Re-evaluate//yourdearestwatson
Sherlock’s mouth opened in a perfect ‘o’ he shuddered slightly, his legs tightening on John. The leather belt holding his wrists was heightening his arousal, he was a little surprised to find himself wanting to be taken.
He pulled with his legs and lifted his hips, rubbing against John’s skin and forcing that finger further in. The look on John’s face was a small percentage of surprise and a whole load of passion. Sherlock could see it all, the rise in heart rate, the slowing but deepening of the breath, the climbing temperature. This in itself was arousing but there was more. John was studying him, every last gram of John’s attention was on Sherlock, like he had never experienced before, it took his breath away.
Sherlock tugged slightly at the belt, it was becoming a distraction, he had better things to do with his hands.
“I want you John” he whispered “Let me touch you.”
As a dom, John normally would have denied his submissive to touch him. but this was Sherlock and it was his first time. He sighed as he looked at the restraints and decided that those could wait and took the leather belts off of his wrists letting him free. “Touch me,” he whispered. He was growing impatient, but would allow Sherlock to explore all he needed to.
Sherlock immediately took advantage of his size and position. As many suspects had found out to their surprise and dismay Sherlock is also deceptively strong. He tightened his legs around John’s hips, his grip vice like and sliding one foot down John’s thigh, hooked it around the back of the knee and flipped John over onto his back.
Despite his acceptance and even want for John to top at this time, he was never going to be a sub. Sherlock’s submission was only ever going to be when and as he dictated it and right now he did not want to be dominated. He had also done some research and was convinced that for a first time, he should be in control of the speed and depth.
Sherlock’s eyes slowly roamed over the exposed skin of John’s torso, then the fingers of one hand followed his gaze. Down, down to John’s erect and ready cock. Sherlock’s fingers drifted over the taut skin and started to stroke.
Re-evaluate//yourdearestwatson
Long had John craved to hear those words from Sherlock. But not like this; it wasn’t how he’d fantasized and he supposed that he was too much of a romantic to think that Sherlock’s first would be anything less than being tied up and taken. He really didn’t need to be asked twice, Sherlock was already broken and it was in his tone. He rose from the nipple and continued to keep eye contact as he placed two digits that he planned to stretch that virgin entrance with. “Suck,” he commanded, remaining the eye contact. He would search for the lube later. Right now, he was going to slowly, slowly take Sherlock.
Sherlock opened his mouth, holding John’s gaze unwaveringly. He sucked John’s fingers over his lips, his tongue sliding over them, he lavished saliva on them with a slight moan. His heart rate was increasing, his breathing laboured.
He wanted to touch John, wanted to run his fingers then his lips over that star shaped scar but he didn’t want to break the spell of the leather binding him. John had taken control and Sherlock was more than happy with that…for now.
He drank in the sights and sounds of John above him and in place of using his hands to touch he wrapped his long legs around John’s waist and squeezed.
Sherlock’s steady gaze and tightened muscles around his waist made his pulse beat harder. John wanted nothing more than just to take Sherlock in violent thrusts, in a heartless attempt to make him orgasm within a few moments. But this was his first time. John planned to be gentle, at least for the time being. He knew that at one point he wouldn’t be able to keep his control, and he was even having a hard time as Sherlock’s saliva soaked his fingers which he now withdrew from his mouth and brought between them and found the hole that tightened as his wet fingers even so much as tickled it.
He met the eyes of the detective, “relax,” he instructed gently and watched him do as he was told and stuck in a single finger, feeling the muscles contract around the foreign object as he slid it in to be rewarded by a groan from both mouths.
Sherlock’s mouth opened in a perfect ‘o’ he shuddered slightly, his legs tightening on John. The leather belt holding his wrists was heightening his arousal, he was a little surprised to find himself wanting to be taken.
