Untouchable
Author: CKerased
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock Holmes or John Watson. If I did, they would be acting this out for me.
Summary: Sherlock bets John that he can talk him into a climax without any sort of physical stimulus. John accepts the challenge. Established relationship. Slash. One-shot.
Warnings: Graphic sex.
Word Count: 2,139
A/N: This is my first attempt at smut, so please be kind. Read and review, and I'll return the favor!
Untouchable
"That song is completely ridiculous." John complained. He had just watched a music video to a song called Jizz in My Pants that Harry had e-mailed to him, and (although he found it kind of funny) it sort of annoyed him. "That sort of thing never happens."
Sherlock lay spread on the couch, reading his own emails on his phone.
"If one has a powerful enough imagination, he can bring himself to an orgasm without even touching himself." Sherlock pointed out.
John turned from his computer to examine his lover.
"You have got to be kidding me." He said.
Sherlock shook his head and redirected his attention to John.
"Think back to when you were a teenager; did you ever wake up after a particularly sexual dream to find that you had soiled your pyjamas?" Sherlock asked.
John blushed, thinking back to the first time that had happened to him. It had been a dream in which his crush at the time had come to his house, dressed in an obscene amount of lingerie for a teenage girl to own. He had mentally lost his virginity that night.
"Point taken." John replied. "How pathetic is that?"
Sherlock shrugged. "Adolescent boys have extremely high sex drives due to their high levels of testosterone and other hormones."
John shook his head, laughing. "I know that, Sherlock. It's just so odd to think back on; I was once so sexually deprived that I got off from thinkingabout someone I fancied."
Sherlock grinned mischievously, "Would you like to find out if you're still capable of that?"
John was ordered to lay on his bed completely naked, with his arms and legs completely spread apart.
Sherlock wandered around the bed, admiring his lover's available body.
"It's going to be extremely difficult for me not to touch you, you know." Sherlock said, "And I can't allow you to touch yourself, either."
John's eyes widened; he had figured that Sherlock was going to simply talk a fantasy into his head and let him do all the physical work. His doubt about whether or not Sherlock could do this worked its way back into his mind, causing him to grimace. What if he was left for hours on end? Hard and needing a hand, but Sherlock wouldn't touch him?
Sherlock's voice interrupted his thoughts, "We will put a time limit on this, if that is what you're worried about. I will give myself one hour; if I cannot make you reach climax by that time, I will assist you."
Relief spread throughout John's body upon hearing that. At least he knew he'd get off either way.
Sherlock removed his scarf from his back pocket, making his way over to John. He grabbed his hands and tied them to the bedpost just tight enough to prevent him from yanking free.
Sherlock sat down in a chair next to John's bed and noticed his lover's questioning gaze. "It's to prevent you from giving into temptation by touching yourself. I left your hands tied loosely enough not to hurt you, but if it needs to be rearranged, let me know."
John nodded silently. He was not-so-secretly aroused by the situation he was currently in, as Sherlock was bound to realize soon enough. He had always had a kink for Sherlock's scarf and, secretly, being tied up. Maybe it was the danger associated with being helpless that turned him on, but he honestly didn't know. All he knew was that having the two kinks combined was already doing his head in, and they hadn't even started.
"It looks like we're already on our way to succeeding then, aren't we, John?" Sherlock smirked, finally taking notice of John's already semi-erect cock, "I need you to close your eyes," he said as he looked down at his watch. "One hour on the clock."
John shut his eyes lightly. There was nothing for a few moments; Sherlock apparently wasn't even moving from his seat next to him. Just the anticipation of what Sherlock was going to do was making his body temperature rise.
Suddenly, Sherlock's deep, seductive voice was right next to his ear. "I want you to imagine the two of us in a dark, moist, dirty chamber." He said slowly, "We have been captured by the enemy in Afghanistan and have been taken as hostages; no one besides a man who brings us food once a day has come to us. We are bound, but I have been working at undoing my ties for several days, and my work has finally begun to pay off; the ropes are worn down to almost nothing."
"With one final pull, I manage to break free from my bounds. I reach down and undo the ties around my ankles as well, and I slowly stand up, rubbing my wrists softly to placate the rope burns. I stiffly walk toward you. I know there's no way to escape in our condition, but I want us to be unbound for as long as we can. I make it to you and begin undoing the rope around your wrists carefully, trying not to cause any damage."
"When you're released completely, you throw your arms around my neck, pulling me to you. I wrap my arms around your waist and allow you to just hold onto me. We both know there's nothing we can do to escape, so we simply revel in the feel of one another while we can; it's an incredible comfort to feel your skin on mine. You reach one hand up and run it through my hair before pulling it down to my neck. I lean back enough to see your face, but you immediately pull my face back to yours, our lips meeting in a passionate kiss."
