*****Authors Note: Hello, readers! I'm ill and bored and needed some cheering up, so I decided to write some Johnlock smut. That's what this story basically is, but it also has some backstory woven in to it. I hope you enjoy! Please leave a review and comment if you do because they really really help, and I love to hear feedback - good or improvements I need to make. Thank you!*****
"Sherlock…" John muttered as he felt one of his flatmate's hands starting to creep up his shirt. They'd never gone as far as this yet.
Since things had changed, with Mary leaving because of John's sudden epiphany that he was in love with his best friend – finally! – they had only left it to kisses, hugs, hand holding, showing each other the gentle, loving affection that they wished they could have been doing for years. It had only been a matter of weeks since the big "coming out" but John had moved back into Baker Street rather quickly. He definitely didn't want to try and work things out with Mary, and he didn't want to waste any more time where he could be living the way he truly wanted.
His life with Sherlock had been decided for him a very long time ago; thanks to a very nice man called Mike and two lonely people looking to share a flat. John just knew this was right. "Meant to be", as cheesy as it was.
"John." Sherlock spoke with a voice that drove John completely insane. It was low and smooth and slightly breathless, and he felt like he could melt under it. Sherlock's eyes told John all he needed to know; he wanted this; they both wanted this.
John had been wanting to take it this far as soon as he got to be with him, but he didn't know if Sherlock would think they were rushing it, or that he didn't want it to be a sexual relationship. "I consider myself married to my work…"
John lifted his arms so Sherlock could pull his shirt over his head for him, before he got right back to kissing him again.
Everyone knew this was coming some time or another, most people even thought Mary did too. That's why she seemed to have accepted it so quickly and let John go. It turned out that Greg and Mycroft actually had had a bet going with each other, the pricks, trying to guess how long it would be before John and Sherlock came out after they did a few months beforehand.
They were in the living room. John had come up behind Sherlock while he was working at his laptop, at the table, and loosely wrapped his arms around his neck, letting them rest on his shoulders. He had been watching him all night, just watching while he typed away, wanting to go over there and just be near him, touch him, kiss him, like he used to before they were actually together, even though he tried to deny it. But now he could actually follow through with his little dreams, his cravings, so he got up, went over, and placed his lips on the back of Sherlock's neck.
Now they were both standing, Sherlock's arms were around John's waist, finally exploring his skin there, and they had captured each other in a deep, loving kiss.
It wasn't long before it started to heat up, and John's hands started making grabs at the material of Sherlock's shirt, hinting that he wanted it off. God he wanted to see all of Sherlock so badly. Yeah, there had been awkward bedroom and bathroom encounters before this, but obviously that wasn't the same. John wanted to see Sherlock completely bare, underneath him, wanting him, needing him… Fuck, John had to stop thinking like that for now; he was going to get too turned on way too fast.
He pressed himself up against Sherlock, tracing his tongue back and forth over Sherlock's bottom lip, and Sherlock let out a soft moan. John smirked to himself at the good reaction. "Maybe," John muttered as he pulled back slightly from Sherlock's lips, "we should move rooms?" Sherlock immediately nodded to that and grabbed his hand, starting to pull him along into his bedroom.
Sherlock's lips were back on John's as soon as they could be, and he pushed the door shut behind them as he directed John into the room and then over to the bed.
This was living so many fantasies and dreams that John had had in the past, and he regretted so much that he hadn't acted on them until now. He wished he could have accepted himself and not tried to deny his real feelings and sexuality for so many years.
"John, I want this so badly, I have done for a very long time," Sherlock murmured to him as he tried to undo his shirt buttons, but his hands were shaking. For a moment, John tried to work out if it was adrenaline, nerves, or excitement that this was actually happening, but he figured it was probably a mix of all three; the same reason why his hands were shaking too.
"I want you…" Shit. That went straight to John's cock and there was no way he could stop it.
"Get on the bed." John's voice came out weaker than he expected. He couldn't think of a time where he'd ever been this turned on for sex, this needy for it. He could only guess that was a good thing.
Sherlock did as he was told, straight away, which did nothing but make John harder.
Before he got on the bed with him, John tried to quickly remove his trousers, partly to make things a bit easier and swifter, but also for his own comfort. Once he pulled them off – and somehow managed not to fall over at the same time – he climbed onto the bed, straddling Sherlock's lap, who was sitting on the edge of the mattress. "Fuck," John muttered as he tried to carry on where Sherlock left off in trying to undo the buttons of his shirt, "why are there so many buttons?" Sherlock breathed out a laugh before pressing his lips to John's shoulder, over his scar, and softly kissed. John tried to keep his concentration on getting Sherlock's shirt off, even though that was becoming increasingly harder as his flatmate began trailing his kisses down his chest.
Finally, Sherlock's shirt was off, and his trousers weren't long in following.
John was on top of him, straddling him as they shifted more in the centre of the bed now. He was softly grinding himself against Sherlock as they kissed, and the material of their boxers, which were –frustratingly – still on, were creating more friction as they rubbed against each other. "John…" Sherlock whimpered from underneath him and John nodded, pressing his forehead against Sherlock's as he reached down to pull off his own boxers. They had all the time in the world now to tease each other, but it was quite clear from both of them that this time wasn't going to be the time. They were both too needy for this to wait any longer; after all, they had technically been waiting years.
Luckily for the both of them, John had clearly thought further ahead than Sherlock, as he owned a supply of lubricant and condoms, from when he was with Mary, that were handily kept very nearby, in his small cabinet next to now his and Sherlock's bed. They had decided on the first night of living together again that they should just skip the awkward part of sleeping in different rooms again and just share a bed, which was a good thing and a bad thing. Good: John got to be very close to Sherlock and sleep snuggled up next to him; bad: Oh god did it take him a lot of willpower and cold showers to not try to take things further than cuddles and kisses.
