Exploring Sexuality

A/N: ohmygod I didn't realize you guys actually read these you are all so cute I love you Happy Thanksgiving to all my American readers, enjoy your days off!

Ch. 20

Sherlock alternated between ridiculously tense to uncharacteristically cuddly in the cab ride home. Traffic was awful and the ride took almost an hour to begin with. They passed it without saying a single word to each other, but that was okay. They were both used to it.

When they got to the flat, Sherlock threw John's book on the coffee table, shucking his coat and pulling John out of his. John let himself be manhandled halfway to the couch before Sherlock apparently decided that his room would be better suited for whatever he wanted to do. He gently pushed John down on the bed, sitting between his legs with his back to John's chest. He held both of the other's hands tightly, wrapping them around his middle.

"You are the first person I've ever topped," Sherlock said eventually, trying to consciously relax himself in John's arms. "Ever. I've only ever had sex with men, and practically all of the time it had been for drugs, and therefore wasn't extremely safely practiced. I've deleted most of it, but I know I always felt very helpless, and, as you know, that is not a feeling I take to well. You are the first person I've had sex with since." He paused to take a breath and gather his bearings, giving John time to interject if he so desired. He didn't, of course. He knew this was difficult for Sherlock and he was only revisiting it because John needed to understand if this was going to work. "That's most of the reason I topped you for our first time, because I needed the control, however slight. And you were great, perfect, because it was your first time with a man, but you didn't even consider doing it any other way than how I presented it. So, firstly, thank you for that. For giving me the control I needed."

John nodded, pressing a kiss to the back of Sherlock's neck, just below his curls and above his dog tags. "You're welcome," he murmured quietly without saying anything else, letting Sherlock finish.

Sherlock took a deep breath, leaning into John. He didn't like doing this, talking about his past and trying to make sense of his emotions, but he owed it to John, so he continued. "Then you asked me why I had 'No Touch' days, and said that I could say no to you, and I felt so stupid, because of course I could, of course you'd listen, you'd stop. You aren't Bill, or Javier, or anyone else who just wanted to use me. You care. I can talk to you and you will listen and try, and we can decide what works. Together."

That had been far more sentiment than he had originally planned on when planning this in his head in the cab, but John just held him and let him talk and listened. Sherlock probably could have gotten through this while looking at him.

"So I would like to try something."

John smiled a little against the crook of Sherlock's neck. "I've gathered that actually, love," he said softly, letting Sherlock know that whatever it was, it was okay and they could try. "What is it?"

Sherlock hesitated. Actually, he wouldn't have been able to do this while looking at John. "Are you familiar with the term 'topping from the bottom'?" he asked.

"Vaguely," John replied honestly, seeing where this was going. It was pretty self-explanatory, anyway.

"I want you to do that." I trust you completely. "Would you do that?"

John pressed a kiss to the skin of Sherlock's neck, just below his ear. "Now?" he asked, voice completely level.

"Yes," Sherlock whispered, his voice barely above a whisper in comparison.

John nodded and squeezed Sherlock's hands before letting go to trail his hands up Sherlock's chest. He undid the buttons of his shirt slowly, brushing his thumb over the new skin as it presented itself. When he reached the last button, Sherlock pulled away enough to slip the shirt off his shoulders, dropping it off the side of the bed. John's hands roamed over Sherlock's chest, feeling the planes of muscle, hearing the detective's breath hitch when he skimmed over a nipple. His dog tags jingled faintly. "Why now?" he asked softly, curiously, not stopping his hands exploring.

Sherlock didn't answer right away, taken aback by the question in the first place. "I trust you, and I need to get out of my head." He paused, wondering if now was Not Good. "Should we not do it now?"

John shook his head, kissing along Sherlock's shoulder. "Now is fine," he assured, tweaking a nipple again, delighting in the short gasp he earned in response. "I was just curious." Mindful of Sherlock having ticklish sides, John's hands skimmed down the others arms instead before undoing his belt, a teasing hand pushing against his groin.

"Ohh," Sherlock murmured, letting his head fall back on John's shoulder. His good shoulder. He finished his own belt, not very satisfied with John's slow pace, and it joined his shirt on the floor. "John."

