Author's Note:
This is the first adult chapter of this story which means I will be changing the rating so if you found this fic under the T rating, just know it will no longer show up there. I hope you enjoy this 3,000 words of what I hope is a good balance of romance and smut. Please please leave me a review. I'm new to smut so I'm not sure if this any good.
Of course, a note of caution. Language and sexual content are in this chapter. If you are uncomfortable with this, stop reading here. If you've been enjoying my story so far and really want to read it but don't want to read the sexy stuff, this chapter doesn't include any major plot points, so you could skip it if you really wanted to without missing out on a lot.
Thanks for reading :)
"Wait, what?" Sherlock's eyes darted around the room, searching for the culprit who switched off his new-found show. Leave it to the world's only consulting detective to not realize that a storm has caused a power outage, John thought, and chuckled to himself.
Sherlock must have finally put the pieces together, because he fell back against the couch with a huff. He crossed his arm tightly across his chest and made another noise of disapproval. John couldn't help but thinking how much this posture was making Sherlock look like an enormous child.
John moved onto his knees with the intention of getting up to clear away the remnants of their supper. But Sherlock reached out his hand quickly and grabbed John by the wrist. "If the power hadn't gone out we would still be watching telly." John looked puzzled at Sherlock's statement, knowing how much Sherlock hated it when other people pointed out the obvious. John slowly nodded as a response. "Can we stay here a while longer?" Sherlock's eyes looked imploringly up at John. "I'm comfortable."
The thought that John himself was making Sherlock want to cuddle and watch reality shows sent John's self-confidence through the roof. He smiled down at Sherlock, and returned to his seated position, letting Sherlock nuzzle into his chest.
The quiet in the flat was to John's liking, the only noises he could hear were the patter of rain, the occasional clap of thunder, and Sherlock's slow and deep breathing. He felt content and so let his head loll back onto the couch as he pressed his hand into the ebony curls of Sherlock's hair. He repeatedly carded his hand through the luxurious mane, as the last remainder of the small voice that kept trying to tell him he wasn't gay was effectively told to sod off.
Sherlock was pressing up into the touch and, after a few strokes, he chanced a look up at John through the hair that had fallen over his face. The candles were a brilliant idea. He was staring at the endless patterns of highlights and shadows that were dancing across John's tan face. The movements were random, and cast an endless combination of shapes on all the beautiful skin of John's face. Sherlocks eyes were grazing around the rest of John's body, when he was suddenly entranced by the ripples being sent through the fabric of John's jumper each time he stroked Sherlock's hair.
Sherlock suddenly had a burning desire to see how the movement looked when the skin was bare. His immediate thought was to move and pull John's jumper off. But he hesitated wondering how John would respond to that. Perhaps I could get him to comply if I acted with a bit more...tact.
Sherlock gently angled his body so he could more easily snake his arm around John's waist. At the hollow of John's back, he began rubbing in small circles over the fabric. He felt John push ever so slightly into the touch, and saw this as a sign of encouragement. He eased his hand under the hem of John's jumper and placed his palm flat against the skin he found there. John let out a small gasp, as Sherlock's hand was rather cold.
Sherlock resumed the gentle rotation of his hand, all the while watching John's face, trying to determine his thoughts. He turned even more into John, almost to the point of being on top of him and placed his other hand on John's side on top of the fabric. John let out a little whine and his hand had stopped moving in Sherlock's hair. Sherlock began to tug gently on the jumper with his hand that rested on John's side.
John lazily opened his eyes to see Sherlock gazing at him, those blue eyes sharp but uncertain. John understood the unspoken question and nodded slightly, leaning forward to allow Sherlock to more easily remove the barrier of fabric.
When John was free of his jumper, Sherlock settled back into his original position. "Would you resume your previous movements John?" Sherlock asked.
John was slightly confused, but obliged nonetheless. He replaced his hand on top of Sherlock's head, pulling the curls straight between his fingers. He let his head rest on the couch once again.