He pulled with his legs and lifted his hips, rubbing against John’s skin and forcing that finger further in. The look on John’s face was a small percentage of surprise and a whole load of passion. Sherlock could see it all, the rise in heart rate, the slowing but deepening of the breath, the climbing temperature. This in itself was arousing but there was more. John was studying him, every last gram of John’s attention was on Sherlock, like he had never experienced before, it took his breath away.
Sherlock tugged slightly at the belt, it was becoming a distraction, he had better things to do with his hands.
“I want you John” he whispered “Let me touch you.”
Not Just Another Date//otterconsultingdetective
Sherlock turned to face John on the sofa, frowning. “Are you making fun of me?” he asked sincerely. “Because if you are, that’s in pretty poor taste. I am not completely ignorant about everything, in fact as far as instruction goes, you take a reasonable amount from me. Though I admit as far as deduction and observation goes you are getting better.”
He could see that John had not meant to poke fun and his frown dissolved, leaving behind a faintly confused expression. “I don’t know what to ask yet John” he walked over and sat down next to him on the sofa. “I suspect my questions will come at the relevant times…” he paused then said quietly “Are we to be ‘official’ do we let other people know about this and will we be exclusive?”
Sherlock really just wanted one thing right now and that was to touch John and have John touch him back. He turned away from John slightly and then laid down, his head in John’s lap, his knees raised, so that he could still fit on the sofa. He reached up and ran his fingers over the shell of John’s ear and down along his jaw.
John blinked at Sherlock mentioning it being a joke, but John stood his ground and just gave him a light smile, letting him know it wasn’t a joke. When Sherlock finally told him he didn’t know what to ask and then followed it up with an actual question, John just chuckled. “Yes, we are to be ‘official’, as you put it, but no, we don’t have to tell anyone right away if you’re not comfortable with it, but I’d rather show people than tell them.” He said with a wink.
Once Sherlock laid down and put his head in John’s lap, John subconsciously started to run his fingers through Sherlock’s hair, sighing gently and shaking his head. “How you get your hair so soft is beyond me, but it suits you.” He said in a gentle voice, loving how Sherlock’s curls felt under his fingers, and between them. So soft and bouncy, yet durable and untangled.
“Let me know if you have any questions, but I wont answer any at crime scenes, so if you have one, you best remember it.” He said seriously, leaning down and placing a small kiss to Sherlock’s lips, forcing himself to pull away, even if he didn’t want to.
Sherlock looked up “Show people, how would we do that?” he asked a million possibilities flowing through his mind.
He relaxed back onto John, sighing as John’s fingers slid through his hair. “You can thank Molly for that. I stayed with her for a couple days after the fall and stole her conditioner, now I use nothing else” He closed his eyes, his hand on John’s arm. “Don’t worry I sent her 6 months supply once my job was done, I think she’s forgiven me”
Sherlock sighed again and stretched, his head falling back further, his neck exposed, his toes pushing against the far arm of the couch. He never imagined he would be here, never thought he would be this close to John. He wanted to tell everyone, wanted to ‘show’ them as John had said, though he wasn’t sure what that meant.
John chuckled, shaking his head some. “Good. You need to be nice to Molly…she’ll be the one that gets her heart broken by us dating.” He said seriously.
“As for the conditioner, what brand is it and how do you possibly go and buy it with it being a girl’s product?” He asked and laughed a bit, smirking big. “I can see it now! Sherlock Holmes going to the store for once and buying a girl’s product…I’d pay to see that.” He said and kissed Sherlock’s forehead. He even rubbed Sherlock’s stomach as he stretched, wondering what his reaction would be.
“I think we could start by showing Greg and the men at the Yard first, if you want. As an experiment, of sorts.” He said as he sat back some, laying his head against the back of the couch.
“When you show someone you’re in a relationship, it means you act like you’re one. You hold hands like a couple, walk like a couple…kiss every now and again. It’s pretty easy to do, actually.” He said and closed his eyes, relaxing. Something he hadn’t done in quite a long time.
