Fic: Sucking the Fun Out of it
Title: Sucking the Fun Out of It
Summary: PWP at the cinema.
Pairing: Sherlock/John, established relationship
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: fluff, semi-public sex, ridiculousness, bad puns
Spoilers: None
Disclaimers: Not mine. Just borrowing them for a while.
Author's Notes: My first attempt to write an actual sex scene between two men. Not betad, but brit-picked quick and dirty by the lovely livia-carica. Also, thanks to shoudboverthis for the Jelly Babies suggestion.
He could feel him getting restless in the next seat. Crossing and recrossing his legs, tapping his fingers against his thighs. He could hear the sole of expensive Italian leather tapping out a rhythm on the floor. He had been afraid of this. Thank God he'd had enough sense to seat them in the very back with no one else seated near to them. It was like traveling with a toddler sometimes. If you were going to be in a crowd, stay away from strangers and near the exits in case they get fussy. Basic survival with three year olds and Sherlocks.
He knew the talking was next. He'd already heard him take several breaths indicative of speaking, but he'd so far managed to stop himself. John gave that about another 30 seconds.
Placing a hand on the fidgety leg, John whispered, "Don't."
All movement stopped, "Don't what?" Not whispered.
"Shh. Sherlock, we're in a bloody theatre."
"I know where we are, John. I just don't know why we're here," more quietly, but still not whispered. John noticed a few heads several rows in front turn their way.
"We're here to watch a film, Sherlock. Surely you can figure that out"
"It's a BORING film, John. It's awful and I hate it."
"Christ, just eat your damn sweets and be quiet."
"I already ate all mine. Do you have any left?"
Handing over the rest of his Jelly Babies, John said,"Yes. Yes. Here. Eat mine. Just stop. I knew this was a bad idea."
"So did I."
"What? What?" John squawked, earning a few more turned heads and a shush.
Lowering his voice, "What the hell are you talking about? You're the one who insisted on coming."
"I wanted to come with you. I did not, however, want to see a film. They are not mutually exclusive, John."
"Well, today they are. If you want to be with me, you're going to sit through this film. Quietly. Now, please. Shut. Up," John furiously whispered.
Sherlock huffed a little at this, and settled in to sulk and sigh and scoff and eat the rest of John's sweets.
The fidgeting started again about five minutes later until John put his hand back on Sherlock's leg. Surprisingly, Sherlock stilled. Another five minutes and John saw out of the corner of his eye that Sherlock was sitting perfectly still, hands steepled, fingertips resting on his lips. Had John actually not been interested in the film, he might have thought to find concern with this behavior. However, the film was really pretty good and John wasn't paying close attention to his partner. His alarms didn't even go off when he felt a warm, long-fingered hand settle over his own hand on Sherlock's thigh.
Which might explain the startled yelp John gave when his hand was lifted and settled over the rather large bulge between Sherlock's slightly spread legs.
More turning heads, more shushes, and John was mortified.
"What...don't...stop this right now. We are not doing this, Sherlock," he furiously hissed.
"Aren't we? It feels like we are. I could be mistaken."
John's panic subsided slightly when Sherlock let his hand go. It swiftly came back with a vengeance when Sherlock sinuously slid out of his seat onto his knees and turned himself to settle facing John between his knees.
"I mean it Sherlock. Stop."
"Oh, don't mind me. I won't even block your view. This way we'll both enjoy the experience."
And, goddamn it if John didn't feel himself hardening at the proximity of Sherlock, at the feel of his warm body between his legs. Of course, Sherlock noticed and smirked at John as his head lowered towards his crotch.
Looking around, John marked that no one had yet noticed what was going on. John felt himself go very still. His panic response had always been to go perfectly calm, and this was no different. He was embarrassed and aroused and terribly afraid of getting thrown out of the theatre, or worse, arrested for indecent exposure. But, as usual, he found himself letting Sherlock have his way, and he spread his legs a little wider to let Sherlock get closer.
The man began nosing at the hardness beneath John's zipper. He was taking deep breaths, taking in the scent of John's own arousal. He opened his lips over the zipper and mouthed at John's denim-covered cock while he slipped his hand under John's jumper to rub at his very sensitive right nipple.