John pressed light, open-mouthed kisses to Sherlock's neck, undoing his fly simultaneously. "Up," he commanded quietly, and Sherlock stood so fast he almost lost his balance as he dropped his trousers, then his briefs. John hid his chuckle by pulling his pumper over his head, and, feeling Sherlock pull off the T-shirt underneath, he kept his arms up, letting that slide over his head as well. Sherlock undid his belt, and John did his own zip, his trousers joining the accumulating pile of clothes on the floor. He stopped Sherlock's hand at the waistband of his briefs. "Can I try something too?" he asked, looking up at Sherlock.

Sherlock hesitated only a second before nodding. "Yes," he said evenly, looking at John with open curiosity. "Can you not try said thing naked?"

John chuckled and turned them around, so that the back of Sherlock's knees were against the bed. He pushed gently. "I could," he answered as Sherlock's back hit the mattress. "But I'd rather not, at the moment."

Sherlock propped himself up on his elbows, watching with growing comprehension as John dropped to his knees before him. "Jo- ohh," he moaned, his head falling back as John tentatively licked a stripe up his cock. "This does not give me very much control," he managed after a minute.

John didn't even think about it. "Tell me, then," he said before taking Sherlock's head in his mouth, experimenting with tentative flicks of his tongue and strokes of his hand near the base. He had given a small handful of blowjobs during the army and used that minimal experience now, hollowing his cheeks before taking more of Sherlock in his mouth, slowly finding a steady rhythm. John was tenting his briefs, and he could taste precome as he swirled his tongue around Sherlock's head.

Above him, Sherlock seemed rather at ease about having given this control to John, letting out a low string of moans, hands fisted in the sheets. He was still propped up on his elbows, lifting his head and letting it fall, trying to watch John intently.

When his jaw started to grow sore, John pulled back, licking his lips involuntarily. He smiled self-satisfactorily when Sherlock gave a small whine in protest. Then he did drop his pants, feeling Sherlock's gaze on him as he rummaged in the dresser drawer for the lube. He turned back and Sherlock pulled him down on top of him, kissing him greedily, tasting himself in John's mouth.

"I didn't have to," Sherlock half-panted when he pulled away. "You knew. I can give myself to you."

John blushed faintly, knowing that was no small feet from Sherlock Homes, knowing he was one of a very few. But then Sherlock shifted his hips just so and- "Oh god," John moaned, pressing his forehead to Sherlock's shoulder. "You are so bloody impatient," he mumbled with a breathless laugh, placing kisses along the detective's collarbones.

Sherlock rocked his hips impatiently, as if to prove John's point. "John, please," he practically begged, back arching into John's kisses.

John let out a sigh just above Sherlock's nipple, teasing, enjoying the little shudder he got in response. He marveled at how he could take the other man apart, how needy Sherlock was. It was amazing. "Alright," he said softly, rolling off of Sherlock so he could properly position himself. But he got up on his knees and fucking presented himself and John nearly lost it. "God, Sherlock," he groaned, leaving a trail of kisses down his spine as he slicked his fingers. He circled Sherlock's rim twice and was going to tell him to relax, but he did it on his own, so John slowly slid one finger in.

Sherlock had his head resting on his arms down on the bed, and he let out a low moan, closing his eyes as John stretched him and worked him open, adding a second finger when he felt he could. He squirmed a bit then, feeling the burn as his body resisted the intrusion. "Fuck!" he exclaimed suddenly as John hit his prostate with a doctor's precision. "Oh god, John, oh, yes," he mumbled into his arms, pushing back on John's fingers now as he added a third.

Watching, John thought he could get off just by doing this, fingering Sherlock and listening to him. He was so tight. The hand that didn't have fingers up his arse was massaging said arse, feeling the muscles contract and relax beneath his fingers. "You're bloody gorgeous, you know," John said, his voice a bit breathy.

Sherlock moaned, temporarily hiding his face in his arms. "Please, John, now. I'm ready; fuck me," he groaned wantonly, only to let out a disappointed noise of loss as John pulled his fingers out slowly.

John hesitated, looking down at Sherlock with amazing restraint. "I can't imagine you have much control in a position like that," he said slowly, questioning.

"Stop overthinking it," Sherlock grumbled, turning his head to look at John. His pupils were dilated, but he still somehow managed to glare at him.