“Now John, I know you’ve heard of buying online. I had it sent to her house and some sent here of course.”
Sherlock relaxed listening to John talk about what was expected in a relationship. His eyes widened slightly as John spoke about public displays of affection.
“You would be comfortable with this?” He asked surprised “You have always been adamant on correcting people who mistake us for a couple. It surprises me that you want to do this.”
Sherlock wasn’t sure what to make of this new information on John. He was pleased by it but also confused. Had John been as conflicted as he was over the possibility of a romantic relationship? It made him anxious, for some reason, that John was suddenly so confident. He frowned and softly said
“Don’t judge me by your standards John because I can’t live up to them.”
Home Coming || simpleandhumblejohnwatson
Sherlock didn’t say anything, he just held on to John, feeling his shaking sobs against his chest. His arms wrapped around him, he pulled him closer, resting his chin on John’s head, his fingers threading through John’s hair.
“You shouldn’t say that, shouldn’t think it. Because if you don’t deserve me, I sure as hell don’t deserve you.” Sherlock took a deep breath “You will never know how sorry I am for doing this to you, it was selfish, I know but I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you” He bowed his head, his cheek against John’s hair and breathed in the smell of his shampoo.
“I’ve done much worse things since then, I’ve done whatever I had to do to keep you safe and I wouldn’t blame you…if…you wanted, needed to distance yourself from me.” Sherlock could feel his eyes stinging, he wasn’t sure sure if the tears were for John or himself.
“Yes I should, Sherlock. I gave up…I wasn’t strong enough. You deserve someone better…” he cried, and he hated himself for doing so. John cradled himself against Sherlock, trying to be as close as he could. All of this was becoming too much. They had never been like this. How did they even get here? This couldn’t be real…
“You don’t tell me anything. I’ve seen you pushing it all back. I guess we’re both guilty of that…” he sighed, burying his face in Sherlock’s neck. “If you tell me, I’ll listen. I won’t leave you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” John uttered taking deep breath. “I won’t force you talk. But I am here.”. John closed his eyes and let his senses take over. The smell of Sherlock’s skin. The warmth it emanated, the sound of his heartbeat in his ear.
“Please don’t hide from me Sherlock.” he pleaded wrapping his arms around the detective. “Not again…”.
“I’m not hiding from you John, I just don’t know how to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about it, it’s over, gone.” Sherlock stroked the side of John face “If you need me to talk, of course I will.” Sherlock tilted John’s face up, to look into his eyes “On one condition, that you forgive yourself”
Sherlock shifted, suddenly uncomfortable in his own skin. He wasn’t proud of things he’d done in their time apart but he didn’t regret any of it, he had kept his friends safe in his exile, especially John. Though it would seem not safe from John himself.
A slight shudder ran through Sherlock’s body. “I warn you John, you won’t like what you hear…or maybe you will…” he added remembering that John had killed to protect others and himself.
Angel of the Fall//thefreshprinceofbelgravia
Sherlock opened his eyes, everything was black. He fought the urge to panic as he remembered where he was and why. The inside of the body bag was damp with condensation from his breathing and it was pitch black.
If the plan had worked he was in the morgue at St Bart’s and Molly should be close by. He coughed and pushed at the inside of the bag, not finding a way to unzip it from the inside. He was sticky with blood, it was all over his face and hair, he could feel it in his eyes.
He was starting to feel too enclosed and despite knowing exactly where he was, his heart rate picked up, banging in his chest in rising panic. His breathing was becoming erratic causing the bag to become wetter with each passing second.
Just at the point he was considering shouting, the zip started to move and the bag parted slowly around him, He sat up quickly heaving in lungfuls of clean air. He reached out and gripped the delicate hand pulling on the zip. He had never been so relieved to see Molly.
Molly smiled at Sherlock. She had helped him when he most needed it. She had liked having him around, looking after him. “What can I do for you today Sherlock?” She went over to him and hugged him. She liked spending time with him.
