How to Win a Doctor's Heart
Setting: Post Reichenbach, Sherlock has been back about six weeks, John has had time to recover somewhat from the shock and both men have been showing small signs of their feelings toward each other. Mrs Hudson is out of town for the next week and there are no cases to work on. John is out shopping and Sherlock is contemplating how to make the first move…
Sherlock is pacing, a little frantically, he's wringing his hands and biting his lip, 'How do I do this? What's the right move?' He thinks 'Damn it I have no basis for comparison.'
He had spent the last few days reading up on erotic fiction, trying to get some idea of what would be expected of him if John was actually interested. 'This is ridiculous, he's straight, he's had a string of girlfriends since moving in here, dull though they were and I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing.'
He heard the door open 'Oh God this was it, time to bite the bullet for good or bad.' Sherlock was surprised at the fact that his heart rate picked up a bit at the thought, he took a deep breath, calming himself and waited for John to get up the stairs.
John always felt so nervous walking into 221B. He felt his heart beating, high up in his chest. Ever since Sherlock came back, he keeps remembering the feeling he had when Sherlock was gone. 'I miss you so much.' Though he felt as if it was something more than just missing Sherlock. It felt different missing Sherlock, than his friends in Afghanistan.
John could tell he had serious feelings for Sherlock. But he was unsure why. 'Why THIS man?' He had never had feelings like this for another man. 'Maybe I'm feeling this, because of the shock he gave me? Maybe I need more time to recover.'
John kept feeding his unusual feelings with doubt and reasoning. But deep down. He could tell. His feelings are real for Sherlock. 'I feel so stupid. Loving another man is just embarrassing. But I do love him.. and I won't be able to love another woman, like I do Sherlock.'
"Got the groceries." John said, not looking at him. He could always feel Sherlock's presence. It was like a natural instinct. He put the the groceries on the dining table, still not looking over to Sherlock, still feeling uneasy about the feelings he had for him.
He tried to distance himself from his thoughts and adverted all his attention to Sherlock, who was standing in the middle of the living room. He looked a bit startled. Lost in his words. 'Gosh, I don't get to see that face every day'. John thought. He loved seeing Sherlock a bit lost. He felt like he was on top of everything, when Sherlock wasn't. He felt dominate.
John smiled slightly at the sight and darted his eyes around as if the answer to Sherlock's confusion was in this room,
"What? What's wrong?"
"…er…John…I…" Sherlock stepped towards him "I…" Oh God why was this so hard, why couldn't he just say it? He searched John's face, for something anything to tell him what he needed to know. What was that? That flicker just then, just as he took step nearer.
"John" He took another step, slightly more confident, very close now, looking down. Is that a faint flush in John's cheeks? Is that a tightness in his jaw, are his hands clasping and unclasping? Am I seeing what I want to see instead of what's really there?
Sherlock took a deep breath closed his eyes and blurted out what he'd been successfully hiding for quite some time. "I want you John." Just like that, straight (haha) forward and to the point. Then his brain kicked in and he realised that John being John might well take that in completely the wrong vein. "And when I say 'I want you'" he carried on blindly "Don't be dense and ask me what I want you for. I don't want you to do something or say something, I want YOU."
He closed his mouth and waited for what? A punch maybe, a slamming door, laughter, indifferent ignorance, he wasn't sure what.
John's heart skipped.. He was staring right into Sherlock's eyes. The intense stare in Sherlock's eyes made him blush, and the words repeated in his mind. 'I want you John.'
He knew exactly what Sherlock meant. But he had no idea Sherlock wanted him!
He was nervous, so nervous. The back of his head felt hot, his checks where burning and his stomach felt like it was floating. 'I'm going to faint.' John thought. John couldn't feel his legs, they felt hollow.
John kept Sherlock's stare in disbelief, even though he had been wishing of this moment for so long.
"You… want….. me?" John said staring into Sherlock's beautiful eyes. The longer he took to admire his eyes the more he blushed. He knew Sherlock could see him blushing, but he couldn't find a way to hide it. Sherlock was still connected to John's eyes, waiting for an answer.
