No Two Ways About It (Sherlock Holmes)
Title: No Two Ways About It
Author: laurieisme (aka revolution25)
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (Sherlock 2010 series to be exact)
Rating: ADULT or NC-17 there be sex in this here story
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Spoilers: The 2010 BBC Series.
Summary: Written for this prompt on sherlockbbc_fic: "This prompt is a bit weird. I'd like to see the same sex scene. Exactly the same, same actions, same dialogue, from the point of view of both characters. Preferably Sherlock and someone else. So that you can see the processes going through both their brains. 3rd person or 1st person fine. But just COMPLETELY different views of exactly the same events." LINK BACK TO ORIGNAL PROMPT HERE
Author's Notes: Not beta-ed or brit picked. It's in first person, first Sherlock then John, the change is obvious.
SHERLOCK
It doesn’t happen out of desperation. It can’t be cheapened like that; this thing that has been going on between John and I since the beginning of our knowing each other can’t be consummated on a whim.
I think I must frustrate him.
We both know what’s going on, we both know what will happen, but it doesn’t seem right yet. He gives me looks every now and then, looks that ask me ‘when?’ ‘Aren’t you done playing round the issue?’
‘Will you just fuck me all ready?’
But I can’t, not when he’s still playing the stupid game. I don’t know if he thinks hanging out with what’s-her-face is going to make me jealous, or if insisting we are only just colleagues will make me pin him up against a wall and show him how much closer we really are. I can see the reason one might play such a game, but our feelings for each other go far deeper than all of that, you can’t play games when something connects to your very soul so deeply.
He leaves me at a loss; I don’t know exactly where to begin. I understand that although he is comfortable with his sister’s sexuality, he’s only ever wanted to be with women before.
He needs me to take the lead.
But my own sexual experiences have been very limited. Sure I experimented with both sexes, charted my enjoyment with each to see where my persuasions would lie. Just like everyone else. But that was in university, and limited to the fact that I was the follower not the aggressor.
When it finally does happen it’s a nice warm afternoon. He comes home after a long day at a job he is far too clever for and opens up the fridge. I can’t help but peek over my violin, awaiting his reaction.
“You got milk,” he says as if it’s the most astounding thing ever.
He looks at what’s on the table and approaches it with caution, “Who made the tea?”
“I did.” I try and act nonchalant, but we both know where this is heading, I’m just trying to ease him into it.
“Are there dead frogs in there?” I shake my head, “Eyeballs?” again I shake my head.
“What exactly is in there?”
“Just tea. Nothing fun about it, just boring tea. I just made it if you want some.”
He pours himself a cup, and sits down on the couch smelling and looking at it, just to make sure.
This is the best I could come up with. John with his safe sturdy jumpers, and his hair parted just as is aught to be, how do you seduce such a man? You do the shopping and make him a nice relaxing cup of tea, it’s better than any spider web.
He takes a sip and smiles, he’s grinning from ear to ear, I think he’s caught on to what’s going on but I can never tell with him.
“It’s tea,” he says and takes a bigger sip.
I know it’s tea, I just made it. I don’t know why he has to say it out loud. As if while making it I thought I was dissecting a frog.
But he does seem overly happy at the fact that it is tea, he’s never been that happy before, so he must know it’s more than tea. He must be thinking, ‘finally,’ now he’s just waiting for me to make the first physical contact.
I move from my perch on the chair, leaving my violin behind, and sit next to him. I try to lean back and look as though I’m not about to attack him because I can’t scare him right now, that would put us months behind schedule.
“Good?” I ask pointing to the cup.
“Why?” his smile drops. Fucking hell I did nothing to the damn tea.
“I’m a sociopath, I like to be praised for every little thing I do.”
The smile only half returns, “Very good tea, best I’ve ever had in my life. I could die now, since I’ve had the one good cup of tea I’ll ever have.”
“Enough,” I say, I’m done with the stupid tea.
He looks down, like he’s thinking, then looks back up at me smiling, “Honestly, it’s good tea. Thank you.”
I allow myself to smile, only one corner of the mouth, better not get carried away.
“I’m surprised. You haven’t had a case in a week. I thought I’d come home to find the furniture nailed to the ceiling. You’re dealing with your boredom better than ever.”
“I’ve had something to distract me, I’d call it a project but it’s much more than that. Something to change my life for the better.”
He’s silent, I can’t look at him because we both know what makes my life better, what makes me better, it’s him. It’s always been him.
I move without deduction, without analyzing what would be best, I just go for it. My lips are on his and I can feel the hesitation, I can feel John pulling back and I decide I can’t let that happen, I’ve gone this far, I need to go all the way. I reposition myself so that when he’s trying to pull away, he’s actually pulling us both down towards the couch.