“Urgh Molly, I’m covered in blood and now you are too” he panted, the panic subsiding. “I need to get cleaned up. Do you have my share clothes?” Sherlock realised he was still gripping Molly’s hand, he stared at his own fingers and then let her go.
He struggled out of the bag, swinging his legs over the side of the table. He really was a mess, blood matted his hair, his suit was ruined and his coat would need professional cleaning. He felt drained, both physically and emotionally.
“Molly I’m going to need somewhere to stay for a while, maybe I could sleep on your sofa…please?”
…
“Oh, I don’t mind Sherlock!” She wiped the blood off her hands and went to get Sherlock his clothes.
She appeared, handing Sherlock his clothes. She watched him get changed and went over to wipe the blood of him.
“Of course you can stay at mine!” she smiled at him and hugged him.
“I think I need a shower, can I use the the one here?” Sherlock put the clean clothes to one side and climbed out of the bag and off the table. “Think about what I’ve asked about staying with you, it could be dangerous. I have to find the rest of Moriarty’s men and take them down to keep everyone safe. Don’t agree without considering what the consequences could be.”
Sherlock dropped his coat on the floor and walked to the morgues shower room.
Angel of the Fall//thefreshprinceofbelgraviarp
Sherlock opened his eyes, everything was black. He fought the urge to panic as he remembered where he was and why. The inside of the body bag was damp with condensation from his breathing and it was pitch black.
If the plan had worked he was in the morgue at St Bart’s and Molly should be close by. He coughed and pushed at the inside of the bag, not finding a way to unzip it from the inside. He was sticky with blood, it was all over his face and hair, he could feel it in his eyes.
He was starting to feel too enclosed and despite knowing exactly where he was, his heart rate picked up, banging in his chest in rising panic. His breathing was becoming erratic causing the bag to become wetter with each passing second.
Just at the point he was considering shouting, the zip started to move and the bag parted slowly around him, He sat up quickly heaving in lungfuls of clean air. He reached out and gripped the delicate hand pulling on the zip. He had never been so relieved to see Molly.
Molly smiled at Sherlock. She had helped him when he most needed it. She had liked having him around, looking after him. “What can I do for you today Sherlock?” She went over to him and hugged him. She liked spending time with him.
“Urgh Molly, I’m covered in blood and now you are too” he panted, the panic subsiding. “I need to get cleaned up. Do you have my share clothes?” Sherlock realised he was still gripping Molly’s hand, he stared at his own fingers and then let her go.
He struggled out of the bag, swinging his legs over the side of the table. He really was a mess, blood matted his hair, his suit was ruined and his coat would need professional cleaning. He felt drained, both physically and emotionally.
“Molly I’m going to need somewhere to stay for a while, maybe I could sleep on your sofa…please?”
Re-evaluate//yourdearestwatson
John felt a little overzealous when Sherlock showed more and more interest, his worry for the man vanishing as his need was growing more as the man under him ground into him. He pulled back, out of breath and looking below him, “Sher—Sherlock,” he moaned at the knee that was making his groin burn with a fiery passion.
He wanted nothing more than to take Sherlock then, but he wasn’t entirely sure he was ready for the kind of things that John wanted to do to him. “Once I get started,” he started to warn, but didn’t seem to have the heart to continue, he just wanted to kiss those lips forever.Sherlock stopped, following John’s gaze “Am I doing something wrong?” he asked sincerely as he saw the positioning of their bodies against each other, his breath hitched. The way Sherlock’s brain processed the sight bypassed all the usual observations and deductions and instead sent lines of fire straight to groin. He groaned slightly, his suit trousers now uncomfortably tight.
He gripped John’s hip tighter, rocking his own hips and his knee against John. He really wasn’t sure what was expected of him in this situation or what to expect. He was sure that the way it was making him feel was more than interesting, exciting, arousing and he wanted to explore it.
