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mrs - mob - johnlocked . tumblr post / 49778885579 / mob - au - boss - john - bought - the - first - night - of
"Well then..." John drawled. "Let's get started. On your knees," he commanded and Sherlock obeyed, kneeling in a fluid motion on the floor, his mouth now on level with John's crotch. John grabbed a fistful of those dark locks and guided Sherlock's head where he wanted it to be. "You know what to do, don't you?"
"Yesss," Sherlock hissed, but showed no resistance. He took hold of John's hips and began to press open-mouthed kisses on the slight bulge of John's pants.
John really began to enjoy himself quite a bit.
Fuck, this boy had not only a clever, but a talented mouth. Looks like he hasn't exaggerated his skills. As he looked down, Sherlocks eyelids fluttered and John's vision was filled with wide-blown pupils, dark as the night, with only a small ring of pale blue-green surrounding them. Sherlock was now mouthing in earnest his cloth-clad, fast-filling cock through his trousers. It was a symphony of black and white... Sherlocks dark curls blended with his black trousers, the paleness of his face contrasted with his fluttering, dark eyelashes... the only colour in this picture were his red, sinful lips leaving damp patches on John's crotch.
John had to close his eyes. The pressure of this lush mouth was just right to make him want to ram his cock right down this long throat. But that wasn't for what he was here, and as he felt the slight scratch of fingernails on his clothed balls and a tentative hand searching for his zip, he yanked at the curls in his hand and pushed the little slut on the floor.
Sherlock just laid there. Chest heaving, a light flush spreading from his incredible cheekbones down his throat, his mouth hanging slightly open as if he really was breathless with arousal. A disdainful grin began settling itself on John's lips, when he noticed the bulge in Sherlocks trousers.
"You concealed that you get off on sucking cock," he scolded. "Now I really think the riding crop will have to make an appearance." Sherlock only watched him with heavy lidded eyes as he walk to the cupboard to retrieve the crop. John came back and stopped next to Sherlock's lower body. He tapped lightly on the bulge there, what caused a chocked moan from Sherlock. "Do you always get this horny?" John used his polite voice again.
"Not always," Sherlock confessed and his hips bucked up against the crop, seeking more pressure.
Immediately John took the crop away and ran it over Sherlock's chest, slapping his nipples a few times (which earned him sharp intakes of breath from Sherlock) before he moved higher, where he rested the crop on Sherlock's cheek. Sherlock was breathing heavy now, his eyelids fluttered closed and he tried to nestle against the leather-strap on the end of the crop like a cat who wanted to be petted.
"You really love the riding crop, don't you?" John teased.
"Sometimes..." Sherlock sighed. "Do you want me now? On the bed?"
John pretended to think about it – and then shook his head with a smile that was so friendly that it was really frightening.
"You know what? You were a little bit more expensive than I expected... So... I don't want to rush things. I think we should enjoy the moment, don't you think?" He slapped the riding crop against Sherlock's right cheek, before he dragged it over those full lips. Sherlock's tongue darted out and gave the leather strap a few playful licks. At this sight, John's cock twitched eagerly. He breathed through his nose to compose himself.
"Then what are you waiting for, Sir?" Sherlock asked with a hint of mockery in his voice. "You can start anytime with your enjoyment."
"Oh, stuff it. Don't sir me," John told him slightly annoyed, but then he lowered his voice to a dark whisper.
"I'm waiting for you to really, really wanting it. Needing it. Begging for it. Gagging for my cock in your tight, virgin ass. Begging me to fuck you. Hard." He had thought that Sherlock would shiver or moan at his words, but this unpredictable boy just watched him with eyes that (just a second ago) were aroused and heavy-lidded, but now were narrowed and calculating.
"Interesting..." Sherlock said.
"What's so interesting?"
"You don't want my submission. You don't want me to play a role. You don't want me to fake the whole thing. You want..."
"I want you to want me," John interrupted him in a low, dangerous voice and the hint of a devilish smile.
Sherlock calmly considered his words.
"I wonder how you think you will achieve this," he finally said.
John's smile deepened.
"Just wait... and see... You can start by sucking me off. Put your pretty and naughty mouth finally to good use."
Sherlock had the audacity to grin.
"Yes, Sir."
That earned him a hit across his chest and he took it without a cry or a moan.
"I told you before..." John warned him. "Don't mock me. I know how to arouse wanton need. But I also know how to punish and how to inflict unbearable pain. They don't call me Doctor for nothing. These few semester medicine really come in handy... when there is the need to break fingers or legs... or to stimulate a prostate until one is sobbing with desire."
"I'd really like to see you try," Sherlock replied dryly, but nevertheless his voice sounded curious.
John shook his head. Despite himself he wanted to laugh, but that wasn't an option here.
"You really are an insolent little slut."
Sherlock looked bored.
"Tell me something I haven't heard before."
