Fic: Need - John/Sherlock - NC17
Title: Need
Author: angel_kink
Beta: harmonyhelms
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Pairing: John/Sherlock
Genre: PWP
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Graphic sex
Word count: ~3300
Summary: Sherlock deduces John’s bisexuality before he’s ready to admit it to himself. Awkwardness (and then sex) follow close behind the revelation.
A/N: First published John/Sherlock fic (but not the first written). Just feeling out the pairing really. Might write more depending on how this goes.
“We’ll need to go to the Village to track the suspect,” Sherlock said as he typed out a message to Lestrade on his phone.
“‘The Village?’” John asked as he looked up from his paper.
“It’s a gay bar in SoHo. The suspect has been there every Friday and Saturday night for the last three weeks. I believe that’s where he chooses his victims.”
“A gay bar? Not sure I’m up for that one, Sherlock.”
“What? Why not? Since you’re a bisexual man, I figured you’d be a little more comfortable with this proposition.”
“Wait, what? What makes you think that I’m- wait, no,” John stopped himself and held up his hand to prevent Sherlock from explaining further. “No, I don’t want to know. It’s just- I’m not. I’m not bisexual Sherlock.” Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him and John shifted uncomfortably. He continued, but more quietly. “I mean... I haven’t told anyone. Haven’t even said it out loud.”
Sherlock simply smiled without looking up from his phone. “I know. But you needn’t hide anything from me, John.”
“I know, it’s rather pointless isn’t it? You already know everything anyway.”
“Hm, yes I do,” Sherlock said with a smile. He put his phone back into his pocket and looked back at John. “Are you coming?”
“Of course,” John replied out of habit. He paused for a moment when he remembered what he was agreeing to, but for some reason he trusted Sherlock. He trusted him with his life. So he grabbed his jacket and followed Sherlock out the door.
-
John sat uncomfortably at the bar sipping a beer as Sherlock watched the suspect across the room. Sherlock seemed comfortable in this environment, though it was really hard to shake him out of his comfort zone to begin with so that didn’t mean much. John, however, was completely out of his element. Every time a man looked at him he’d tense up and look away. John had debated his own sexuality for years in his head, but this was the first time he found himself in a position where he could act on it. He’d finally admitted it out loud and here he was in a bar filled with men who were checking him out.
Honestly, John was surprised anyone was bothering to look at him when he was standing next to Sherlock. His friend was a tall, lean, gorgeous man and- no, John was definitely not going to start thinking of Sherlock in that way. Once he started down that road he was worried he wouldn’t be able to stop. He loved Sherlock. On a deeply platonic level. And nothing more. It couldn’t be anything more. He couldn’t-
“John,” Sherlock said, derailing his train of thought. He looked at Sherlock who was staring at him in the way that could only mean he was being deduced. “You realize what you are doing, right?”
“What? What am I doing?”
“Every time a man looks at you, you shift closer to me. You are broadcasting to the entire bar that we’re an item.”
“Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
“No, that’s quite alright. I’d be distracted by having to fend off potential partners. This makes my job a lot easier. I was merely curious if you were aware of it since you seem to be having trouble accepting your own sexuality.”
“Still, I didn’t mean- I mean, I know we aren’t a couple.”
“Aren’t we?”
“No, we aren’t,” John said firmly. He took another sip of his beer.
“And what makes us not a couple, exactly? We live together. We spend most of our time together. We share expenses...”
“We don’t have sex,” John said. He only realized how loud that statement had been when the bartender laughed and rolled his eyes. John finished off his beer and set the empty bottle on the counter. “Ok, well, now that I’ve completely humiliated myself I think I’ll just head home.”
“Right. Let me just send a text to Lestrade and I’ll be right with you,” Sherlock said as he took out his phone.
“No. Sherlock. Potential murderer, remember?”
“Oh, relax John. After observing him this evening I can assure you he has no plan on killing again any time soon. However, if Lestrade searches his flat he’ll find enough evidence to convict him. This man keeps souvenirs. It’s obvious. He just-” John stood up and headed towards the door. “John? John!” Sherlock hastily finished his text to Lestrade and followed him out the door.