John's arms began to twitch as though he wanted to actually reach out and pull Sherlock to him. His breathing increased slightly as his imagination began filling in the details of the kiss.
Sherlock continued, "I begin to maneuver my hands from your waist to your thigh, realizing where you want this to go. My right hand finds your uniform belt, and I hastily undo it, knowing that we may not have much time. All we want is to feel close to one another, because we are in this situation together, and the physical touch makes us feel that way. We continue to kiss, my hand finally managing to undo your belt completely. I unbutton your trousers and quickly yank them down. You moan a little into our kiss as I begin slowly stroking you through your undergarments."
John let out a moan, thrusting his hips slightly in order to feel some of the friction Sherlock was describing. He was completely hard now; the fantasy Sherlock worked up for him had the perfect balance of compassion and danger.
"You thrust up against my hand, begging to be touched. I comply and remove the piece of clothing between us, gripping you tightly. You bite down on my lower lip to indicate that you want more; you have always been a very demanding man, and you never fail to let me know what you want. I love that about you."
"Ugh, Sherlock." John moaned, "Please don't stop."
Sherlock didn't even try to contain his grin as he continued, "I slowly begin to move my cold hand up and down your cock, twisting my wrist every time I reach the head. I reach my left hand down and start running my cool fingers over your perineum. You thrust your hips forward once more, but this time it's involuntary. It's been so long since you last came, and the pent up sexual frustration is really beginning to take a toll. I stroke you faster, using your own precum that has collected at your tip as a lubricant."
John was now violently yanking at the scarf, needing so badly to feel some true friction. Sherlock looked down to his lover's bottom half, noticing the precum that had actually begun to leak from the tip of his cock. His breath caught in his throat, and he stopped speaking for a moment, unable to think properly. Sherlock wanted so badly to reach over and bring his lover to orgasm, but he couldn't. He had to do it with only his voice and the images he brought to John's mind.
"Sherlock!" John exclaimed, "Keep going, please. I'm begging you." His breaths were coming in short, shallow rasps, and he continued to thrust his hips, the muscles of his stomach tightening and releasing every time he did so.
Sherlock started undoing his own trousers, the sight of John in this condition causing his own erection to strain against the fabric painfully. He finally freed himself, but he didn't touch it. Instead, he continued narrating.
"I remove my mouth from yours and kiss down your jaw and to your neck, sucking hard as you thrust to meet each of my strokes. Your mouth is not being silenced anymore, and the sound of your breathy moans is reverberating off the walls of the chamber. I continue to stroke you with my right hand and tease your entrance with my left. You are almost there; your moans are becoming more erratic, and your thrusts are becoming more frantic."
John accidentally yanked his arms too hard against his constraints and was able to break free. Sherlock jumped up from his seat and pressed John's arms above his head on a pillow, holding his hands together with his left hand.
John's eyes stayed close, but the feeling of Sherlock's cold skin touching his wrists was nearly sending him over the edge.
"You lose, Sherlock," John breathed heavily, "You said. . . you said you wouldn't touch me. . . Now you have, so please just finish!" John cried, attempting to tear his hands from Sherlock's grasp.
"No!." Sherlock said, his own breath coming in shorter gasps. "Back to the chamber, John." He let out a quick breath. "Your moans are beginning to overwhelm me. I stroke faster, feeling your hardness pulse in my palm. I lick a small portion of your neck and then bite down. Hard."
John groaned, his orgasm just barely out of reach. Sherlock bent down as close to his lover's ear as he could, and whispered, "You're so close. . . I bring my mouth to your ear and bite it softly. Then I say in a low, authoritative voice, 'Now cum for me. . . That's a direct order, soldier.'"
John thrust violently as his orgasm hit him full force. Sherlock quickly leaned back and released John's wrists. The army doctor's loud moans were quickly silenced by Sherlock's mouth covering his in the most passionate kiss either of them had ever experienced. Sherlock still refused to reach down and touch him, but he kissed his lover until he finished riding out his orgasm.
John's breathing began to even out, and the kiss became more slow and rhythmic. Sherlock slowly pulled back and rested his forehead against John's, his own breathing still a bit labored.
"How was that?" Sherlock asked, lightly kissing his lover once more.
A smile broke out across John's face as Sherlock pulled away again.
"You lost." John told him, reaching his left hand up to wrap it around the detective's neck, "But that just means we'll have to try again, right?"
Sherlock chuckled and dropped his head to the crevice between John's neck and shoulder. "So long as you get rid of my little problem A.S.A.P." Sherlock smiled against John's skin, "That's a direct order, soldier."
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