I'm hard again.
John had started to float in the space between sleep and consciousness, until Sherlock's words snapped him out of his reverie. He couldn't stop the smile spreading over his features, looking up at Sherlock. "Are you now?"
"Yes. But I can wait. A bit," Sherlock added, nuzzling his doctor shamelessly, smooching random bits of hot, wet skin. "It was beautiful."
John let out a small grunt of pleasure, wrapping his arm loosely around the detective. "Your orgasm?"
"Yours. Beautiful," Sherlock repeated. "Just when I thought I couldn't love you much more," he laughed airily.
John's eyes snapped open at those words, whispered so tenderly against his skin and yet with so much meaning that John couldn't focus. He opened his mouth, the words refusing to form on his tongue. "Well it was certainly a new experience for me," he said after a few tense moments of silence.
"I'm glad I could give that to you. I can't wait for the main event," Sherlock hummed happily.
John felt a nervous giggle rise up his throat, and he clamped it down before it took a hysterical turn. "I'm sure you'll find a way to be patient."
"I can wait till you're hard again. Though to be fair, we do have a lifetime to explore everything," Sherlock sighed, continuing to drop peaceful little kisses on his doctor. John groaned internally, really wishing the detective would stop saying things like that.
"We've certainly got plenty of time," he mumbled, swallowing thickly against the lump forming in his throat.
"Thankyou for giving me a blow-job, John," Sherlock said as he sat up, pouring more wine for them both, and stretching his arms with a luxuriant sigh.
John managed to push himself up against the headboard and accept the glass on wine, sipping gently as he watched Sherlock stretch. He was all wiry muscle under pale skin, slight, but with definition. He couldn't say it was a bad sight.
"You don't have to thank me," he said with a small smile, his voice feeling scratchy and tender.
"So," Sherlock asked, licking his lips delicately, before indelicately gulping some more sweet wine. "It's nearly time."
"Time?" he asked, burying his face in the wine glass to keep his eyes glued to something other than Sherlock's slender neck.
"For me to lose my virginity. Quite a momentous occasion, I think you'll agree." Finishing his glass with a few big swallows, the detective playfully eased across John's lap, straddling him, and lancing him with those ice-green eyes.
John swallowed his mouthful of wine audibly, both hands clutching the delicate glass as he took in the sight of Sherlock hovering above him. "We... agreed to wait on that," he said slowly, blinking repeatedly to try and come to terms with the devilish grin on the detective's face.
"We had the foreplay, the sensual food and wine, the starter orgasms. What more is there to wait for?" Sherlock had begun stroking John steadily, persuasively, without breaking eye contact for a second.
John ground his teeth against the touch, his cock still incredibly sensitive after his earth-shattering orgasm. "S... waiting on sex," he stammered.
"I've waited many years, John. You wouldn't deny me this, would you? Wouldn't begrudge me this new experience?" Sherlock let go of his cock, instead moving close to kiss him tenderly, whist beginning to slowly undulate his own hips in anticipation.
John felt himself moan into Sherlock's mouth, unable to hold it back, the wine sloshing dangerously in his hand. "I can't... we shouldn't... I - I just want to wait a little longer," he tried, even though the assault on his mouth was ridiculously distracting.
"Oh, John, I -" Sherlock suddenly froze, his words suspended, his eyes staring. After a few seconds, enlightenment, and a kind of fiendish acknowledgement spread over Sherlock's sex-flushed face.
"You are full of surprises."
John cocked his head, frowning. "I - I am?"
"It's alright, John. Never be ashamed of your pleasure. I'll give you everything you want. Need," Sherlock promised, with a glint in his eyes as he slid back off of John's lap, starting to kiss his way down his thighs.
John gasped, feeling a few stray droplets of wine over his hand before he managed to set it on the bedside table. It suddenly became clear that this night had been meticulously planned by the detective. The food. The wine. The shirt. Sherlock had been seducing him, and he felt a fool for not realising it sooner.
He opened his mouth to say something but his words caught in his throat as he felt the soft brush of Sherlock's lips against his inner thigh.
"Sherlock!" he gasped, heat pooling on his cheeks. "What... oh shit..."
"Know that you are free to say no anytime. Also know, that I don't think you'll say it," Sherlock huffed, his laugh heating and dampening John's thigh, before those plump lips began to suck and nip at his flesh. Two large, strong hands were ever-so-gently pushing his legs apart.
John felt his heart drop to his arse, coincidentally where Sherlock was focussing his attention. He felt far too exposed with Sherlock's curls hovering between his legs, the detective splaying his thighs. The blush on his cheeks deepened and he took a shaky breath.
"What are you going to do?" he whispered.
