John cuddled with Sherlock on the sofa. "I talked with friends and have done some research, and I'm pretty sure you were in subspace the other day."
Sherlock nodded, meeting John's eyes. "So, is that a good thing?"
John screwed his lips to the side. "Um, it's not something I'm that experienced in, frankly. I'm not into S&M, the tying of a sub up and using pain play. Pain, arousal and submission can bring the sub to subspace, but everyone I talked with had never heard of someone reaching that state from kissing alone." He shook his head.
"You have magic lips, perhaps?" Sherlock smirked, flicking his eyes down to them. He was willing to fall under their spell again.
Chuckling, John shook his head, looking at Sherlock fondly. "I think it's more about you than about me. You are an unusual man, with an incredible brain. To have you focus it on me, and trusting me enough to let go...I think that is what happened."
"I liked it, letting go. Almost a deep meditation. Following your lead." Sherlock said as he thought back on how it had felt. Peaceful, perhaps like floating in the warm salt water of a sensory deprivation tank, the outside world fading away. John was everything.
John nodded. "Well, now I know that you can enter subspace easier than other people, I'll watch for it. For now, I want you more aware of what we do together."
Seeing the intense way John was looking at him, Sherlock felt a surge of arousal. "Please say we are going to do something now."
John nodded, getting off the sofa and holding out his hand to Sherlock. He got up from his pillow on the floor, John's hand grasping his firmly. He tugged Sherlock as he headed towards Sherlock's bedroom. The possibilities made his head swim and his pants feel tighter.
Stopping at the side of the bed, John faced Sherlock. "Last time, I taught you about kissing. Today, the lesson is about touching." His hands lifted to Sherlock's top button, working it free and sliding down to the next one.
Sherlock was soaking up the feeling of John undressing him, and his nearness, his thoughts focussing down to the here and now. The world didn't exist beyond this room. Outside sounds faded, making the thump of his heart and the sound of their quickening breathing seem even louder.
The last button was undone, and John paused, looking up at Sherlock. "Before we go any further, you should pick a safe word, Sherlock."
Blinking, being pulled out of the moment, Sherlock shook his head. "No, I don't need one. I trust you."
John dropped his hands from Sherlock's shirt. "Thank you for that, but we both need it. I won't always notice your limits. Plus, I may become so involved in a scene I lose perspective a little. A safe word will pull me out enough to stop and check in with you. It protects us both."
With a little sigh, Sherlock looked up, searching for a word. "Concesso."
Nodding at the Latin word, John's hand went back to Sherlock's shirt, and slowly drew it off him. He made no effort to hide his interest as his eyes took Sherlock in, his expression admiring. "So beautiful, Sherlock."
Standing a bit straighter at the praise, Sherlock's breath caught when John's hands went to his trousers, undoing them. Soon, the fabric was sliding down his legs and John helped him step out of the garment, along with his socks.
He would have felt cold and exposed normally, wearing only his paisley silk boxers, but felt warm under John's attentive perusal. He felt attractive and cherished, and pulled his shoulders back a little.
"Yes, you should preen under my gaze. You are a beauty, just like I thought you would be. Unusual and unique." John said softly, his words like a stroke down Sherlock's back.
John nodded at him. "Now it is your turn to follow my actions. Undress me."
Hands shaking a little, he concentrated on undoing each button. It seemed to take ages to work them free, and to finally have the reward of drawing the fabric back. Sherlock had imagined John bare so often, and seen him in an undershirt, with quick glances when he came out of the bathroom after a shower. But to have his bare chest so close was entirely different.
John was slim and toned, but his muscles weren't bulky. His stomach was flat, but not defined into a six pack. There was a moderate amount of light coloured chest hair. But what drew Sherlock's attention the most was the old injury.
There was a patch about the size of his palm of raised scar tissue, showing that it hadn't just been a simple gunshot wound. There had been complications, and John was lucky to have come out of months of recovery with so much functionality. No wonder he took such care with his workouts to maintain it.
Sherlock raised his eyes to John's, seeing how he was watching Sherlock's reaction to the injury. He seemed satisfied, not shrinking away from his curiosity. He was comfortable in his own skin, knew himself. And that confidence was damn sexy.
Undoing John's jeans was harder to do. This was taking a step into being sexual with someone else, willingly opening himself to it. It had been so long since he had done anything like this, and it was comforting that John stood there quietly while Sherlock fumbled. Not rushing him. Knowing he needed time to let this sink in.
Knowing that he could stop if he needed to, and John wouldn't judge him.
That knowledge gave him the bravery to push through his discomfort and slip the jeans and socks off. John was compact and muscular, solid. He was wearing black boxer-briefs, like Sherlock had seen him in many times, working out. He hadn't seen him tenting them out like this, his mind flashing to that time they had napped and Sherlock woken to that hard cock so near. Would he finally see it, touch it, today? Without realizing it, he licked his lips.