I know suddenly why he’s hesitant. I take out the big check list in my mind. Seduction: went to the store and made him tea CHECK. Making Physical Contact: it’s what we’re doing right now CHECK. Reassuance of Feelings for John: no NOT CHECKED. I’ve seen it in the films I had to watch growing up; every time the two people who were obviously meant to be together, finally got together, they need to reassure each other of the feelings they have.
I don’t know exactly what to say, I’m leaning towards ‘I depend upon you,’ when my mouth, entirely unconnected to my brain for the first time in my life takes over.
“I love you,” I say against his lips. It’s muffled but it’s there. I know he hears it because he stops resisting and starts kissing me back. I’m still the aggressor, but he’s letting me in and I can’t help but triumph at it.
“I love you,” I say more clearly, my brain still not participating.
My tongue slides in his mouth over his teeth, electricity from finally being this close runs through my veins, my hands start to shake with the rush of it all. Our tongues meet and something in John changes. He pushes us up off the couch, then he’s pushing me down onto it. My head hits the Union Jack pillow and it all becomes very different. His strong hands are on my chest, his hips to mine, and his tongue is in my mouth tasting every part of it. I start to feel dizzy, he’s taking the lead.
I knew I’d have to initiate everything, but this part I was the most unsure about, and John, my John, takes the lead like I always hoped he would.
His lips are on my neck and my hands are in his hair. I need to mess it up, I need to see John all out of place with his hair not parted exactly right and his jumper completely gone, and I need to know that only I get to see that.
“I love you,” I say again, this time my brain is working.
He grinds his hips to mine and I can’t do anything but hold my breath. It feels too good, and I know if I breathe I’ll make the most embarrassing noise in the world. I push back and he grabs my hips hard and pushes into me at the right angle, his hardness and mine meet through two pairs of trousers and two pairs of pants, but god is it glorious. This time I can’t help but breathe and make the most awkward noise in the world. This doesn’t discourage John, he smiles and bites my shoulder and does it again.
“I need you,” the first words out of him since this whole thing started.
I can’t help but feel a little in awe of the man. He never fails to surprise me. He is just as stupid as everyone else, but he has these flashes of genius.
‘I need you’ conveys far more than a simple ‘I love you.’ People say ‘I love you’ to relatives they don’t even like, but ‘I need you’ means so much more. He needs me in his life just as I need him. I hardly know how I would function without him, I love him yes, but far more importantly I need him.
In the middle of my revelation John is ripping my trousers and by extension my pants off me. He grabs me roughly and kisses me hard. My hands go to his hair and I try not to grab too hard, but he feels amazing. He’s shorter than me and yet he makes me feel like he’s all over me, like there isn’t an inch of me he hasn’t stimulated to the point of bliss.
He puts a hand on my cheek and I look up into his eyes.
My eyes I’ve always thought of as thirty gage needles, sharp and cool and painful, and so very easy to get under your skin. John’s eyes are like long broad swords. You may be able to see them coming a mile away, but they will always penetrate deep into you. I look at him and he looks at me and I feel as if at that moment he can see into my soul. He knows it all, every childhood fight, every case I’ve ever worked on, he sees all of me and he isn’t afraid. The stranger thing is, neither am I.
I want to explore this deeper, but I’m grunting, making odd noises into his neck and I’m ejaculating all over John’s hands, my stomach and my shirt, and sadly John’s jumper.
I’m combing my hands through my hair trying to come down from the high when I see it, John’s smirking. Looking pretty proud of himself because he made the great Sherlock Holmes speechless.
I just can’t have that.
I reach down, and easily unbutton his jeans. He slides away and sits back on the sofa away from me shaking his head and doing that thing where his lips disappear, “you don’t have to,” he says, trying to look everywhere but at me and what I’m about to do to him.
“I know. I want to know what you look like when you orgasm.”
He laughs nervously, and his fingers bite into the sofa as I take him in hand. For some reason I thought his penis would be rougher, but it’s soft, even with him as hard as he is. He tilts his head back and looks at the ceiling, probably not wanting this to be over too fast, but I want him to feel what I felt.
“Look at me John,” I say far more sure of myself than I felt when I started this whole thing.
He complies, but he’s just concentrating on my eyes, and again doing that thing where his lips disappear. I have to do something, I must not be performing the way he likes. I get the idea that if I straddle him it will be like a mirror image, it will be easier then to do what I like, but to someone else. I let go of him and get up, he’s looking at me as if he’s confused and disappointed, but I straddle his lap and his eyes go wide. I take him in my hand again, this time grabbing his testicles with my other hand and start making long leisurely strokes up and down the shaft.
“Christ,” John says, he thrusts up into my hand involuntarily and grabs onto the couch tighter, because it doesn’t seem to be helping him. He finally puts his hands on my thighs lightly at first as if he’s just helping me with my balance. I speed up the pace with my hand and his fingers start to dig into me, pushing me closer to him.
