John lets go of Sherlock's shirt, loosening his grip until finally coming to rest his hands on Sherlock's thighs. Sherlock takes this as silent submission as if John is stopping his attempts to postpone the inevitable. There's a moment when Sherlock just stares at John, bright eyes piercing right through him, before leaning forward to leave a tentative kiss upon John's lips.
The kiss itself is inexperienced and somewhat hesitant, but there's a confident subtext to it. Almost like Sherlock is nervous but dead set on proving himself in a way to impress John. John doesn't respond at first, more interested in how Sherlock will commence, and isn't surprised when he kisses him again.
Sherlock braces his hands against John's chest, craning his head slightly to deepen the kiss but his efforts yield no favorable results. John cups one hand behind Sherlock's head, angling it just the right way, and opens his mouth against the boy's as if to show him how to do it properly. He gasps a little at John's sudden interested but it's not entirely unwanted.
John steers the kiss in a more successful direction, letting Sherlock mime his movements until the boy finally gets the hang of it and they are both responding accordingly. Kissing Sherlock's lips turned out to feel a lot better than John had previously thought and he didn't plan on stopping.
John brings his other hand around Sherlock to push him closer by the small of his back until they are chest to chest. Sherlock's breath hitches ever so slightly, causing his chest to inflate against John even more. John's arms wrap around Sherlock's slender body, loving the way Sherlock shifts here and there against his broad chest.
They part breathlessly, panting even, as they gasp for much needed air. Sherlock's lips are a bit pinker than before but that's really no surprise since he's flushed to a lovely shade. He's aroused, as clearly as John is aroused. Sherlock shifts back marginally so he can spare a look down between them, smiling faintly at the sizeable bulge in John's trousers.
"I suppose we ought to do something about this," Sherlock murmurs suggestively, dropping a hand down to grope John.
"Assuming you know what to do," John jests, spreading his legs a little to give Sherlock better access.
Sherlock kneads the older man's erection, marveling at the distinct hardness as he bites his lip in concentration. Maybe his hand trembles a little, because Sherlock hasn't even done this before. Feeling a grown man so intimately for the first time is definitely a great start, but the end result is what Sherlock is really after.
"Go on then," John urges, nodding towards Sherlock's hand. "Give it a try since you're so bold."
The boy purses his lips together and squints his eyes as if he is in no mood for a challenge, but he takes the bait anyway. Both hands work diligently to undo the front of John's pants, fumbling as he reaches into the opening. John's hands curl around Sherlock's thin wrists, stilling them just long enough to help Sherlock get what he's after.
Sherlock's nerves were getting the better of him and when John pulled himself out of his pants Sherlock couldn't stifle the moan that surfaced from his throat. Now, of course Sherlock has seen one before, for research and such, but never has he seen one in person. Seeing as how John was his first, Sherlock can honestly admit that he was not disappointed in the least.
John was much bigger than him obviously, since Sherlock was still growing, but not excessively so. Sherlock was confident that he could take him, with preparation of course. Still, there was a tiny part of Sherlock's psyche, a piece of him he tried to bury deep, that was a little hesitant towards the notion. Which is why his body was making involuntary noises and tremors.
"You can touch it. If you're still up for it, that is," John goads, egging Sherlock on.
"I plan to do more than touch it," Sherlock rebuffs.
He slides off of John's lap, dropping down to his knees just at the older man's feet and reaches for John's cock. Sherlock grasps the base of it, squeezing it firmly but calmly and making John groan at the touch. Sherlock's fingers are long and elegant, applying just the right amount of pressure to stroke John.
Sherlock knows how to do this because he's practiced many times on himself. For data, of course. He shuffles up on his knees to lean in better and drapes his curls in John's lap. The view is obscured on John's end but he knows what the boy intends to do down there. And it isn't just to prove a point.
There's a tentative lick that is meant only for tasting and feeling just how hot John's aroused flesh is. Then Sherlock licks at the tip again and again until he eventually swipes his tongue up the underside agonizingly slow. The spit trail stops before he reaches the tip but Sherlock is more than plentiful with saliva.
John has a taunt on the tip of his tongue but it gets lost in the groan of pleasure when Sherlock wraps his beautiful lips around him. John immediately threads a hand in Sherlock's curls to ground himself more than anything and Sherlock moans around his mouthful at the quirk. He silently hopes John will pull his hair.
Sherlock tries to go down as far as he can in one go, but he doesn't get very far when his gag reflex starts to protest. He pulls off altogether, choking slightly as he still holds John's cock in one hand. John smooths his hand across his scalp in a calming manner, letting his natural caring demeanor take over.