"I'm going to eat you out," came the blasé response, though Sherlock did lift up his head, his eyes questioning, to confirm that he did, indeed, have permission.
John's eyes were wide, but he could hardly say no. Not when Sherlock looked so delightfully flushed (and yes, maybe he wanted to know what it felt like).
"John? Can I put my tongue inside you?" Sherlock pressed, uncertain about the factual response of John's wide eyes. Was he horrified, or thrilled?
John felt his jaw fall open, and his tongue felt too heavy to respond. Instead he just nodded, eyes stuck to Sherlock to watch in fascination. He wouldn't be able to see much, but he'd be damned if he didn't try.
"Let me see it. Move down a bit," Sherlock instructed, hooking his hands under John's buttocks and trying to hoist him forwards.
"Jesus," he muttered in surprise. Swallowing again, John eased himself further down the bed as Sherlock scrambled to bend him in half.
"Really? Why not bloody hook my legs around-" John cut himself off, his face burning as he realised what he'd just suggested.
"Oh, fantastic. I bow to your superior knowledge in this field," Sherlock nodded, lifting John's legs and placing them over his shoulders, grunting a little at the surprising weight.
John wondered when 'eating out arses' had become 'his field.'
John brought a hand to cover his eyes, trying to digest the fact that he was bollock naked, with the world's only Consulting Detective between his thighs - oh, and his legs over Sherlock's shoulders. This wasn't what he'd planned - maybe a hand job, a blow job at the most. Now he was splayed out, baring all, and waiting for the man to 'eat him out'. He wasn't drunk enough for this.
"You won't be able to- just lean on your elbows," he muttered, raising an eyebrow at Sherlock's inquisitive look. John raised an expectant eyebrow.
When Sherlock finally did as he was told, John adjusted himself, bracing his feet on Sherlock's shoulders, breathing through the blush as the new angle set his arse and balls right in front of Sherlock's face. "God," he breathed, lying back and letting his eyes flutter closed.
"That's it, John. Don't think. Just feel. This really is an incredible view," Sherlock confessed with quiet awe, his words perhaps more suited to a tourist first laying eyes on the Grand Canyon.
John let out a small grunt in response, blinking up at the ceiling. "All I can feel is your eyes on me," he said, a little grumpily.
"I'm enjoying this very much. This kind of intimacy is brand new to me."
John winced a little at the sound of Sherlock taking a deep breath, and then the detective was nosing under his testicles, nudging their weight, before kissing across his perineum. His strong hands supported the doctor's backside, kneading subconsciously.
John gasped, biting on his lower lip as his thighs tensed, threatening to close.
"Just... Go... Slow."
"Don't worry," Sherlock replied, his deep voice sounding far away. "I could stay here for hours." The brunette pressed very lingering, soft, hot kisses at his rim, waiting patiently for John to relax.
John gasped at the feel of Sherlock soft lips to his hole, the muscles quivering at the touch but still lax from the detective's fingers not long ago.
"It... feels strange." he breathed, biting his lower lip.
Sherlock pressed his closed mouth across the warm opening, and hummed gently, whilst thumbing little shapes into John's backside.
John let out a long breath, his muscles tensing and releasing, moving his hands into Sherlock's slightly- damp curls. He didn't move the man, but he felt better holding him, as if he had some kind of control.
Sherlock took a little break to move back up, lipping and suckling at John's sac, before licking a few hot lines up his penis. He shifted one of his hands to rest upon the one nestled in his hair, and he intertwined their fingers lightly.
It was startling to John, that this seemed the most intimate and daring move yet.
The doctor took a moment to analyse the feel of Sherlock's hand within his. Slender fingers, hot palm, slightly sweaty and completely... amazing. John squeezed Sherlock's hand, telling him in his own silent way that this was right. That he felt it too, whatever it was. More than pleasure, more than sex.
Sherlock gave his tip a hard, affectionate suck in response, before shifting back down, and returning to the business of opening his doctor up. "Try and relax," came the detective's voice, hot and rumbling against John's skin.
Anchored by Sherlock's hand and comforted by his voice, John nodded, letting his head fall back to the pillow. He let the tension in his coiled muscles go, one at a time, unwinding his body to let his legs go slack.
"Yes...so good," Sherlock was murmuring. He flattened his tongue and pushed it over John's tight opening, not threatening to enter, and felt it twitch. He did this repeatedly until the defensive twitches became continual little pulses of pleasure.
John hissed and pressed himself harder into the mattress, the hand not holding Sherlock's moving to cover his mouth, his breath coming out in harsh bursts. He made himself relax against the strange tingles of pleasure.
"Oh..." he breathed, chewing his lower lip.
The resultant approving purr from Sherlock's throat was low and mellifluous, and he slowly narrowed his tongue, still not pushing to penetrate, just easing the wet muscles into submission.