It was John, only John it would it would seem. No other man had ever interested him in the ways John did and only once had a woman even come close. At this point his brain registered that John was speaking again “S..start, haven’t we started already?” he asked, hoping John was not having second thoughts.
Sherlock had a point and the fact that they were apart for too long didn’t set right for Watson so he swooped in and ground his body hard against Sherlock’s as the other gripped his hips, “nevermind,” he managed in a grunt as he fumbled around with more clothing remembering how troublesome and tedious the first stage of sex was and it hit him; what if this was Sherlock’s first time? and he was being heartless and quick—greedy. It hit him, that he didn’t care in that moment. He could be sweet and loving. Now, he was going to mark sherlock as his own.
In a swift movement, John ripped off Sherlock’s belt and an idea came to his mind to wrap it around his wrists so that John could have full control of the situation and didn’t hesitate to follow his instinct, wrapping the leather around the wrists as he circled his hips against the erection that was under him. After Sherlock was bound he felt around for the drawer of the nightstand and rummaged for the lubrication. If it was Sherlock’s first time, he wasn’t going to be ruthless, but it was going to hurt. He moved his kisses down the chest of the other man and latched his mouth on a nipple, placing the tube of lubrication in his bound hands planning to use it at the very last minute as he stuck the erect nipple in his mouth and sucked hoping for a satisfied groan.
Sherlock watched John carefully as he bound his wrists. He noted that in his haste John had failed to secure him properly, it would take a small effort to free himself. However he didn’t move his hands and allowed John the impression he was tied.
The leather felt good, Sherlock was intrigued, he had been bound before in different circumstances but this time he imagined John using the belt in other ways. In his minds eye the belt was being brought down sharply against the skin of his chest, his back arched at the thought, mashing his groin into John’s.
He looked down to see John’s mouth closing over his nipple and the sensation hit him like ice and fire at the same time. He writhed under John, letting out a lascivious moan. God he wanted this like nothing else, it was consuming and unstoppable. “Be my first” he whispered brokenly.
Long had John craved to hear those words from Sherlock. But not like this; it wasn’t how he’d fantasized and he supposed that he was too much of a romantic to think that Sherlock’s first would be anything less than being tied up and taken. He really didn’t need to be asked twice, Sherlock was already broken and it was in his tone. He rose from the nipple and continued to keep eye contact as he placed two digits that he planned to stretch that virgin entrance with. “Suck,” he commanded, remaining the eye contact. He would search for the lube later. Right now, he was going to slowly, slowly take Sherlock.
Sherlock opened his mouth, holding John’s gaze unwaveringly. He sucked John’s fingers over his lips, his tongue sliding over them, he lavished saliva on them with a slight moan. His heart rate was increasing, his breathing laboured.
He wanted to touch John, wanted to run his fingers then his lips over that star shaped scar but he didn’t want to break the spell of the leather binding him. John had taken control and Sherlock was more than happy with that…for now.
He drank in the sights and sounds of John above him and in place of using his hands to touch he wrapped his long legs around John’s waist and squeezed.
Straight Forward//dr-watsons-dickrp
He was a bit surprised that also Sherlock had dreams about the events or possible consequences of his “fall” …that day haunted John’s dreams for the past two years before Sherlock’s return. He’d wake up screaming and sweating…a few times even crying.
He felt such impotence every night in his dreams when he’d watch Sherlock fall and land on the pavement. He could never save him…no matter how fast he’d run, he was never able to be on time. There was blood, blood everywhere, there was no pulse…he was dead. Sherlock died every night in his dreams.
His old war nightmares were nothing compared to reliving Sherlock’s suicide in front of him. He thought he was the only one that was haunted by the fall and the sadness that Sherlock’s absence left in his life but he was wrong. Of course it also affected Sherlock; he left and ‘died’ to protect his friends, to protect John. He probably worried that if his plan failed he’d lose John, just as John thought he had lost Sherlock.“In real life your plan didn’t fail, Sherlock. I’m still here” John said with a warm smile and Sherlock opened his eyes to meet John’s “…you came back and here we are now. Together.”
