Incubas
John…
The deep smooth sound of HIS voice directly in John's ear. John could feel the smirk on HIS lips as they parted softly letting out a slow meaningful moan. Hips pumping, ragged breath, grouping hands, scorching heat. Sherlock. John threw his head back, groaning as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. The pressure he could create between those long slim porcelain thighs was breathtaking. Literally. The more John struggled the harder Sherlock willed his internal muscles to clench John. He had John thoroughly debauched underneath him. Panting, groaning, moaning, arching, flexing, and withering.
S-Sherlock…c-cant…ughhh
Sherlock pulls back not stopping the movement of his lean provocative hips, forcing John to recognize his place. A huff produced between John's lips as he makes eye contact with the Incubas above him. Unruly black curls in a riot on his head, flushed cheeks, plump pink cupid bow lips turned up into a trademark smirk and those eyes. Sherlock's eyes staring intently at John like piercing daggers with accurate precision. Glossed over in lust, Sherlock allows John to see the twinkle of his growing excitement in them. John's handcuffed hands squeeze in a desperate attempt to find something stable as he begins to rapidly head towards the plummet.
Ahhh-Sherlock…g-gonna mmmhh
Sherlock seductively leans forward, tilting his head as his lips faintly make contact on John's burning skin. Only John could understand the torture of those lips, that body, that face.
…cum for me John…I want to see you cum.
Sweating, John snaps his eyes closed, because he couldn't possible bear seeing the triumphant look on HIS face. The accelerating heat. The indescribable pressure. The pleasurable ache. The want. The desire.
…cum John…do it John. Do it now.
And John did. Hard.
John's eyes snap open and looks around frantically. His heart beating a million thumps per second. He's drenched in sweat, his mind racing from the vividly lewd dream.
"Jesus Christ…Not Again."
John takes a few pathetically uncontrolled breaths and wipes the sweat off his forehead. His skin burning from the remnants of the dream. He glances down at the raging erection he has between his legs. This makes the seventh time this has happened this week. And it's only Wednesday. It's been like this ever since he met his new lab partner Sherlock Holmes.
Sherlock is the epitome of grace, genius, intellect, awkward, and a very unhealthy dose of dangerously alluring. John had never felt so entranced by another entity before Sherlock. What's worse (or better depending on your point of view) is that they actually get along. He had been informed that NOBODY had EVER gotten along with Sherlock before. That little information brought pride shining inside of John. He was just beyond happy to have met him. John hadn't made any friends since he moved here besides the rugby team members. Naturally he'd heard the rumors and had been apprehensive when he'd found that he'd been paired with THE Sherlock Holmes. However, after actually talking to him he could easily see where the rumors came from, but more importantly just how easily most of Sherlock's antics where misconstrued.
The point is that John can't get enough of him. Except there was one problem. The closer he gets to a deeper bond of friendship with Sherlock the more he can't help but admire his unique individuality. To put it shortly: John admired Sherlock, and not just in the friendly sort of way. Every time he nods off in class, every time he goes to bed, every time he takes a quick nap John see him. It won't stop. Sherlock has found his way into John's subconscious mind just as much as his conscious mind.
"Jezz, I've gotta do something about this."
"About what?"
An immediate gasp forces though his lips as John's head snaps into the direction of the familiar new voice inside his bedroom. John's mother stands at the door glaring at John with curiosity etched all over her face. John immediately emits a relieved sigh If it had been Harry she would have never let him live down a morning wood.
"er nothing mum…"
There was no way in hell John was going to get let his mother see his predicament. She still believe John was "innocent", believe it not given that fact that John was a 17-year old teenage in his 12th year of high school. However, John wasn't going to do or give away anything to reveal otherwise. He was used to being the expected goodie-two-shoes child. That was his role.
John rolls over slowly and skillfully to reach for a glass of water he had to start putting on the side of his bed for the nights that he woke up unable to speak with a rough throat. John mum shifts at the door assessing her son for a moment.
"Well John if you don't get up you'll be late for school. So hurry up."
John doesn't respond out of the dignity of his unreliable lack of speech. John listens to the hesitation in his mother's footing before she turns and walks away. Once her footsteps fade, John shuffles out of bed and heads immediately to the bathroom for a cold shower. Only one thing on his mind as he jerks off to the crude dream: how the hell was he going to confront Sherlock today…
…```…
John takes a deep breath before walking into Chemistry class. The last class of the day. The only class where he shares the common space with the most well-known student in school. Students, teachers, staff, administration-literally everyone. John walks inside the room to find it full of the usual teenage boys all in uniforms and snarky snobby attitudes. Since he moved here one month ago he'd only gotten into this school based of his athletic scholarship. Since this school was more brain than brawl they were more than happy to reassign him over. The thing is not a lot of people here value the same interests as John. That is until John met Sherlock.