"Christ - Jesus," John gasped, close to wriggling away from the intense feeling stirred by the detective's tongue. He moved his hand to Sherlock's curls, back up to his face. His cock was twitching from the strange pleasure, rising from the stimulation. "You... are very good with your tongue," he said, his voice laced with disbelief. "Very good, shit."
Sherlock paused minutely and his breath hitched with pleasure at the compliment. With a happy hum, he shifted on sore elbows back up to John's cock, sucking enthusiastically, wanting to see it back at full-mast. In the meantime, his forefinger circled his doctor's opening gently, keeping it stimulated.
John squirmed before sighing, his cock engulfed in such wonderful wet heat that he could hardly stand it.
"Oh my God, Sherlock," he whispered, the words followed by a long, drawn out moan. His throat felt raw from the last screaming session, and now the detective was drawing out more deep sounds. "Feel fucking amazing," he cooed, pulling the hand still bound in his own to his face. He couldn't even explain why, but the doctor found himself planting a small kiss to the inside of Sherlock's wrist.
Sherlock responded with another squeeze of John's hand, and a sharp kiss to his stomach. Before he slipped back down between his legs, John caught the look of ferocious intensity that he recognised as a sign of any kind of overwhelming emotion in his flatmate.
John wondered at Sherlock pausing and adjusting himself awkwardly on the bedspread, until he remembered that he too was aroused, and possibly was becoming exponentially more so. He noted too, somewhat delightedly, that Sherlock was moaning faintly, as he began to press his tongue a little more insistently against the ring of muscle, ready to breach it.
"Oh God, yes," he muttered, his breathing becoming erratic at the thought of Sherlock's slick tongue pressing inside him. "Do it, yes, it's OK, it's alright, please."
John felt a little bereft as Sherlock pulled his hand back, so that in one dizzying move he could thumb apart John's buttocks, lower his glorious head and plunge his tongue inside him.
The yelp that followed the action would have been embarrassing if it was anyone else, he was sure. A burst of moans escaped his lips at the feel of the hot muscle plunging into the most intimate part of his body.
"Fuck me, Jesus fucking Christ Sherlock!" he babbled.
John panted in disappointment when Sherlock pulled back abruptly, but was soon overcome with concern at the uncertainty on his flatmate's face as he looked up.
"Um...are you sure? I don't think you're wet enough yet..."
John blinked, turning his head, his eyes still clouded from the pleasure. "Huh?"
"If you...if you think it's okay though," Sherlock said, looking adorably flustered, but also cautiously excited. He got onto his knees and took himself in hand, slicking himself with his own copious pre-come.
John frowned, somehow managing to gather himself enough to push his top half up on his elbows. He felt dizzy and befuddled from Sherlock's tongue, and it took him until Sherlock moved forward for him to realise what the detective was planning on doing. "Sherlock?" he said quickly, his tongue feeling heavy. "Sherlock-"
He had the hazy-eyed detective's full attention, and he chose his words carefully. "Sherlock...I really, really liked what you were doing. Just this once...could you finish me off that way?"
Sherlock blinked at him, those sharp green-grey eyes watching him steadily before his body straightened with realisation. The doctor found himself flushed with guilt as a dusting of colour rose up the detective's neck. John could feel the air shifting towards tension, to awkward. John raised his hands, holding them out for Sherlock to take, stopping himself from apologising profusely and making the whole situation worse.
"...So...what I was doing...that was alright?" Sherlock queried, his hands fidgeting.
"That was fucking brilliant," he said gently, offering the detective a bright smile. "C'mere. Come kiss me a minute."
Sherlock scoffed, rolling his eyes, which looked remarkably green against the self-conscious red flush on his high cheekbones. "Don't be silly John. I just had my tongue in your rectum."
John felt a small chuckle bubble in his throat. "And I can still taste your come. We're both gross. Now kiss me."
He let out a relieved breath as Sherlock settled in his arms, then he tightened them reflexively. He turned his head and moved forward before Sherlock could protest, bringing their lips together with a wet smack.
"This feels very odd," Sherlock pondered aloud. "'Pre-coital' snuggling."
Even so, he melted into the hug, trying to quietly make himself as small as possible, so as to fit more naturally within his doctor's embrace.
John smiled, taking in the smell of Sherlock's skin. "A good odd, I hope?"
"Everything about us is 'good odd.' Including my tongue in you, I hope. Can I carry on in a minute? I would quite like to make you orgasm."
"Oh, feel free. And you can tell me how I can return the favour."
Sherlock's eyes flashed, and he murmured a reply.
"Don't worry about that. I'm sure I'll think of something."
XXXXXXXXXXX