-
John was walking briskly down the street with Sherlock trailing not far behind him. When Sherlock finally caught up with him he casually put his hands in his coat pockets and kept a steady pace along side him as though John wasn’t obviously trying to get away.
“What is this about, John?”
“What, the great Sherlock Holmes can’t deduce this? You know what? No. I don’t want you to deduce this. I’m not in the mood. I never should have come tonight.”
“Why? Were you not ready to confront this part of yourself?”
“No, Sherlock, I wasn’t,” he said, keeping his eyes firmly on the sidewalk in front of him.
“You’d have to confront it eventually if our relationship was to advance-”
“Relationship? What relationship, Sherlock,” he said, finally glancing over at his companion. “We’re friends. Flatmates. Colleagues. We aren’t a couple.”
“Because we haven’t had sex.”
“Exactly.”
“Then let’s have sex.” John stopped in the middle of the street. Sherlock took a couple of paces before halting himself and turning. “Problem?”
“Sherlock, you really are completely socially inept.”
“Because I want to have sex with you?”
“Do you really, though? I thought you said it wasn’t your area.”
“It’s not. I hold little to no interest in sex, usually. But for you I’d make an exception.”
“An exception? I don’t want to be an exception, Sherlock. I want to be-” John stopped himself, realizing he’d already said too much. He looked back down at the sidewalk, a subtle blush spreading across his cheeks. “Nevermind. Just nevermind. Forget I said anything.”
“I see,” Sherlock said as he crossed the small amount of space between them. John refused to look up at him even though he was standing only inches away. “Let’s just go home, John. Have some tea. Relax. I’ve pushed too much and I apologize for that.”
“You never apologize,” John said as he finally looked up at him.
“As I said, you’re an exception.” Sherlock hooked his arm through John’s and started leading him towards the flat. “Now, let’s go home.”
-
Sherlock made tea. He actually made tea. John stood in the kitchen watching and Sherlock fiddled with the pot, the mugs, and the tea bags as though this was something he did every day. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. First an apology and now tea? Perhaps Sherlock really did feel bad about pushing him out of the closet head first. It wasn’t his usual style to be so kind, but he kept going on and on about John being an ‘exception’ so maybe this really was genuine.
When Sherlock handed him the mug their fingers brushed and John couldn’t help but wonder if he’d done it on purpose. The whole evening was a big confusing mess to him. Were they in a relationship? No. There was no sex. But Sherlock seemed willing. And John wasn’t quite ready to admit that he was willing too. Ah, fuck it. He’d shag Sherlock in a heartbeat given the chance. Was this a chance? Could he do it?
“I was telling the truth, John,” Sherlock said. When John looked up from his tea he realized Sherlock was still standing very close to him. He hadn’t moved an inch. “I’ve never had sex, but I’d be willing- no, poor word choice. I want to have sex with you. And I can tell that you’d be interested as well. But I don’t want to push you anymore. I was... insensitive tonight and I apologize.”
“I’ve never seen you so apologetic before.” Sherlock looked like he was going to start speaking and John held up his hand. “I know. I’m an ‘exception’ whatever that means. I’m just saying it’s... it’s novel. And quite nice, actually. It’s almost like you care.”
“I do care,” Sherlock said, unable to hide the hurt in his voice. “I know your deductive reasoning is not as skilled as mine, but surely you’ve picked up that I care a great deal about you.”
Then Sherlock was cupping his face and kissing him. John nearly dropped his tea, but managed to set the mug on the kitchen counter before clutching onto the collar of Sherlock’s shirt and pulled him closer. Sherlock’s kiss was obviously unpracticed, but it was hungry and determined and John felt weak in the knees already. Just from a kiss. But it was over all too quickly and Sherlock was pulling back. His cheeks were flushed, though, and he continued holding John’s face as though it were the most precious object in the world.
“That was the first time I’ve kissed a man,” John whispered, afraid to disrupt the silence, but feeling the need to get that bit of information off his chest.
“I know,” Sherlock said. There was silence between them as they gazed into each other’s eyes, both completely awestruck by what they’d just done. Then after a moment Sherlock continued speaking. “That was the first time I’ve kissed anyone.”
“I know,” John said.
