Disclaimer: To my great disappointment, I don't own a thing.
John Watson was humiliated. Here he was, straddling his roommate with a spliff in his hand and an erection in his pants.
He had arrived home to 221B Baker Street only 10 minutes before to find a giggling Sherlock Holmes in the front room.
After casting a skeptical glance about the room, his eyes had caught the sight of his roommate, in hysterics, with a roll of something that obviously wasn't tobacco in his hand.
A thick fog drifted around the apartment, its intoxicatingly alluring smell settling into flat with comfort.
Quickly darting forward and making a grab for the roll of crop, John had had to tackle Sherlock, and had ended up triumphantly smug, straddling his roommate, grasping the probably-not-a-cigar in his hand.
The detective's arms shot upward, and John almost growled "You can't get the fucking cigar, Sherlock!"
The man beneath him smirked, his slightly glazed eyes wrinkling around the edges.
"I wonder what else I can get, John?" Every word Sherlock spoke was accompanied by a wisp of smoke seeping from his pale lips.
Sherlock's hips had shot upward and ground on John's arse, drawing a low groan from the good doctor's lips.
And here we are, with John Watson's pants becoming increasingly tighter.
"Ngggggh…. Sher…. I've stubbed out the bloddy ciga- aaaah!"
At this, Sherlock smiled, the glaze vanishing from his eyes, and ground upon the doctor once more a pushing his jumper up to reveal the belt buckle hiding underneath. He had been planning this for months, since he first caught the medic's sidelong glances and nervous reactions to him.
He didn't know why he wanted to get to John so much.
He'd been enjoying john's company lately, his handsome smile and attractive laugh, the way he knew how to deal with Sherlock, understanding him like no one else could. So, why did he want this so much? To embarrass John? To experiment?
Well, this experiment beat the decay-powered microwave John threw out last week.
He chuckled to himself this time, a low, almost cruel sound, and thrust up again.
"Sher- Sherlock, please!" The man was panting, trying to put up his half-hearted fight even though Sherlock's elegant fingers effectively pinned both of them to one side.
His free hand busied itself on freeing the good doctor's cock, unzipping his fly and pushing his hips up with his own and then retreating, so he could bring the waistband down slightly.
His elongated fingers grasped John's manhood and he let the doctor squirm, before instructing him.
"Buck."
John gaped at Sherlock, mouth quivering with disbelief.
"John. I told you to buck."
When the man in question carried on gaping, sat there on Sherlock's nether regions, the younger man pushed his pelvis upward; forcing John's to do the same.
His member, slick with bitter pre-cum, slid through the hand.
And it carried on like that.
Sherlock's growing erection digging into John's arse, jerking off the older man at the same time.
John's need started to escalate 5 or 6 minutes in, and he began to jerk against the grip wrapped around his cock.
"Haah, nggggh…. Aaaaah!"
Sherlock ruined his trousers looking at John's face like that, erotic release etched into every line as he came.
Pushing him onto his back, the detective unbuttoned his own trousers and undressed John the rest of the way, until he was looking at the man's fully naked form. He had a toned stomach and surprisingly great legs. His cock was lengthy to say the least, but the look in his eyes was frantic.
Sherlock shushed him and, after undressing himself, he pinned the medic's hands above his head.
His unoccupied had slid in between john's pert cheeks and to his arsehole, where he let his fingers linger before entering one at a time.
"Aaaaah , hmmmmm, uuuh!"
Once John had been thoroughly prepared, Sherlock positioned himself.
Panting, the detective slid himself in slowly and threw his head back in ecstasy at the warmth of John's body.
"Aaaaah, John…. H-how does it feel? Nggggh, mmmm…."
John hurt. He hurt and he ached and he wanted to cry out, but it was too much. The feel of Sherlock inside him, the man he had long since pined for throbbing inside of him.
"Get on with it you, ah, you god damned foo-aah-fool!"
And he did.
He nearly completely removed his cock before pushing it back in slowly, getting harder with each thrust, hitting that spot.
He let John's hands go and grabbed his member again, pacing it as he went in and out.
The doctor reached for Sherlock, fingers bruising the flesh of his shoulder, bringing him closer, and kissing him.
It was slow and wet and messy, and absolutely perfect. The detective gasped against his mouth and John entered, exploring, until he roused Sherlock's tongue with his own, sliding it beneath and then gently sucking on the tip.
All the while, their hips pressed against each other at a fevered pace, enticing their climax as they moved against one another, until John came, screaming incoherently.
He murmured softly "…. aaah, lo…. y- uh!"
Sherlock was a few seconds later, and he emptied himself into John's pulsating depths, before collapsing onto him, panting, whispering John's name over and over.
They lay there for a while, with his cock still brushing the sweet spots in John's arse, until they finally retreated into his room, murmuring sweet nothings to each other.