“John, look at me,” I say again.
He finally does and I can see the raw need in his eyes, it nearly takes my breath away. I speed up, wanting him to feel the release and he grunts. I think it’s just about to be over, but he grabs me by the hair on the back of my head and pulls me down for a hard kiss. He’s biting and sucking and moaning into my lips as he ejaculates and I decide that was the sexiest thing I’ve ever witnessed.
We part, and he rests his head on the back of the couch. He looks up at me lazily and licks his bottom lip with his tongue and I have to amend my earlier thought, that was the sexiest thing I’ve ever witnessed.
He looks down at my lap and laughs, “Again, already?”
I look down to see what he means, and I’m pretty sure he’s talking about my erection.
“If you had witnessed what I just did, you’d know I’ve restrained myself.”
“Restrained yourself how?” his thumb is drawing lazy circles on my thigh, I know he doesn’t realize he’s doing it, but how exactly am I supposed to think when he’s doing that?
“I was going to ask for this,” I move myself so I am fully in his lap, rubbing myself against his stomach.
He removes his hands from my thighs, and I watch as they fall to the sofa, “I don’t think I’m ready for… that.”
Penetration he means, I understand that much.
“I know, which is why I said I restrained myself.”
He smiles and his hand is on my cheek, gingerly guiding me down to him. He kisses me and it’s chaste and warm and full of everything that could never be said.
He brakes the kiss then looks at me happily, “you know I’d do anything for you.”
I don’t think he means sexually, his eyes say it’s deeper than that, and I know without a doubt he really would. I don’t know it happened but the person I picked to spend the rest of my life with is the best person I’ve ever known.
JOHN
Honestly I never saw it coming.
That day was any other day, I can’t even remember anything specific about it. Was the sun shining? Was it pouring with rain? I have no idea. All I know is I came home from work, ready to go back out because Sherlock couldn’t be bothered to do something like the shopping even though he had nothing else to do.
I looked in the fridge to see the damage he had done, I hoped to god he hadn’t shot it, and found fresh milk. I must have said something because the violin stops, only for a moment. I look over to the table, again awaiting dead rats splayed open only to find what looks like tea. I mustn’t get my hopes up.
“Who made the tea?” I’d take a strange homeless person making the tea over him.
“I did,” he says examining his bow.
“Are there dead frogs in there?”
He shakes his head.
“Eyeballs?”
Again he shakes his head. Does he look… proud of himself for making a normal pot of tea?
“What exactly is in there?” I can’t be tricked, there must be something.
“Just tea. Nothing fun about it, just boring tea. I just made it if you want some.”
He needs a kidney for an experiment. No, he’s running off with Moriarty and he wants my blessing. Whatever it is he obviously needs something from me. Approach with caution.
I pour myself some tea then go to the couch. I try not to look at him as he’s watching me take the first sip.
I can’t help but smile relieved, “It’s tea.”
He leaves the chair, and thankfully that blasted violin, and sits by me.
“Good?” he asks.
He’s poisoned it. I have hours to live unless he can come up with his own antidote.
“Why?” I ask waiting for the bad news.
“I’m a sociopath, I like to be praised for every little thing I do.”
He sounds a little hurt. Maybe he was actually doing something nice. I don’t need to be an ass about it.
“Very good tea, best I’ve ever had in my life. I could die now, since I’ve had the one good cup of tea I’ll ever have,” I try and joke to lighten him up.
“Enough,” he sounds like that made him even more hurt.
I try and think for a moment the exact right way to say it so his feelings wont get hurt, “Honestly, it’s good tea. Thank you.”
I see him give a tiny smile to that, I feel relieved, I didn’t offend him.
“I’m surprised. You haven’t had a case in a week. I thought I’d come home to find the furniture nailed to the ceiling. You’re dealing with your boredom better than ever.” I say.
“I’ve had something to distract me, I’d call it a project but it’s much more than that. Something to change my life for the better.”
He’s serious about whatever it is. I just hope he hasn’t joined a cult. As smart as he is sometimes he can be really stupid. I’m trying to decipher what he meant because he’s quiet and I can tell it’s time for John to guess and get it wrong.
Before any whole idea can form in my brain his lips are right on mine and as I try to back away he repositions himself so as I lean back I’m bringing us both down into the couch. My little brain tries to understand just what the fuck is going on. Then I remember the last thing he said, something to change my life for the better.
Could he mean me?
“I love you,” he mumbles against my mouth. It’s not completely there, but I still hear it. I can’t help but move my lips with his, Sherlock needs this from me. Since he asked for my phone the first day we met I haven’t been able to say no to him, not really.
“I love you,” he says again, this time more clearly.