To hell with it, John thought. What’s stopping them now? He buried a hand in Sherlock’s dark hair and pulled him down for another kiss. He backed the detective into the counter and pressed a leg between his thighs and to his surprise, Sherlock was already achingly hard. And he was big. John hadn’t thought far enough to think about who’d be topping, but if Sherlock was going to do it, he hoped they had plenty of lube.
“There’s lube in my nightstand,” Sherlock said, momentarily breaking their kiss.
“Are you sure you’re not a telepath?”
“No. But when you felt my erection you froze and-”
“I don’t really need a play by play of this deduction, Sherlock.”
Suddenly Sherlock was pushing him backwards and pushing him against the kitchen counter on the opposite side of the room. They paused only briefly and then Sherlock took him by the hand, leading him quickly to his bedroom. John followed eagerly and when they entered his room Sherlock started kissing him again and hastily unbuttoning the doctor’s shirt. John returned the gesture and soon they were standing there both shirtless in the middle of Sherlock’s bedroom.
John wasn’t exactly sure how to pleasure a man. Sure, he’d been on the receiving end, but giving it was an entirely new concept. He hesitantly brushed his fingers over Sherlock’s nipples, enjoying the tremor that it sent through the detective’s body. Ok, maybe this was going to work. John just had to follow his instinct. Do what he remembered he enjoyed getting from others.
He reached a hand between them and cupped Sherlock’s cock through his trousers. Sherlock moaned into his mouth and dug his nails into John’s back.
“John,” he cried out.
“Too much?” John released his cock momentarily and pulled back to look at him.
“No,” Sherlock said as he ran his hands up John’s bare back. “No, I just... it’s a new sensation for me. It’s quite alright. It’s good, John, it’s just... new.”
“Right,” John said as he began to slowly stroke him through the thin fabric. “Enjoying it?”
“Obviously,” Sherlock said.
Before John realized what was happening he was flat on his back on the mattress with Sherlock straddling his lap and kissing him fiercely. Sherlock was topping then, he thought. And he was surprised to find that he was perfectly ok with that. Sherlock’s hands were running up his torso, brushing over his nipples in the exact way John had done to him moments before. Both of John’s hands were buried in Sherlock’s hair, seemingly making themselves at home nestled in those dark locks that he found so very fascinating.
After a few minutes of passionate kissing Sherlock reached between them and undid John’s belt. He unzipped his trousers and pulled them down along with his pants in one motion. This required him to break the kiss and scoot down John’s body to completely remove them. Once they were discarded he stopped and looked at John’s cock. The doctor covered his eyes, suddenly overwhelmed by the sight of Sherlock looking at him in such a way. He was used to being deduced, but this was something else entirely. This was lust. This was want. This was need.
“Don’t hide,” Sherlock whispered as he reached up and removed John’s hand from his eyes. When John finally built up the courage to look at him he found himself completely trapped in those pale gray eyes. He was entirely unable to look away. “You’re beautiful, John.”
“Sherlock...”
The detective traced his fingers down John’s face, along his neck, and across the scar on his shoulder. He let his fingers brush lightly over the scar tissue and continue on down his torso, past his stomach, until they rested gently on his thigh next to his erection. Sherlock was looking at his cock now, analyzing it, debating options in his head. He was deducing what his next move should be and John shouldn’t find it as hot as he was. God, Sherlock was incredible and John couldn’t get enough.
Then Sherlock was reaching over to the nightstand and pulling out the bottle of lube and a condom. He set them on the bed beside John and climbed back down the bed. He kissed John’s thigh gently and placed a trail of soft butterfly kisses as he trailed his way towards John’s cock. Then he started kissing up his shaft and John couldn’t help, but moan his name. Sherlock’s lips were on his dick. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed it until then. Sure, he had an idea that he was attracted to his flatmate, but he hadn’t realized it’d escalated to need until the act was already in progress.
Then Sherlock swallowed him whole and John was completely lost. His eyes rolled back into his head and he clutched desperately at the sheets hoping that he wouldn’t shoot his load right then. For a virgin, Sherlock really knew what he was doing. Maybe he’d watched porn. No, that wasn’t likely. Knowing Sherlock, he was probably just applying the knowledge he’d gleaned from some medical journal and using it to his advantage.
