Sherlock x John ficlet
Title: Oral Fixation
Pairing: Sherlock x John
Rating: NC-17 for being about as porny as entirely innocent behavior can get.
Word count: 912
A/N: Written for this prompt: Inspired the sudden realisation that I've been unconciously fellating my pilsner for the last half hour, let's have John drinking from a beer bottle ~sexily~ with Sherlock carefully observing.
John grabbed a Meantime Pale Ale out of the fridge and wandered over to the sitting room, his copy of The Lancet, tucked under his arm. It was a quiet night, the last case had closed the day before and Sherlock was mostly mulling over the clues and wondering if there was anything more to be gleaned from them, other than the obvious. He started playing a little Mendelssohn on the violin to help him think.
"Mmm," John said. "That's quite nice." He gave Sherlock a little smile and settled himself into the cushions, opening the periodical to the first article. He took a little sip of his beer, sighed comfortably.
Sherlock let himself be distracted by the music for a little, then opened his eyes to check to see if John was still enjoying the solo. John's eyes were focused on the magazine, caught up, apparently in whatever it was he was reading.
Unconsciously, John brought his beer up to his lips, and took a little sip, then ran his tongue against the underside of the bottle, as if to catch a stray drop. Another sip. This time, he started to tap the lip of the bottle against his lower lip. It's a slow, languid tapping, soundless, rubbing the hard rounded lip of the bottle against his own slightly puckered lip, pulling it just slightly forward with each tap.
From John's expression, he seemed not to even realize he was doing it. He appeared to be fully immersed in what he was reading. Sherlock could see his eyes scanning back and forth. Tap, pull, tap, pull. A distinctly sensuous movement. He stopped the tapping to turn the page.
Sherlock let out a little breath of relief and turned his attention back to his playing, but he couldn't stop staring at John.
John brought the beer back up to his mouth for a small swig. Sherlock noticed John's tongue tentatively exploring the bore, not really drinking so much as tasting the beer and feeling the smooth glass. He pushed the bottle against his lips, breeching them, allowing half an inch of neck into his mouth. Then he drew it out, thoughtlessly. Not a flicker of his eyelids to suggest he was consciously aware of it.
Sherlock tried to concentrate on the music, but it just wasn't happening. Not when John began idly licking revolutions around the mouth of the bottle. Sherlock was about to speak up when John penetrated his mouth again, letting a full inch of cold glass slide past his lips, stopping when the lip of the bottle tapped his hard palate just behind his teeth.
John would choke if he tried to take a swig like this - but then drinking the beer didn't seem to his primary aim. He seemed to be more interested in exploring the feel of the bottle rather than consuming the contents.
Sherlock's trousers felt a bit tight. His grip on the bow was firmer than it should have been. Will power kept him playing note after note.
John was blissfully unaware of any consternation he was causing. His face seemed utterly relaxed as if he were entranced. Sherlock noticed a slight vibration to John's throat, as if he were moaning, or perhaps softly humming to himself. The bottle slid out, caught on his lower lip, then slid back in. In… out… in … out
Sherlock struggled to keep the right pace on the violin. The music was supposed to be more sprightly than this. He was turning the concerto in E minor into something of a dirge. John didn't appear to notice.
John slid the bottle out, took a larger swallow, then slid it back in, pursing his lips around the neck. Everything about his body suggested utter comfort and pleasure at the activity. His cheeks sucked in slightly, then relaxed, then sucked in again. Then John released the bottle and sighed contentedly, while turning the page again.
Sherlock tried closing his eyes, but it didn't seem to help. He'd just skipped an entire page of music. The mistake seemed glaring to his own ears but John didn't even twitch.
John seemed slightly tenser now, whatever he was reading had gripped his interest. That hadn't stop the absentminded play with his bottle. He rubbed the bottle up against his soft palate now, in a more vigorous back and forth, like scratching an itch. From the slight movements of his jaw, he must be licking the underside of the bottle, exploring the smoothness with his tongue. Curling his tongue to run it against the sharper lip. He let the bottle slide back out most of the way, then caught it with his teeth, making a slight tap that was auditory even over the concerto Sherlock played.
John's throat was vibrating again. Sherlock was vibrating, too.
Sherlock stilled the bow. John absentmindedly hummed a few tuneless bars then seemed to recognize that something was going on. He pulled the bottle from his mouth and looked up innocently at Sherlock. "I'm sorry, was I making too much noise. Sometimes I hum when I think."
"What are you doing with that bottle?" Sherlock demanded, putting the violin down.
"Drinking from it?" John said innocently. Then he frowned and seemed to think back at what he'd been doing. "Oh." His face went red. "Oh, um. Wow."
"Right then. Come along," said Sherlock abruptly coming to a decision. "I have something better for you to indulge your oral fixation on."