And now I know, I have to try this, for him. I have to try and be all he needs, because a part of me wants to. His tongue gently comes in contact with my teeth, then my own tongue and there’s this spark of something. I don’t know if my body is responding to the nearness of another human, or if it’s really important that that person is Sherlock, but I need more.
I push us up then I push Sherlock down onto the cushion and I explore. I taste every bit of his mouth and my hands roam his body. I don’t hate it, the feel of a man next to me, it feels really good actually. I test my hips against his and it feels amazing. I can tell he’s completely hard, I want to smile at the thought that I’ve done that to him but I’m too busy exploring.
I’m kissing his neck when he says it again, the words reverberate off his skin, it tickles my lips a little. I grind myself down on him again and he’s holding his breath. I don’t know if he needs me to do it again or what so I grind into him again; his cock and mine right up against each other. He half groans and grunts, not at all in his control and I can’t help but think finally, something is not in Sherlock Holmes’ control.
I bite his shoulder playfully as I do it again, again creating that wonderful sound from him.
“I need you,” I say because he’s obviously waiting for me to say something and I can’t tell him I love him. Not like that.
Even though I never wanted it before, I really need to feel him like this. After all those times I wasn’t sure he was going to come back, I wasn’t sure he was going to be smart and not have to prove he’s clever by risking his life, being here like this is reassuring. Feeling him breathe beneath me, feeling his heart beat on his neck, it’s a great feeling knowing he’s here and really with me. I don’t have to question this.
I go for the button of his trousers and it’s not giving way quickly enough so I rip them off him. I finally grab a hold onto his hard cock and at the same time I kiss him, probably harder than I needed to but his hands are in my hair encouraging me. I stroke him and he’s moaning in my mouth and by god I might just end up messing my pants up because this is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
I move my hand to his cheek and he looks up at me, those piercing eyes, but I quicken my hand and suddenly it’s me looking into him and it’s amazing how connected to him I feel at this moment. As quickly as the moment comes it goes, he buries his head into my neck and starts grunting and gasping, and he’s coming all over the both of us.
And I think I was wrong, this is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
He comes down slowly; running his fingers through his hair seems to help. God I love to watch him come undone. It’s a sight I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of.
He reaches down to unbutton my jeans and I pull away. Doing something like that for Sherlock, well it was for Sherlock, as hard as I am right now I don’t want him to feel obligated to reciprocate. I’m confused by all of the feelings I’ve never had suddenly welling up inside of me. I should try and find out what my feelings are exactly before I let him do this for me.
“You don’t have to,” I say. Surely he’s self involved enough to take the hint and not want to do the extra work.
“I know. I want to know what you look like when you orgasm,”
I laugh because outside of a medical paper on sexuality he’s the only human being alive that says orgasm.
He slides his hands over my cock and I dig my fingers into the couch. Don’t Touch. Is all that runs through my mind. It feels so good, his warm hand against me I lean back and try to just let it happen.
“Look at me John,” he says in a tone I could never refuse. I could never refuse him anyway.
I try to look at him, but I just want to close my eyes, it feels so damn good. I have to concentrate to keep my eyes on his. He doesn’t seem to like this because he lets go of me and gets up. I wonder what I did wrong when he straddles my lap.
If I could get any harder I would have. He takes my cock and my balls a little firmer this time and I can’t help but say something. I have no idea what I said I just know by the look on his face he liked it. I tentatively put my hands on his thighs, just wanting to touch a part of him instead of the couch. It’s as if that was what he was waiting for because he speeds up his movements and I can’t help but try to bring him closer to me.
“John, look at me,” he says again.
I look up and try to say how much I need him with just my eyes. He speeds up what he’s doing and for some reason I need to kiss him as I come. I put my hand in his black curls and pull his mouth down to mine. I bite and lick that fucking amazing mouth of his and I come and I can’t help but feel filled with him.
I’m finally allowed to rest my head on the back of the couch, and I realize that I like the fact that nearly all of my come is on him.
I look down to see the damage, and he’s fully hard again, “Again, already?”
He looks down and his erection looks up, I can’t laugh so I bite the inside of my cheek.
He looks back to me and says, “If you had witnessed what I just did, you’d know I’ve restrained myself.”
I place my thumb is on his thigh, I don’t want to break this new physical connection we have, not yet. “Restrained yourself how?” I ask.
“I was going to ask for this,” he says as he moves himself fully on my lap.
I just realized he had feelings for me; I’m nowhere near ready for anything like that.
“I don’t think I’m ready for… that.” I try to say as gently as possible.
“I know, which is why I said I restrained myself.”
Of course he says it like that. I touch his cheek, and kiss him, really just kiss him. Not kissing him to get off with him, just to share the intimacy that we haven’t shared yet.
I break it off and smile to him, “You know I’d do anything for you.” Including doing this. Taking this chance at something I never knew I could want.