But it didn’t really matter how he knew it. The point was, Sherlock gave amazing head. He licked and sucked like a pro and John was seeing stars. He could practically hear the blood pumping in his ears and then suddenly... suddenly Sherlock had pulled off of him and was kissing his mouth again. And then... when did Sherlock insert a finger into him? How-
“I thought it might be easier to penetrate you when you were distracted by pleasure,” Sherlock said before kissing his neck, his jaw, his throat...
“Sherlock...”
There was no pain. His finger was well lubed and Sherlock was right, the pleasure distracted him from what would have otherwise been a rather painful intrusion. Sherlock was nibbling at his pulse point when he inserted his second finger, only this time John definitely felt it. He hissed and squeezed his eyes shut, but he didn’t want it to stop. Another surprise! John really loved bottoming. Throughout his years of debating his sexuality, he’d always imagined himself on top. But here he was taking it up the ass and enjoying it. He wondered if he’d always enjoy bottoming or if it was only something he’d do for Sherlock, but then his thought process was brought to an abrupt halt with the addition of a third finger.
“Sherlock!”
“Sh, John, you’re almost ready,” he whispered into his ear. “You’re almost stretched enough to take me. Do you want that John?”
“Yes, God, yes, Sherlock, please.”
“Good, but not yet,” he said as he spread his fingers apart. “Almost, but not yet.”
Sherlock continued bombarding his neck with kisses as he worked him open. John was writhing beneath him, unable to help himself as he made pathetic desperate noises. He was pretty sure he was babbling incoherent syllables, but he hoped Sherlock understood his intent. As far as John was concerned, he was ready. He wanted more. He needed Sherlock’s cock inside of him and he needed it right now/
Sherlock’s deduction skills must have carried over to the bedroom because he suddenly withdrew his fingers and pulled out his own cock in an effort to move things along. He put a condom on and squirted a generous amount of lube on himself and started pumping his cock, spreading the substance around so that it covered every inch of him. He pushed his trousers and pants down to his knees and lined himself up at John’s entrance.
Then he pushed in slowly.
They were both moaning as Sherlock inched his way inside. John wrapped his legs around Sherlock’s hips in an attempt to improve the angle, but it still burned and ached and felt so good and he just wanted more. When Sherlock finally bottomed out he stopped and they stayed like that for who knows how long. It could have been second. Maybe minutes. Sherlock was trembling and burying his face in John’s neck and trying to contain some level of composure even though it was obvious he was absolutely overwhelmed by the experience.
And then Sherlock started to pull back, but before he was completely out he was pushing in again. Once he was inside all the way for the second time he kissed John on the lips and John couldn’t help but run his fingers through his hair again. This felt right. It felt like it answered all the questions he’d had about himself over the years.
Sherlock pulled back again and pushed in with more force than before. And this time there was no pause. He was pulling out, pushing in, rocking back and forth with a slow but steady rhythm that was driving John absolutely insane. If John didn’t know Sherlock so well, he’d have sworn he was lying about being a virgin. He seemed to know exactly what John needed and when and just how much was this shy of too much.
As he picked up the pace, John let himself go and began to ride out the pleasure. He was pretty sure he was crying out loud enough for Mrs. Hudson to hear, but she already assumed they were fucking so it didn’t really matter too much. Could the neighbors hear? Who cares. He was screaming ‘Sherlock’ and ‘please’ and ‘more’ and he was pretty sure some ‘I love you’s’ slipped in, but if Sherlock minded those he didn’t seem to show it.
“John,” Sherlock moaned. “I think I’m... I’m going to...”
“Yes,” John panted. “Please. Please... Sherlock.”
Sherlock made a strangled noise and came deep inside of him. The final thrust pushed onto John’s prostate and without warning John was coming as well. They both froze as the pleasure washed over them. John had never come so hard in his life. He wondered if he’d ever come that hard again. It was all so perfect.
After a few moments Sherlock pulled out of him and climbed up the bed to lay beside him. He wasn’t sure how long they’d been clinging to each other in that foggy orgasmic bliss, but now they were both spent and absolutely exhausted. Sherlock flung a leg between John’s own and rested his arm across his chest.
“I think I’ll just stay here then,” John said as he kissed Sherlock’s forehead.
“Obviously,” Sherlock said, making himself comfortable beside him. Within minutes they’d both fallen asleep in each other’s arms.