So John did. He squirted more lube into his hand and slicked his cock, laying a steadying hand on Sherlock's hip as he lined up and slowly pushed in. A low moan escaped both of their lips, and John paused when he was fully sheathed inside Sherlock, both to let the other man adjust and to take a couple steadying breaths himself. The sight before him was absolutely amazing; Sherlock really had a great arse. And then he started moving his arse over John's cock, and John understood.

But he wasn't overthinking.

Sherlock set a steady rhythm and slowly John started to enforce it, leaving them both moaning a litany of jumbled words, very often the other's name. Sherlock's hand bent up to take his cock in hand, matching his pulls with John's thrusts. John shifted minutely until he hit Sherlock's prostate and made him curse fluently. "John.. oh, fuck, John, I'm close," he panted, rocking his hips back to meet each of John's thrusts.

John's breath came a little shorter and his pace picked up, hands tight on Sherlock's hips, not actually restricting his movements, but giving something John to do with his hands. And then he felt Sherlock's clench around him and let out a string of mumbled words into his arm, and that sent John over the edge too, spilling inside Sherlock with the other man's name on his lips.

Sherlock tumbled down on his side, avoiding the mess he just made, and pulled John down on top of him, kissing him lazily. He fixed John's dog tags around his neck and nuzzled up into John contently. "That was perfect; you're perfect," he mumbled against John's shoulder. "Thank you."

John chuckled in spite of himself, with what little air he currently had in his lungs. "You are very welcome, love," he said back, kissing Sherlock's cheek. He knew what that had meant to Sherlock, and he was glad to have not screwed it up somehow.

Sherlock lay under John happily for all of the time it took him to come down from his orgasmic 'high,' then poked John's side. "I need a shower; care to join me?" he said, turning a bit to look at John with a truly genuine smile. Not insinuating, just happy.

John couldn't help but smile back. "I would care to join you, if you did not mind," he agreed, sitting up off Sherlock so he could get up too.

Sherlock adjusted the dog tags again and gave John an almost 'don't be ridiculous' look that clearly said of course he would not mind. And then he kissed John again, this time slow and deep, and meaningful. "Strip the bed first," he bargained, getting up and heading for the bathroom. "I'll make it when we're done."

John did as he was told, his head still spinning, and heard the water start to run. He dumped the sheets and their clothes in the hamper before following Sherlock with a small smile. Their bathroom wasn't that big, and when John stepped into the shower, Sherlock almost immediately pulled him close, letting his hands roam over John's skin as the water fell over it. John watched him contently, his own hands wrapping around Sherlock's waist. "That helped," he said plainly after a couple minutes of silence.

Sherlock, of course, didn't have to ask what he meant. "It did," he agreed. "I told you it would." He turned slightly left and squirted some shampoo into his hand before working it into John's hair. John closed his eyes and let him, dipping his head under the spray for Sherlock to rinse it out too.

"I can't do that to you, I'm afraid," John said when he opened his eyes again, looking up at Sherlock with a wry smile. "You're too bloody tall."

Sherlock shrugged, smiling. "I'm perfectly capable of washing my own hair, thank you," he replied.

John rolled his eyes and shoved him playfully, though not nearly enough for him to lose his balance. "Yeah, yeah," he said. "That's what I get for indulging you."

Sherlock only smiled and they finished their shower separately, stealing several random kisses in between. Sherlock handed John a towel and wrapped one around his own waist as they stepped out, picking up John's dog tags from the little vanity and returning them around his neck as he strode back into the bedroom with John in his wake.

"You don't want to eat dinner, do you?" John asked as Sherlock handed him a pair of boxers and a t-shirt.

"Not particularly," Sherlock replied, dropping the towel from his waist to slide on his own pair of boxers and his pair of worn pajama pants. He didn't bother with a shirt. "Can we just… spend the night in?" he asked a bit shyly, toweling his hair dry.

John smiled. Mrs. Hudson would be ecstatic to know they were being so domestic. Just a night in. "Anything you want," he agreed, kissing Sherlock's cheek before pulling the t-shirt over his head. He realized a little late that it was Sherlock's and consequently too big on him. He had to have noticed, to have done that on purpose, the possessive prat.

Sherlock smiled mischievously. "Careful how often you say that," he said.

"Oh trust me," John chuckled, "I am."

A/N: Not entirely happy with how I ended this chapter, but I've been staring at it for two days and am already late for my biweekly update, so don't be too mad at me.