extended on the rest of John's body. John was suddenly aware of how close Sherlock's hipbone was to touch John's groin. He realized the telly was off; Mrs. Hudson must have passed over here and turned it off to let them sleep. The always sweet Mrs. Hudson. Slowly, John put himself in a sitting position, and this caused Sherlock's head to fall right in his tummy, near his crotch. Sherlock instantly woke up at the sudden movement, and that made him accidentally touch John's groin with his nose.
"Oops, sorry." Sherlock said, and blushed a little realizing what he had just done.
"Nah, it's okay." John answered.
Sherlock looked at the shut down telly. "Mrs. Hudson."
"Yeah. She must have been here and shut it down."
"What time is it?" asked Sherlock, suddenly awared of how much time they had slept.
"It's...nine p.m. Shall we have dinner?"
"Please, John, you're starting to sound like Irene."
John chuckled a bit.
"I take that as a 'no', then?"
"What do you think?" said sarcastically Sherlock, but then added, with a malicious glare in his eyes: "Because I was thinking, that maybe...as I'm not hungry for the dinner, we could...go straight to the dessert..." he blushed a little more, looking so innocent, but approaching John and invading his personal space with security.
John was more than turned on now, and he let Sherlock straddle him and get on his hands and knees. John craned his neck a little and caught Sherlock's lips in a chaste but lingering kiss. Then he kissed him again, with more passion than before, and Sherlock moaned lightly in his mouth. The ex-soldier lifted his right hand and carded his fingers into Sherlock's soft curls. He gently massaged the scalp, and with his other hand, he touched Sherlock's neck. Sherlock shuddered a bit when John moved his thumb across a sensitive spot in his collarbone.
They had never done this before, and John wasn't completely sure this was what Sherlock wanted.
"Sherlock..."
"Uh?" Sherlock asked after ending breathless of kissing John.
"How far do you want to get with this?"
Sherlock stood there, frozen for a few seconds, but then said, a little flustered:
"John, I...I want you to make love to me."
John couldn't believe Sherlock was prepared to have sex. No, not to had sex. To make love. That had a deeper meaning than having sex.
John then resumed kissing Sherlock and asking permission with his tongue to enter Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock eagerly obliged and opened his mouth a bit. John slided his tongue inside and explored Sherlock's wet mouth, the roof of it, and began caressing the other's tongue with his own. Sherlock moaned in his deep baritone. John used his own height to pin Sherlock to the other arm of the sofa and caressed the Detective's arm.
"Oh..." Sherlock gasped when John touched him. Oh, indeed. John touched his arm teasingly with just his index finger, and Sherlock let out a shuddering breath.
"Hm, never knew you were that sensitive in your arms."
"Shut up and kiss me."
They resumed kissing hotly for long until Sherlock felt the pressure in his pants unbearable. He looked at John. John saw his pupils were blown wide and he had a beautiful blush creeping up his face and neck. What would that neck taste like?
He lowered his head to Sherlock's neck and licked his throat.
"Ah!" John found he liked Sherlock moaning, so he would do everything possible to hear those beautiful sounds. He bit Sherlock's neck hard on his side and saw the mark it left. That would teach everyone Sherlock was his. Only his.
"Only mine."
Sherlock was dying to relieve the pressure in his growing bulge. "John. John, I'm, u-uh..." He looked down at his own groin to let John know. John understood and lifted himself off Sherlock. He offered his hand to him to help him lift himself up.
"Bedroom?"
"Yes, please."
They reached Sherlock's bedroom stopping to kiss each other with bruising kisses; they couldn't get his hands off of each other. Once they approached the bedroom, John slammed Sherlock on the wooden frame that was the door and kissed him hard in the lips. Then he closed his lips around Sherlock's tongue and began sucking it, giving Sherlock the impression it was other part of his body. He moaned. God, John was sucking his tongue...
John teasingly touched Sherlock's chest, then his waist, then his hips, and then...stopped before he could reach the Detective's groin, leaving the other with wanton gasps.