Author: angel_kink
Beta: harmonyhelms
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Pairing: John/Sherlock
Genre: PWP
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Graphic sex
Word count: ~3300
Summary: Sherlock deduces John’s bisexuality before he’s ready to admit it to himself. Awkwardness (and then sex) follow close behind the revelation.
A/N: First published John/Sherlock fic (but not the first written). Just feeling out the pairing really. Might write more depending on how this goes.
“We’ll need to go to the Village to track the suspect,” Sherlock said as he typed out a message to Lestrade on his phone.
“‘The Village?’” John asked as he looked up from his paper.
“It’s a gay bar in SoHo. The suspect has been there every Friday and Saturday night for the last three weeks. I believe that’s where he chooses his victims.”
“A gay bar? Not sure I’m up for that one, Sherlock.”
“What? Why not? Since you’re a bisexual man, I figured you’d be a little more comfortable with this proposition.”
“Wait, what? What makes you think that I’m- wait, no,” John stopped himself and held up his hand to prevent Sherlock from explaining further. “No, I don’t want to know. It’s just- I’m not. I’m not bisexual Sherlock.” Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him and John shifted uncomfortably. He continued, but more quietly. “I mean... I haven’t told anyone. Haven’t even said it out loud.”
Sherlock simply smiled without looking up from his phone. “I know. But you needn’t hide anything from me, John.”
“I know, it’s rather pointless isn’t it? You already know everything anyway.”
“Hm, yes I do,” Sherlock said with a smile. He put his phone back into his pocket and looked back at John. “Are you coming?”
“Of course,” John replied out of habit. He paused for a moment when he remembered what he was agreeing to, but for some reason he trusted Sherlock. He trusted him with his life. So he grabbed his jacket and followed Sherlock out the door.
-
John sat uncomfortably at the bar sipping a beer as Sherlock watched the suspect across the room. Sherlock seemed comfortable in this environment, though it was really hard to shake him out of his comfort zone to begin with so that didn’t mean much. John, however, was completely out of his element. Every time a man looked at him he’d tense up and look away. John had debated his own sexuality for years in his head, but this was the first time he found himself in a position where he could act on it. He’d finally admitted it out loud and here he was in a bar filled with men who were checking him out.
Honestly, John was surprised anyone was bothering to look at him when he was standing next to Sherlock. His friend was a tall, lean, gorgeous man and- no, John was definitely not going to start thinking of Sherlock in that way. Once he started down that road he was worried he wouldn’t be able to stop. He loved Sherlock. On a deeply platonic level. And nothing more. It couldn’t be anything more. He couldn’t-
“John,” Sherlock said, derailing his train of thought. He looked at Sherlock who was staring at him in the way that could only mean he was being deduced. “You realize what you are doing, right?”
“What? What am I doing?”
“Every time a man looks at you, you shift closer to me. You are broadcasting to the entire bar that we’re an item.”
“Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
“No, that’s quite alright. I’d be distracted by having to fend off potential partners. This makes my job a lot easier. I was merely curious if you were aware of it since you seem to be having trouble accepting your own sexuality.”
“Still, I didn’t mean- I mean, I know we aren’t a couple.”
“Aren’t we?”
“No, we aren’t,” John said firmly. He took another sip of his beer.
“And what makes us not a couple, exactly? We live together. We spend most of our time together. We share expenses...”
“We don’t have sex,” John said. He only realized how loud that statement had been when the bartender laughed and rolled his eyes. John finished off his beer and set the empty bottle on the counter. “Ok, well, now that I’ve completely humiliated myself I think I’ll just head home.”
“Right. Let me just send a text to Lestrade and I’ll be right with you,” Sherlock said as he took out his phone.
“No. Sherlock. Potential murderer, remember?”
“Oh, relax John. After observing him this evening I can assure you he has no plan on killing again any time soon. However, if Lestrade searches his flat he’ll find enough evidence to convict him. This man keeps souvenirs. It’s obvious. He just-” John stood up and headed towards the door. “John? John!” Sherlock hastily finished his text to Lestrade and followed him out the door.
-
John was walking briskly down the street with Sherlock trailing not far behind him. When Sherlock finally caught up with him he casually put his hands in his coat pockets and kept a steady pace along side him as though John wasn’t obviously trying to get away.