John felt so good. Just knowing Sherlock felt the same way. 'I have to do it.'
He took a deep breath, and tried to find the right words for his mouth.
".. What if I….. wanted you?"
'Oh, god. Why? What now?' After John spoke, his mind started to rush. The silence was uncomfortable.
He watched carefully, hoping that's what, Sherlock wanted to hear.
John just couldn't imagine what would happen next. His mind alert and impatience waiting for Sherlock's response
'What if….what if….what did that mean, that wasn't an affirmation or a denial, that was an oh so typical, irritating, annoying and so ….John…response.' Sherlock held his gaze. 'OK stop focusing on the words and look at him.' He told himself.
John was blushing but his eyes were dilated, so it wasn't from embarrassment, his breathing was a little fast yet he hadn't been exerting himself 'not yet' said a small but insistent voice in the back of Sherlock's head. John was aroused…
Sherlock's mouth opened but he didn't speak, instead he acted on his feelings, something he hardly ever did. He leaned down and kissed John, on the mouth, gently, with his lips slightly parted…
'THUD!' John's heart was beating so heavily. He moaned at the touch of Sherlock's firm round lips. It was heaven. He couldn't take it! His eyes rolled back, closing them and stretched his neck kissing Sherlock back, with such passion it was driving John mad.
"Sher…" John breathed into the kiss. His most deepest desires had come true.
Sherlock gently put his hand around the back of John's neck. John responded by pulling Sherlock by the waist, closer to his body.
"mmm.." Sherlock whined. The front of heir bodies were brushing up against each other, as they got deeper into the kiss.
John leaned over more into the kiss, and inserted his tongue into Sherlock's moist, wet mouth. John and Sherlock moaned together. John was so full of passion and lust, he tilted his head back and arched his body closer to Sherlock, so that his chest was pushing against Sherlocks'.
As they endured everything that was happening with their lips, they explored further with their hands. John's hands went from Sherlock's back, and moved their way down the sides of Sherlock's lower hips.
"mmmmm" Sherlock moaned through his chest.
John loved it when he felt the vibration of Sherlock's moan. He wanted to hear it again, and with out thinking, quickly moved his hands to Sherlock's arse and squeezed them up and out.
"Ahhhhh!" Sherlock yelled. John was very sure Sherlock liked it. Sherlock's yell was unexpected, but hearing it made him feel so good.
Sherlock's lips travelled down from John's mouth, along his jaw and onto his neck, sucking and nipping as he went. "John…" he hummed against his skin, his hands moved up and under John's shirt, running up and over his ribs, then moving around and down his back.
John's skin was flushed and hot, Sherlock straighten up and studied the Doctor's face, his lips were flushed, his pupils dilated. 'Not so straight after all' Sherlock thought and then he realised he must be showing exactly the same signs. His breathing was a little laboured, he was sweating and he knew his eyes were hungry.
Sherlock bent down again and this time he let himself go, he ran his tongue over John's lips and then thrust it into his mouth, pulling him in until they were crushed together from knees to chests.
He suddenly pulled back. "Wait wait…just a moment." He panted. "John you're straight, or at least I thought you were, this isn't some kind of bet with Lestrade is it? You do actually want this?"
John was dazed at what they we just doing and the lose of Sherlock's touch made him ache. He was totally caught up in their act and felt like he was thrown back to earth when Sherlock started to question him.
'Do I want this?' 'Of course I do..' 'But how? Why?'
John was caught up in his thoughts, trying to retain himself from devouring Sherlock, then and there. But he could see Sherlock looking at him anxiously waiting for John's answer.
"I want… this." John breathed staring at Sherlock, hoping that those few little words would suffice. He had no idea how to explain it in the logical way that Sherlock would have. All he knew was, he wanted this more than he ever thought he did.
But words would not define John as wanting Sherlock. He desired Sherlock.
