Thank you for the reviews, they were lovely 3
I'm meant to be revising German right now but instead I'm writing Sherlock porn. I have no regrets.
I had to google anal sex for this, I hope you're all happy.
John moaned as Sherlock sucked his cock with the enthusiasm and urgency of a cocaine addict about to get his next fix. John Watson was Sherlock Holmes' drug, and right now he couldn't get enough.
'Sherlock.' John gasped breathlessly, reaching down and running his hands through and pulling on Sherlock's black curls. 'Stop.' He was going to come too soon, and as much as he needed to, he wasn't ready yet. He couldn't ground himself and it was terrifying. 'Stop.' he repeated, pushing Sherlock slightly.
With one last lick Sherlock stopped, looking up at John with sad eyes.
'Oh stop it and fuck me.' John said, rolling his eyes and running his hands through Sherlock's hair in one last attempt to ground himself. It worked, steadying his head and making him feel slightly less dizzy.
Sherlock got up off his knees and kissed John again, softly and tenderly, barely touching his lips. John had never really noticed Sherlock's lips, softer than he'd ever imagined and slightly fuller too.
'Do you know how long I've wanted to do this for?' he said softly next to John's lips.
John shook his head.
'Ever since you walked into the lab I knew, something about you, so defeated and fragile, yet so detrmined too. As soon as we were both in the apartment together I wanted to rip off your clothes and take you right on the chair, show you I wasn't to be fucked around with. God I wanted you so much, I couldn't talk to you for fear of blurting out what I wanted to do to you.' Sherlock smiled, a devilish glint in his eye. He looked taller, darker.
'Why didn't you, why didn't you fuck me there and then?' John smirked, biting his lip, a gesture that made Sherlock slightly crazy.
Sherlock shrugged. 'Most of the time you were a blank canvas, stuck in your head some days. I couldn't read you, except for when you were thinking about the war, then I could, and then you think too much.'
He was then aware that John was standing in nothing but his socks, with his penis jutting out vertically and yet he was still fully clothed. It was oddly comical and he sniggered.
He began undoing the buttons of his favourite purple shirt before John nudged his hands out of the way and ripped it open roughly, revealing a pale, toned chest. John ran his hands along Sherlock's body, and leaned in, swirling his tongue around Sherlock's taut nipple. He felt it get harder under his touch and moved up to kiss him again. He then pulled down Sherlock's trousers, again roughly, taking him slightly by surprise.
He grabbed Sherlock's wrist and pulled him onto the bed, straddling him. He grinded his bare cock against Sherlock, causing the detective to release a guttural moan.
John pushed himself towards the end of the bed, back arched upwards, and put his mouth on Sherlock's growing bulge. He then expertly hooked his tongue under the waistband of the underwear and bit the elastic.
'You've done this before.' Sherlock commented, admiring the army doctor, and putting his arms behind his head.
John hummed in reply, his mouth busy, and yanked down, removing Sherlock's pants in one swift action. His cock jumped up, happy to be free from oppressive underwear. John moved back up and kissed it softly, before straddling Sherlock again and leaning down to kiss his lips.
'John, have you ever done this before though?' Sherlock asked, concerned for the man on top of him.
'No.' John breathed out, getting off from grinding against Sherlock's naked body.
'Ok.' Sherlock replied thoughtfully. He leaned over to the bedside table and pulled a bottle of lube from the first drawer.
John raised an eyebrow.
'What I do masturbate you know, I don't want friction burns.' Sherlock said, unable to comprehend that John didn't think he pleasured himself once in a while. 'Anyway are you sure you're ready? I don't want to hurt you.' His face was full of honesty and complete understanding. He'd been on the bottom before, knew what it was like. An invasion of privacy really.
'I'm ready.' John exhaled, eyes closed, totally off his face in the moment and barely able to understand what Sherlock was saying. He'd waited for this for so long and was stuck in the mind-set that if he opened his eyes he'd wake up from a wonderful dream.
Sherlock picked up John, who wrapped his legs around his curved back with a feeling of complete security, by the waist and laid him on his back, legs in the air, ready to rest on Sherlock's shoulders, whilst still playing his fingers over John's cock.
He leaned over a final time a placed a kiss on John's lips, whilst putting the first lubed finger into his anus. John hissed, digging his fingers into Sherlock's back, features flashing with pleasure, beginning to enjoy the long index finger sliding in and out of him. Sherlock pushed deeper, deep as he could go. He squeaked slightly as the second finger slipped in, and wondered how he'd manage a whole penis inside him, especially Sherlock's; not too thick but longer than the average male member. Sherlock began to use a scissoring motion, trying to loosen John up, remove the tightness around his fingers. John arched his back, twisting with legs parted wide. John bit his lips, closing his eyes and moving his hips in time to Sherlock's fingers.