“What is this about, John?”
“What, the great Sherlock Holmes can’t deduce this? You know what? No. I don’t want you to deduce this. I’m not in the mood. I never should have come tonight.”
“Why? Were you not ready to confront this part of yourself?”
“No, Sherlock, I wasn’t,” he said, keeping his eyes firmly on the sidewalk in front of him.
“You’d have to confront it eventually if our relationship was to advance-”
“Relationship? What relationship, Sherlock,” he said, finally glancing over at his companion. “We’re friends. Flatmates. Colleagues. We aren’t a couple.”
“Because we haven’t had sex.”
“Exactly.”
“Then let’s have sex.” John stopped in the middle of the street. Sherlock took a couple of paces before halting himself and turning. “Problem?”
“Sherlock, you really are completely socially inept.”
“Because I want to have sex with you?”
“Do you really, though? I thought you said it wasn’t your area.”
“It’s not. I hold little to no interest in sex, usually. But for you I’d make an exception.”
“An exception? I don’t want to be an exception, Sherlock. I want to be-” John stopped himself, realizing he’d already said too much. He looked back down at the sidewalk, a subtle blush spreading across his cheeks. “Nevermind. Just nevermind. Forget I said anything.”
“I see,” Sherlock said as he crossed the small amount of space between them. John refused to look up at him even though he was standing only inches away. “Let’s just go home, John. Have some tea. Relax. I’ve pushed too much and I apologize for that.”
“You never apologize,” John said as he finally looked up at him.
“As I said, you’re an exception.” Sherlock hooked his arm through John’s and started leading him towards the flat. “Now, let’s go home.”
-
Sherlock made tea. He actually made tea. John stood in the kitchen watching and Sherlock fiddled with the pot, the mugs, and the tea bags as though this was something he did every day. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. First an apology and now tea? Perhaps Sherlock really did feel bad about pushing him out of the closet head first. It wasn’t his usual style to be so kind, but he kept going on and on about John being an ‘exception’ so maybe this really was genuine.
When Sherlock handed him the mug their fingers brushed and John couldn’t help but wonder if he’d done it on purpose. The whole evening was a big confusing mess to him. Were they in a relationship? No. There was no sex. But Sherlock seemed willing. And John wasn’t quite ready to admit that he was willing too. Ah, fuck it. He’d shag Sherlock in a heartbeat given the chance. Was this a chance? Could he do it?
“I was telling the truth, John,” Sherlock said. When John looked up from his tea he realized Sherlock was still standing very close to him. He hadn’t moved an inch. “I’ve never had sex, but I’d be willing- no, poor word choice. I want to have sex with you. And I can tell that you’d be interested as well. But I don’t want to push you anymore. I was... insensitive tonight and I apologize.”
“I’ve never seen you so apologetic before.” Sherlock looked like he was going to start speaking and John held up his hand. “I know. I’m an ‘exception’ whatever that means. I’m just saying it’s... it’s novel. And quite nice, actually. It’s almost like you care.”
“I do care,” Sherlock said, unable to hide the hurt in his voice. “I know your deductive reasoning is not as skilled as mine, but surely you’ve picked up that I care a great deal about you.”
Then Sherlock was cupping his face and kissing him. John nearly dropped his tea, but managed to set the mug on the kitchen counter before clutching onto the collar of Sherlock’s shirt and pulled him closer. Sherlock’s kiss was obviously unpracticed, but it was hungry and determined and John felt weak in the knees already. Just from a kiss. But it was over all too quickly and Sherlock was pulling back. His cheeks were flushed, though, and he continued holding John’s face as though it were the most precious object in the world.
“That was the first time I’ve kissed a man,” John whispered, afraid to disrupt the silence, but feeling the need to get that bit of information off his chest.
“I know,” Sherlock said. There was silence between them as they gazed into each other’s eyes, both completely awestruck by what they’d just done. Then after a moment Sherlock continued speaking. “That was the first time I’ve kissed anyone.”
“I know,” John said.