Nodding Sherlock smiles slightly, pulling John back and just holding on to him. Slowly, slowly, need to pace this, need to make sure…Oh God that smell, sandalwood, tea….waited too long for this already, want skin on skin, want hands on me, want eyes, want lips, want, want, want…
Without realising he was doing it, Sherlock found himself unbuttoning John's shirt, parting the halves and running a hand down his chest. Sherlock's eyes followed his own hand stopping at the waistline of John's trousers. He looked back up to the Doctor's face, a little afraid of what he might see there. Would it be rejection, or delight, either held a fear for him, though the latter would be preferable.
The sun was going down outside, it's light changing the colours in the room. Red. Red is the colour of warning; signs, portside lights on ships, traffic signals. Red is the colour of blood, which is, in a way, another kind of warning: stop, you've gone too far, broken the skin, broken a body. Red is also the colour of ripeness, of sexual readiness. Is that why the red sky is considered romantic? Does it remind (potential?) lovers of exposed and engorged genitalia?
John's face in bathed in red, red for warning (stop, danger, blood and pain and damage) and for invitation, sexual readiness (go go go go). I am paralysed between the two.
"This won't be easy for either of us" I watch his face, waiting for acknowledgement.
John was relieved at his response and fell back into the beautiful feeling of being with Sherlock. John felt Sherlock's hot clammy hands against his chest as he unbuttoned his shirt. John watched Sherlock's every move as he undressed him and felt himself shiver a bit. The touch of Sherlock's hands heading down his front stopping at his waist was magical, but a bit frightening as well.
As he felt Sherlock stop, John noticed the scenery had become a warm red from the sunset outside.
'This is amazing.' John thought. The sunset, Sherlock, everything. Everything was just perfect.
The atmosphere the sunset was creating in 221B was extraordinary. It made John feel a mixer of passion, lust, desire and sexual tension. But also another feeling that was unusual to him. The steaming redness of the room made John feel like he wanted to do bad things to Sherlock. Rough things with Sherlock.
John was very confused by this thought, and tried ignoring it. But for some reason the waves of colour made his body furious to hurt against Sherlock's.
John looked at where Sherlock's fingers where positioned just hovering above his belt. He then looked up to Sherlock's eyes and saw as if Sherlock was asking for permission to continue further.
"Do it." John croaked.
That's enough, for now. Sherlock felt a pang of guilt, just for a moment as he slid the leather of John's belt though the loops. Oh God leather belt…I should say something now before it's too late, before I get him into something he's not prepared for. Can't stop now, don't have that force of will …not now.
Sherlock pulls the belt free and finds himself wrapping it around his hand and wrist, too tightly, might give it away, maybe that's for the best. Does John remember the handcuffs? Can he work it out himself? Might not have to tell him, oh that's cowardly really but it's possible, will have to say if he hasn't worked it out and soon.
The button pops open under thumb, zip slides down easily, can't stop, can't… Sherlock pulls John's trousers down his thighs, he kneels, removing John's shoes and socks one by one. Slips off each trouser leg, gently lifting each foot again, then hooks his thumbs into John's boxers and pulls them down too. Oh god, he's hard.
Placing a hand on John's abdomen he gently pushes him back till the backs of his legs touch the sofa. "Sit" he simply says and parts John's knees, filling the space between. Sherlock wraps his long fingers of one hand slowly and carefully around John's erection and starts to stroke. The sound John makes goes straight to his own hard on making him groan in sympathy.
Sherlock leaned forward, bowing his head, like a prayer, and took John's cock into his mouth. Not too deep, not too much just yet, keep it slow. He continued to stroke the length with his hand and licked and sucked around the glans. The movements from John, the noises from John made Sherlock want to make him come. He started to move faster a little more pressure, tonguing the slit, his own moans vibrating into John. His other hand on John stomach, feeling the skin goosebumps under his fingers.
"Sit". John obeyed Sherlock and collapsed to the sofa.
Immediately Sherlock was between his legs, his mouth level to John's hard, aching cock and he began stroking it.
The touch of Sherlock's perfect long fingers made John moan. His strokes where going at such a slow agonizing pace, John wanted to thrust his hips hard into Sherlock's mouth and come all over him. But obviously that wouldn't be fair and tried to resist.
