Mock the Man
Sherlock and John were sitting on the floor, their back's against the sofa, in the front room of 221B Baker Street. Sherlock was in hell as John was enthralled in a T.V programme, Sherlock was booooooooooooooooored.
Before he knew it he had his lips firmly purchased on the neck of his boyfriend, he was trying his best to make the world's reddest love bite as he sucked and sucked at the skin that was captured in Sherlock's mouth.
"No! Sherlock," John said, pushing his boyfriend off him, Sherlock's lips leaving John's neck at a comical fashion, making a toilet plunger noise as the lips in question let go of the other man's skin.
"Joooooooooooooohnnnn!" Sherlock whined
"No," John replied simply
"But….." Sherlock started
"Sherlock! You've had me all day to yourself and when I'm preoccupied you want me. Let me watch this and then we can do something then-" John started angrily
"But I can't wait!" Sherlock crooned as he snuggled closer to his lover, attaching his lips back onto his John's jaw, putting butterfly kisses up and to his earlobe, to which he took into his mouth and started to suck.
"Nooooooooooo," John said, his strength melting, along with his self-restraint. John took hold himself and shook himself back into the real world, he stood up and plonked himself on the sofa. Sherlock saw this as a challenge; of course he did.
Sherlock stood up, stretched, and made it look as if he'd let the urge pass. Then, oh-so-slowly he opened his legs and sat down over John's legs, one legs either side, perfectly blocking all view of the TV. Then turning to John's neck he continued his ministrations, sucking and licking at the doctor's skin, making him close his eyes in pleasure.
"Nooooo.." John moaned, insisting for the torturous love to stop and for Sherlock to stop his persuasive tongue in its operations.
Sherlock said nothing, he just moved his mouth upwards and found that spot behind his right ear, sucking and nibbling gently he let John's groans spur him on.
"No, NO, NO!" John said strongly, making Sherlock pull his head back, his red swollen lips in contrast with his flushed face, high pink blush on his cheekbones, the blush seeping into his chest making his pale, marble skin tinged pink in frustration.
"Please," Sherlock begged, his eyes were simply smouldering
"NO," John repeated sternly
"Fine, you know what fine! The TV is being chosen over me!" Sherlock replied indignantly "Well, thanks a lot!" Sherlock huffed and raised his hands into the air in complete defeat.
John turned to look at him in the eye.
"Sherlock! This isn't just some TV! This is some of the best comedy EVER written! This stuff is utterly priceless," he said "and Sherlock"
"What?" Sherlock shrieked
"You're in the way of the TV," John smirked
Sherlock let out a rush of air from his lips, he was absolutely seething! How dare he!
Sherlock unsaddled himself from John's lap and then straightened his suit to a respectable level, licked his lips and then strode into the kitchen and slid the door closed loudly.
"Childish!" John shouted after him
Silence replied to John emptily, he set his concentration back onto the TV.
10 minutes later
Sherlock was sitting in the kitchen, a case balancing in the rest of his findings he kept his senses on the petri dish in-front of him. The conditions had to be completely perfect, nothing could disturb the air.
Then John Watson slid the kitchen door open quickly.
Sherlock lost his concentration for just half a second and in that time the experiment was, in his mind, deemed completely useless. He sighed, agitated, throwing the petri dish in the bin, he pulled off his latex gloves and binned those too. He turned to John.
"Well done!" he said sarcastically to the other, shorter man.
"What?"
"I assume the dross you were watching has finished, then," Sherlock retorted
"Yes," John replied, as he rolled his eyes
"So, what do you want?" Sherlock said shortly
"Well, as been as you wanted to…y'know….." John said seductively as he stalked closer to his prey, i.e. Sherlock.
His hands reaching out for Sherlock, who didn't reply, only let his lover continue. Dipping his hands in his boyfriends pockets John pulled their bodies closer together, Sherlock could feel John's interest against his leg.
Sherlock let out simply, one word.
"No,"
And with that Sherlock picked up his coat, gloves and scarf and exited the flat, and braved the winter weather, leaving a needy and lust drugged John to himself in the kitchen.
"But you wanted to 10 minutes ago!" John called
The door slamming was his reply.
John Watson slept badly that night.
Sherlock-deprived, lusting uncontrollably and completely and utterly needy.