As John was opening a condom, and Sherlock took the opportunity to finally remove his constricting boxers before lying back down and impatiently waiting. John moved over the top of Sherlock again as he covered a couple of his fingers in the lube, peppering kisses down Sherlock's body until his got to his dick. John looked up at him, making sure to hold eye contact as he slipped a finger inside Sherlock. Sherlock gasped and spread his legs further apart. John knew what he had to do with all of this, which in a way surprised Sherlock, but also didn't at the same time. Of course John knew what he was doing, he'd secretly seen this happen many times before on the small screen, it didn't take a genius to work that one out.
Soon, a second finger was added, and John kept up the rhythm he had going with the movement of his fingers; slow and steady, but gradually getting deeper, curling. He had Sherlock moaning for him, which was the most beautiful noise in the world, and John hadn't realised just how much he needed to hear it until now. He curled his fingers in a certain direction and Sherlock's moans got louder. Bingo. Just what John was looking for. He even moaned himself at the expression that covered Sherlock's face. God, he needed him. Now.
John slowly removed his fingers from Sherlock and positioned himself further up his body. "John, wait…" Sherlock breathlessly muttered and John stopped what he was about to do immediately.
"What is it? Are you okay?" He questioned, beginning to softly run his hand back through Sherlock's slightly-damp-with-perspiration hair.
"I'm fine, it's just… Remember I'm…" He shook his head. "I'm a little rusty with all this stuff…" John nodded understandably and leaned down to give him a reassuring kiss. "So if I, uh, don't meet your expectations, then I am sorry. I want this to be wonderful for you, I really do."
"Sherlock… I have no expectations. However it goes I'll be happy, trust me. Because I'm with you now, and we have a lot of time to practice," he chuckled and placed another kiss on his lips. Sherlock smiled back. "And plus, this is my first time with a guy, it's going to be different than with a girl, so you've got nothing to worry about, I think it's more me who's rusty in this field." As John laughed again, Sherlock pressed a searing kiss to his lips that wiped his smile completely off his face. Okay then. They were definitely good to go again.
They wasted little more time in getting things started. John got himself prepared before lining himself up, positioning himself, before bit-by-bit pushing himself into Sherlock, making sure that he wasn't going to hurt him. He was placed between Sherlock's legs, looking him in the eye the entire time, which made Sherlock feel like he was going to stop breathing. He gave shallow thrusts, getting gradually deeper each time. His hands were on Sherlock's shoulders, gripping them as he gave the first few gentle thrusts. Sherlock's head was leaning further and further back into the mattress, small groans escaping his throat. "John… John…" He muttered, and John began to speed up. Sherlock wrapped his legs firmly around John's waist, and John pushed himself down so that they were touching as much as they could be.
The rush this made John feel was unbelievable. He was finally getting what he had wanted for so long and he couldn't comprehend how it was actually happening. It was a reoccurring thought in his head: this was actually happening; they were actually doing this.
"Harder," Sherlock commanded from underneath him, which made John snap out of his sappy thoughts straight away. Sherlock's voice was quiet and strained, yet powerful nonetheless.
John was going more forcefully now. He was applying most of his strength to his thrusts, which were growing deeper and deeper, harder and harder.
They were moaning almost in sync now, in harmony. Sherlock's legs were wrapped even tighter around John's waist, and John's hands had made their way to Sherlock's hair and were grasping strands, pulling gently as he fucked him, which Sherlock was enjoying immensely.
They were both trying so hard to keep their eyes open, but it was so difficult. They wanted to keep watching each other, they wanted to see each other's expressions, they wanted to watch what they were doing to each other.
John was thrusting as hard as he could, and was building up a rhythm. He reached down his hand and wrapped it around Sherlock's cock. He began pumping it, so it was matching the rhythm of his thrusts, and so he could take the time to find the right angle of his thrusts to hit Sherlock's prostate.
Sherlock was moaning even louder now than he had been before. John never thought he'd be this loud, but it was a pleasant surprise (and it was probably a surprise to poor Mrs Hudson down the stairs too, but a different kind). Seeing Sherlock beneath him like that with no control over himself, little beads of sweat decorating his skin, needing him, was almost too much for John.
Then Sherlock let out a loud sob after John tried a new angle, and John felt his hand suddenly get more slippery, Sherlock's pleasure coating his fingers. He had to stop for a moment. His breathing was erratic and he was coming so close.
John thrust again once, hard, the same way he did before, and got the same vocal reaction again from Sherlock. He groaned deeply in time with him, before picking up his pace again for one last time, hitting that spot over and over, moving his hand up and down and up and down, as rapidly as he could, squeezing his cock in his grip, his balls slapping against Sherlock's arse, moaning so loudly and so deeply, and no one could tell whose voice was who, they blended into each other so perfectly, and then sobs of "John, John, John", and then a sudden release, and John's hand and his stomach was coated with warmth, and his eyes rolled back as he did the same inside of Sherlock, pushing himself deep inside of him as he did.
John had collapsed on top of Sherlock, panting wildly into the damp skin of his shoulder, and Sherlock did the same into the side of John's head. Neither of them had spoken. They didn't know what to say, if they should say anything.
There wasn't really much need for words, they both already knew what either of them had to say.
Sherlock pressed a kiss to John's head between laboured breaths, and John leaned up slightly so he could see Sherlock's face and his eyes. "I know," Sherlock murmured in response to the unspoken words. "Me too. I always have." A blissful grin spread across his lips and John's expression mimicked it.