He then kept kissing Sherlock, and without getting off each other, he guided them both to the bed. Sherlock, not noticing they had moved, too lost in the sensations of John's lips, hit the back of his knees with the bed's side and fell onto the matress with John on him. John lifted himself on his arms and knees and devoured Sherlock with his gaze. Sherlock felt exposed, and they didn't start undressing yet. He kissed John to distract him a little, while he started to sloppily unbutton his shirt, the purple shirt of sex, with trembling fingers, and John deleited himself with the sight of Sherlock's pale skin. Once Sherlock finished undoing his buttons, John helped him get of the piece of cloth. They both took off their shoes and socks. Then John lowered his head and made a trail of kisses from Sherlock's neck to his sternum, then got to one side and licked his nipple.
"Ah! J-John..." Sherlock moaned, feeling lost in the sensations.
"So beautiful..." John said. Then he bit and sucked on the little nub of flesh.
Sherlock tried not to shout, so stifled his moans biting his lip.
"Don't do that, I like hearing your moans."
The younger man did as told, and let out a series of moans of pleasure -and curses, too.
"Fuck..."
John slided his hands on the man's crotch, massaging gently the erogenous zone there.
"O-Oh, John..." Sherlock thought he could come just from this, but restrained himself to last long.
"Can I?" John asked, when he was about to undo Sherlock's trousers' button and fly.
"Y-Yes..."
John slowly, very slowly, started undoing his button, then lowered down the zipper and cupped the Detective's manhood in his hand, still covered in the black boxers fabric.
Sherlock let out a shuddering breath and arched his back on the bed.
John experimentally licked the fabric which contained the so sensitive flesh under it. Sherlock let out a long moan and turned a dark shade of pink at being touched in such an intimate manner, and such an intimate zone. Then John lowered down and took off Sherlock's trousers completely, leaving him only in his underwear.
Sherlock tried to cover himself in embarassment, closing his legs and putting his hands on his own chest. He blushed deep red and pressed his cheek on the pillow to avoid looking at John's face.
"Oh, love...there's nothing to be embarassed about. You're beautiful." He gently caressed Sherlock's knees, encouraging him to open his legs, which he did, if not with a lot of shame.
John cupped his cheek in his hand and made him look at him.
"Sherlock...look at me."
Sherlock did and saw all the lust in John's eyes. John kissed him, making him relax.
"John...," Sherlock said once they parted. "why are you still dressed?"
John laughed and got off the bed. He started taking off his own clothes, doing it slowly to give Sherlock a show. Sherlock licked his own lips when he could see John's chest uncovered. Maybe John was short, but he was very well-built. He could see the bullet wound in his shoulder. Then John took off his trousers, ending pretty much like Sherlock, with only his underwear on.
Sherlock was now almost drooling at the sight of John almost naked. Slowly, John approached an expectant Sherlock on the bed and got on his hands and knees once again. Then he kissed him with lust and passion, and Sherlock just forgot the whole world existed. He lost himself in those lips, that mouth, that tongue. They stroked each other underneath their boxers, groaning at unison. John touched the tip of Sherlock's prick with his thumb, making Sherlock loose control and go wild, moaning nonsense.
John hooked Sherlock's pants with his thumbs.
"Okay?" he asked Sherlock, before he could go further.
"Yes..." Sherlock barely got to say, lost in pleasure.
John lowered down the last piece of cloth from Sherlock and took it off, making his member spring from it free. Then he saw Sherlock's body in all its expanse, free from any clothes. His cock was uncircumcised. He had a gorgeous flush that went over from his face to his neck and chest, making a stark contrast with his very pale skin.
Sherlock stayed there, too overwhelmed to think of anything, and put his hand on his forehead. He was almost in fever with the sensations.
John took off his own pants revealing the more than considerable size of his own member, and suddenly Sherlock's throat went dry. He could already imagine it pounding inside of him...
He made an involuntary groan at the thought.