Author: laurieisme (aka revolution25)
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (Sherlock 2010 series to be exact)
Rating: ADULT or NC-17 there be sex in this here story
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Spoilers: The 2010 BBC Series.
Summary: Written for this prompt on sherlockbbc_fic: "This prompt is a bit weird. I'd like to see the same sex scene. Exactly the same, same actions, same dialogue, from the point of view of both characters. Preferably Sherlock and someone else. So that you can see the processes going through both their brains. 3rd person or 1st person fine. But just COMPLETELY different views of exactly the same events." LINK BACK TO ORIGNAL PROMPT HERE
Author's Notes: Not beta-ed or brit picked. It's in first person, first Sherlock then John, the change is obvious.
SHERLOCK
It doesn’t happen out of desperation. It can’t be cheapened like that; this thing that has been going on between John and I since the beginning of our knowing each other can’t be consummated on a whim.
I think I must frustrate him.
We both know what’s going on, we both know what will happen, but it doesn’t seem right yet. He gives me looks every now and then, looks that ask me ‘when?’ ‘Aren’t you done playing round the issue?’
‘Will you just fuck me all ready?’
But I can’t, not when he’s still playing the stupid game. I don’t know if he thinks hanging out with what’s-her-face is going to make me jealous, or if insisting we are only just colleagues will make me pin him up against a wall and show him how much closer we really are. I can see the reason one might play such a game, but our feelings for each other go far deeper than all of that, you can’t play games when something connects to your very soul so deeply.
He leaves me at a loss; I don’t know exactly where to begin. I understand that although he is comfortable with his sister’s sexuality, he’s only ever wanted to be with women before.
He needs me to take the lead.
But my own sexual experiences have been very limited. Sure I experimented with both sexes, charted my enjoyment with each to see where my persuasions would lie. Just like everyone else. But that was in university, and limited to the fact that I was the follower not the aggressor.
When it finally does happen it’s a nice warm afternoon. He comes home after a long day at a job he is far too clever for and opens up the fridge. I can’t help but peek over my violin, awaiting his reaction.
“You got milk,” he says as if it’s the most astounding thing ever.
He looks at what’s on the table and approaches it with caution, “Who made the tea?”
“I did.” I try and act nonchalant, but we both know where this is heading, I’m just trying to ease him into it.
“Are there dead frogs in there?” I shake my head, “Eyeballs?” again I shake my head.
“What exactly is in there?”
“Just tea. Nothing fun about it, just boring tea. I just made it if you want some.”
He pours himself a cup, and sits down on the couch smelling and looking at it, just to make sure.
This is the best I could come up with. John with his safe sturdy jumpers, and his hair parted just as is aught to be, how do you seduce such a man? You do the shopping and make him a nice relaxing cup of tea, it’s better than any spider web.
He takes a sip and smiles, he’s grinning from ear to ear, I think he’s caught on to what’s going on but I can never tell with him.
“It’s tea,” he says and takes a bigger sip.
I know it’s tea, I just made it. I don’t know why he has to say it out loud. As if while making it I thought I was dissecting a frog.
But he does seem overly happy at the fact that it is tea, he’s never been that happy before, so he must know it’s more than tea. He must be thinking, ‘finally,’ now he’s just waiting for me to make the first physical contact.
I move from my perch on the chair, leaving my violin behind, and sit next to him. I try to lean back and look as though I’m not about to attack him because I can’t scare him right now, that would put us months behind schedule.
“Good?” I ask pointing to the cup.
“Why?” his smile drops. Fucking hell I did nothing to the damn tea.
“I’m a sociopath, I like to be praised for every little thing I do.”
The smile only half returns, “Very good tea, best I’ve ever had in my life. I could die now, since I’ve had the one good cup of tea I’ll ever have.”
“Enough,” I say, I’m done with the stupid tea.
He looks down, like he’s thinking, then looks back up at me smiling, “Honestly, it’s good tea. Thank you.”
I allow myself to smile, only one corner of the mouth, better not get carried away.
“I’m surprised. You haven’t had a case in a week. I thought I’d come home to find the furniture nailed to the ceiling. You’re dealing with your boredom better than ever.”
“I’ve had something to distract me, I’d call it a project but it’s much more than that. Something to change my life for the better.”
He’s silent, I can’t look at him because we both know what makes my life better, what makes me better, it’s him. It’s always been him.
I move without deduction, without analyzing what would be best, I just go for it. My lips are on his and I can feel the hesitation, I can feel John pulling back and I decide I can’t let that happen, I’ve gone this far, I need to go all the way. I reposition myself so that when he’s trying to pull away, he’s actually pulling us both down towards the couch.