John reached for his cup of tea and took a sip “…and of course we must make sure neither of us get those awful nightmares again. The precaution is quite obvious: we should sleep together every night”
A slow smile spread across Sherlock face “I like the sound of that” he said. “But in the meantime we have a case. Are you up for visiting the crime scene? It means time in the company of Anderson I’m afraid” Sherlock smiled at John’s nod, finished his tea and went to his room to get dressed.
Twenty minutes later they were stood over a decapitated corpse, Anderson hovering behind them. “Detective Inspector” Sherlock called, his hand ghosting over John’s back as he turned. John couldn’t help noticing Anderson’s sneer.
Sherlock talked with Lestrade for a few minutes as John tried his best to ignore Anderson’s leering looks. “John” Sherlock called “what are your thoughts on this?”
John knew Sherlock well enough to know that he had this already worked out but he also knew that Sherlock enjoyed giving John the opportunity to deduce himself. He had a good idea what had happened, not so much a crime scene as a bizarre accident. “It was an accident, the victim had too much to drink, stupidly decided to cross the train tracks, tripped here..” he leaned down and pointed to the dip a few inches from the line “…and judging by the blood spray pattern had his head taken off by a high speed train. The only thing I don’t know is where the head is”
Sherlock smiled at him, obviously pleased with his deduction. He turned at looked pointedly at the overgrown banks behind the fencing some feet away. He walked to the fence, squeezing through a gap and rummaged in the undergrowth. A minute later there was a shout of triumph and Sherlock returned carrying a head. “Foxes” he said “the head was small enough for them to carry”.
Sherlock shoved the head at Anderson and glared at him, whispering “when you have quite finished leering at my partner and I, you may want to actually do your job.” He snapped off the gloves and shoved them at Anderson as well. “Or are you so sexually starved that your only outlet is to imagine us naked and tangled together?” Sherlock looked him up and down a look of distaste on his face “I think it’s time we left John” he said as walked over, placing an arm over John’s shoulders.
John felt like a new man, different yet still the same…like a fresh start. He and Sherlock were at a crime scene, and despite Anderson’s sneers, for the first time ever ( as long as he could remember) John was able to deduce the crime in front of his eyes. It was quite clear in his head.
‘Is this how Sherlock does it? Probably’ he thought.
Sherlock seemed pleased with John’s deduction, which made him glad; he wanted to think he amazed Sherlock just as much as he gets amazed by Sherlock’s intellect. Of course Sherlock was clever enough to find the missing pieces of the puzzle by himself.
“Foxes” he said carrying the human head.
‘Ah of course!’
John was getting more than annoyed by Anderson’s mocking expressions which John thought Sherlock hadn’t noticed…but of course he did.
He shoved the head at Anderson and confronted him about leering at them, John was speechless…and surprisingly, a bit turned on. Sherlock Holmes stepping up for him. He actually felt so proud to walk away from all of them with Sherlock’s arm around his shoulders.
‘Yes, let the world know I’m in love with the world’s only consulting detective’
“That was amazing” John said to Sherlock once they got into a cab, heading home.
Sherlock shrugged.
“I’m not talking about the case but how you handled Anderson. I usually pity the bastard but he was actually pissing me off with his stupid face. Oh now I know what you mean when you say his face puts you off…”
A few strides from Lestrade, Anderson and the small group of officers, Sherlock stopped and turned to John, quietly saying “Did we just come out to the Met?” He grinned “We did didn’t we? Do you think it’s was obvious enough for those little brains or should we make it perfectly clear?”
Sherlock had an overwhelming desire to kiss those amazing lips, deeply and lasciviously, in a way that would leave no doubt in the minds of the people watching that he was John’s and John was his.