The ex-soldier, from his position over Sherlock, could see the arousal in his eyes. He wanted so badly to give him what he needed, so he took Sherlock's manhood in his right hand, which earned him a gasp, and started stroking it agonizingly slow. Sherlock made wanton whimpers and pants, and was rewarded with an increase in the speed of the strokes. Suddenly, John stopped. Sherlock was a little confused until he felt the hottest moisture surround his member, and almost shouted in ecstasy. John was sucking his cock. John teasingly licked the tip of his penis, which was almost enough to send Sherlock to the edge. Then he continued taking the whole of Sherlock into his mouth.
The detective involuntarily thrusted his hips, and he felt that if John didn't stop what he was doing, he would come right there.
"John...wait, s-stop, or I'm g-going to..."
John quickly gave Sherlock's prick's base a squeeze, which earned him a pained whimper, and then quickly drew his mouth off.
Sherlock was just a few seconds from losing it. He wanted so much to be relieved of his state. His breathing was ragged, and the heat in his groin was killing him. John seemed to understand and kissed him again, distracting Sherlock, while he grabbed the bottle of lube inside the night table drawer. He tucked the lid open and poured a generous amount in his hand and in between his fingers. He patted Sherlock's legs open with his other hand, and with his lube-coated hand, he teasingly touched Sherlock's entrance. Sherlock jumped a little at being touched in the most intimate part of his body.
"Joh-hn..."
"Try to relax, love, and it won't hurt."
"And, if I d-don't relax?"
"Not going to lie, Sherlock. It will still hurt a bit, but just for a little while. Then you'll enjoy it. Okay?"
"Yes, please..."
John took it as his queue and slowly pushed his middle finger inside him to the first knuckle. He then pushed all the way inside and waited for Sherlock to get used to the feeling. It felt weird at first; it didn't hurt, but it was quite uncomfortable for Sherlock. John moved his finger in and out in slow trusts.
Then John introduced another finger inside Sherlock. Now it was starting to hurt a little. Sherlock squirmed in the bed, waiting for the pain to go away, but finding he was rather starting to like the feeling of it. John kissed him hard, using it as a distraction, and Sherlock relaxed further, and kissed him back. John then slowly entered a third and last finger. It then hurted a lot for Sherlock, who broke the kiss and made a pained whimper. As John stretched him further, he lazily stroked Sherlock's cock to give him pleasure. He grabbed the bed sheets tightly, waiting for the pain to go away while moaning curses. After a few moments, he relaxed and it didn't hurt much anymore. John scissored his fingers, trying to stretch him wider, and then thrusted his fingers, finding Sherlock's sweet spot.
"Ah! John, right there a-again please!" John had found his prostate. He knew it would drive Sherlock insane. He did it again, trying to find the same spot, and Sherlock arched his back and moaned loudly. He fucked himself onto John's fingers trying to feel the same sensation again, which he did. "John!" Said man started rubbing the bundle of nerves inside him instead of prodding it, and that made Sherlock see stars and shout obscenities.
Once John thought Sherlock was stretched enough, he withdrew his fingers, as not to overestimulate him, leaving the Detective gasping and clenching around nothing. Sherlock had sweat on his forehead and his hair was messy and it was just perfect. John thought he could come just from watching him like this, all blushing and gasping.
He considered for a moment if he should use a condom, but then dismissed it as it wouldn't let him feel Sherlock wholly on his first time, and vice versa.
"Sherlock, I'm...clean. I got the tests a while ago."
"Y-Yeah, me too." Sherlock got to say.
He grabbed hold of his own aching dark pink member, coated it with the remaining lube, and positioned himself to direct it to Sherlock's entrance.
"Sherlock, love...I'm going to enter now, okay?"
