A/N: Hello, people!
I don't own Sherlock.
I have no beta.
ENJOY!
CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON.
-This is the sexx.
25 December 2015, Friday:
They returned to Baker Street much too early in the morning to do anything beyond sleeping.
Sherlock dragged John and their luggage upstairs and instead of going to their respective bedrooms, the two collapsed on the sofa. It was Christmas morning and there was nothing wrong with them sharing sleeping space now. Especially since both were tired - Sherlock was still injured after all and on medication - and wanted to cuddle up and sleep for a few hours.
Sherlock fell asleep after tangling his long and lanky limbs around John's own smaller ones.
Sherlock awoke to find John puttering about the flat, carrying a large tray of waffles covered in icing sugar with a side bowl filled with maple syrup.
"I would have been fine with some toast and cheese," said Sherlock though he was very happily tucking into his plate. Just because he would have been fine with it didn't mean he didn't like waffles. And John had made them with chocolate!
John smiled. "This is Christmas and you're supposed to indulge yourself today."
Speaking of Christmas and indulgences, Sherlock's entire body registered that easily enough. The Advent Calendar was finished today! Sherlock had made it the entire month until Christmas, being good.
And he'd won.
"Calm down, Sherlock. You haven't finished your breakfast and we have gifts to open. Once everything is out of the way and calm, then you can glory in your victory until your heart is content."
Fine.
He could wait a little more.
Especially since he wanted to give John his present.
"Your gift is in my coat pocket," said Sherlock, taking another wonderful bite of waffle.
John smiled and retrieved said gift which had been wrapped by the store owner as a free service.
It was small. Small enough to fit in a coat pocket, but Sherlock was sure that John would love it. Sherlock had been the one to ruin the last one John had and he'd remembered how sad John had been over it. So he replaced it.
John opened it carefully, smiling fondly when he saw it.
John had a gold pocket watch from his grandfather and Sherlock had dropped it. The mechanism broke on the inside and no matter where both had gone, they couldn't find a place that could repair it. Sherlock hadn't given up of course, but this one would sate John until they could repair the other.
It too was gold, though it did not have an intricate design on the face like John's first one did. Still, John seemed to love it, so Sherlock was able to breathe easier.
"You remembered."
"I remember everything you say," Sherlock pouted, pointing to his head. "There's a whole wing dedicated to you and every time I zone out, I still hear everything you say and file it away for later when I can review it all."
"You great git!"
John leaned in a kissed him, sugar, waffles and all.
"I'm going to go and get your gift."
John scampered off for his bedroom, snickering for some reason not yet known to Sherlock.
Sherlock knew John had a gift, he just decided to not snoop this time. He was being a good boy and he wanted John's surprise the be exactly what it was. A surprise.
A low whistle sounded, making the detective turn expectantly, only to see John leaning against the door of the kitchen, wearing only a pair of red pants. The same ones from the twelfth advent photo. The little white bow covering John's erection like a gift. And what a gift it was.
The blond smirked, "Merry Christmas."
Sherlock lunged, though mindful of his injury. He covered John's body with his own, backing them into the kitchen and down the hall, into Sherlock's bedroom. He didn't even need to see the last three photos because this was so much better.
He was finally seeing John in person!
Sherlock carefully lowered the much more muscular man onto the sheets, enjoying the way John looked in the afternoon light streaming in from the window.
His body was a little softer, though not by much, and there was an elaborate scar on his shoulder, but other than that, it was the same John.
John laid pliant underneath his exploring hands. Sherlock's intent to map out every firm muscle very clear and John was letting him take his fill! Ridges and grooves and all the different little indentations he could find. His hands wrapped greedily around John's biceps, which flexed tauntingly for him. His tongue laved John's collarbone, tasting light sweat and some soap. John had showered in preparation for this.
Sherlock shivered delightfully. The thought of John preparing himself for Sherlock was arousing… though...
"John, I feel that I should inform you, that I prefer to receive."
There was a moment of silence with Sherlock's breath puffing against John's scar.
"Oh."
John's voice was rough from arousal.
"I can deal with that easily enough."
Thanking the heavens, Sherlock continued his oral exploration of John's pectorals.