He wrapped his arms around John’s waist and drew him near, leaned down and opened his mouth against John’s lips, one hand raising to his cheek. He could almost feel the eyes burning into him from the small group of officers with Lestrade. He pulled back from the kiss, his lips still parted and glistening, much like John’s own, his eyes gazing steadily at John and whispered with a smile “I just made Lestrade £50 richer, he bet Anderson we were shagging 2 years ago”
Re-evaluate//yourdearestwatson
John felt a little overzealous when Sherlock showed more and more interest, his worry for the man vanishing as his need was growing more as the man under him ground into him. He pulled back, out of breath and looking below him, “Sher—Sherlock,” he moaned at the knee that was making his groin burn with a fiery passion.
He wanted nothing more than to take Sherlock then, but he wasn’t entirely sure he was ready for the kind of things that John wanted to do to him. “Once I get started,” he started to warn, but didn’t seem to have the heart to continue, he just wanted to kiss those lips forever.Sherlock stopped, following John’s gaze “Am I doing something wrong?” he asked sincerely as he saw the positioning of their bodies against each other, his breath hitched. The way Sherlock’s brain processed the sight bypassed all the usual observations and deductions and instead sent lines of fire straight to groin. He groaned slightly, his suit trousers now uncomfortably tight.
He gripped John’s hip tighter, rocking his own hips and his knee against John. He really wasn’t sure what was expected of him in this situation or what to expect. He was sure that the way it was making him feel was more than interesting, exciting, arousing and he wanted to explore it.
It was John, only John it would it would seem. No other man had ever interested him in the ways John did and only once had a woman even come close. At this point his brain registered that John was speaking again “S..start, haven’t we started already?” he asked, hoping John was not having second thoughts.
Sherlock had a point and the fact that they were apart for too long didn’t set right for Watson so he swooped in and ground his body hard against Sherlock’s as the other gripped his hips, “nevermind,” he managed in a grunt as he fumbled around with more clothing remembering how troublesome and tedious the first stage of sex was and it hit him; what if this was Sherlock’s first time? and he was being heartless and quick—greedy. It hit him, that he didn’t care in that moment. He could be sweet and loving. Now, he was going to mark sherlock as his own.
In a swift movement, John ripped off Sherlock’s belt and an idea came to his mind to wrap it around his wrists so that John could have full control of the situation and didn’t hesitate to follow his instinct, wrapping the leather around the wrists as he circled his hips against the erection that was under him. After Sherlock was bound he felt around for the drawer of the nightstand and rummaged for the lubrication. If it was Sherlock’s first time, he wasn’t going to be ruthless, but it was going to hurt. He moved his kisses down the chest of the other man and latched his mouth on a nipple, placing the tube of lubrication in his bound hands planning to use it at the very last minute as he stuck the erect nipple in his mouth and sucked hoping for a satisfied groan.
Sherlock watched John carefully as he bound his wrists. He noted that in his haste John had failed to secure him properly, it would take a small effort to free himself. However he didn’t move his hands and allowed John the impression he was tied.
The leather felt good, Sherlock was intrigued, he had been bound before in different circumstances but this time he imagined John using the belt in other ways. In his minds eye the belt was being brought down sharply against the skin of his chest, his back arched at the thought, mashing his groin into John’s.
He looked down to see John’s mouth closing over his nipple and the sensation hit him like ice and fire at the same time. He writhed under John, letting out a lascivious moan. God he wanted this like nothing else, it was consuming and unstoppable. “Be my first” he whispered brokenly.
Not Just Another Date//otterconsultingdetective
“Yes, yes you did mention that and I’m happy with all of those arrangements but I want to hold you now” Sherlock looked John straight in the eye, he knew what he wanted to say, he just wasn’t sure how to say it.
“John…I will need your help with this” he paused, uncertain “I don’t know what is socially acceptable behaviour for ‘couples’ let alone what you yourself would expect” He stood up and slowly paced the length of the room.
