Eavesdropping Can Be Dangerous
By: Vampira Maxwell
Disclaimer: Of course I don't own BBC's Sherlock! I'm also poor and not making any money off of this whatsoever. It's purely for giggles.
Sherlock had had a bout of insomnia last night. He'd considered using his violin to irritate John into coming down and having a row just to have something to do, but in the end he decided to be considerate for once and let John sleep. He'd turned on the telly instead, and had been watching ridiculous talk shows ever since. Until recently, he'd had no idea there were so many women in England who slept around so much that they had to have twenty paternity tests just to figure out which one-night-stand had resulted in her pregnancy.
He strongly suspected that these shows were largely faked.
At around six in the morning, John had gotten up and gone to take a shower. Which made sense, he had to be at work this morning and he knew John was often an early riser. Perhaps he was still on his schedule from the military.
The sounds had barely registered with Sherlock, but at one point during the rhythmic slapping of water on the shower tiles, he thought he'd heard something...different.
He muted the telly after a moment. It was crap anyway and this was...potentially more interesting.
There. There it was again! That sound. A moan. And from the sounds of it, Sherlock was certain it was not a sound of pain. He closed his eyes to savor the sound. Yes, he'd made a point of turning down any advances John might have been thinking of during their first case, but that didn't mean he wasn't interested. He just wasn't any good at relationships.
Oh, but he could use his imagination...His imagination was just as vivid as any real-life scenario that could ever play out.
In his mind, he was already in the shower with John. Behind him, although John hadn't realized it, yet.
Sherlock watched, fascinated, as the water from the shower ran off of John's body in small rivulets, over tanned and pale skin alike. He is struck with the urge to lean forward, to lick up some of the water at John's shoulder, the one with the battle scar. To reach out with his hands and encircle John's waist, pull him back against Sherlock, fit their hips together. To let John feel the erection that simply watching and listening to the former army doctor had caused him.
John gasped, letting go of his own erection to look back at Sherlock with startled, widened eyes. "Sh-Sherlock?" he asked, in disbelief, unsure whether to be angry or turned on.
Judging by the way his cock twitched, John's body had decided for him which reaction to have.
"Mm...I couldn't help it...I had to touch..." Sherlock murmured against the shorter man's shoulder, before shifting a bit and nipping an area close to, but not directly over, John's scar.
John gave another gasp, this one pleasured, and Sherlock felt the fine tremor that went briefly through the doctor's body. Felt the vibration against his own body, closed his eyes, took a short intake of breath, savored the feeling.
"God...John...do you know what you do to me?" he murmured, moving his lips toward John's neck instead, to find a place to suck on. A place that would be difficult for John to hide. He would be irritated about it later, but for now the only thing John had to say about it was to give another one of those delicious sounds.
Sherlock slid one hand away from John's waist, around to the front of his hip, causing an intake of breath from the shorter man as the pale, long-fingered hand slid slowly down further, close to but not touching John's cock. Down to the pale thigh, turning inward to allow his hand to caress the sensitive skin of the inner thigh, long fingers lightly squeezing.
John leaned back against Sherlock, resting his head against the detective's shoulder, reaching a hand back behind himself, behind the taller man and touching, lightly squeezing, one buttock.
The sensation caused a deeper moan to fill the room, this one from the detective. In that dark, deep, rich tone he could sometimes tap into when he wanted to. In this case, it came unbidden, accompanied by an entirely different sort of want than usual.
The sound sent shivers along John's body, shivers that the paler man could feel and Sherlock lightly shifted his hips against John, both of them giving a soft cry at the sudden sensation. Sherlock for the friction to his sensitive, hard cock, and John for the delicious slide of the long, thick length against the center of his arse.
"God, Sherlock..." he breathed.
"Mm...no..." he murmured. "God isn't here." the tone was sultry, rich, and full of dark promises.
John's cock twitched from anticipation.
Sherlock's free hand moved to find the baby oil. It had been left here by Mrs. Hudson for some reason and neither of them had cared enough to move it or ask her to take it back. Now, he was glad it was there. He picked it up, uncapped it and squeezed some onto his hand, working it gently around his fingers before moving that hand between them.
John gave a loud moan when Sherlock touched the entrance to his body with oil-slicked fingers, circling with his middle and index fingers before gently breaching the tight ring of muscle with the tip of his middle finger, feeling the muscle's movement around it, waiting for a moment before sliding it in just a little further.
"Mm. You're tight..." Sherlock observed out loud, a little surprised. He would've suspected that John might've gotten...lonely in Afghanistan. But, it felt as if it had been a long time, if ever, since he'd last been with someone. The idea that perhaps he never had sent shivers along Sherlock's spine and made his cock twitch. To be the first to have John in this way was a...very arousing thought.
By the time he was able to add three fingers without causing any pain, John was moaning his name and rocking back against him. It had Sherlock's breathing coming quick and heavy, watching his fingers slide in and out of that tight, willing body. He hadn't been so aroused by someone in a long time...a very long time. But, there was just something about John...
"Oh God, Sherlock, please...stop teasing and do it..." John groaned, already touching himself again.
Sherlock nibbled at his ear. "Such impatience..." he murmured, that dark tone back again. He loved knowing what it did to John when he spoke like that.
"Sherlock..." John protested again, in a husky, begging tone. It turned Sherlock on even more to know that he could reduce his friend, his partner, his flatmate...to begging for his cock.
He pulled his fingers away and used more of the oil to coat his cock. "Lean forward. Brace your hands at the wall." Sherlock ordered.
John hesitated only a fraction of a second before he did as he was told, spreading his legs wider for better balance, to give Sherlock better access, and to reduce the possibility of slipping on the wet shower floor.
