John found himself staring for a good few minutes, his own burgeoning desire still flaring at each new turn of Sherlock's body. The man raised his arms to stretch languidly, all wiry muscles under taut flesh that made John's head spin and his tongue ache to be back where it was. John must have made some kind of noise, or threw an odd expression, because Sherlock suddenly set him with a fuzzy focus, before pulling off his crumpled shirt completely.
"Lie down... I'll help," he said with a lazy grin, and John gave the man a small smile.
"You're exhausted," said the naked doctor, shifting to lie next to the detective. "It's fine."
"No, John...I can't promise I'll equal what you just did...but I'll do my very best," he grinned, his grey-green eyes hazy, his movements languid. "Make sure you're comfortable."
John smiled faintly, a little thrill of excitement at having Sherlock touch him again in any way rushing down to his stomach. He rolled onto his back, his eyes homing in on the detective as he moved sluggishly over the bed.
"I'm going to make love to you with my mouth, like you did for me," Sherlock announced, before he lay curled beside John, propped on his elbows, extending one long hand to gently pinch the dark, firm flesh presented to him.
John hissed through clenched teeth, heat curling up his stomach and spreading through his limbs in a rush.
"Oh God," he breathed. He hadn't been blown in ages, and to have those smart lips wrapped around him made him shiver from the anticipation alone.
"You like receiving oral sex? ...Have you received it from a man?" Sherlock asked, slowly enough to sound a little drunk. His cat-like eyes blinked, before he directed John's cock into his blood-hot mouth, sucking happily, emitting a long, pleased rumble.
John's mouth opened in a silent moan, his back arching at the sudden deep, wet warmth around his cock.
"Oh fuck Sherlock," he groaned, throwing his head back into the pillow. "Yes, I love it," he bit out, forcing himself to calm and take long gulps of air.
"Mmm," Sherlock agreed, closing his eyes and looking completely blissful, and delighted to be sucking comfortingly upon his flatmate's rigid cock. One hand held John's base, squeezing rhythmically, whilst the other stroked his upper thigh.
John tried to keep himself from squirming, but it was hard to do with hands and tongue seemingly over every inch of him. He groaned from the back of his throat, biting on his lip to stop himself from coming too soon. He was thoroughly wound up from licking out his best friend, from having the man go to mush right before his eyes. It wouldn't take long, not with the man sucking him with such vigour.
"Oh Jesus - oh fuck, you're too good at this."
There was a brief, knowing sparkle in Sherlock's eyes, as they opened briefly, before closing again in peaceful joy. He ponderously adjusted himself, lowering his head a little, swallowing around John as his breathing began to slow, his exhales becoming soft purrs.
John bit the inside of his, craning his neck to watch the man. His breathing was still rapid, his body still high-strung, even as Sherlock's movements slowed to a halt and John frowned.
"Sherlock?"
Sherlock's cheek was resting at an awkward angle on the loose fist he had made around John's swollen shaft, and he began, to John's disbelief, to snore quietly. With comic slowness, the tip of his cock finally slipped from between Sherlock's cupid's-bow lips with a tiny 'pop.'
John didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or poke him awake. His cock was still aching desperately, but it was briefly ignored as Sherlock's body relaxed completely and he sighed gently.
Groaning in frustration, the doctor shifted himself on the bed before moving Sherlock's dangling limbs until he was in a better position with his head on the pillow. Tonight he'd have to deal with himself, he realised, because an erection this persistent wasn't just going to go away.
With a hopeful twinge of inspiration, John lay beside Sherlock in the half-light, and took himself in his weaker right hand. He turned to face the naked detective, and very gently, slipped two of the fingers of his left hand between the parted, damp lips of his bedmate.
Sherlock's mouth moved against the sudden intrusion, and John felt the small graze of teeth before the soft brush of a wet tongue. The doctor tensed his jaw, going still, his eyes on Sherlock's face but everything about the man was slack. He made a small sound before those lips wrapped around his digits and there was a small suckle. The doctor groaned, stroking his cock as the wet recesses of Sherlock's mouth slicked his fingers.
Thanking God that it had worked, John allowed his head to fall right back, and he un-selfconsciously keened and sighed at the sensation, squeezing his eyes shut and remembering that same suction upon his dick.
It wasn't nearly enough of what he wanted, but it was glorious in its own way. Sherlock's breathing ghosted over his palm and John sucked in a half breath, his other hand moving hard and fast over his cock. God, he needed more. Deciding to completely push his luck, the doctor wriggled his fingers in Sherlock's mouth, groaning as Sherlock subconsciously sucked.
"Shit," he breathed, twisting his wrist at the tip of his leaking erection, feeling his abdomen clenching as his orgasm loomed.
He wished briefly that he could come into Sherlock's mouth, but the mental image alone of Sherlock, sleepy, spotted with come, and breathless, was enough to push him violently over the edge.
He bit his lip so hard that he could taste copper on his tongue, forcing himself to merely grunt as his climax rolled through him in waves, coating his hand and his belly until he was left panting with his head pushed hard against his pillow.