John tilted in head back, closing his eyes and focused on the intense touch of Sherlock's skin, and breathed deeply letting all his senses go wild. Then John felt something warm and moist.
Sherlock was sucking him. His beautiful round lips where rubbing up and down his length, then to his sensitive slit, and started swirling his tongue around in all the right places making John moan louder. 'Ohh, fuck.' John felt Sherlock's low, heavy groan against his cock and it gave him goosebumps. It made his whole body shiver.
Sherlock started stroking him a little harder and faster. John couldn't take all the pressure. He quickly put his fingers behind Sherlock's head and threaded his fingers through Sherlock's hair. 'Fuuuu… far out!' John thought, breathing a lot harder.
"Oh god.. Sherlock!" John shouted. Sherlock's hands where moving faster now, and with a lot more force. John felt he couldn't control his body, the plessure was taking over the movements of his body. John threw his head back, groaning from his throat and pulled hard on Sherlock's hair.
John pulling on my hair nearly sent me over edge, I moaned so loudly, so lavishly. John is not stupid he must know now that I crave the pain. I try to concentrate on what I'm doing, hollowing my cheeks to suck harder. I want him come now, even if it means I have to wait for his attention on me. I move my other hand from his stomach, down to his balls tugging lightly and then further back to that tight knot of muscle. Lightly swirling a finger a there I feel him jolt and I stop for moment waiting to see if he will protest.
He doesn't speak and I can only take this a sign that he is ok. He is pumping slightly against my mouth and his fingers are still gripping my hair. I release his cock for a moment to look up giving him a chance to stop this now but he flushed and breathing hard. His eyes are dark and heavy lidded with desire, much like my own I suspect. I pull my hand back and push him further back into the sofa, then I suck my fingers, making them wet and slick. I take his hot, hard and twitching cock back into mouth, tasting salt. Then I find that tight knot of muscle again with wet fingers and push gently, slowly until it opens just a little allowing me to slide one finger in carefully. I thrust slowly with that finger while I suck on him faster and then, no more than two inches inside, I brush his prostate and my mouth is suddenly flooded.
Sherlock's moan against John's cock, sent vibrations all through his body.
'Sherlock like hair pulling, ha?' John thought, while imagining all the things they could do this evening. John loved the excitement in being hurt. It reminded him a bit of his times in Afghanistan. The amount of adrenaline that ran through his body, along with the loud noises, and the sometimes painful experiences, were a once in a lifetime feeling. It was just wonderful, and so was this.
'Bastard.' Sherlock playing with John's balls nearly sent him over the edge. He sat there for a little while and didn't say a word, he just let his senses take everything in. 'His fingers are just perfect for these kinds of activities.' John thought smirking.
As soon as Sherlock made contact with John's cock again he starting thrusting his hips into that glorious mouth. 'Those beautiful lips are just asking to be fucked.' John thought in the shallow timing of his breathe.
'Ah, fuck.' Sherlock's lips slipped away and John felt he couldn't lift his eyes. Everything was just perfect. Finally he started sucking him again, and pushed him further in the seat. John wanted to pull Sherlock by his messy curls and pump his cock deep down his throat. 'Oh fuck.' But if he did, Sherlock would be mortified and they probably wouldn't do this ever again.
John wanted it rough. He wanted to be rough. Some of the thoughts and feelings that ran through John's mind shocked him, but he so desperately wanted to hurt Sherlock. 'I don't think this is normal. Fuck, of course it's not.'
He wanted to hurt Sherlock in the way that would pleasure him. He wanted to feel the adrenaline that floods your body after you feel that sudden strike of pain, and he wanted Sherlock to feel it as well, and like it.
"Ahhhh" John said breathing in suddenly. Sherlock stuck his finger's inside John. 'You dirty bastard.' John is so close to coming, and his moans are becoming louder.
Only a few a more thrusts of those fingers, and John was swept over with a hot wave of pleasure. The sensation caused his body to thrust forward and pull his hand which was still wrapped in Sherlock's hair towards his cock.
