Five by Five, with extra kink
Hey friends. It's that time again. Yes, it's the week of Five Acts, a glorious fandom meme where you can post a list of your favorite kinks, and we all have a comment-fic orgy. Or gangbang. Or whatever floats your boat. Here's the deal. You
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“Please…” Sherlock whispered, the barest thread of sound, a very quiet surrender.
John smiled, interrupted blogging session forgotten, and slowly worked Sherlock’s shirt open so he could caress down the lean line of his torso. He traced every line of muscle and bone, mapping Sherlock like an anatomy lesson, and lit up every nerve as he let his touch become maddening light. Sherlock’s eyes were closed, but John could still see them moving, trying to anticipate where John’s hand would fall next. John could see the effect he was having on him, the hard ridge of his arousal outlined beautifully by the cut of Sherlock’s trousers, but still waited.
He brought his hand back up to pinch gently at the hard peaks of Sherlock’s nipples, actually getting a gasp out of him. His hips thrust up at the empty air, making the muscles of his stomach tense and show themselves, and John flowed his hand back down to touch the revealed hardness. Not where Sherlock wanted it, of course, and John could feel him begin to tremble with holding back.
John kept up his caress of Sherlock’s head, burrowing deep into his curls to grip hard at his hair, making him arc his body like a bow as John finally cupped his cock, one finger tracing him maddeningly through the fabric.
“Sherlock?” John asked sternly.
In response, Sherlock opened his eyes, dilated and dark, their pale color still spearing John through. “John… please.”
John swore softly when he felt himself harden from Sherlock’s single breathy plea, and deftly undid Sherlock’s trousers to slip his hand inside. Sherlock’s nearly-smothered moan from the feel of John’s hand on his cock, satisfying, hard contact, almost made John had to stop from the surge that went through him.
Almost.
John tugged hard on Sherlock’s hair as he stroked him, just a few times, just a few, firm, full, base-to-tip strokes, reveling in every inch of him, and Sherlock was gone with a gasp, actually turning his face into John’s body so the embarrassing play of emotion wouldn’t be so painfully plain. John bit his lip, fighting hard for control as he felt Sherlock’s frantic breathing calm against his own body.
“You definitely were ready for that,” John said finally, when Sherlock had regained composure and could look at him again.
“As I said before,” Sherlock said haughtily, seemingly ignoring John’s hand still down his trousers. “I had a bad day.”
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This line was especially lovely: Sherlock was gone with a gasp, actually turning his face into John’s body so the embarrassing play of emotion wouldn’t be so painfully plain.
Thank you my dear! This was a lovely catharsis!
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(Catharsis is available on demand!)
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