Pairing: Sherlock x John
Rating: NC-17 for being about as porny as entirely innocent behavior can get.
Word count: 912
A/N: Written for this prompt: Inspired the sudden realisation that I've been unconciously fellating my pilsner for the last half hour, let's have John drinking from a beer bottle ~sexily~ with Sherlock carefully observing.
John grabbed a Meantime Pale Ale out of the fridge and wandered over to the sitting room, his copy of The Lancet, tucked under his arm. It was a quiet night, the last case had closed the day before and Sherlock was mostly mulling over the clues and wondering if there was anything more to be gleaned from them, other than the obvious. He started playing a little Mendelssohn on the violin to help him think.
"Mmm," John said. "That's quite nice." He gave Sherlock a little smile and settled himself into the cushions, opening the periodical to the first article. He took a little sip of his beer, sighed comfortably.
Sherlock let himself be distracted by the music for a little, then opened his eyes to check to see if John was still enjoying the solo. John's eyes were focused on the magazine, caught up, apparently in whatever it was he was reading.
Unconsciously, John brought his beer up to his lips, and took a little sip, then ran his tongue against the underside of the bottle, as if to catch a stray drop. Another sip. This time, he started to tap the lip of the bottle against his lower lip. It's a slow, languid tapping, soundless, rubbing the hard rounded lip of the bottle against his own slightly puckered lip, pulling it just slightly forward with each tap.
From John's expression, he seemed not to even realize he was doing it. He appeared to be fully immersed in what he was reading. Sherlock could see his eyes scanning back and forth. Tap, pull, tap, pull. A distinctly sensuous movement. He stopped the tapping to turn the page.
Sherlock let out a little breath of relief and turned his attention back to his playing, but he couldn't stop staring at John.
John brought the beer back up to his mouth for a small swig. Sherlock noticed John's tongue tentatively exploring the bore, not really drinking so much as tasting the beer and feeling the smooth glass. He pushed the bottle against his lips, breeching them, allowing half an inch of neck into his mouth. Then he drew it out, thoughtlessly. Not a flicker of his eyelids to suggest he was consciously aware of it.
Sherlock tried to concentrate on the music, but it just wasn't happening. Not when John began idly licking revolutions around the mouth of the bottle. Sherlock was about to speak up when John penetrated his mouth again, letting a full inch of cold glass slide past his lips, stopping when the lip of the bottle tapped his hard palate just behind his teeth.
John would choke if he tried to take a swig like this - but then drinking the beer didn't seem to his primary aim. He seemed to be more interested in exploring the feel of the bottle rather than consuming the contents.
Sherlock's trousers felt a bit tight. His grip on the bow was firmer than it should have been. Will power kept him playing note after note.
John was blissfully unaware of any consternation he was causing. His face seemed utterly relaxed as if he were entranced. Sherlock noticed a slight vibration to John's throat, as if he were moaning, or perhaps softly humming to himself. The bottle slid out, caught on his lower lip, then slid back in. In… out… in … out
Sherlock struggled to keep the right pace on the violin. The music was supposed to be more sprightly than this. He was turning the concerto in E minor into something of a dirge. John didn't appear to notice.
John slid the bottle out, took a larger swallow, then slid it back in, pursing his lips around the neck. Everything about his body suggested utter comfort and pleasure at the activity. His cheeks sucked in slightly, then relaxed, then sucked in again. Then John released the bottle and sighed contentedly, while turning the page again.
Sherlock tried closing his eyes, but it didn't seem to help. He'd just skipped an entire page of music. The mistake seemed glaring to his own ears but John didn't even twitch.
John seemed slightly tenser now, whatever he was reading had gripped his interest. That hadn't stop the absentminded play with his bottle. He rubbed the bottle up against his soft palate now, in a more vigorous back and forth, like scratching an itch. From the slight movements of his jaw, he must be licking the underside of the bottle, exploring the smoothness with his tongue. Curling his tongue to run it against the sharper lip. He let the bottle slide back out most of the way, then caught it with his teeth, making a slight tap that was auditory even over the concerto Sherlock played.
John's throat was vibrating again. Sherlock was vibrating, too.
Sherlock stilled the bow. John absentmindedly hummed a few tuneless bars then seemed to recognize that something was going on. He pulled the bottle from his mouth and looked up innocently at Sherlock. "I'm sorry, was I making too much noise. Sometimes I hum when I think."
"What are you doing with that bottle?" Sherlock demanded, putting the violin down.
"Drinking from it?" John said innocently. Then he frowned and seemed to think back at what he'd been doing. "Oh." His face went red. "Oh, um. Wow."
"Right then. Come along," said Sherlock abruptly coming to a decision. "I have something better for you to indulge your oral fixation on."