If he thought that kissing John was spiritual, Sherlock knew making love to him would be absolute nirvana. Sure, he'd fucked other men, boys rather. He hadn't ever kept track of them all, but the list was shortened by repeat offenders. The list stopped growing the day Sherlock had met John. At first it was unintentional, Sherlock simply not finding time to meet anyone sexually desirable. He was keenly aware his new flat mate was more than likely straight, and felt it was polite to not impose his own sexual practices upon John's living quarters. All of those reasons, of course, were a bluff to the deeper motivation. At the time, Sherlock refused to acknowledge such things, knowing that emotions and sentiment only interfered with proper brain function.

As he divested John of his boxers, Sherlock had never been more attuned to his emotional side. He swore in appreciation of John's body, his light blonde fuzz and broad, soft features complimented everything about Sherlock's own dark, sharp, angular body.

"My God, John Watson, you're stunning."

John blushed furiously, crossing his arms over his exposed chest in self-protection. Sherlock took pity on him, wrapping him into an embrace, closing the awkward distance that had formed between them. From his taller viewpoint, Sherlock took a moment to act childishly horny. He lightly smacked John's butt with an open palm."Nice ass, too". John wiggled his behind in good showmanship. Sherlock's deep laugh resounded through the flat. He kissed the top of John's head, stilling his movements to gather all the possible data. The way John's hair smelled like pine needles, the way his head fit into the crook of Sherlock's shoulder, the way John's hands wandered over Sherlock's back as if they needed to touch every part of him. What now, genius? You're not going to cuddle him all night are you? C'mon, you both want it. You can feel how much he wants you. Teach him how, he'll love it.

Sherlock gulped down the unfamiliar feeling of fear that erupted in his stomach, coughing to clear his throat. Once he opened his mouth to speak, words began spilling out, unbridled.

"John, I, uh... Christ, look John, I know you're not, I mean, I know you've been with women before and I know I'm not a woman, obvious, but I just... I'm willing to work at it if you're worried or nervous or I mean if you think it's gross then we won't and I'll just leave you be I just want you I just want all of you but if you don't then -"

Sherlock knew he was rambling, and he knew John knew. He was slightly annoyed John wasn't helping him. John was being completely silent, giving away nothing from the look on his face. Sherlock was unsure what the emotion was, but suddenly he felt extremely foolish for thinking a man like John Watson would want a dick in his ass. Sherlock began trying to explain again.

"Look, John, I know I'm not what you're looking for per-say, uh, sexually, but Christ I'm being a bloody twit and I just -"

John's near-hysterical peal of laughter ended Sherlock's agonizing monolog. Eyes wide, John gaped at him, looking aghast as his laughter subsided.

"My God, Sherlock, is that your way of asking me if I'll let you fuck me? Bloody hell man, you have no idea, do you? Here, feel this and tell me if you think I'd want anything else."

Sherlock's hand was guided directly onto John's frighteningly thick, deliciously warm, obviously erect cock. A small gasp from Sherlock was accompanied by a moan from John. Hand over hand, John began moving back and forth in a slow, steady rhythm along his shaft. With his free hand, John gingerly encircled Sherlock's semi-erect cock, calling it to full attention. Sherlock held back a moan of delight, fearing the sound of his own pleasure would send him to an early release. He needed to savor this time with John. He wanted to store this memory in the safest part of his mind. As he quickly made space for the untold length of this memory, he heard John speaking words. Snapping his mind to the present moment, Sherlock realized John was making a request.

"Sherlock, oh bloody hell, Sherlock please?"

"Anything John, for you, anything."

Without warning, John spun so his back was facing Sherlock. Oh my, he's trying so hard but he has no idea. This is why I love him. He tries so hard for me, trusts me so much. Sherlock appreciated the gesture, knowing John was completely out of his depth in this situation. He tugged John flush to his body, John's back to Sherlock's front. He stooped low to whisper hotly in John's ear.

"John I need you to do what I say so I don't hurt you, okay?" John nodded furiously. Sherlock smiled, reaching around to grab hold of John's engorged cock. He gave it a small tug, using it as a rudder to turn John's body back to a position that had them face to face again. John was already panting with the contact, firing up Sherlock's already inflamed libido. He snaked one arm around John's waist, pulling him close, kissing him deeply. Through the fevered kisses Sherlock murmured words of encouragement. When he could stand it no longer, Sherlock dropped to his knees and without hesitation took John's cock as deep into his throat as he could manage. Sherlock hummed in sinful pleasure, delighting in the musky taste of his doctor.

