Author's Note: Hey guys. Finally a few reviews. C: Thank you so much. Now it's time for the real deal, no more bullshitting you guys... sort of. Any ways, here's some porn with plot. Inspired by Motivation by Kelly Rowland ft. Lil' Wayne. Still no beta.

Enjoy!~

They wanted each other. That much was clear. As the door swung open revealing a poorly clad Holmes to Watson, all the tension hung in the air between them, nearly tangible.

"What is it?" Holmes asks.

John stares for a long moment. "I can't sleep."

"Are you hungry?"

"Not for anything to eat."

They don't say anything. Watson invites himself in and sits in Holmes' chair. "What if I left Mary?"

"I beg your pardon."

"I was thinking. I don't really love her. Just the idea of her. A beautiful woman, a nice home, no insane roommate or crazy adventures. Just peace and quiet. Maybe a dog. Or children."

"You hate children."

"You hate children." Watson corrects. "But I really don't want any of those things... not any more."

"What do you want?" Holmes couldn't keep the question from tumbling out of his mouth.

When Watson thinks about it, the answer is simple. He wants Holmes. Nothing more or less. But he cannot find the same courage from knocking on the door.

"Something I shouldn't."

"By who's words?"

"My words," Watson mutters, "I should be condemned for my thoughts and secret desires."

"So should every man." Holmes counters. "What makes you think your desires are wrong?"

"Common sense."

"Not every one has that. You most certainly do. I don't think what you want is as bad as you think. Come now, you can trust me. Just like always." Watson almost vomits from Sherlock's word spew.

"Then you clearly don't know me."

"What do you want from me? At the very least you can answer that." Holmes is about to crack from the suspense. He can almost taste his victory. He knows Watson wants him. He can read it on his finger tips that are trembling and the way his mouth is watering and how dark his eyes have become. No one knows John the way Sherlock does.

"I can't answer that."

"You can, but you're too afraid."

"You!" Watson shouts, his whole body shaking as if he had been fighting the word for a very long time. "I want you. Whatever that means. I dream about... you and that's why I can't sleep. I shouldn't want what my dreams tell me... what my body tells me."

Holmes is very close now, leaning on the arm of the chair. His hand reaches down and takes Watson's hand in his.

"How about this? Is that alright?"

"What are you doing?"

"Holding your hand."

"Yes, I see that, but why?"

Sherlock truly smiles then. "Because you want me but aren't ready for me. It's quite adorable actually. Your innocence."

"Innocence?"

"Yes. I think you're just afraid because you have no idea how to do this."

Watson closes his eyes and inhales deeply, thoroughly shaken by how accurate Holmes is. No one knows him better than Sherlock.

"You are far too intelligent for your own good."

"So I am correct." Holmes traces his fingers up John's arm to his cheek, caressing the skin. He leans forward to whisper in his ear. "I can teach you."

Watson keeps his eyes shut tightly, but even behind his eyelids, he sees Sherlock, naked, pinning him to a bed and doing just that.

"Why is this so difficult?" he finally whispers back.

"Stop thinking," Holmes commands.

"I can't," John replies. "I'm trying."

The tension could be cut with a knife. Holmes is so close, he can feel John's breathing, can watch the rise and fall of his chest, can see the goosebumps on the back of his neck, can smell the faint hint of aftershave on his cheek. Watson can feel Sherlock's breathing, can faintly feel his pulse pounding in his throat against the back of his neck, can smell coffee.

Then it snapped.

John turns his head and Sherlock pulls him roughly into a kiss. Their lips meet in an explosion of energy. John lets out a deep moan because he didn't even realize how much he wanted this. Sherlock straddles John's lap, his hands feeling any skin he can find. John doesn't know what to do with his hands except tangle his fingers in Sherlock's hair.

"Have you ever kissed a man before?" Sherlock asks, his lips trailing down Watson's jaw and neck. His teeth nibble on a spot below his ear.

"Just you," John replies breathlessly.

Sherlock goes down John's body, kissing every inch of skin he can. He's down on his knees now, he pulls down John's trousers in one move. "You don't have to hide from me."

Watson really wants to close his eyes, but Holmes' black eyes have locked his and he's leaning forward to kiss the tip of his cock. Just that touch breaks his stare and John throws his head back against the chair.

"I'm going to show you something. Try not to scream, darling." At that, Sherlock swallows John whole. Despite his advisement, John does scream a little, though it's more of a growl just ripping for his chest. His hands are gripping Sherlock's hair for dear life as his head starts to bob. It's a sensation he's never felt before and it sends electric shocks through his entire body. Sherlock moans around John's cock, loving the feeling and seeing how far gone Watson already is. He can taste it.

Success.

"Ooooh fuck." Watson breathes, trying to gain some control of his body, but he knows he's at the mercy of the man between his legs.

So innocent. Sherlock thinks, swirling his tongue around the tip. If only you knew what I'm capable of.

"I don't think..." John manages to say, "I'm not going to go much longer." Every movement Sherlock does sends his mind spiraling and John knows it's only a matter of time before he just comes.

Holmes stops all movement and releases Watson's cock for a moment. "Fuck my mouth," he says as though it's the most ordinary thing in the world.

"I beg your pardon."

Sherlock moves up John's body until they're face to face. He kisses him slowly and John can taste himself on his lips. "You have so much to learn, my dear Watson." Sherlock lowers himself on John's lap, their cocks, meet, skin to skin.

Every muscle in John's body tightens and releases over and over again as he comes harder than he's ever in his entire life. His fingers are gripping Sherlock's hips so tightly, he's sure to bruise. Sherlock leaves his marks too as he bites hard on Watson's neck, stiffling his own scream. Watching John come so undone brought him over the edge suddenly, and his body is shaking.

"Why have we waited so long for this?" Watson asks, his chest heaving.

"We just needed some motivation."