Said person is not looking at John he's too busy scribbling notes down from the board and gently probing a wooden pencil to his head like he does when he's concentrating really hard. John takes in Sherlock's riot ink black curls that are in their usual bedhead form. He takes in the way the school uniform fit perfectly against his lean frame. He watched the faint movement of Sherlock's plump pink lips slowly part, the way his peculiar multicolored eyes that never failed to take his breath away as they scanned over the board. But John especially took in the way his slim body bowed over the table. The way his long legs (that seemed to go on forever) where slightly spread across the lab stools, and the little curve of him perky bum that was slightly elevated over the stole showing off its voluptuousness. Sherlock chose that moment to glance at John. John could only think: Jesus Christ! God Help me.
"H-Hey." John could punch himself at the sound of the slight squeak erupting from his mouth. For Christ sake he was nearly caught ogling his lab partner's sexy-as-hell figure.
"H-Hi." Sherlock says shyly as John situates himself in at their lab table.
Sherlock gulps as he takes in John Watson, his new lab partner. His only lab partner. He was never assigned lab partners simply because either: They left from his "rudeness" "unmatched guienus" or "lack of mannerism". Sherlock never cared however. They were all stupid wastes of oxygen anyway. That was a no-brainer. That is until John Watson. Sherlock had never met someone like him. John is everything he would have never expected. A blond blue-eyed wonder that seems to have fallen unexpectedly from destiny and served fresh to him on a silver platter. John Watson was that type of guy who was good with everybody. Despite all of the "rude" and "lack of mannerism" Sherlock possessed John stayed. He listened, and above all he was empathetic towards Sherlock. Sherlock literally couldn't have seen someone like him coming.
Sherlock watches John out the corner of his eye. John always had the same routine in the morning. Wake up (usually out of breath for some reason) going by the consistently chaped lips he always comes to school with. Combs his hair from the same angle: right to left. Stumbles into his clothes (by the fact that his buttons are always mismatched) and rugby practice before school (by the increased amount of soil from the beginning of the day to Chemistry). Sherlock for some reason could never let anything about John out of his head.
Mr. Crawford their Chemistry teacher walks in and shuts the door just as the bell rings.
"Alright everyone take you seat. We all know that the second big project affecting all of your grades is finally here."
The classroom instantly groans in favor of not wanting to listen to the speech Mr. Crawford has prepared.
"Yes that's right. The Annual Science Fair."
While the teacher trails off John watches Sherlock out of the corner of his eye. When John catches Sherlock staring John passes a friendly smile. Sherlock's lips snap shut and he flicks his gaze away. If John isn't mistaken he can see the flush of pink in his cheeks that wasn't there before. He watches as Sherlock shifts nervously in his chair. John scratches his head and turns back to Mr. Crawford.
"You will do the assignment with your assigned lab partner. You can do this project on the following theme: Chemistry of the Human Body."
When Mr. Crawford is done talking everyone turns to their lab partners to discuss what they are going to come with. John clears his throat and turns to Sherlock who is now fidgeting and rapidly tapping his foot.
"Sherlock, are you alright?"
Sherlock looks at John with what looks like a shy face. John takes note of the way his beautiful eyes bounce around his face. Sherlock takes note of how intensely John returns his gaze. God please stop looking at me like that John. You can't possibly expect me to okay with you near me. Sherlock thinks desperately, trying to concentrate on anything but Johns sparkling blue eyes.
"umm yes, fine."
"Do you want to do something specific?" John says taking the rubric from one of the boys that where passing it around the classroom. Sherlock clears his throat.
"um no you can choose."
John smiles his most dashing smile causing Sherlock's cheeks to brighten just a little bit more. Oh God why does he have to be so…soo… Sherlock didn't even have the words to describe John. And that is definitely a first in his book.
"Great!... Do you want to come over tonight?"
John doesn't miss the slight widening of Sherlock's eyes, before he looks away. John had never seen Sherlock so demure with anyone before.
"Or we could go to my house…If you want."
John noted how hard it must have been to get those words out. He'd remember Sherlock telling him immediately after they met that he'd never had friends before. John takes this offer as Sherlock trying to make a friendship instead of what his mind wanted it to be: a free invitation.
"Sure. I've got nothing on later."
Oh God! I just invited THE John Watson over to my house. What the HELL was I thinking…I can't believe he said yes. Sherlock can't help the face splitting grin nor could he prevent the heated blush that rose to his cheeks. The bell rings and they both gather their things together.
Oh God! I'm going to THE Sherlock Holmes' house. I have got to refrain from doing anything stupid! John think chewing slowly on his bottom lip. How do you impress a genius without being smart? That's the question.
Sherlock tries for casual as they turn towards each other.
"Ready to go."
"Ready when you are." John says trying to prevent a lopsided grin etched onto his face.