"Wha- bloody hell Sherlock I... I... Uhhh sweet God ,Sherlock!"

Smiling with John's cock in his mouth was not an easy task, but Sherlock managed it. Afraid of losing John too soon to the oncoming orgasm, Sherlock slowed his bobbing head, using only his skilled tongue to lap along the smooth underside of John's cock. John swayed in ecstasy, upheld only by Sherlock's arm around his waist. Sherlock took John full to the base in his mouth, sucking hard once and releasing. His free hand lightly stroked John's now moist cock, and he stood to meet John's astonished face. Giving John a crooked half-smile, Sherlock implored his lover's face. The only result was wonderment.

As if on cue, John passionately kissed Sherlock, first on his lips, then along his jaw, trailing kisses down Sherlock's neck and chest, lapping along his peaked nipples, down his ribs, nipping at the meaty muscle around Sherlock's pelvis. Sherlock was near certain he would spontaneously combust right there in the flat when he watched John take a mouthful of his cock, his blond head and blue eyes determined in their mission. Sherlock threw his hand upon John's head, slowly guiding him along the shaft, down to the root. Pure, undiluted awe spewed from Sherlock's mouth as he watched John hollow his cheeks, sucking almost too hard, but Sherlock found the pain manageable.

"Dammit John, shit. I swear to God if you've been practicing." Sherlock could feel John's small laugh reverberate through his cock, into his pelvic muscles. An unexpected but welcomed feeling. "Ugh, careful, your teeth, John. Enough, enough John." Sherlock couldn't come in John's mouth, not yet. He needed to feel John, warm and tight, surrounding him.

Kneeling to level himself with John, Sherlock noticed John looked bashful, reminding Sherlock that he needed to praise John. Yes, that's something normal people do. Think of how John praised you during cases, yes do that.

"John, that was- that was brilliant John."

Sherlock kissed his face, his lips, his cheeks. Reaching between John's legs, he stroked John's hard cock, feeling it jump and twitch with the sensation. He needed to feel John between his own legs.

"John, do you, um, have lube?" The question seemed to pop the bubble surrounding their fiery passion, but John didn't seem to care. He jumped up, strode into Sherlock's bedroom, emerging quickly with a fairly full bottle. In response to Sherlock's raised eyebrows, John stammered an explaination.

"I – I had been – Well okay I'd been sleeping in your room. And ya know, for a while, it was lonely. So I'd, well, oh come on it isn't that funny. Sherlock!" John swivled to return to Sherlock's room, but Sherlock quickly stood and caught him in a hug. Sherlock whispered in John's ear seductively.

"Did you think of me? Late at night, laying in my bed, did you touch yourself to me, John?"

"Yes. Always. Just. You." John croaked his response.

"Oh John. It was always you in my fantasies too. Even when you were only a staircase away." Sherlock let the implication linger as he grabbed the bottle out of John's hand.

Wasting no time, Sherlock squeezed the jelly onto one slender finger. He held John close still, angling his own body to allow proper penetration so as to not hurt John. He gently rubbed John's bottom, massaging each fleshy side. He cooed more encouraging words to John, willing him to open as much as possible.

"Relax John, just relax. You're so amazing. Just let go baby." The term of endearment surprised Sherlock, but the word came naturally. As he uttered the last word, he slid his slick finger into John's painfully tight ass. The puckered skin had little give, forcing Sherlock to move agonizingly slow. He could hear John's breathing quicken, felt his inner muscles tighten at the intrusion. Sherlock continued pressing into John until his second knuckle disappeared. Applying more lube, Sherlock massaged the rim gently, drawing out groans of what seemed to be pleasure from John. Concern blossomed in Sherlock's gut, and he quietly made sure John was okay.

"Does this hurt, John?"

"No, mmm Sherlock it feels amazing. Will you make love to me, Sherlock?"

Sherlock had never heard more beautiful words come from John's lips.

"Soon, baby. I need to know I won't hurt you."

"Mmm you won't Sherlock. You won't.."

Spurned on by John's desire, Sherlock eased his finger out, applied copious amounts of lube to John's hole, and reinserted the solo finger. Gradually he entered a second finger, then to his wild delight, a third. John was soundless, except for the moans of "oh God yes" he uttered when Sherlock wiggled his fingers deviously. Checking on John frequently, he was awestruck at how wanton John was. As he released his fingers from John's ass, he moved their bodies backward onto the sitting room carpet again.

