He pulled Sherlock to the bed, and they sat on the edge. John's steady fingers began undoing Sherlock's buttons as his tongue began undoing Sherlock's self-control. His hands grasped John's shoulders to steady himself, and just then John's fingers finished with his silk dress shirt. He pulled away slightly to whisper against Sherlock's lips.
"Let go..."
Sherlock could hear what he meant in his inflection. He meant to let go of his arms, and also the dignity he was clinging to. Huh... He had never been able to read into things like that before.
However, he complied, and his shirt was pushed off of his shoulders. John's lips met his bare skin, planting hot, open-mouth kisses from his shoulder to his jaw. Sherlock felt something rising in his chest, and he consciously tried to release whatever it was, seeing as he was making an honest effort to let go, just as John had told him. It broke in his throat, and it was a sound, unlike any he had heard or made before. The best description he had for it was a moan.
He was rewarded with John's enthusiasm. He found himself being pushed down flat against the bed and mounted.
"That's it..." He heard John croon as his hand found Sherlock's zip. He had risen to the occasion and as the doctor's hand found rubbed against his manhood as it went about its business undressing him, a noise Sherlock classified as a whimper escaped from him.
"More." John demanded, hot against Sherlock's neck as he plunged his hand into his boxers. He gasped and his hands grasped at the sheets as he felt John's warm fingers wrap around his hardened cock.
Sherlock had taken himself in hand a few times when he was younger, but had never seen any use for it, and had so given it up. Nothing he had ever experienced felt quite like this.
He had to try less to give into his instincts now, as his self-control ebbed away.
"John..." He gasped out.
John pulled his hand free, to Sherlock's disappointment, but quickly shoved his pants and boxers down about his knees and pulled him the rest of the way up the bed, which in itself pulled them all the way off his ankles. He was surprised at John's nimbleness, but his mind was almost immediately distracted with the realization that he was completely exposed.
John noticed this, too, and looked into Sherlock's eyes, searching once again for any doubt.
"Are you still sure this is what you want?"
It was natural for Sherlock to let his instincts answer for him now.
"Please, John, take me..."
"You're going to have to undo my trousers, then." A smile played with the corners of John's lips.
Sherlock nodded and rolled them both over so he could undress the beautiful man beneath him. As he did so, he let words flow from his lips, words he'd never said before, never even thought before. He whispered them into John's ear, only for John.
"I want all of you, John Watson. I want to see and touch and taste all of you, to make you mine, and no one else's..."
John moaned as his trousers and boxers were removed, and Sherlock wanted to keep the sound forever, for no one else to hear.
All of a sudden, the two men found themselves completely naked, bare skin against bare skin. It was almost too much.
However, Sherlock, the cool-headed man he (usually) was, decided to experiment with different stimuli once again. He hesitantly took John in hand, drawing a delicious gasp from the doctor. Noted.
The detective drew his thumb up the side, eliciting a moan from John. Noted. He would find all of his pleasure centers, find out exactly how much pressure to apply and where to apply it to pull the most gratifying sounds from this beautiful man. Words seemed to be rewarding stimuli enough, so he tried some.
"How do you want it, John? Tell me. I am going to find all of your hidden places, places you didn't even know you had..."
A deep moan sounded in John's throat, which turned into a growl, and he turned them both back over. He looked down into Sherlock's eyes.
"I'm the doctor, remember?"
Sherlock's pulse spiked with adrenaline as he realized the implications. John's mouth was on his then, and then on his jaw, then to his neck, his collarbone. He could see what John intended to do, and some remnants of fear broke inside him.
"John... Ahh...!" John must have sensed Sherlock's fear, and he opted for distraction by means of giving one of Sherlock's nipples a quick bite. Noted.
John continued down the detective's body, alternatively kissing and licking the sweat off of his body, until he reached his navel. He then lowered himself straight into Sherlock's crotch, drawing his tongue achingly slowly up the side of his throbbing member.
"John, please..."
Noted.
John couldn't resist the opportunity to make Sherlock beg, and so his tongue toyed with the tip of Sherlock's impressive cock, already wet with precum.
"Fuck...!" John had never heard Sherlock curse before, and it was a beautiful sound.
He finally decided to put the detective out of misery, taking him as far as he would go into his mouth. John was rewarded with a delicious moan.
Rational thought fled from Sherlock's mind, and his hips started pumping of their own accord.
This being his first time, Sherlock did not last long.
Sherlock came with a cry, and collapsed back onto the bed as John swallowed all he had given him. He lay there in a haze as John climbed back up his body.
"You've never done that before, have you, Sherlock?" He shook his head lazily.
"Why would I have?"
"Fair point." John conceded. He lay beside Sherlock, his arms tired from supporting himself. Then, an obvious fact hit him. "Are you... Are you a virgin, Sherlock?"
Sherlock turned his head to look at John, an unreadable expression in his beautiful eyes.
"Yes, I am, John."
A smile twitched around the corners of John's mouth.
"Was...?" Sherlock's brow furrowed.
"Well, I'm pretty sure I just swallowed your virginity."
A beautiful blush graced Sherlock's glistening face that had nothing to do with the exertion.
He was adorable.
Sherlock swallowed before speaking.
"I believe it's your turn now..." Sherlock smiled with anticipation. He had never wanted anything as much as he wanted to make John come, to make him cry out his name, to reduce him to a whimpering, writhing mess. "...Doctor Watson."