John groaned softly, and Sherlock flicked his eyes up to John's in surprise.
Shaking his head, John was staring at Sherlock's dampened lips. "You undress me, stare at my erection, and lick your lips? Are you really shocked I reacted to that, Sherlock?"
The words with the heated look coiled the desire even tighter inside Sherlock. It was a wonderful thing, knowing he affected John so much, knowing it wasn't all one-sided. He had sexual power over John. It made him feel braver.
Following a definitely naughty urge, Sherlock slipped to his knees before John, resting his hands on his thighs, and looked up at John through his eyelashes coyly. "What would you like to do now, sir?"
He had watched people enough over the years to know how to flirt when he needed to. He was a good actor, adopting a role to get what he wanted from people. He did this now as a whim, wanting to be sexy and playful. Lightening the mood a little, perhaps.
The reaction from John should have been an amused chuckle and being called a brat, before maybe being ordered to stand up and get on the bed.
Instead, he got a rough, bitten off curse, and John's hand coming down to the nape of his neck. His eyes were burning up, and the heat sent a wave like a tsunami crashing over Sherlock in response.
The hand pulled him forward, until his face was against John's stomach. "Kiss me there." The order was direct and firm, the hand on the back of his neck keeping him in place. Hesitantly, Sherlock pursed his lips and pressed them to John's warm skin, and got a shudder in response. Emboldened, he brushed his lips softly over a larger area, and got a groan.
He sunk into it, using all the different types of kisses John had shown him over the skin he could reach, varying it up with some flicks of his tongue, and soft bites. His experiments resulted in encouraging reactions; John making noises, shifting against him, changing in his breathing. Little strokes and clenching of the hand against his neck. He loved soaking in all of that, along with the taste and smell of John. And John's hard cock, encased in the stretchy black cotton, rubbing occasionally against Sherlock's chest or neck depending how he leaned to kiss him.
"Touch my legs," came the next order, a rough whisper. Sherlock paused in teasing John's belly button with flicks of his tongue, and moved his hands to John's ankles. Internally shrugging, Sherlock resumed what he had been doing with his mouth as his hands glided slowly upwards. John hadn't ordered him to stop it, after all.
John seemed to have no objections, his groans and shifting against Sherlock becoming even more frequent.
It was fantastic, focussing completely on the man before him, varying his kisses and touches to get the most response. Pleasing his dom. Showing how much he adored and wanted this man with every caress. Wanting more, but knowing it was for John to decide if that would be allowed. If he did this right, aroused him enough, it might influence him.
Had it been ten minutes or two hours? Sherlock lost track of time , just completely in the moment, savouring it after a week of drought. He whined a little when the hand moved to his shoulder, drawing him back.
"Such a good, eager boy." John said in a rough tone, softly enough Sherlock had to strain to hear it. His eyes were dark, looking at Sherlock closely, probably assessing his state. "You deserve a reward. Stand up."
Sherlock's knees were a little sore, making him realize he must have been kneeling for a while. Amazing how time faded when he was with John. He stood beside the bed, awaiting what John wanted next.
John crawled onto the covers, propping up in pillows to recline back comfortably. He laid on his back, his erection still tenting out his pants. Sherlock unknowingly licked his lips again, making John chuckle.
Reaching down, his hand went inside his pants, obviously holding that hard cock, and giving it a stroke. He groaned softly, watching Sherlock as he continued the slow motions. "You aren't allowed to touch yourself without permission, but it's a good thing I'm not under that rule. Do you know how many times I've thought about you and what I want to do to you the last few months?"
Sherlock shook his head. John's showers had been extra long all week, and Sherlock knew he was finding sexual release daily at least. While he had been aching for it the whole time.
"Let me see all of you, Sherlock. Take off your pants for me." John said firmly.
Sherlock rushed to obey, not used to taking off his boxers while erect, but soon kicked the material aside. He felt a bit embarrassed, standing naked and aroused before John.
"So perfect, Sherlock. Don't be shy." John soothed, and patted the bed beside him. "Lie down here."
Heart thumping with nerves, Sherlock did as directed, stretched out beside John.
John leaned in and gave Sherlock a long, deep kiss. "You have been so good. Time for your reward. I want you run your hands all over your body."
Sherlock's eyebrows shot up. "While you watch?"
Nodding slowly, John's smile was completely wicked. "Yes, my own little private show by my sexy sub. It's a reward for me too."
Feeling a little awkward, Sherlock ran his hand down his chest. He had never really touched his body much, beyond quickly washing in the shower. It was just transport.