Sherlock took a moment to admire the view, the way John looked wet, ready, willing and practically begging, opened up for him, offering himself to Sherlock, needing Sherlock's cock as much as the detective needed John.
He stepped up behind him again, caressing his hands along John's arse cheeks, squeezing and kneading, nearly causing John to start begging again. He contemplated holding out until he did, but he just needed the man in front of him so much...he couldn't play anymore. He took gentle hold of his penis and pressed the head against John's entrance, slowly pressing forward.
Sherlock felt the resistance just before it gave way and the head of his cock was allowed to penetrate, to breach, John and slide inside of him. He took the time to pet gently at John's thigh as he heard the moan that was half pleasure and half pain. After another moment he continued forward, slow but steady. John seemed to get off on the pain as well as the pleasure, so Sherlock didn't worry too much about hurting him.
"God..." the shorter man whimpered. Yes, whimpered. It made Sherlock grip firmly at his hip with his free hand.
"No gods here..." Sherlock purred. "Only me." that dark tone came back just as he seated himself within the other man's body and began to rock his hips right away. A way to help him get used to the feeling faster without actually having to give him...the wrong sort of pain.
"Fuck, Sherlock..."
"Mmm...no...I'd rather fuck you." Sherlock nearly growled. The tone was apparently approved of by John, if the way he bucked back against the detective was any indication.
Sherlock smirked, beginning to thrust. Slow, shallow thrusts at first. But, when John's moans became louder, the taller man took it as a sign that there was no more pain and if there was it was appreciated.
His thrusts became more solid now, more firm, and longer. Soon, he was pulling out almost all the way before thrusting back in, feeling John press back against him as they formed a tentative and then a much more sure rhythm with each other.
The sounds of heavy, fast breathing filled the room, accompanying the wet sounds of sex and the slap of skin against skin, the thrum of water against tile. The sounds only broken by desperate moans from both men.
Sherlock leaned over John more, nipping at his neck, melding their bodies together as he continued to claim the other man as his own - at least for now. The hand on John's thigh moved to his cock instead, knocking the tanned hand out of the way and stroking it himself instead, moving his hand in time with his thrusts and shifting the angle of his hips.
John cried out when he felt his flatmate hit the bundle of nerves within him, sending white-hot pleasure singing through his entire body, causing him to falter in their rhythm.
The darker-haired man didn't care, he took over the movements, hitting that spot firm and fast, over and over, his own moans becoming louder and a little more desperate.
"Sherlock...Sherlock, oh yes...yes! Do me like that...so close, Sherlock, oh, oh, oh!"
He could tell that John was close and he grinned against his neck, biting him there firmly, leaving teeth marks. The way that John called his name, and so often, was such a turn on and he knew he was close, too. He sped up his thrusts as well as the way he stroked John's cock.
"Yes, John...come for me...call my name and come for me..." he growled into the doctor's ear, nipping it too, abusing it a bit.
The feeling when John's insides tightened against his impossibly hard cock, the sound of his scream as he called Sherlock's name, and the weight of his partner's throbbing cock in his hand as it spilled it's hot seed uselessly over his hand was incredible.
All of these sensations together pushed Sherlock over the edge.
But, that was when his imagination failed him and his fantasy broke apart, melted away. Still, he smirked. It was a damn good fantasy and he would make good use of it. Replay it in his mind, perhaps if he was lucky in his dreams as well when he could sleep again.
He still heard the water slapping the tiles and he heard one moan, louder than the others he'd heard from the shower, and knew John had reached orgasm. There had been no name on his lips, it had sounded like just a wordless cry. But, Sherlock would imagine that John had been thinking of him while he wanked off in the shower.
At the moment, though, his cock was hot and throbbing, trapped within the confines of his trousers. He took the telly off mute, but left it on as he stood up.
When John left the shower he went immediately back to his room to put his clothes on. He frowned as he realized his watch was dead. He'd have to get a new battery for it.
As he waited for his phone to turn on - he had decided to start turning it off when he charged it over night because he'd heard it was possible for the damn things to catch fire if you had them on...he'd need to ask Sherlock if that was possible, but he didn't relish the likelihood of getting a look as though Sherlock thought he had suddenly become the most gullible person on the planet - he went downstairs to the sitting room.
Sherlock wasn't there. It didn't surprise John too much, Sherlock was usually off somewhere else when he wanted to talk to him. He wanted Sherlock to get some bread and lunch meat...and perhaps some cheese, today. Not that he expected Sherlock to actually do it.
"Sherlock?" he called. Getting no answer he went over to the telly, having noticed it was on. He sighed at the crap show that was on. Some talk show. He turned it off, since no one was watching it anyway. It was just like his flatmate to be so careless and expect John to take care of the things he forgot or just simply didn't want to do himself.
"Sherlock?" he called again, frowning. He'd noticed that the man's coat and scarf were still there, so it was unlikely he'd left the flat.
He still got no answer, and as he went to look around he realized there was a light on underneath Sherlock's bedroom door. Sighing, he went over and was about to knock when he heard...something from inside.
Frowning, John stopped to listen. Just to make sure that the detective wasn't...hurt or something. And that's when his eyes widened. He'd definitely heard a sound, but it wasn't from pain. Was that...was that moaning?
Yes...it was, and heavy breathing as well. He shivered. Was...was Sherlock? But...he always seemed so asexual...
Still, the realization had him quietly forcing himself to move away from the door. His cock twitched within his trousers and he quickly hurried back upstairs. He would get the shopping himself later, right now he had to wank off one more time before work...
Oh well...at least he'd be in a good mood.
End