“So I’m going to need you to guide me. I don’t want to ruin this through ignorance. This may require you talking about things you normally wouldn’t, answering questions and telling me when I do something right or wrong” Sherlock sighed and continued to pace. He knew it was asking a lot but he really had no choice. His experience in such matters was virtually nil and he had only observed relationships from the outside.
Would John do this, would he have the patience, would he suffer Sherlock the way no one ever had, did he care enough? There were so many questions flooding his mind he almost tuned John out and had to pull himself up on it. He stopped mid pace and turned to John. “Can you do that, will you?”
John blinked and chuckled some, nodding. “What’s the difference from what we do already? Yes, I understand that you’ll have questions, and yes, I can, and will do that for you. I’m an open book to you, Sherlock. Do you have questions now that you’d like to ask? Because, if so, I’d like you to ask them.” He said honestly.
However, after a minute, he thought about something, and added to his previous statement. “Sherlock, also, you need to understand that if you ask me something and I get irritated or mad about something, it could be a very normal reaction to the question you ask. Especially if I look embarrassed or flustered.” He said with a faint redness to his ears.
“Come sit down and talk to me, Sherlock. Ask what you want to ask, file away things you need to file away in that mind palace of yours, and let’s start being a couple. We can cuddle while we talk, if you’d like.” He said with a smile to Sherlock, knowing he wanted to cuddle and knowing he probably had a million and one questions.
Sherlock turned to face John on the sofa, frowning. “Are you making fun of me?” he asked sincerely. “Because if you are, that’s in pretty poor taste. I am not completely ignorant about everything, in fact as far as instruction goes, you take a reasonable amount from me. Though I admit as far as deduction and observation goes you are getting better.”
He could see that John had not meant to poke fun and his frown dissolved, leaving behind a faintly confused expression. “I don’t know what to ask yet John” he walked over and sat down next to him on the sofa. “I suspect my questions will come at the relevant times…” he paused then said quietly “Are we to be ‘official’ do we let other people know about this and will we be exclusive?”
Sherlock really just wanted one thing right now and that was to touch John and have John touch him back. He turned away from John slightly and then laid down, his head in John’s lap, his knees raised, so that he could still fit on the sofa. He reached up and ran his fingers over the shell of John’s ear and down along his jaw.
John blinked at Sherlock mentioning it being a joke, but John stood his ground and just gave him a light smile, letting him know it wasn’t a joke. When Sherlock finally told him he didn’t know what to ask and then followed it up with an actual question, John just chuckled. “Yes, we are to be ‘official’, as you put it, but no, we don’t have to tell anyone right away if you’re not comfortable with it, but I’d rather show people than tell them.” He said with a wink.
Once Sherlock laid down and put his head in John’s lap, John subconsciously started to run his fingers through Sherlock’s hair, sighing gently and shaking his head. “How you get your hair so soft is beyond me, but it suits you.” He said in a gentle voice, loving how Sherlock’s curls felt under his fingers, and between them. So soft and bouncy, yet durable and untangled.
“Let me know if you have any questions, but I wont answer any at crime scenes, so if you have one, you best remember it.” He said seriously, leaning down and placing a small kiss to Sherlock’s lips, forcing himself to pull away, even if he didn’t want to.
Sherlock looked up “Show people, how would we do that?” he asked a million possibilities flowing through his mind.
He relaxed back onto John, sighing as John’s fingers slid through his hair. “You can thank Molly for that. I stayed with her for a couple days after the fall and stole her conditioner, now I use nothing else” He closed his eyes, his hand on John’s arm. “Don’t worry I sent her 6 months supply once my job was done, I think she’s forgiven me”
Sherlock sighed again and stretched, his head falling back further, his neck exposed, his toes pushing against the far arm of the couch. He never imagined he would be here, never thought he would be this close to John. He wanted to tell everyone, wanted to ‘show’ them as John had said, though he wasn’t sure what that meant.