"...Oh...ohhh, fuck," John sighed, laughing breathlessly at the tingling aftershocks. Taking some time to regroup his faculties, he finally made to clean up, grinning to himself.
He slid from the bed and searched around to find a discarded t-shirt, wiping himself clean before moving back to the bed. As he lay down, he pulled the blankets up and over them both, lying on his side to watch Sherlock. How had this happened? He was still asking himself, still oblivious to the change in them. His hand moved over Sherlock's jaw, studying his sharp features.
Just as he felt his body starting to relax in the lull of warmth, there was a hard buzz to his left and he turned with a frown.
John glanced at Sherlock, who hadn't so much as flinched at the vibration from his phone. The detective's pale eyelids flickered for a second, and then he let out a little wet snore.
The light cast over the room by the little phone on the bedside table drew his eyes again, and unable to stop himself, John reached out. It was Sherlock's phone, quite obviously, and half-expecting a message from Lestrade, John tapped the button.
-I did think you would be calling me tonight, especially after the party. –TH
John's eyes widened, and a dread-weight settled in his stomach and started his heart racing, knowing that anything he chose to read from now on was meant to be private. The messages came thick and fast.
-You cut quite a figure up there.
-You know that everybody wants to fuck you
-And you love it, you fucking slut – TH
John's eyes widened, his fingers hovering over keys. What would Sherlock reply? John should not even consider replying. It was bad enough he was reading them. Torn, John read the messages again. Another soon appeared.
-I could charge you triple and you'd still be gagging to pay. You home alone? - TH
John's eyes flickered to Sherlock's peaceful face, completely oblivious. Taking a deep breath, John bit the inside of his lip as he tapped out a reply.
-Not alone. -SH
God, that felt wrong, even as he sent the message and a little 'Read' came up underneath it.
-I'm alone. Come round. Bring your crop. I'll fuck you with it again. So cute when you howl - TH
-Busy. - SH
John had so many questions, and putting himself into the mind of Sherlock Holmes was bizarre as it was. Not to mention the knot of anger and blinding jealousy that seared through him.
-You broke the skin last time. -SH
-I got carried away. You drive me crazy. Come round. No charge. –TH
John's breath caught in his throat, and his eyes narrowed at the screen.
-I told you I'm busy. -SH
-Been thinking about you. I'd love to be your first. Jealous of your toys. You know I'd treat you right. No pain.- TH
-Pain seems to be a tangible part of our meetings. Seems unlikely you could give anything but. -SH
-You don't know until you try. You asked me Sherlock. You asked me to make marks on you. You said they had to show. -TH
John frowned, running his tongue over his teeth. He turned, seeing the outline of Sherlock's face. The blooming mark hadn't long cleared up, and he remembered how Sherlock had almost been uncomfortable about it.
-Not on my face. -SH
-I'm sorry. Let me make it up to you. Next time. Let me be inside you. -TH
John took a sharp breath through his nostrils. Sherlock had asked John to be his first. John had just made Sherlock come from nothing but his tongue. He'd been mindless, a writhing mess - brought about by him and not this scumbag.
-No. -SH
-But please see me again. You said we could keep going till you got what you wanted. - TH
What did Sherlock want? That was the question.
-What I wanted may be closer than I first thought. -SH
John jumped as there was a shift next to him, his heart ramming against his ribs as Sherlock moved. His entire body was rigid, his breath clenched in his lungs. It was only as Sherlock curled around him, nuzzling his cheek into John's shoulder that John let himself relax. It was presumptuous of the doctor, but Sherlock did say something about... love, didn't he?
Sherlock seemed to have made it pretty clear that he wanted John. Loved him? Certainly wanted to give up his virginity to him. It appeared pretty safe to say that this guy had no reason to be in the picture any longer.
-Your services will no longer be required. I've found what I wanted. -SH
-That same guy who started all this? I don't believe you. - TH
Christ, there were more 'guys'? John didn't think he could keep up.
-I didn't pay you to believe me, I paid you to do a job. One that no longer requires you. -SH
-This isn't over Sherlock. I don't want to let you go. You're too important now. - TH
John felt something twist in his gut. That was... an intense reaction.
-Don't contact me again. -SH
-You know what you do to people, Sherlock? You make them fall in love with you. You make it so they can't live without you. You're the cruellest person I know.-TH
A flash of white hot rage burst behind John's eyes, and his grip on the phone tightened. Who the fuck was this guy to call Sherlock cruel? The detective had his ways, sometimes he was blunt, but he certainly wasn't cruel.
Even if, maybe, Mr Man had a point about the... love... thing.
-You're being pathetic. -SH
-I know. You're just gonna throw me aside now you've gotten what you want. Hope your new beau doesn't mind damaged goods. Fucking psychopath - TH
John's reply came without so much as a pause to think.
-High-functioning sociopath. Do your research. -SH
There was silence for thirty seconds, and John was about to start deleting the message history, when a final buzz invigorated his palm.
-I won't go without a fight. - TH
John couldn't stop a small smirk. It was bad of him to have done this in the first place, but the idea of this guy wanting a fight? Well, John could certainly comply with that.