As a pair, they sank to the floor, John laying in wait underneath Sherlock's lean body. Sherlock tried to form words to explain to John what this moment meant, but was left wanting with the English language. He knew the words that most people would use in this situation, but he found them to be too plain, too common, too simple for the feelings he had for John. Maybe he should say them anyway, for John's benefit.

"John, I – I - "

"Sherlock, don't. I know. Tell me tomorrow, if you must. Okay? Now, just fuck me, please?"

Sherlock gave John his crooked half-smile and proceeded to slick his own cock with lube. Positioning himself over John, Sherlock held himself upright by bracing himself on the back of John's thighs. He needed to see John, needed to see him explode with pleasure at Sherlock's hand.

Tortuously slow, Sherlock sank his cock into John's warm, tight ass. The crest of the head breached John's puckered hole, ripping the breath out of Sherlock's lungs. John convulsed in pleasure, moaning accolades in Sherlock's name. Pushing steadily, Sherlock encased himself in John's deepest parts, filling John with his cock, tugging at the virgin skin inside him. Once Sherlock planted himself up to the base of his cock, he applied a dollop more of lube around John's pink, stretched hole, earning a gasp from his lover. Feeling confident he wouldn't hurt John, Sherlock pulled back halfway, and began to thrust. The friction of his cock inside John drove him closer to the edge than he'd ever been in such a short time. He delayed his release by checking on John.

"John, baby, I need you to talk to me. Is this ok? You feel amazing, John."

"Ugh, yes Sherlock, it's – it's perfect. Please don't stop."

"I won't, I won't. Just tell me if it's too much, please John. I need you – I need you to be okay."

What Sherlock really needed was to fuck John into oblivion, to drive him mad with lust, to own him body and soul even if only for a moment. Throwing caution to the wind, Sherlock picked up his pace, thrusting harder and deeper into John. Unable to control himself, John started stroking his own hardened cock. The sight drove Sherlock near insane, pumping harder against John. Sherlock could feel his own orgasm building, felt the heat washing over him, the pure joy bubbling up into his chest. Making eye contact with John as he continued to push and pull, Sherlock saw his peak reflected in John's face. A few more thrusts and he was going to tumble over the edge.

"John I- I'm going to come John."

John's reply came in the form of creamy white ejaculate spurting from the tip of his cock, coating his hands and spattering Sherlock's stomach. The view was more than enough to ignite Sherlock's orgasm, ripping through him until he saw nothing but white light and heard nothing but his own voice screaming John's name.


John prayed, to all that was holy, Mrs. Hudson couldn't hear them. It was his only concern. He grimaced when he realized that whatever had been holy about him, was definitely not holy any longer. He was completely unsure how he had gotten into this position, but the shock of pleasure that ran through him made him completely sure he would find this position again. He moaned Sherlock's name louder than the previous time, spurning Sherlock to thrust harder and deeper. He reveled in the fullness he felt, knowing he might pay for it in the morning. He didn't care. How could he care?

He opened his eyes to find a pair of blazing aquamarine orbs burning in front of him. Brow furrowed with his exertion, Sherlock's face was impossibly beautiful. The light rose blush and sheen of sweat that covered his milky skin only made him more awe-inspiring. Unable to resist, he moved his hand to his own cock, stroking it like he had many nights before. However tonight, he didn't have to imagine that Sherlock was kneeling between his legs, pounding his contracted hole with a long lean cock that resembled every other part of his astonishing. Tonight, that was his reality. Which was only made more real by the sound of Sherlock's hoarse voice telling John he was going to come. Acknowledging the power that Sherlock's voice had over him, John's orgasm rolled over him almost on cue. His thick semen enveloped his own hand and streaked Sherlock's stomach. John felt Sherlock body respond, mirroring his climax with an added bonus – Sherlock screaming John's name as he pumped once more, releasing himself into John.

Overwhelmed by sheer exhaustion, John could do nothing except lay underneath Sherlock. Limply, Sherlock extracted his semi-flaccid cock from John, only to lay back down with his body covering half of John's. Reaching around with one hand, John found the discarded quilt from earlier, pulling over them as they drifted off into the sated sleep that lovers find after their movements and words are finished.