I know suddenly why he’s hesitant. I take out the big check list in my mind. Seduction: went to the store and made him tea CHECK. Making Physical Contact: it’s what we’re doing right now CHECK. Reassuance of Feelings for John: no NOT CHECKED. I’ve seen it in the films I had to watch growing up; every time the two people who were obviously meant to be together, finally got together, they need to reassure each other of the feelings they have.
I don’t know exactly what to say, I’m leaning towards ‘I depend upon you,’ when my mouth, entirely unconnected to my brain for the first time in my life takes over.
“I love you,” I say against his lips. It’s muffled but it’s there. I know he hears it because he stops resisting and starts kissing me back. I’m still the aggressor, but he’s letting me in and I can’t help but triumph at it.
“I love you,” I say more clearly, my brain still not participating.
My tongue slides in his mouth over his teeth, electricity from finally being this close runs through my veins, my hands start to shake with the rush of it all. Our tongues meet and something in John changes. He pushes us up off the couch, then he’s pushing me down onto it. My head hits the Union Jack pillow and it all becomes very different. His strong hands are on my chest, his hips to mine, and his tongue is in my mouth tasting every part of it. I start to feel dizzy, he’s taking the lead.
I knew I’d have to initiate everything, but this part I was the most unsure about, and John, my John, takes the lead like I always hoped he would.
His lips are on my neck and my hands are in his hair. I need to mess it up, I need to see John all out of place with his hair not parted exactly right and his jumper completely gone, and I need to know that only I get to see that.
“I love you,” I say again, this time my brain is working.
He grinds his hips to mine and I can’t do anything but hold my breath. It feels too good, and I know if I breathe I’ll make the most embarrassing noise in the world. I push back and he grabs my hips hard and pushes into me at the right angle, his hardness and mine meet through two pairs of trousers and two pairs of pants, but god is it glorious. This time I can’t help but breathe and make the most awkward noise in the world. This doesn’t discourage John, he smiles and bites my shoulder and does it again.
“I need you,” the first words out of him since this whole thing started.
I can’t help but feel a little in awe of the man. He never fails to surprise me. He is just as stupid as everyone else, but he has these flashes of genius.
‘I need you’ conveys far more than a simple ‘I love you.’ People say ‘I love you’ to relatives they don’t even like, but ‘I need you’ means so much more. He needs me in his life just as I need him. I hardly know how I would function without him, I love him yes, but far more importantly I need him.
In the middle of my revelation John is ripping my trousers and by extension my pants off me. He grabs me roughly and kisses me hard. My hands go to his hair and I try not to grab too hard, but he feels amazing. He’s shorter than me and yet he makes me feel like he’s all over me, like there isn’t an inch of me he hasn’t stimulated to the point of bliss.
He puts a hand on my cheek and I look up into his eyes.
My eyes I’ve always thought of as thirty gage needles, sharp and cool and painful, and so very easy to get under your skin. John’s eyes are like long broad swords. You may be able to see them coming a mile away, but they will always penetrate deep into you. I look at him and he looks at me and I feel as if at that moment he can see into my soul. He knows it all, every childhood fight, every case I’ve ever worked on, he sees all of me and he isn’t afraid. The stranger thing is, neither am I.
I want to explore this deeper, but I’m grunting, making odd noises into his neck and I’m ejaculating all over John’s hands, my stomach and my shirt, and sadly John’s jumper.
I’m combing my hands through my hair trying to come down from the high when I see it, John’s smirking. Looking pretty proud of himself because he made the great Sherlock Holmes speechless.
I just can’t have that.
I reach down, and easily unbutton his jeans. He slides away and sits back on the sofa away from me shaking his head and doing that thing where his lips disappear, “you don’t have to,” he says, trying to look everywhere but at me and what I’m about to do to him.
“I know. I want to know what you look like when you orgasm.”
He laughs nervously, and his fingers bite into the sofa as I take him in hand. For some reason I thought his penis would be rougher, but it’s soft, even with him as hard as he is. He tilts his head back and looks at the ceiling, probably not wanting this to be over too fast, but I want him to feel what I felt.
“Look at me John,” I say far more sure of myself than I felt when I started this whole thing.
He complies, but he’s just concentrating on my eyes, and again doing that thing where his lips disappear. I have to do something, I must not be performing the way he likes. I get the idea that if I straddle him it will be like a mirror image, it will be easier then to do what I like, but to someone else. I let go of him and get up, he’s looking at me as if he’s confused and disappointed, but I straddle his lap and his eyes go wide. I take him in my hand again, this time grabbing his testicles with my other hand and start making long leisurely strokes up and down the shaft.
“Christ,” John says, he thrusts up into my hand involuntarily and grabs onto the couch tighter, because it doesn’t seem to be helping him. He finally puts his hands on my thighs lightly at first as if he’s just helping me with my balance. I speed up the pace with my hand and his fingers start to dig into me, pushing me closer to him.
