THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVELY FEEDBACK. I TRIED TO MAKE THIS AS GOOD AS I COULD, BUT FOR ME THIS IS SHIT. I'M VERY CLUMSY, AND DEFINETLY THIS IS NOT THE BEST SEXY CHAPTER YOU'LL EVER READ BUT WHAT COULD I DO? I HAD TO TRY IT SOMEDAY. ITS NOT "SO" GRAPHIC, BUT IT HAS HIS MOMENTS SO... YOU'RE WARNED! BYEEEE.
(I READ IT LIKE A HUNDRED TIMES, BUT ANY MISTAKE IS MINE)
The feeling of his lips over his, his warm, soft and medical hands over his body and his skin so close was making him hard, and he remembered all those nights in which he used to watch him sleeping.
He didn't care what people may think. He didn't care that one night John may wake up. The only thing that could calm his mind and his body, was watching John sleep.
His body, his almost naked body under the thin and white sheet was something he was used to watch every night. Every single night after the pool incident. John jumped and saved his life.
He looked like a greek god. His arms had muscles that were completely hidden under many layers of clothes during the day. And his chest looked like if architects of heaven had sculpted him by themselves. And his chubby belly was the most delightful thing he had ever seen.
And his hair. John's hair was the most sexy thing he could have ever touched. It was soft, blonde and painted with few grey ones.
And his lips. His lips were thin, and pink. And now he knew they were soft. John's lips tasted like heaven. Like tea and toast, like strawberry jam.
He left John's lips and kissed his jawline, his neck, his skin. His skin tasted different. It tasted like soap, and it smelled like John and his jumpers.
He couldn't remember how then ended on his bed, casually the bigger. They fall together, the doctor over him, and their erections pressing together like if they were fighting against each other.
Instinctively, Sherlock spread his legs and John took this as an invitation. He trusted like if he was penetrating him and Sherlock moaned in pleasure. He was looking at the stars. Don't tell him there was a ceiling over them, because he will deny it to you. Sherlock was literally looking at the stars.
John undone his pants and the consultive detective couldn't tell how his flatmate took off all his clothes. But they were completely naked. And no one could stop them.
No one could stop them. And not even the lack of necessary things like lube and condoms.
They didn't care.
They needed to be together.
They needed to be close.
They needed to feel the other.
They needed their bodies.
John was out of his mind. He could feel his precum over the head and without knowing what he was doing, he collected it with his left hand, the same hand that made Sherlock hard a few hour ago and he touched his entrance.
Sherlock moaned harder, and his face blushed. It was the first time in his life he was seeing Sherlock Holmes blushing from head to toes.
And that made him feel more anxious and impatient. He needed to be inside Sherlock. And he was determinated to take him, no one and nothing could stop him.
The taller man placed his legs beside the doctor's waist, making him more easy to take him. And without any words or expressions, John entered inside Sherlock.
And he lost his conscience.
Not literally, obviously.
But there wasn't any need of words. John didn't need to hear Sherlock's approval. They needed to be as close as possible. As close as their bodies could let them.
He buried his face in his lover's shoulder. He could remember as pale his skin was in that area, and his moles, the moles of his neck, the softness of his skin... everything was making him feel more aroused.
His left hand was over Sherlock's hip and his other hand was supporting his own weight beside the detective's head.
But he kept his face hidden in his shoulder, in the deepest smell that his skin was emanating. Suddenly that smell changed. The whole smell of the room changed.
They, and the room smelled like sex.
Sherlock was tight, so tight that it was driving him crazy. He lost his mind over that, and then he felt his touch.
His long, and pale hands were on his butt, trying to make the penetration more deeper. His nails, god his nails were buried on his skin, and then they moved to his back. Surely he was going to have some marks, but he didn't care.
He was still there, with his face on Sherlock's shoulder when he felt two tears falling over his cheek.
He had made him cry.
He hurted him.
He didn't care about Sherlock.
He only cared about himself and his pleasure.
"Sherl-"
The detective kissed at him in a way he could have died in that moment and he would have been happy.
"Harder"
He did as he was told, and even he put Sherlock's long and pale legs on his waist. He penetrated again, and harder, but he heard a laugh.
He never stopped his movements but he looked at his lover, who was under him. He frowned. Sherlock was laughing.
Sherlock kissed his ear and told him what he needed to hear.
"C'mon John, show me the bravery of the soldier. Harder, fuck me harder John"
And those words magically made him feel strong again. He felt an air of strenght that needed to be used. And Sherlock was his target. He was decided. Sherlock was going to scream his name and he was going to pay for that laugh.
John was going to show him, and make him feel the bravery of the soldier.
And he did.
Sherlock screamed his name for the first time since they started. And it was arousing. It was making feel
harder, even more.
John was sure he was going to treasure that scream.
He wasn't going to forget it.
He will remember that scream for the rest of his life.
Because he made Sherlock scream his name with pleasure.
And also, he was going to make himself sure that no one would ever make Sherlock scream that way. He was going to be the only one. The only one who could feel those lips, those nails buried on his skin, those pubic hairs on his and that smell. The smell of Sherlock and sex.
The doctor, also soldier was there. He was there. And he knew his lover was also there.
He wasn't going to tell him, but he needed to hear his voice on his ear. That deep voice that could turn his whole world and his whole life just for him.
"Come for me John. Come inside me. Come, soldier"
Soldier.
And he did, as his lover.
John Watson, ex Army Doctor fell over Sherlock. They were sweaty, and they shared the same smell. The smell of sex.
They kissed for a long time, until they felt like their mouths were dry. It may be winter, but they felt like they were under the most warm sky in the Sahara desert.
"Sherlock- Sherlock-"
He couldn't talk. His mouth was dry, and he was tired. And he thought his penis was going to fall off. But his ex flatmate now lover silenced his with a finger over his lips.
Sherlock Holmes kissed his chest and rested his head there. His right hand was running over his doctor's body. He smiled when he looked down at them.
John had the same mole near his penis, like him.
The moles were a good excuse after all.
YEAH, IF YOU WANT TO THROW ME SOME TOMATOES ITS FINE TO ME. BUT SUPPORTIVE FEEDBACK IS ALSO APPRECIATED, THANKS.
READ YOU SOON ;)