To hell with it, John thought. What’s stopping them now? He buried a hand in Sherlock’s dark hair and pulled him down for another kiss. He backed the detective into the counter and pressed a leg between his thighs and to his surprise, Sherlock was already achingly hard. And he was big. John hadn’t thought far enough to think about who’d be topping, but if Sherlock was going to do it, he hoped they had plenty of lube.
“There’s lube in my nightstand,” Sherlock said, momentarily breaking their kiss.
“Are you sure you’re not a telepath?”
“No. But when you felt my erection you froze and-”
“I don’t really need a play by play of this deduction, Sherlock.”
Suddenly Sherlock was pushing him backwards and pushing him against the kitchen counter on the opposite side of the room. They paused only briefly and then Sherlock took him by the hand, leading him quickly to his bedroom. John followed eagerly and when they entered his room Sherlock started kissing him again and hastily unbuttoning the doctor’s shirt. John returned the gesture and soon they were standing there both shirtless in the middle of Sherlock’s bedroom.
John wasn’t exactly sure how to pleasure a man. Sure, he’d been on the receiving end, but giving it was an entirely new concept. He hesitantly brushed his fingers over Sherlock’s nipples, enjoying the tremor that it sent through the detective’s body. Ok, maybe this was going to work. John just had to follow his instinct. Do what he remembered he enjoyed getting from others.
He reached a hand between them and cupped Sherlock’s cock through his trousers. Sherlock moaned into his mouth and dug his nails into John’s back.
“John,” he cried out.
“Too much?” John released his cock momentarily and pulled back to look at him.
“No,” Sherlock said as he ran his hands up John’s bare back. “No, I just... it’s a new sensation for me. It’s quite alright. It’s good, John, it’s just... new.”
“Right,” John said as he began to slowly stroke him through the thin fabric. “Enjoying it?”
“Obviously,” Sherlock said.
Before John realized what was happening he was flat on his back on the mattress with Sherlock straddling his lap and kissing him fiercely. Sherlock was topping then, he thought. And he was surprised to find that he was perfectly ok with that. Sherlock’s hands were running up his torso, brushing over his nipples in the exact way John had done to him moments before. Both of John’s hands were buried in Sherlock’s hair, seemingly making themselves at home nestled in those dark locks that he found so very fascinating.
After a few minutes of passionate kissing Sherlock reached between them and undid John’s belt. He unzipped his trousers and pulled them down along with his pants in one motion. This required him to break the kiss and scoot down John’s body to completely remove them. Once they were discarded he stopped and looked at John’s cock. The doctor covered his eyes, suddenly overwhelmed by the sight of Sherlock looking at him in such a way. He was used to being deduced, but this was something else entirely. This was lust. This was want. This was need.
“Don’t hide,” Sherlock whispered as he reached up and removed John’s hand from his eyes. When John finally built up the courage to look at him he found himself completely trapped in those pale gray eyes. He was entirely unable to look away. “You’re beautiful, John.”
“Sherlock...”
The detective traced his fingers down John’s face, along his neck, and across the scar on his shoulder. He let his fingers brush lightly over the scar tissue and continue on down his torso, past his stomach, until they rested gently on his thigh next to his erection. Sherlock was looking at his cock now, analyzing it, debating options in his head. He was deducing what his next move should be and John shouldn’t find it as hot as he was. God, Sherlock was incredible and John couldn’t get enough.
Then Sherlock was reaching over to the nightstand and pulling out the bottle of lube and a condom. He set them on the bed beside John and climbed back down the bed. He kissed John’s thigh gently and placed a trail of soft butterfly kisses as he trailed his way towards John’s cock. Then he started kissing up his shaft and John couldn’t help, but moan his name. Sherlock’s lips were on his dick. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed it until then. Sure, he had an idea that he was attracted to his flatmate, but he hadn’t realized it’d escalated to need until the act was already in progress.
Then Sherlock swallowed him whole and John was completely lost. His eyes rolled back into his head and he clutched desperately at the sheets hoping that he wouldn’t shoot his load right then. For a virgin, Sherlock really knew what he was doing. Maybe he’d watched porn. No, that wasn’t likely. Knowing Sherlock, he was probably just applying the knowledge he’d gleaned from some medical journal and using it to his advantage.