“John, look at me,” I say again.
He finally does and I can see the raw need in his eyes, it nearly takes my breath away. I speed up, wanting him to feel the release and he grunts. I think it’s just about to be over, but he grabs me by the hair on the back of my head and pulls me down for a hard kiss. He’s biting and sucking and moaning into my lips as he ejaculates and I decide that was the sexiest thing I’ve ever witnessed.
We part, and he rests his head on the back of the couch. He looks up at me lazily and licks his bottom lip with his tongue and I have to amend my earlier thought, that was the sexiest thing I’ve ever witnessed.
He looks down at my lap and laughs, “Again, already?”
I look down to see what he means, and I’m pretty sure he’s talking about my erection.
“If you had witnessed what I just did, you’d know I’ve restrained myself.”
“Restrained yourself how?” his thumb is drawing lazy circles on my thigh, I know he doesn’t realize he’s doing it, but how exactly am I supposed to think when he’s doing that?
“I was going to ask for this,” I move myself so I am fully in his lap, rubbing myself against his stomach.
He removes his hands from my thighs, and I watch as they fall to the sofa, “I don’t think I’m ready for… that.”
Penetration he means, I understand that much.
“I know, which is why I said I restrained myself.”
He smiles and his hand is on my cheek, gingerly guiding me down to him. He kisses me and it’s chaste and warm and full of everything that could never be said.
He brakes the kiss then looks at me happily, “you know I’d do anything for you.”
I don’t think he means sexually, his eyes say it’s deeper than that, and I know without a doubt he really would. I don’t know it happened but the person I picked to spend the rest of my life with is the best person I’ve ever known.
JOHN
Honestly I never saw it coming.
That day was any other day, I can’t even remember anything specific about it. Was the sun shining? Was it pouring with rain? I have no idea. All I know is I came home from work, ready to go back out because Sherlock couldn’t be bothered to do something like the shopping even though he had nothing else to do.
I looked in the fridge to see the damage he had done, I hoped to god he hadn’t shot it, and found fresh milk. I must have said something because the violin stops, only for a moment. I look over to the table, again awaiting dead rats splayed open only to find what looks like tea. I mustn’t get my hopes up.
“Who made the tea?” I’d take a strange homeless person making the tea over him.
“I did,” he says examining his bow.
“Are there dead frogs in there?”
He shakes his head.
“Eyeballs?”
Again he shakes his head. Does he look… proud of himself for making a normal pot of tea?
“What exactly is in there?” I can’t be tricked, there must be something.
“Just tea. Nothing fun about it, just boring tea. I just made it if you want some.”
He needs a kidney for an experiment. No, he’s running off with Moriarty and he wants my blessing. Whatever it is he obviously needs something from me. Approach with caution.
I pour myself some tea then go to the couch. I try not to look at him as he’s watching me take the first sip.
I can’t help but smile relieved, “It’s tea.”
He leaves the chair, and thankfully that blasted violin, and sits by me.
“Good?” he asks.
He’s poisoned it. I have hours to live unless he can come up with his own antidote.
“Why?” I ask waiting for the bad news.
“I’m a sociopath, I like to be praised for every little thing I do.”
He sounds a little hurt. Maybe he was actually doing something nice. I don’t need to be an ass about it.
“Very good tea, best I’ve ever had in my life. I could die now, since I’ve had the one good cup of tea I’ll ever have,” I try and joke to lighten him up.
“Enough,” he sounds like that made him even more hurt.
I try and think for a moment the exact right way to say it so his feelings wont get hurt, “Honestly, it’s good tea. Thank you.”
I see him give a tiny smile to that, I feel relieved, I didn’t offend him.
“I’m surprised. You haven’t had a case in a week. I thought I’d come home to find the furniture nailed to the ceiling. You’re dealing with your boredom better than ever.” I say.
“I’ve had something to distract me, I’d call it a project but it’s much more than that. Something to change my life for the better.”
He’s serious about whatever it is. I just hope he hasn’t joined a cult. As smart as he is sometimes he can be really stupid. I’m trying to decipher what he meant because he’s quiet and I can tell it’s time for John to guess and get it wrong.
Before any whole idea can form in my brain his lips are right on mine and as I try to back away he repositions himself so as I lean back I’m bringing us both down into the couch. My little brain tries to understand just what the fuck is going on. Then I remember the last thing he said, something to change my life for the better.
Could he mean me?
“I love you,” he mumbles against my mouth. It’s not completely there, but I still hear it. I can’t help but move my lips with his, Sherlock needs this from me. Since he asked for my phone the first day we met I haven’t been able to say no to him, not really.
“I love you,” he says again, this time more clearly.