John's breathing sped up, and he bit his lip to keep any sound from escaping. About the time he could feel the hot moisture from Sherlock's mouth seeping through his jeans, Sherlock moved to unbutton them and lower the zipper. He took another deep breath through his nose and finally pulled John's cock through the opening of his boxers. John couldn't actually see what Sherlock was doing; it was dark and when he glanced down all he saw was a head full of curly hair. He sunk one hand into that hair and stifled a groan when Sherlock's head swiftly lowered to swallow John down to the root.
Sherlock stayed this way for a few moments, swallowing around John and breathing shallowly through his nose. He finally slid back up and swirled his tongue around the head of John's cock. He slid his hand up and down the spit-slicked shaft and licked at the bead of moisture the oozed from the slit. The bastard actually "mmmmd" quietly like John's precome tasted a thousand times better than the sweets he'd just consumed.
Sherlock smirked again when the cock in his hand twitched at the sound. He lowered his head and licked up and down the shaft, rubbed his lips up and down, actually placed a few delicate kisses against the hot flesh.
By this point, John was panting audibly and and had scooted forward in his seat to give Sherlock more room to work. He began rocking his hips slightly, silently urging Sherlock to suck him back in and finish the job. For once in his contrary life, Sherlock actually complied. He took the cock back into his hot mouth and sucked John down. He began bobbing his head quickly up and down. When he felt the hand gripping his hair tighten, he started sucking hard enough to hollow-out his cheeks. He began swirling his tongue over the head on about every other rise and slid his other hand into John's boxers to rub and squeeze John's balls with his fine-boned fingers. John stuffed the heel of his free hand in his mouth to keep from crying out.
Sherlock felt the sack in his hand tightening and John's whole body tensing. He felt a tug on his head and heard a stifled moan as the first spurt of come shot into Sherlock's throat. Sherlock stopped sucking, stopped moving, and just held John in his mouth and swallowed every last drop of John's come. When John was milked dry, Sherlock finally released the already softening shaft, and gave a soft kiss to the head before slipping John's cock back into his boxers and resealing his jeans. He lay his head on Johns thigh for a moment, catching his own breath and enjoying the hand that was now absently stroking through his hair as John recovered.
He finally shifted back, and swung himself back into his seat with far more grace than should have been possible. He took a swig of his drink and swished it around to get last of the come out of his mouth. He loved John and the taste of John, but he didn't like the residue it left behind. As he settled, he felt John's head lean to rest on his shoulder.
"Sherlock, do you...?"
"I'm fine. Watch your film, John." He could afford to be magnanimous, knowing John would return the favor with interest when they got home. Sometimes Sherlock liked the waiting, savoring the build-up of arousal.
John picked up the thread of the film rather easily and enjoyed the rest of it, head continuing to rest on a still and quiet Sherlock. However, when the lights came up, Sherlock jumped up so quickly he nearly gave John whiplash.
"Let's go, John"
"Yes, yes. I'm coming."
"Not until I do." John was behind Sherlock walking down the aisle, but he could hear the smirk in that retort.
"Fine, fine." The thought of reciprocating wasn't exactly a hardship.
They emerged into the bright lights of the lobby, and John trailed in Sherlock's wake. They exited the theatre and Sherlock paused to tie his scarf and wait for John to catch up. They turned as a pair and started the walk home. John slid his arm into Sherlock's.
"That actually went better than I thought it would."
"Well, I don't think you had very high expectations."
"No. No, I didn't. But it turned out all right didn't it? "
"I know why I thought it was a bad idea, but why did you think so, John? I am capable of sitting quietly for extraordinarily long periods of time."
"Yes. That's true. But that's usually just when you're brooding or thinking about a case. I was worried because it was a mystery film, Sherlock. I knew you'd figure it out in five minutes and get bored. You'd start pointing out the stupidity of every character. Give the ending away to the whole theatre half way through."
"Well, you were wrong wrong wrong weren't you?"
"I was. I really was," and John began snickering as they walked.
"What? What are you laughing at?"
"Nothing. It's silly. It's ridiculous, forget it."
"Jooohhn," he actually sing-songed, "just tell me. You know I'll figure it out sooner or later anyway."
"Oh, I doubt that."
"JOHN."
"Fine, fine. I was just thinking that I didn't want to take you to the cinema because I was afraid you'd suck all the fun out of it," John giggled.
Sherlock paused mid-step and blinked down at John. His own mouth slowly turned up and a reluctant chuckle escaped.
"You really are an idiot," Sherlock replied affectionately, resuming his stride. "I believe I sucked all the fun into it."
"You did. You really did," John laughed. "We'll have to do it again sometime. I love you, you know."
"I know."