'John, relax.' Sherlock soothed, feeling John tense around him. He smiled the most reassuring smile he could muster and felt him relax under him. 'Good boy.'
'Sherlock, please, just do it.' John moaned, tired of all the pressure inside him.
He didn't need telling twice, pulling out his fingers slowly. John watched as he rubbed lube along the shaft of his penis and began to lower himself down. Just the head first, the fit completely off, seemingly impossible to squeeze it into such a small place. Sherlock aligned himself, brushing his hard cock up John's ass. He forced himself inside, air leaving his lungs with the effort of it and the pressure that was applied against him and John. Sherlock pushed, unsure of what to do from this point. He thrusted experimentally, earning a series of moans with laboured breath. It was too tight, Sherlock could barely move inside him, himself too hard and John too tight. Sherlock looked at John hopelessly before shoving himself into John, slipping in and out until slick, stretching John to his limit, making him want to shout for Sherlock to stop but the words not reaching his mouth. He clenched his jaw instead, trying to adjust as Sherlock's whole length slid inside him. John thrusted upwards, rolling his hips in time with Sherlock's. He jolted, muscles squeezing around Sherlock, making him gasp. Sherlock aimed in that direction again, catching on that he'd hit something inside John.
A moan escaped John's lips, so loud he had to cover his mouth with his hands and bite the flesh. He couldn't stop himself from shaking; He felt so vulnerable, so primal, and more than anything so right. Sherlock was leaning over him, alternating from the bed to John's hips, a series of overwhelmed grunts leaving his mouth while he thrusted, eyes closed. With one hand on the bed he put the other on John's cock and began to wank him off, rubbing along the shaft in time with his thrusts. John pushed his head back, moaning louder, revealing his neck to Sherlock, who pushed his head forward and sucked the unmarked skin.
'Harder.' John whimpered. 'Fucking harder.' He screamed, reaching around and digging his fingernails into Sherlock's back. He needed this, he needed all of Sherlock inside him as deep as he could go. Sherlock hesitated for a moment before going faster and deeper into John. Still not hard enough though.
'Sherlock, fuck me.' John growled, and Sherlock began to thrust into him faster than he thought was possible. The whole bed shook, squeaking angrily as his cock slid in and out of John. So dirty when he fucked, so animalistic.
John arched his back, finding the perfect angle, Sherlock hitting his prostate spot on with each lift of his hips.
'John, I can't do this much longer.' Sherlock grunted, his eyes fluttering shut.
John grinded into Sherlock, trying to make him come before he did. It worked, Sherlock leaning down and wrapping his arms around John and pulling him as close to him as possible as stars clouded his vision. John could pinpoint the exact moment Sherlock came inside him, and it felt hot and wet and only pushed him further towards the edge.
'Oh, fuck, John.' He panted, catching his breath before burying his head between John's thighs and finishing him off, whilst John pulled his hair and shouted profanities at him. Sherlock stuck a finger up John as he sucked his balls and traced patterns on his cock with his tongue.
He came right into Sherlock's mouth, who promptly swallowed and continued on Johns cock, leaving behind kisses and gentle licks, not fully satisfied that John was finished, wanting John to ride it out.
'Sherlock.' John whimpered lost for words. That was the best orgasm of his life, and it was given to him by his best friend. He panted as he watched Sherlock reappear from between his legs, evidence of his semen on his lip. He wiped it away with his index finger and sucked it off, his eyes never leaving John.
'Come here.' John said softly. Then they kissed a final time before Sherlock got up and draped his duvet over John.
'Where are you going?' John whispered, all energy depleted and brow furrowed.
Sherlock just smiled at him, cleaning himself up in the bathroom and re-entering the room, snuggling up with John under the duvet, not giving a shit that his pristine sheets were covered in semen. He held John, arms wrapped around his waist, wanting to feel his hot skin on his. John turned over, deciding he'd be the little spoon that night, Sherlock breathing little nothings into his neck. He fell asleep to the sound of Sherlock's heartbeat on his back, tiny snores and snuffles echoing slightly around the room.
He untangled himself from John and got up, with sleepy protests from John who he smiled at and kissed on the forehead, telling him he was going for a piss, watching him as he fell back to sleep and then getting redressed, before leaving both 221b, and John in a state of content.
When John woke up he turned to the empty side of the bed, curling his fingers around empty space and sighing. He got up, draping Sherlock's dressing gown around him and called his name.
No reply. Sherlock had been gone for hours.
[edited]