But it didn’t really matter how he knew it. The point was, Sherlock gave amazing head. He licked and sucked like a pro and John was seeing stars. He could practically hear the blood pumping in his ears and then suddenly... suddenly Sherlock had pulled off of him and was kissing his mouth again. And then... when did Sherlock insert a finger into him? How-
“I thought it might be easier to penetrate you when you were distracted by pleasure,” Sherlock said before kissing his neck, his jaw, his throat...
“Sherlock...”
There was no pain. His finger was well lubed and Sherlock was right, the pleasure distracted him from what would have otherwise been a rather painful intrusion. Sherlock was nibbling at his pulse point when he inserted his second finger, only this time John definitely felt it. He hissed and squeezed his eyes shut, but he didn’t want it to stop. Another surprise! John really loved bottoming. Throughout his years of debating his sexuality, he’d always imagined himself on top. But here he was taking it up the ass and enjoying it. He wondered if he’d always enjoy bottoming or if it was only something he’d do for Sherlock, but then his thought process was brought to an abrupt halt with the addition of a third finger.
“Sherlock!”
“Sh, John, you’re almost ready,” he whispered into his ear. “You’re almost stretched enough to take me. Do you want that John?”
“Yes, God, yes, Sherlock, please.”
“Good, but not yet,” he said as he spread his fingers apart. “Almost, but not yet.”
Sherlock continued bombarding his neck with kisses as he worked him open. John was writhing beneath him, unable to help himself as he made pathetic desperate noises. He was pretty sure he was babbling incoherent syllables, but he hoped Sherlock understood his intent. As far as John was concerned, he was ready. He wanted more. He needed Sherlock’s cock inside of him and he needed it right now/
Sherlock’s deduction skills must have carried over to the bedroom because he suddenly withdrew his fingers and pulled out his own cock in an effort to move things along. He put a condom on and squirted a generous amount of lube on himself and started pumping his cock, spreading the substance around so that it covered every inch of him. He pushed his trousers and pants down to his knees and lined himself up at John’s entrance.
Then he pushed in slowly.
They were both moaning as Sherlock inched his way inside. John wrapped his legs around Sherlock’s hips in an attempt to improve the angle, but it still burned and ached and felt so good and he just wanted more. When Sherlock finally bottomed out he stopped and they stayed like that for who knows how long. It could have been second. Maybe minutes. Sherlock was trembling and burying his face in John’s neck and trying to contain some level of composure even though it was obvious he was absolutely overwhelmed by the experience.
And then Sherlock started to pull back, but before he was completely out he was pushing in again. Once he was inside all the way for the second time he kissed John on the lips and John couldn’t help but run his fingers through his hair again. This felt right. It felt like it answered all the questions he’d had about himself over the years.
Sherlock pulled back again and pushed in with more force than before. And this time there was no pause. He was pulling out, pushing in, rocking back and forth with a slow but steady rhythm that was driving John absolutely insane. If John didn’t know Sherlock so well, he’d have sworn he was lying about being a virgin. He seemed to know exactly what John needed and when and just how much was this shy of too much.
As he picked up the pace, John let himself go and began to ride out the pleasure. He was pretty sure he was crying out loud enough for Mrs. Hudson to hear, but she already assumed they were fucking so it didn’t really matter too much. Could the neighbors hear? Who cares. He was screaming ‘Sherlock’ and ‘please’ and ‘more’ and he was pretty sure some ‘I love you’s’ slipped in, but if Sherlock minded those he didn’t seem to show it.
“John,” Sherlock moaned. “I think I’m... I’m going to...”
“Yes,” John panted. “Please. Please... Sherlock.”
Sherlock made a strangled noise and came deep inside of him. The final thrust pushed onto John’s prostate and without warning John was coming as well. They both froze as the pleasure washed over them. John had never come so hard in his life. He wondered if he’d ever come that hard again. It was all so perfect.
After a few moments Sherlock pulled out of him and climbed up the bed to lay beside him. He wasn’t sure how long they’d been clinging to each other in that foggy orgasmic bliss, but now they were both spent and absolutely exhausted. Sherlock flung a leg between John’s own and rested his arm across his chest.
“I think I’ll just stay here then,” John said as he kissed Sherlock’s forehead.
“Obviously,” Sherlock said, making himself comfortable beside him. Within minutes they’d both fallen asleep in each other’s arms.