After John re-gained his senses, he realized how forcefully he came inside Sherlock's mouth, and with his hand still in his hair, how hard he pulled. Also how far he thursted his cock down his throat.
'Shit. Did I go to far?' John wanted to go a lot further, but he didn't know how Sherlock would react. He didn't want to risk it.
Sherlock swallowed, released John and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked up at John and smiled. God he looked amazing all flushed and spent. 'I did that' he thought 'and I want to do it again'. Groaning he pushed at his own aching erection as he leaned in to bite gently at John's neck. It wasn't until John gasped that he realised the bite wasn't at all gentle. Sherlock lifted his head to look and bite mark was red and raised, he lapped at it, his hot breath against John's skin.
He had never felt like this, it was amazing and frightening at the same time. His head was buzzing with explanations as to why this was happening. It wasn't just lust, although that was definitely part of it, a big part right now. This was John, this was special, important and Sherlock could only hope it was more than just lust for John too.
He wanted to tell John how he felt but for once just couldn't find the right words. He also wanted John to know that rough was what he wanted, how it made his chest tight and his stomach flip just to think of it.
Sherlock leaned into John, pressing against him and moaned, unable to voice his thoughts.
Sherlock's sharp teeth suddenly pressing into John's neck, was unexpected but it hurt pretty good. 'Did he mean to do that?' John thought, a bit confused, but with a lot of hope that Sherlock would actually like being hurt.
Sherlock moaned again John skin and he looked at him trying to figure out why he looked slightly frustrated. John looked down at Sherlock's erection and instantly knew why, but there was something else. In the way he shrugged to John and looked at him.
So many things were written on Sherlock's face. He tried to think exactly why Sherlock was feeling all these things right at this very moment, but nothing really made sense except that he could see Sherlock was holding back something.
'What would Sherlock want to hold back?' John thought, relaxing against Sherlock, 'The bite?'
'It could be..' John realized with enthusiasm and thought of something he could do, to determine whether or not Sherlock liked being hurt or not, but John would have to make sure to take it slow just in-case.
With a small plan figured out in his mind, John lifted Sherlock's chin so he could look into Sherlock's eyes. John tried communicating that Sherlock doesn't need to worry, and should trust him.
John then lowered his eyes, to Sherlock's neck looking at it with a desirable meaning, and then looked back to Sherlock.
Then with one swift movement he pushed Sherlock so he was spread on the couch and John crawled on-top of him.
From Sherlock's forehead to his mouth, John kissed him softly. Then taking a breathe he looked at Sherlock and moved to his neck, and returned the bite Sherlock gave him a few moments ago, but with a little more force.
Then between a few kisses of where he had bitten Sherlock he groaned against his neck and said,
"Do you like being hurt, Sherlock?"
Right then he bit Sherlock again, with a lot more force, and waited for a response, resting his head against Sherlock's chest and looking up at him.
Sherlock huffed in surprise when John pushed him down, then smiled as he moved over him. He had one hand behind John's head, stroking the back of his neck and the other gripped his hip. Sherlock returned John's kisses, his heart thumping in his chest and then John bit. Sherlock gasped, pressed his lips against John's ear and whispered "Yes" in answer to his question.
The second bite was harder, a lot harder and it sent a line of fire straight through his body, it seared down his spine and pooled in his groin. Sherlock groaned, stretching his neck and arching his back, grabbing at John's arse and squeezing.
"Oh god… John" Sherlock moaned, he pulled John's hand up to his mouth and began to lick and suck at his fingers, his hips pumping slowly beneath him. Spellbound and silent, they both watched John drag his fingers down Sherlock's body and through the pre-come glistening a pretty trail down Sherlock's cock, then each flinched when, with a lazy flick of the wrist, the good doctor brought his hand back up and quite tenderly pushed the wet tips of his fingers into Sherlock's waiting mouth.
To his own surprise, Sherlock could not stand it anymore.
Tossing his head, he pulled his mouth free. "Touch me," he commanded, "now," he almost shouted.
Unfinished.