(no subject)
Fandom: Sherlock
Title: Bedside manners
Pairing: John/Sherlock
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 900 approx
Summary: Sherlock gets turned off by swearing during sex. John tries really, really hard not to curse up a storm. Written for this prompt at sherlockbbc_fic
Warnings: John's filthy internal monologue, but that's about it
Author's notes: This was written pretty much on the fly and on very little sleep. Halfway through I changed from third person POV to first person. It has not been betaed. I think we can take it as read that I arsed up more than once and haven't seen it yet. Give us a shout if you spot any howlers.
Our first time was disasterous. Well, perhaps disasterous was a bit melodramatic, but it was certainly not, shall we say, sucessful.
And it had been going so well, was the thing... my gorgeous, lunatic flatmate's teeth and lips at my throat and clever fingers deep inside me. Sherlock's hard cock rubbing against my leg in time to minute thrusts against my prostate from his fingertips. It had been so long with another man, or even with a woman who didn't look at me like I was asking her to fellate a goat when I wanted some special attention.
“I want you.” His cleanly stated matter of fact tone in that deep, rumbling voice of his went straight to my cock. “John, please, I need to be inside you.”
“Oh fuck, yes, fuck me!” The words flew out of me eagerly and I pulled the man ontop me closer, only to feel a sudden... well, waning of interest against my left thigh. “Sherlock?”
I twisted around to get a look at the face pressed against my neck (but lifting delicately and deliberately now, oh no no no) and saw his fine nose screwed up mouth in a tight line.
“I apologise.” Sherlock removed his fingers with a sigh and I hardly had time to mourn them before he was sitting back on his heels and looking down at me. “I should have made it clear earlier; I dislike swearing in intimate contexts. It puts me off.”
“Oh. Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't real-”
“Not at all, you weren't to know,” he sighed and rubbed at his hair irritably, “Many people find it stimulating, you were hardly introducing a ball gag into the equation and expecting me to go along with it sans previous discussion.” Sherlock offered up an awkward lopsided smile and we giggled at the attempt at humour.
I reached down and caught one of his loosely dangling wrists and brought it up to my lips.
“I am sorry, it won't happen again. Well, I hope it will happen again,” I laughed again, weakly, “I like you. Quite a lot, actually.”
Sherlock let out a small chuckle before leaning over me to press his lips against mine chastely.
“Thank you.”
In the end, we cuddled. Which was nice. Lovely! But... yeah. All in all, the experience was a much more effective lesson in minding my manners than anything my mother could ever have thought of. I felt like ringing her up to tell her about Sherlock's method of penis-denial to cure my dirty mouth, but she hasn't Mrs. Hudson's more robust attitude about these things, bless her. I suppose, in her defense, it's probably a bit different when it's your actual son instead of the 'nice young man' of another similarly nice young man that you felt vaguely maternal towards.
This time though, I was determined not to let myself ruin things again. Christ but it was hard though. Keeping anything in mind while those lips were nipping and sucking at mine. Keeping myself in check while those fucking extraordinary hands turned me into a quivering jelly. When Sherlock fucking Holmes' cock was thrusting happily into my hand and he was steadily starting to move down my body with a look of undeniable intent in his eyes.
“Oh, oh, oh, mmmff.”
I bit my knuckle as he started mouthing at my hipbone.
“None of that.” He looked up at me chidingly. “I want to hear you when I take you into my mouth.”
I'm not going to lie, there was a part of me that suspected the bloody bastard was doing it on purpose.
“Right, sure... Oh!”
“Yes, that's it,” he purred against my belly while he palmed my cock and reached down to press beneath my balls.
“Please, like that.” I might have been whimpering at this stage. I think that I had ample excuse for whimpering at this stage though.
When I looked down to see his full, luscious, made-for-blowjobs lips sinking down on my cock my mouth fell open and I almost forgot my promise to him in a sudden urge to turn the air blue. Luckily, he pressed two of his fingers past my lips to suck and we were spared another 'Oh-must-you-be-so-crude? You've-killed-little-Sherlock-with-your-foul-tongue' episode.
After a few minutes of my enthusiastically replicating his every movement on his fingers, he pulled them away again. My disappointed hum turned instantly to a hiss as I felt his wet fingertips teasing me open. When he had worked one wet digit inside I couldn't hold it in any long.
“Oh, oh, oh-”
“Yes that's it.” He crooked his finger sharply.
“OH SUGAR!”
There was a bit of a quiet moment when we both sort of... absorbed what I'd said.
“You know, I don't think I've ever heard anyone say that with quite so much invective?” Sherlock looked up and me all crinkly eyed and smiling, clearly holding back what looked like an impressive giggling fit.
It was slightly mortifying. I tried to twist away so he wouldn't see me flush deep red, but he was having none of it.
“You-” He climbed back up my body to kiss me deeply. “I think I'm keeping you.”
I closed the two inch distance to his grinning face and couldn't help but think to myself, Too fucking right.