"It's not a race, alright? Take your time," John says with a hushed tone.
Sherlock huffs at this, hating the way John makes him out to sound like a kid or something. He knows that's not what John is getting at, but it still irritated him to think he couldn't do something. Sherlock adjusts himself better and hovers over John's cock once again, taking a moment to stroke him before bending down to suck on the head.
"Yes, just like that," John groans, squeezing at Sherlock's curls as the boy timidly ventures downward. "Nice and steady."
Sherlock slides down further, moving in intervals of centimeters rather than inches to test his limits. He reaches the top of his knuckles where his hand is wrapped firmly around the base of John's cock. Sherlock believes he can go down further if he moves his hand, but he opts to stroke instead.
Seeming to be pleased with this, Sherlock starts a somewhat steady rhythm, syncing his mouth with his hand. John's hand tangled in Sherlock's curls begins to move up and down to the cadence of Sherlock's bobbing head, relishing in the way it feels to have that hot pretty mouth enclosed around his cock.
The boy gets carried away in his own musings, sucking harder and becoming more bold and purposeful with his rhythm to the point that John yanks on his hair tenderly. It's meant to stop Sherlock but the boy keeps going, taking this as motivation more than anything as he moans wantonly. John pulls his head back a little roughly but Sherlock doesn't wince.
"You keep doing that, then this will all be over much more quickly," John warns with a faint chuckle.
Sherlock hums in acknowledgment, giving John's cock one more solid lick before standing up. His knees are red from where they rubbed against the carpet and his lips are obscenely shiny from saliva. Couple that with his slightly mussed curls and Sherlock is quite the sight right now.
"We can't have that," Sherlock agrees, voice slightly hoarse from abuse. "We haven't even got to the best part yet."
Sherlock digs around in his pocket to retrieve his supplies he kept concealed until now. He tosses a condom and a small packet of lubricant at John who fumbles to collect them. John looks up at Sherlock dumbfoundedly, furrowing his eyebrows less than subtly. He holds them up precariously.
"You had these on you the whole time?" John inquires.
"Problem?"
"Why-" John sighs with resignation, unclear of how to form his sentence. "You know what? I don't want to know why..."
"Good. Then it'll save us the trouble."
Without further hesitation, Sherlock bunches the hem of his shirt in his hands and pulls it over his head. He tosses his shirt off to the side and proceeds to undo his shorts. John watches intently as they slide down his legs and drop to the floor. It's the first time John notices that Sherlock is barefoot, though he doesn't see how this is significant.
John's gaze slowly drifts back up the length of Sherlock's long legs, coming to rest at his groin. John swallows because Sherlock isn't wearing any underwear, leaving his flushed and hard cock exposed to the naked eye. He certainly is grown for a boy his age, John entertains.
The boy is practically glowing in his adolescent perfection and John has to wonder how he was lucky enough to be given the dubious task of deflowering such beauty. Sherlock shuffles towards John, prompting the blonde man rid himself of his jumper and attempt to take off his shirt only to be stopped by Sherlock.
"No."
He bends down just slightly to pull John's pants down a little more and climbs onto John's lap, straddling him in such a way that makes their hard ons rub against each other. Sherlock bunches his hands in John's button up and rips the front of it open, sending buttons to fly everywhere. John jumps at this but it also gets him going.
"I want you like this," Sherlock informs, turning into something else altogether. "Prepare me."
"What?"
"Oh, for god's sake!" Sherlock groans, grabbing the packet from John's hand and tearing it open with his teeth. "Open. Me. Up. Now."
He squirts some of the liquid onto John's fingers and raises up on his knees so John can get his hand between them. John rubs his fingers over Sherlock's virgin hole, making the boy sigh with content at the slick feeling. He rubs it again, firmer this time, pressing a finger in ever so gently.
His finger slips inside and, oh does Sherlock make the most beautiful noise John has ever heard. It's a gasp caught between a moan and a sob, cracking slightly at the end as if it takes Sherlock's breath away. John slides it all the way until it's enclosed within Sherlock's tight undiscovered body.
John makes quick work of Sherlock tight entrance as he starts to finger him expertly, adding a second finger followed by a third when Sherlock starts to relax. Sherlock has his hands braced against John's shoulders, spreading his shirt open further as he rides the blonde man's fingers.
Sherlock comes to an abrupt halt when John's fingers curve marginally, pressing hard against the inside of his walls. His pupils are blown wide and his mouth drops open but no sound comes out. Not at first. Sherlock fists a hand in John's short hair, pulling painfully so, and practically wails at the sensation.
"Perks of being a doctor, huh?" John chuckles breathlessly, loving how Sherlock breaks just slightly. "I can do a lot more than that."