But seeing John's eyes hungrily watching his motions, Sherlock relaxed back against the cushions and pushed aside his embarrassment. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on feeling his hands stroking over his skin, feeling the different textures, the slight scratch of his sparse body hair. John hadn't given him permission to touch his cock, so avoided it, even though he had been hard for so long.
He sunk into it, the peaceful state of simply flowing his dom's orders unquestioningly. It wasn't as deep as subspace, but it was sensual and timeless.
A gasp from John made him open his eyes to glance over. John was still watching Sherlock, his gaze heated. His hand was still in his pants.
Experimentally, Sherlock arched up on the bed, stroking along his hip, and watched the way John's eyes followed the motion, and his hand pumped a few times in his pants.
Sherlock groaned. "Please, John, let me watch you." He wanted to see his cock, thick and hard. Wanted to watch as John stroked it. Wanted to touch and pleasure him.
"My pants are staying on this time. You haven't earned that yet. But you have been good lately. You can touch yourself." John said, watching Sherlock closely.
Too aroused to feel shy, Sherlock wrapped his hand around himself, almost crying in relief at the sensation. He screwed his eyes tight, pumping hard and fast. This would probably only take seconds, he was so primed.
A small noise came from John, and Sherlock opened his eyes to see John stroking himself quickly, his hand moving fast under the fabric, his eyes on Sherlock's hand.
Panting, trying to catch his breath, Sherlock slowed his stroke, watching as John mirrored him. Lifting his ass off the bed, he fucked slowly into his fist, precum making his hand slide easily. John matched his speed.
Sherlock found it intensely erotic, having John follow his motions. He varied the speed, stroking hard and fast, almost cumming, and then slowing down, hardly touching himself at all. Would John cum when he did?
Sooner than he wanted, he couldn't hold back anymore. He pumped his cock hard, steady fast strokes, staring at John the whole time. Wanting to watch him at the peak too.
John came first, crying out and shaking against the bed. It was so erotic and intimate, it sent Sherlock over the edge. He moaned, the sensations almost overwhelming.
John was holding him, stroking his arm and shoulder, whispering encouraging words. "So beautiful, that's it baby, let it go..."
Sherlock sunk into his arms, breathing hard, his head spinning. He blinked up at John, just dazed by it all. He had never had an orgasm like that before in his whole life.
John chuckled, leaning down to plant soft kisses on his lips and face. "You did so well. I'm proud of you." His fingers dragged through the cooling semen on Sherlock's stomach, tracking wet fingertips over his skin. "So much. It must be from waiting so many days. Do you agree now that waiting makes it better?"
Sherlock made a bit of a face, trying to pull John's hand away. "Please, I'm a mess."
Lifting his hand, John held it to the light, watching as a dribble of fluid ran down his finger. He brought his hand to his face and flicked out his tongue, catching the droplet before it would fall.
"John!" Sherlock said, a bit shocked.
With a devilish smirk, John licked the whole finger clean with a stroke of his tongue, his eyes on Sherlock the whole time. "Mmmm you taste good."
He held out another wet fingertip towards Sherlock. "Want to taste?" His expression was daring Sherlock, pushing his limits.
It was dirty and nasty. Just plain wrong. But Sherlock found himself holding John's gaze as he leaned in and took the finger in his mouth, and sucked it clean. And felt rewarded at the flash of surprise and heat at his actions. He was learning what turned John on, and it was the best information to gather.
John chuckled, grabbed some tissues to clean up his hand and Sherlock's stomach. "You continually surprise me, but I love it. I thought we would simply touch a bit in the bed today, but you knelt so prettily, I couldn't resist going a bit further than I should have. And then, the way you took the reins, teasing me, edging me..." John shook his head, giving Sherlock a very warm look, "that was incredibly hot. You have a natural sexuality you are just discovering with me."
Sherlock was practically purring when John hugged him close, tucking against his side. He was still tingling from his orgasm, minutes later, the zing of pleasure hormones pumping through his body. Then there was the pleasure of being near John, basking in his praise and approval. The good sensations got linked with the smell of sex and the taste in his mouth, and he burrowed against John's neck.
Eventually, John stirred. "Time for me to shower. These wet briefs aren't comfortable for cuddling."
"Need any help? I could scrub your back?" Sherlock offered, feeling sleepy and lazy, but willing to help out if it meant touching John naked. And wet. And soapy.
Chuckling, John was out of bed and pulling the covers over Sherlock. "No, I can manage. Go to sleep." He leaned down for a goodnight kiss.
Sherlock's dreams were very sweet indeed.
XXX
- Disclaimer: I own nothing.
-A/N: Fanning myself... hmmm...haven't written that rating level for a while. Hope I did it OK. ;)