"So long as you let me ride you later, as a treat." John leaned up to purr, "I prefer riding."
The thought of John dirty-talking had never passed through his mind before, but now it was all Sherlock could focus on. John wanted to throw Sherlock down and take Sherlock into his body and ride him. It was still a form of dominance, even if John was receiving. But the mental image was too sexy to resist.
Sherlock nodded, unable to articulate anything beyond a small whimper.
Sherlock had never liked taking charge during the physical actions of sex. He liked to be molded and stretched. Liked the feeling of someone else taking control for once, leading him into newer sensations. John would still be in charge like this, but Sherlock would get to experience what it was like to be completely inside his John.
He rolled John over, as he slowly continued to map out his flesh.
A peek of something dark from under the red pants, intrigued him. He pulled them down slowly, but only over the firm globes of John's arse. He still intended to pull them down from the front… with only his teeth.
There was a tattoo on John's rump.
The right cheek had been sacrificed for the endeavor and on it was a large depiction of a heart - a real one, none of those false little decorative ones that people used at Valentine's Day - and in it was a silhouette of Sherlock. It was a profile, making it easy to see Sherlock's deerstalker, and coat collar. But the detail to the outline of his lips and his nose were definitely Sherlock.
"When?" he croaked, enjoying the view of himself and how it would always be on John's arse. Ownership of a sort.
"A few months ago. I'd been deliberating on when to try starting a romantic relationship with you. You beat me to the punch like always," laughed John.
Sherlock massaged the warm skin, enjoying how the muscles tightened admirably under his touch.
Skillfully, he rolled John over once more, coming mouth to bow with John's pants.
John was still perfectly trimmed, allowing Sherlock to grip the top of the elastic with his teeth without a struggle through pubic hair, and pulled down carefully, nearly getting slapped in the face by John's insistent cock.
There was a chuckle shared between them, before Sherlock began his inspection in great detail.
John's cock was the same colour as his skin, retaining darker pigmentation from days in the army. The very tip which seemed to pulse on its own, was a near bloody shade of red.
Sherlock gave it a small squeeze, enjoying the moan it ripped from his John and the small bead of white that leaked from the slit. With the tip of his finger, he disrupted that little bead, dragging the liquid down over the glans, spreading it around to slick John up for the main course.
With no shame whatsoever, Sherlock buried his face into John's pelvic bone, inhaling deeply. He'd remember this for the rest of his life, mentally cataloging everything he could about John's body.
There was a stronger scent further down. A scent that was purely John Watson at its core.
Strong thighs tightened with anticipation and Sherlock was reminded of something he wanted to see.
He lifted himself over John once again and asked, "May I see your tongue?"
John's answering smirk was filthy and wanton, making Sherlock's body quiver and his rectum throb. It had been so long since he'd been so insistently aroused that even his body throbbed at the emptiness.
The pink appendage was exposed for his greedy gaze and Sherlock took it between his fingers. The hole wasn't particularly large, but after seeing how much it could lift, he knew that size didn't always matter. Just look at John. Yes, he was smaller in height and width, but his cock was a proud seven inches and half a centimeter. One could not judge on appearance alone all the time.
"How good are you with your tongue?" asked the brunet, eager to learn.
"Get on your back and I'll show you."
With an excited moan, Sherlock stripped his clothing off and arranged himself willingly and carefully. He was not allowed to lift his legs too high because of his the wound, but John had taken care of that road bump easily. He knelt between Sherlock's leg and lifted them carefully over his shoulders,
Sherlock's worry for John's injury made the doctor smile and pat him reassuringly. "It's fine. This is about you."
His legs were spread and John nipped playfully at his thighs. He sucked at the tip of Sherlock's foreskin and pulled on it a bit, making his detective twitch.
"Relax yourself for me."
Sherlock forced his body to calm. John would take care of it. John knew what he was doing.
The first point of contact was jarring, shocking Sherlock into full arousal. His own cock thrummed and he reached down to stroke himself slowly. Slow burn was always the best of orgasms.