Sherlock watched intensely as the muscles in John's arm tightened and slackened. Each movement sent a ripple across the taut, tan flesh. Soon, however, watching wasn't enough. He slowly raised his hand and placed his fingertips against the forearm. John shuddered slightly at the touch, but otherwise made no indication of a desire to have Sherlock stop.
Sherlock let his fingers sit still for a moment, but then began tracing them along the skin, tracing different patterns, testing the difference of areas depending on the stage of movement the muscle was in. Finally, he placed his whole palm up against John's wrist, moving along with John.
Slowly, desire was creeping into Sherlock. He felt it first as a warming sensation, but then he realized his heart rate was increasing and he could see all the details of John more sharply. He wanted nothing more at this moment to press his full body against John. But again he worried his approach my not be welcome. He decided on a more subtle mode of contact.
John noticed Sherlock's hand fall away from his arm, but continued stroking Sherlock's hair anyway. His eyes fluttered open when he felt Sherlock press his fingers gently on the blossom of scar tissue on his shoulder. He looked down at Sherlock, who looked up at him in return. Sherlock's very gaze seemed to be asking permission, and John nodded again. This time however, John watched as Sherlock felt all over the scar.
John's heart raced as Sherlock inclined his head forward to press his lips to the marred flesh he had been running his hands all over. John closed his eyes tight at the contact, and even though he was trying not to, he found that his whole body was tensing.
Sherlock noticed too, because he pulled his head back and placed his lips against John's throat instead. He nuzzled against that warm skin until he felt John relax. Then he slowly slid his tongue out from between his lips, letting just the tip of it glide across the sensitive skin. John's mouth had fallen agape and he let out a small, involuntary groan. Sherlock took this as a good sign and so began to lick with more broad strokes.
As John was growing more aroused by the contact, he tilted his head to the side, giving Sherlock more access. This sent a shiver down Sherlock's spine, and he shifted so that he was now straddling John. He sucked hard at the skin under his lips. He knew it would leave a mark, but he didn't mind, and judging by the sounds John was making, he didn't care either. After a few moments of suckling, Sherlock leaned back and looked at John's hazel eyes.
"Sherlock," John said, his voice low and husky. "Is this what you want?"
Sherlock's silence rang in John's ears. The only sound that overpowered it was the pounding of John's heart in anticipation.
"I don't know," Sherlock finally said slowly, almost testing the words. He watched John closely, looking for clues on how to proceed.
John swallowed hard, trying to gather some courage before asking, "Have you done anything like this before?"
"I'm not a blushing virgin John," Sherlock quickly responded, his tone slightly too bitter. "I have experimented with physical contact before. The novelty of this experience is due to the fact that I am...emotionally involved."
John let those words sink in. He pressed his forehead against Sherlock's, trying to convey his own feelings. But knowing Sherlock wasn't good at picking up on subtle emotional cues, he decided it would be best to just be open and honest. "This is a novel experience for me too Sherlock. I care about you, a lot actually, emotionally involved doesn't even begin to cover it. But I've also never been with...another man before."
"Do you not want to proceed?" Sherlock was casting his gaze down. The idea that John wouldn't enjoy this because Sherlock was a man was hurtful.
"God no, Sherlock. Of course I want to continue. I'm not saying that I don't want to be with another man, I'm just trying to say this is new to me too. Honestly, I'm so nervous I feel like a virgin again."
Sherlock let out a laugh. It wasn't out of discomfort or tension, it was a genuine laugh and it was infectious. They laughed and laughed until they both had tears in their eyes and stitches in their sides. Sherlock pressed his chest against John's and placed his lips to John's. They were both breathless from laughter, but that didn't stop them from kissing passionately.