Title: Bedside manners
Pairing: John/Sherlock
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 900 approx
Summary: Sherlock gets turned off by swearing during sex. John tries really, really hard not to curse up a storm. Written for this prompt at sherlockbbc_fic
Warnings: John's filthy internal monologue, but that's about it
Author's notes: This was written pretty much on the fly and on very little sleep. Halfway through I changed from third person POV to first person. It has not been betaed. I think we can take it as read that I arsed up more than once and haven't seen it yet. Give us a shout if you spot any howlers.
Our first time was disasterous. Well, perhaps disasterous was a bit melodramatic, but it was certainly not, shall we say, sucessful.
And it had been going so well, was the thing... my gorgeous, lunatic flatmate's teeth and lips at my throat and clever fingers deep inside me. Sherlock's hard cock rubbing against my leg in time to minute thrusts against my prostate from his fingertips. It had been so long with another man, or even with a woman who didn't look at me like I was asking her to fellate a goat when I wanted some special attention.
“I want you.” His cleanly stated matter of fact tone in that deep, rumbling voice of his went straight to my cock. “John, please, I need to be inside you.”
“Oh fuck, yes, fuck me!” The words flew out of me eagerly and I pulled the man ontop me closer, only to feel a sudden... well, waning of interest against my left thigh. “Sherlock?”
I twisted around to get a look at the face pressed against my neck (but lifting delicately and deliberately now, oh no no no) and saw his fine nose screwed up mouth in a tight line.
“I apologise.” Sherlock removed his fingers with a sigh and I hardly had time to mourn them before he was sitting back on his heels and looking down at me. “I should have made it clear earlier; I dislike swearing in intimate contexts. It puts me off.”
“Oh. Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't real-”
“Not at all, you weren't to know,” he sighed and rubbed at his hair irritably, “Many people find it stimulating, you were hardly introducing a ball gag into the equation and expecting me to go along with it sans previous discussion.” Sherlock offered up an awkward lopsided smile and we giggled at the attempt at humour.
I reached down and caught one of his loosely dangling wrists and brought it up to my lips.
“I am sorry, it won't happen again. Well, I hope it will happen again,” I laughed again, weakly, “I like you. Quite a lot, actually.”
Sherlock let out a small chuckle before leaning over me to press his lips against mine chastely.
“Thank you.”
In the end, we cuddled. Which was nice. Lovely! But... yeah. All in all, the experience was a much more effective lesson in minding my manners than anything my mother could ever have thought of. I felt like ringing her up to tell her about Sherlock's method of penis-denial to cure my dirty mouth, but she hasn't Mrs. Hudson's more robust attitude about these things, bless her. I suppose, in her defense, it's probably a bit different when it's your actual son instead of the 'nice young man' of another similarly nice young man that you felt vaguely maternal towards.
This time though, I was determined not to let myself ruin things again. Christ but it was hard though. Keeping anything in mind while those lips were nipping and sucking at mine. Keeping myself in check while those fucking extraordinary hands turned me into a quivering jelly. When Sherlock fucking Holmes' cock was thrusting happily into my hand and he was steadily starting to move down my body with a look of undeniable intent in his eyes.
“Oh, oh, oh, mmmff.”
I bit my knuckle as he started mouthing at my hipbone.
“None of that.” He looked up at me chidingly. “I want to hear you when I take you into my mouth.”
I'm not going to lie, there was a part of me that suspected the bloody bastard was doing it on purpose.
“Right, sure... Oh!”
“Yes, that's it,” he purred against my belly while he palmed my cock and reached down to press beneath my balls.
“Please, like that.” I might have been whimpering at this stage. I think that I had ample excuse for whimpering at this stage though.
When I looked down to see his full, luscious, made-for-blowjobs lips sinking down on my cock my mouth fell open and I almost forgot my promise to him in a sudden urge to turn the air blue. Luckily, he pressed two of his fingers past my lips to suck and we were spared another 'Oh-must-you-be-so-crude? You've-killed-little-Sherlock-with-your-foul-tongue' episode.
After a few minutes of my enthusiastically replicating his every movement on his fingers, he pulled them away again. My disappointed hum turned instantly to a hiss as I felt his wet fingertips teasing me open. When he had worked one wet digit inside I couldn't hold it in any long.
“Oh, oh, oh-”
“Yes that's it.” He crooked his finger sharply.
“OH SUGAR!”
There was a bit of a quiet moment when we both sort of... absorbed what I'd said.
“You know, I don't think I've ever heard anyone say that with quite so much invective?” Sherlock looked up and me all crinkly eyed and smiling, clearly holding back what looked like an impressive giggling fit.
It was slightly mortifying. I tried to twist away so he wouldn't see me flush deep red, but he was having none of it.
“You-” He climbed back up my body to kiss me deeply. “I think I'm keeping you.”
I closed the two inch distance to his grinning face and couldn't help but think to myself, Too fucking right.