The texture of John's tongue felt strange but no less wonderful than Sherlock assumed that it would. He could feel the hole itself as John explored Sherlock's insides. Fingers carefully breached him, reaching inside for something that was found and squeezed just the tiniest bit.
Sherlock's entire body arched into John's tongue and fingers, not expecting him to get the prostate on the first try. But John was a doctor after all and should know the human body well enough.
God, his mind suddenly ran through all manner of doctor/patient kinks they could explore.
John squeezed again, making the brunet moan once more.
"Please John, I want you to take me."
Never let it be said that Sherlock was shy in the bedroom. While he preferred someone else to lead, he was an extremely demanding little bottom. He knew what he wanted and while experiencing John's tongue up close and personal was one of them, he wanted John's cock inside his arse. Wanted to be violated. Owned. So long as John was doing it he didn't care.
When he was all better, John would be able to own his pasty bum with brutal claiming. But for now, Sherlock could take it slow… ish.
John shushed him, carefully rising up over the detective and smiling. "Lube?"
"I don't like it unless I make it. I hadn't thought to make any, so… just take me."
"You wanton git."
John was careful, bringing his thick cock to Sherlock's body and thrusting in ever so slowly. In and out, allowing Sherlock to stretch for him, taking his time, which Sherlock sorely wished he didn't have to do.
Damn those Neo-Nazis for practically cock blocking Sherlock! He was missing out on a hard fuck because of them!
Once fully seated, John brought his hand to Sherlock's all but forgotten erection, stroking it in time with his maddeningly slowly thrusts.
He was taken and taking. Receiving what John had to offer and tightening his anal muscles to attempt to keep John inside longer. John groaned, hissing out a string of filthy words that had Sherlock writhing and attempting to wring out even more.
John Watson, ever the respectful man who observed propriety, was telling Sherlock to take his cock. Taunting about never wanting to be empty. How he'd always remember John's venture inside of him.
John's hand twisted expertly and his hips thrust easily, almost as if there was no struggle against Sherlock's squeezing. It was hot and wet with sliding skin and friction that Sherlock adored.
"When I'm better," gasped Sherlock, "you will fuck me like your life depends on it."
"With pleasure," purred the doctor, adding one vicious thrust of the hips and twist of the hand, taking Sherlock apart slowly, worshipful, smiling in pride as Sherlock moaned for him.
John had waited patiently, holding his own end off in order to rouse Sherlock's sex back to life.
It was then, that John carefully mounted him and took Sherlock's burning arousal in one movement, sinking down, mindful of Sherlock's injury. He was slicked and ready.
"My turn!"
Sherlock had created a monster. That, or the monster had finally come out to play.
It was certainly a merry Christmas.
And to think, Sherlock should be well by New Years. His eyes rolled back in pleasure at the thought of John owning him thoroughly then.
It was something to look forward to.
"You're mine, Sherlock," John said through gritted teeth. "No one else can have you."
"I don't want anyone else, John."
"Good, because your love is mine."
Feeling possessive and emboldened over John's claims to him, Sherlock placed his hands on John's rising and falling hips and aided him, lifting him and then slamming him down. John screamed in surprise.
"If I am yours, then you are mine."
"Oh, God yes!"
"Say it, John."
"I'm yours!"
On his descent, Sherlock thrust up just that once, bringing both of them to completion, John's seed covering his chest in the most obvious claiming method imaginable. Sherlock returned it with everything he had, his own ejaculate bathing John's center.
John fell to the side, breathing heavily. "That… was the most… amazing thing… I have ever done."
Sherlock curled into his warmth, feeling content and sexually exhausted.
"I concur."
"How can you be… so put together?"
Sherlock smirked. "Well John, when you can own me thoroughly, you'll truly get to see what I'm like when out of breath."
"I look forward to it, you mad, beautiful git."
There were no declarations of love or adoration. They weren't needed. John knew him better than anyone and vice versa. They didn't need to announce it, because it was already obviously there.
Sherlock wrapped a long leg around John and pulled him in close for their small respite.
"I would like to have you on your side next," John murmured into his curls.
"Oh, God yes!"
A/N: It is finished!
How was it? Let me know.
Check out my other fics.
See ya! :D
CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.