John leans forward and tender kisses Sherlock's neck, tasting a slight tang of salt that suggests Sherlock is covered in a thin sheet of sweat. He withdraws his fingers from Sherlock's body and rips open the condom packet, letting the boy roll it down the length of his cock. Sherlock spreads the rest of the lubricant all over John, stroking even to elicit small sounds from John.
"I won't lie to you. This is going to hurt," John warns, locking gazes with Sherlock.
"I know it is," Sherlock shoots off quickly, feeling insulted by the fact John sees the need to comfort him. "I'm perfectly capable of taking it. Now shut up and fuck me already."
Well, I certainly don't need to be told twice, John thinks and without any further preamble, he grips the base of his cock and brings Sherlock's lower half down to him. John lines up to Sherlock's entrance and Sherlock takes a deep shuddering just before he breaches the boy, marking virgin territory as unchaste with one swift thrust.
Sherlock calls out despite himself and it really knocks the wind out of him. He had been prepared for this moment and now he feels as inexperienced as he appears to be. Maybe John smirks a little at this, but his hands drop down to Sherlock's hips, helping to steady him as the boy sinks onto John's cock until he's fully impaled.
John gives Sherlock a moment to catch his breath, stroking his hair and his back until Sherlock squirms against him. His legs are a bit cramped in the confined space of the chair but the strain is worth it. Sherlock raises his body up a fraction, testing the resistance of his body before dropping back down.
Sherlock grips the backrest of the chair tightly, making his knuckles turn white and he simply nods at John. John takes the hint and picks the slender boy up by his hips and pulls him back down. Sherlock winces and makes a tiny noise, but he never asks to stop. He's come too far.
They start a steady rhythm like with John dictating the pace and controlling Sherlock's own movements. But soon enough they break out of this sequence and Sherlock begins to hump and grind on John's lap, riding him jaggedly and possibly trying too hard, but John enjoys the show the boy puts on for him.
It still hurts like hell, Sherlock will admit, but he thrives off of the adrenaline the pain brings and he swears it makes him bounce on John harder. John opts to just hold onto Sherlock's hips and enjoy the sensation of Sherlock's tight hole gripping him securely. It hurts him almost as surely as it hurts Sherlock.
Sherlock hangs his head down to where their foreheads press together, hopping in John's lap and panting in the hot space between. They share a heated kiss, swallowing each other's noises and mashing their sweat slick chests together. And, fuck, do they feel right at home.
John feels a shift between them and notices that Sherlock is stroking his cock fervently. It stills Sherlock's movements, provoking John to carry on where the boy left off. He poises Sherlock's hips in such a way that makes them both go crazy when John thrusts relentlessly into the lithe body.
Sherlock looks so beautiful and glorious in this moment with his head thrown back and slack jawed and John can't resist the urge any longer. He leans towards the stretch of Sherlock's neck and bites lovingly, marking the flushed skin until it bruises. It's enough to make Sherlock whine and stroke himself vigorously until he finally comes.
His cock pulses in his tightly fisted palm as it coats his knuckles and John's abdomen with his release. John sucks on Sherlock's neck, fucking him thoroughly through his last tremors before finding solace in his own climax. Sherlock isn't sure if the pulsing in his channel is coming from John or his throbbing and abused entrance, either way it feels magnificent.
"I do believe, Mr. Watson, that you have proven to be not such a disappointment after all," Sherlock pants out of breath and feeling sore all over.
John figures this is Sherlock's way of saying good job.
They stay like this, gasping in each other's arms until they come down from the high of their lovemaking. John suddenly feels glad for the events that led up to this moment and he wouldn't mind it if Mycroft asked him back one day.
"I trust everything went swimmingly this afternoon," Mycroft says later when he finally comes home.
John is reading the book he never started earlier and Sherlock is lying on the ground on his stomach, studying the fibers of the carpet with a magnifying glass. John looks up from his book to acknowledge Mycroft with a somewhat nervous smile.
"Yes, yes of course. Things went very well," John gushes, setting down his book and standing at attention. "He was very good."
Mycroft looks around the room and notices a few things a little off. First, there's the things Sherlock purposely left askew and then there's the stray buttons from when Sherlock ripped open the front of John's shirt. Mycroft shifts his gaze between John and Sherlock, instantly noticing the love bite on his brother's neck and rumpled shirt beneath John's jumper.
It doesn't take much to put two and two together and it's so obvious, like they hadn't even bothered to keep it a secret. But that was what Sherlock wanted, wasn't it? To rub it in Mycroft's face. Touché, is all Mycroft can think.
"I'm sure he was," Mycroft humors knowingly.