Sherlock couldn't do so much as nod, given the state he was in. John smiled and started slowly pushing just the head inside. Damn, it hurt. Sherlock pressed his eyes shut and clawed his nails on John's back. John took his time to get Sherlock used to the feel, even when he was desperately in need of release for his aching cock. Once Sherlock relaxed further, he slided inside a little more, very slowly, and then got inside to the base of his penis. Sherlock was in a lot of pain, damn it, a tear rolled down his cheek. His eyes were clenched shut, and so were his teeth. He was shivering, for God's sake. John kissed Sherlock tenderly, shedding the tear away, and caressed his trembling body.
"Shh, it will go away soon, I promise." John said it with an Herculean will not to pound into that precious body. But he knew better than to do that. It was Sherlock's first time. He wanted everything to be perfect for him and to make him remember this as a rather good experience.
"O-Okay."
He kissed him again, and played with their tongues. Sherlock relaxed and stopped trembling a little. He carded his fingers through John's short hair, and John did the same to his. Then John did the thing with his mouth Sherlock loved, in which he sucked Sherlock's tongue, and the Detective almost melted to this.
"I'm going to start moving now, yes?" John said so tenderly.
Sherlock nodded, and grabbed hold of John's shoulders.
John slowly pulled back and out, and then thrusted inside again. Sherlock moaned loudly, not knowing if from pain or from pleasure, but he tried to think of the latter, tried to transform the pain in pleasure. His pupils almost covered the entirety of his irises. John was in the same state.
Then John thrusted back and in again, a little faster. Sherlock pressed the side of his head against the pillow to muffle his screams of pleasure. He grabbed the bed sheet tightly, until his knuckles were white, and arched his back. His chest was heaving fastly.
John couldn't believe the beautiful sight that was Sherlock in this state. He wanted to keep that image in his head forever to never forget it, the very first time he and Sherlock made love. Then he began thrusting a little faster, and found the spot that made Sherlock see stars.
"John! Ple-ease, do that again!" Sherlock begged, his breathing going in and out very fast and his heart pounding at a high rate.
John thrusted his hips again, doing a snap when his hip collided with Sherlock's, and that was what made the Detective go crazy. It made a sinful sound of skin-to-skin slapping together. He angled his hips in a different angle, and pounded again, fastly, hitting Sherlock's prostate in every thrust. Sherlock was now almost screaming with pleasure. He grabbed the headboard of the bed behind him, trying to stay stable, and circled his legs around John's waist, encouraging him to go faster. A tear of pleasure rolled down his cheek. John groaned and howled with pleasure, and found that he was going to come now, his thrusts all fast and maddening and sure Sherlock was going to be feeling it for days. He wanted them both to come at the same time. He grabbed Sherlock's member and stroked him fast, and his thrusts became erratic. Sherlock arched his back on the bed, screaming at heaven, while white hot pleasure surrounded them both as they both came, Sherlock hard in strips of come on his chest and John inside him, filling his very core.
Sherlock almost passed out from pleasure, and came back to his senses when he felt the weight of John's heaving body on him. He couldn't support the weight of his body anymore so he landed on Sherlock's body. He quickly rolled to the side, as not to take the breath out of Sherlock. He carded his fingers through Sherlock's curls and looked at him. Sherlock looked at him back. They both smiled breathless. He felt the hot come from John leaking through his ass and out from it, wetting the sheets on which they both where, but found that he didn't have the will to clean it. Then they fell asleep, not caring about cleaning themselves, with John curled around Sherlock, with a hand around his waist.
The next day, they were at Scotland Yard for a case Lestrade had called them for. They were both standing side by side (Sherlock barely on his feet, given that his legs were rather wobbly), giving themselves not so subtly glances, while Lestrade explained them the situation of the case. While on it, a lot of people from the team of Scotland Yard were staring to Sherlock, to which he didn't understand why for. Then he realized. To his neck. They were staring to it. He had forgotten to put on his blue scarf in the rush of coming out of 221B, and now John's lovebites and hickeys were completely visible for the public to see. Sherlock blushed, a little a bit embarassed, but with a huge feel of proud of silently telling everyone that he was John's, and that John was his. John noticed and didn't say anything, although there was a slight twitch from the corners of his mouth threatening to give way to a smile.
FIN