When John finally pulled back from the kiss he was light headed from lack of oxygen and a heavy desire to see more of Sherlock. He reached forward tentatively and eased the top button of Sherlock's dress shirt open. Sherlock's eyes began to shimmer, practically glowing with lust. He let a wicked smile cross his face. At seeing that smile, John sped up the removal of Sherlock's tight shirt.
The shirt was carelessly tossed aside and Sherlock was pressing his bare chest against John's. Their skin was warm, and John reclaimed Sherlock's mouth, placing his hand firmly on the back of Sherlock's head. Their tongues were intertwining, tasting each other, and breathing the same oxygen. John nipped down playfully on Sherlock's lower lip and was rewarded with a delicious growl of pleasure passing from Sherlock's mouth into his own.
Reflexively, Sherlock began lazily grinding his pelvis against John, letting the friction build and build. John could feel the tension of Sherlock's desire against his thigh. He reached around Sherlock and place his hands firmly on his bottom, pulling Sherlock closer to him as he ground upwards into Sherlocks groin.
Moment's passed like this, with Sherlock and John snogging like teenagers, until finally Sherlock pulled aways and leaned back. John's pulse was skyrocketing at the sight of the beautiful man, reaching for his zipper.
Sherlock gently pulled the metal zipper of John's trousers down, and then popped open the top button. He looked back at John, who was breathing heavily and watching intently. Sherlock hooked his two long index fingers in the waistband of John's trousers and gently tugged on them. John lifted his hips slightly, allowing Sherlock to remove them more easily. Once the trousers were tossed to the side, Sherlock looked over John sitting underneath him in only his pants. Sherlock's hands slipped slowly down to his own zipper, but John reached up and took both his wrists in hand.
"That's for me to do," John said. The thought sent a spike of pleasure through Sherlock. John reached forward and painfully slowly he dragged the zipper down. He paused, then lovingly popped the button. He traced Sherlock's bare skin along the top of the waistband before hooking his fingers under it. Sherlock slid gracefully out of the black fabric, and John threw the trousers unceremoniously across the room before looking Sherlock up and down, admiring his handy work. John could easily see the outline of Sherlock's erection, only being held back by the thin material of his pants.
John's hand found its way onto Sherlock's chest. He placed it over Sherlock's heart, feeling it pound underneath. "You are...magnificent," John told Sherlock in the sexiest voice he could muster. "Truly gorgeous."
Sherlock's sharp cheeks tinted with a slight flush of pink. He was used to John complimenting his intellect, but this was something different all together.
John's hand began to trail down the midline of Sherlock's torso, marveling at how smooth and warm the skin was. It was as if Sherlock had never had a single scratch laid on him. When John's hand reached Sherlock's pelvis, he heard Sherlock's breath hitch. "Alright?" John asked. Sherlock's eyes were closed, but he violently shook his head 'yes,' so John gently pulled on the pants.
The cool air of the flat hit Sherlock's arousal, causing him to pull in a sharp breath and push his hips closer to John. He was bare before John, he wanted to see what John was going to do, but at the same time, he was too nervous to open his eyes.
John was marveling at the sight in front of him. He was immediately reminded of ancient Greek sculptures of the gods. Sherlock's beautiful body was taking John's breath away. John's fingers traced the protruding hip bones, following their curve down toward Sherlock's eager groin. He traced the edge of Sherlock pubic hair, letting it tickle against his fingers. Then he pressed his fingertips into that mess of dark hair, curly and soft like the ones of Sherlock's head. John tugged at the hair slightly, causing Sherlock to arch his back even more. John knew he was teasing Sherlock, but he wanted nothing more than to take this slow. He wanted to see and feel and smell and taste every inch of Sherlock, and savor it as he did so.
"John please," Sherlock whined at John was stroking his hip bones again. Sherlock's back was arched so far that he could almost rest his head on his heels. He was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and his breathing was unsteady.
When John heard Sherlock say his name in the sinfully deep voice, he couldn't hold back any longer. He stroked down the left hip bone one last time, but this time he followed the curve all the way into the groin, where he took Sherlock in his hand.