John smiled his most friendly and most disturbing smile.
"You're beautiful."
That hit a nerve.
Sherlock blushed furiously and averted his eyes.
"Don't..." he murmured in a strange mixture of anger and pain. "Please... don't." He took a deep breath and looked up to John again. "I don't kiss you and in return you don't flatter me. It's not necessary. This is a deal. Nothing more, nothing less."
John nodded in understanding. This boy was strange. Why doesn't he like to be complimented? Everyone craved to hear some nice things now and then. But on the other side this boy was right. This was a deal. Business. Not a cheesy love affair.
"Back to business it is," John stated calmly. "I believe I told you earlier to suck me. Why did I have to wait so long for your service?"
Sherlock's face remained expressionless, but he crawled back on his knees and fumbled for the zip in John's trousers. He pulled John's cock out, which had deflated a little bit over the course of the last couple of minutes, but was still half-hard.
"You're not circumcised," he remarked.
"No, is that a problem?" John asked.
"No... on the contrary. More foreskin, more fun." Then Sherlock closed his eyes, as if he was feeling pure bliss and peppered little kisses and teasing licks all over John's rapidly growing erection.
It felt fantastic. Sherlock really was magnificent at this sexual variation. His tongue was smooth, but insistent, the pressure of his lips just right to leave him wishing for more. Just when John thought he couldn't stand this erotic teasing any longer, Sherlock opened his mouth and took his whole erection down his throat in one go.
A deep moan escaped John's lips and his knees went a little bit weak. Sherlock kept perfectly still. He only swallowed again and again around his hard cock, which was so deep down his throat that for one crazy moment John believed he could feel Sherlock's heartbeat on his glans.
John wanted nothing more than to bury his hands in those dark curls and fuck this sinful mouth ruthlessly. But he stayed still and tried to enjoy the exquisite torture of this wet mouth, those hot lips and this eager, tight throat. Desire coiled in his lower body and against his own will his fingers found their way to Sherlock's head where they combed through his hair in a nearly tender caress.
Then the sucking and the slight bobbing started and burning ecstasy surged through his veins, inflamed his whole body and he had to bite his lips in order to keep his shameless moans inside.
The feeling of fingernails scratching over his balls brought him back to consciousness. Not completely, but at least enough to gather his wits and to shove Sherlock off his cock, before he was tempted to shoot his load down that lovely throat and be done with it.
"That's more than sufficient," John said and hated how breathless he sounded. The small smug smile on Sherlocks lips angered him. "Undress yourself and on the bed with you," he ordered more harshly than he had intended to, but at least Sherlock complied without a saucy remark.
John breathed deep and put his straining erection back in his pants. His cock wasn't too happy about that, but John was insistent and his body eventually bowed to his will. It was still uncomfortable, but it was worth the look of confusion on Sherlock's face, when he noticed John's maneuver.
"What are you waiting for?" John asked. "On the bed and on your back."
Again Sherlock complied without a word and arranged his long limbs on the covers of the bed, looking expectantly and a little bit unsure. John took his time to look at the naked, pale body on the dark red sheets. His eyes roamed over the hairless chest with those tempting nipples and settled finally on his groin. Sherlock was clean shaven - there was no pubic hair, only soft, smooth looking skin. The heavy balls nestled between long, lean legs and a fleshy, slightly swollen cock, laid on a flat stomach, moving with each breath Sherlock took.
"Did you prepare yourself?" John asked.
A blank look crossed Sherlock's features.
"Prepare?"
John's left eyebrow made an appearance.
"Yes... have you stretched yourself or at least lubed yourself up?"
"No." Sherlock simply told him. "I only had an enema earlier this evening," he added thoughtfully.
John had to fight a giggle.
"You have no talent for pillow talk," he said with a grin. "It's certainly none of your finer assets."
Sherlock shrugged.
"Could have told you so."
"But why haven't you prepared yourself? I would have thought Miss Adler..."
"The most customers wouldn't have bothered" Sherlock interrupted him in a calm, collected voice. "The more I'd scream and cried, the more satisfied they would have been. So I hadn't bothered, too. I had just wanted to get over with it." He paused. "I hadn't expected someone like... you." A softer expression full of wonder appeared in those pale eyes.
A short bark of mirthless laugher escaped John's lips.
"I'm not a kind man," he told Sherlock coldly. "Don't make people into heroes. Heroes don't exist."
"I haven't mistook you for a kind man," Sherlock corrected. "You want to break me... just like any other customer. But your ways and means are more... intriguing."
"Such high praise," John replied sarcastically.
"It is. I'm not easily intrigued," Sherlock stated matter-of-factly.
Again John had to shook his head.
"I don't know why I'm allowing you to talk so much."
"Because you're also intrigued by me."
Silence filled the room after this last remark.
Finally John moved and went to the cupboard.
"Shut up and spread your legs. I'll get the lube."
To be continued...