And now I know, I have to try this, for him. I have to try and be all he needs, because a part of me wants to. His tongue gently comes in contact with my teeth, then my own tongue and there’s this spark of something. I don’t know if my body is responding to the nearness of another human, or if it’s really important that that person is Sherlock, but I need more.
I push us up then I push Sherlock down onto the cushion and I explore. I taste every bit of his mouth and my hands roam his body. I don’t hate it, the feel of a man next to me, it feels really good actually. I test my hips against his and it feels amazing. I can tell he’s completely hard, I want to smile at the thought that I’ve done that to him but I’m too busy exploring.
I’m kissing his neck when he says it again, the words reverberate off his skin, it tickles my lips a little. I grind myself down on him again and he’s holding his breath. I don’t know if he needs me to do it again or what so I grind into him again; his cock and mine right up against each other. He half groans and grunts, not at all in his control and I can’t help but think finally, something is not in Sherlock Holmes’ control.
I bite his shoulder playfully as I do it again, again creating that wonderful sound from him.
“I need you,” I say because he’s obviously waiting for me to say something and I can’t tell him I love him. Not like that.
Even though I never wanted it before, I really need to feel him like this. After all those times I wasn’t sure he was going to come back, I wasn’t sure he was going to be smart and not have to prove he’s clever by risking his life, being here like this is reassuring. Feeling him breathe beneath me, feeling his heart beat on his neck, it’s a great feeling knowing he’s here and really with me. I don’t have to question this.
I go for the button of his trousers and it’s not giving way quickly enough so I rip them off him. I finally grab a hold onto his hard cock and at the same time I kiss him, probably harder than I needed to but his hands are in my hair encouraging me. I stroke him and he’s moaning in my mouth and by god I might just end up messing my pants up because this is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
I move my hand to his cheek and he looks up at me, those piercing eyes, but I quicken my hand and suddenly it’s me looking into him and it’s amazing how connected to him I feel at this moment. As quickly as the moment comes it goes, he buries his head into my neck and starts grunting and gasping, and he’s coming all over the both of us.
And I think I was wrong, this is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
He comes down slowly; running his fingers through his hair seems to help. God I love to watch him come undone. It’s a sight I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of.
He reaches down to unbutton my jeans and I pull away. Doing something like that for Sherlock, well it was for Sherlock, as hard as I am right now I don’t want him to feel obligated to reciprocate. I’m confused by all of the feelings I’ve never had suddenly welling up inside of me. I should try and find out what my feelings are exactly before I let him do this for me.
“You don’t have to,” I say. Surely he’s self involved enough to take the hint and not want to do the extra work.
“I know. I want to know what you look like when you orgasm,”
I laugh because outside of a medical paper on sexuality he’s the only human being alive that says orgasm.
He slides his hands over my cock and I dig my fingers into the couch. Don’t Touch. Is all that runs through my mind. It feels so good, his warm hand against me I lean back and try to just let it happen.
“Look at me John,” he says in a tone I could never refuse. I could never refuse him anyway.
I try to look at him, but I just want to close my eyes, it feels so damn good. I have to concentrate to keep my eyes on his. He doesn’t seem to like this because he lets go of me and gets up. I wonder what I did wrong when he straddles my lap.
If I could get any harder I would have. He takes my cock and my balls a little firmer this time and I can’t help but say something. I have no idea what I said I just know by the look on his face he liked it. I tentatively put my hands on his thighs, just wanting to touch a part of him instead of the couch. It’s as if that was what he was waiting for because he speeds up his movements and I can’t help but try to bring him closer to me.
“John, look at me,” he says again.
I look up and try to say how much I need him with just my eyes. He speeds up what he’s doing and for some reason I need to kiss him as I come. I put my hand in his black curls and pull his mouth down to mine. I bite and lick that fucking amazing mouth of his and I come and I can’t help but feel filled with him.
I’m finally allowed to rest my head on the back of the couch, and I realize that I like the fact that nearly all of my come is on him.
I look down to see the damage, and he’s fully hard again, “Again, already?”
He looks down and his erection looks up, I can’t laugh so I bite the inside of my cheek.
He looks back to me and says, “If you had witnessed what I just did, you’d know I’ve restrained myself.”
I place my thumb is on his thigh, I don’t want to break this new physical connection we have, not yet. “Restrained yourself how?” I ask.
“I was going to ask for this,” he says as he moves himself fully on my lap.
I just realized he had feelings for me; I’m nowhere near ready for anything like that.
“I don’t think I’m ready for… that.” I try to say as gently as possible.
“I know, which is why I said I restrained myself.”
Of course he says it like that. I touch his cheek, and kiss him, really just kiss him. Not kissing him to get off with him, just to share the intimacy that we haven’t shared yet.
I break it off and smile to him, “You know I’d do anything for you.” Including doing this. Taking this chance at something I never knew I could want.