Sherlock let out a groan, pulled his hips back slightly, then pressed them forward again. John was amazed at how Sherlock was turning to putty in his hands. He was dizzy with the control, the desire, and the extreme attraction.
Moving his fist incrementally along Sherlock's shaft, John asked "Is this what you want?"
Sherlock panted and nodded his thrown-back head.
"Tell me," John said, moving his hand achingly slow again.
"Yes." Sherlock was supporting himself with his hands on the floor beside John's legs, and John could see the muscles were starting to quiver from the exhaustion. "Please John."
Ah, there it was, the way he said his name, that's what John needed. He quickly removed his hand, resulting in a small whimper from Sherlock, slicked it with his tongue and then gripped Sherlock once more. He was running his fist in a slow steady motion, pumping Sherlock gently. John's mouth began to water as he listened to Sherlock's erratic moaning.
John removed his hand once more and place both hands on Sherlock's hips, digging his fingers into the tender skin. In a swift movement he pulled Sherlock flush against him and then rolled them both over so that John was now on top of Sherlock.
John wiggled down between Sherlocks knees, spreading them slightly, and brought his mouth to Sherlock's stomach. He ran his nose down into Sherlocks pubic hair, and nuzzled along his cock. He pulled back slightly and gave a small lick to the tip, looking up at Sherlock's face as he did so. Sherlock's eyes were screwed shut, his chest was rising and falling sharply, and his fingers were digging into one of the cushions they were settled on.
When John pushed the entire length of Sherlock's cock into his mouth all at once, Sherlock called out something incoherent that sounded something like John's name. John began to bob his head at a medium pace. He sucked hard on each upstroke, and eased his way down. Sherlock was trying to keep still underneath John, but he kept trying to push farther into John's mouth.
The erotic sounds of ragged breath and the slick of skin on skin were the only sounds as John continued to suck and bob. He could feel Sherlock beginning to shake, all the muscles in his body winding tight.
"Jo..John." Sherlock was trying to reach for John's body. He wanted to give John a taste of what he was experiencing.
John didn't remove his mouth, he simply peered up at Sherlock and when he saw his outstretched hand, he slid close enough for Sherlock to hitch down John's pants.
Following John's example, Sherlock slicked his hand on his tongue and reached out to grab John's stiff cock. The grip was awkward, but it would do. Sherlock began pumping John in sync with John's own movements.
John's eyes fluttered shut and he began to moan into the stimulation. His moans vibrated against Sherlock's cock in his mouth, which made Sherlock shiver violently.
"God...John...I'm...John...Joooohn." The last word came out more in a moan than an actual word. But John understood the meaning. He pushed Sherlock as far into his mouth as he could manage as Sherlock came hard into his mouth. The warm fluid filling his mouth, the tight frantic tugging on his cock, and Sherlock's voice calling his name as he came all combined to send John over the edge himself.
John shuddered and shuddered with wave after wave of aftershock, before finally slumping forward and pressing his face into Sherlock's chest. Both of them were slick with sweat and exhausted.
Sherlock gently snaked his clean hand around John's shoulders and placed a soft kiss on the crown of his head.
They washed up and cleaned up the leftovers before deciding that an early bedtime was fitting for tonight.
"Would you like to sleep out here on the cushions?" Sherlock asked as he began blowing out the candles one by one. Both men were still naked, and John couldn't help but smile and Sherlock's firm arse as he moved from one candle to the next.
"Sure, I'll just grab a couple blankets." John came back with the blankets, and they both positioned themselves easily on the cushions under the blankets, not bothering to put on pajamas.
They lay facing each other in the dark, John, every now and then, reaching out to stroke Sherlock's face. They didn't feel the need to talk, so they just laid there, listening to each other's breath and the thunderstorm outside.
Eventually Sherlock engulfed John in a cuddle, and they both fell into a deep and relaxing sleep.