Sherlock glanced up at John from where he's draped over him, smiling lazily when John mentioned that he couldn't refuse him. That was certainly true, and he was assuredly glad for it since it had landed him in this position on top of John's naked form.
And yes, he certainly knew that John could hurt him if he wanted to, but he knew he would never want to. He knew John felt an immediate connection upon meeting him just as he had, and now he knew that the feelings went far beyond just being colleagues, flatmates and friends. This extraordinary man masquerading as average adored him, and he reveled in the warm comfort of being loved just as he was for the first time ever.
He felt a fresh pang of arousal at John's devious expression as he agreed to indulge in what was likely to be the first of many kinks Sherlock never knew he had. He hummed in approval at that, looking forward to coming up with plenty of scenarios for the two of them to engage in.
He was pleased when John played to his impatience, moving to lay on his stomach as directed. He tucked his arms under the pillow, eyeing John from the corner of his eye as he laid out in complete trust and openness for him. He practically melted against the bed as John traced his spine, growling in lustful approval when he dragged his nails over his arse. He nuzzled the pillow in utter contentment, watching through hooded eyes as John prepared himself. He smiled when John started kissing his back, sighing and spreading his thighs obligingly as John moved down, down and- "Ohh." he moaned when John teased him with his tongue, grinding almost involuntarily against the bed at how insanely arousing that was.
He really started to squirm when John's finger first breached him, trying to get used to the odd but not entirely unpleasant sensation. He made a sort of 'nnghh' sound when John told him to relax, though he was certainly enjoying each new endearment John had for him. He groaned when John added a second finger, though it turned to a gasp of surprise as John found that bundle of nerves that shot electricity up his spine. "John!" he cried out, though it certainly wasn't a plea for him to stop. In fact, he was actively trying to push back against those fingers, wanting more of that intense pleasure right now. "Good, obviously good." he panted out, never imagining just how good it could feel. "More." he commanded lowly, still being pushy despite John being the one in control.
(OOC: Lol, it's okay! It threw me off too. XD I'm more used to prose style actually, so I'm good! <33)
It all began with that first moan that rumbled past Sherlock's lips. John had to swallow again, hard, as the sound shot straight to his groin and an erection he did not think could possibly become even harder. Apparently, he was wrong. It was almost painful, really, paying this attention to the other man while his own arousal pulsed and throbbed with the aching of wanting to be touched, stroked, or otherwise relieved. He'd been a little bit afraid that this would be too much for Sherlock, which would be alright, of course, because sometimes trying this took time for new couples. Time was one thing they had to perfect it. When he'd heard his named called out like that, he had initially thought it meant he should stop, it was took much. He was considerably surprised, then, when the other man actually pushed himself back into his fingers, and John inhaled sharply in surprise at the effect he was having.
Sherlock's verbal response showing just how much he was enjoying this had John's head spinning in a daze of lust and longing. Of course he would command the doctor like this, even when he wasn't supposed to be the one in control. It had John giggling ever-so-slightly, because of this man, everything he was, and everything he was doing to him right now. "Yes, sir," he murmured in return, the smile on his face a bit goofy. That voice, as always, practically had him jumping to the next task, and it was sheer will-power that kept John from plunging his erection deep inside Sherlock. Masochist or not, he probably wasn't ready for that yet. Then again, he would never fail to surprise. Pulling his fingers out, his hands next went to grip Sherlock's hips, hitching him up a bit so he could position himself just so. The man's erection wouldn't be pressed against the bed now, either.
John hesitated only briefly, staring at the gorgeous bottom presenting itself to him, but nothing could have stopped him now, not even his own advice at, perhaps, taking this even slower. He let out his breath, trying to relax himself, and control himself.
"Tell me if its uncomfortable, alright? And just... try to relax," he somehow managed to say, one hand stroking soothingly over that pale, alabaster skin. With that, he moved forward slowly, letting the head of his length just tease the other for a moment, pressing against him. It almost didn't see possible - Sherlock was so tight, and John wasn't exactly small. But, God, he wanted this so very badly, to be inside the other man, to share that intimacy... he simply had to have it. With that, he slowly inched his way inside Sherlock, pushing without forcing. Almost immediately, a loud groan escaped his lips as he felt the overwhelming tightness and warmth of the other man. It was indescribably amazing and good and all things arousing and pleasurable. Again, it was an effort not to simply thrust himself deep, all the way inside.
"God Sherlock... yes," were the only coherent words he was able to exclaim. If it already felt this good, he was quite eager to know what moving and thrusting within the other man would feel like.
Sherlock never imagined he'd be in this position, let alone be enjoying it so much. Sex always seemed so tiresome and messy, but now any reason he had for abstaining seemed irrelevant because this was glorious. The stimulation of his prostate especially surprised him and made him more than glad that he wound up in this position. He could see the obvious arousal in John's expression whenever he could pry his eyes open, and that just made him all the more impatient.
His face flushed a bit when John giggled, shooting him a glare before his expression softened when he realized his laughter was adoring rather than derisive. He wasn't used to that by a long shot. His lips quirked in a slight grin when John said 'yes, sir' which reminded him once again that this was John and he could be relaxed and didn't have to worry. Despite the fact that he knew something bigger and better was on the way, he still bemoaned the loss of John's fingers. He waited not-quite-patiently for John to continue, though he was soothed a bit by his words and the gentle stroking of John's hand, nodding to his requests of him.
All cogent thoughts were thrown from his head when he felt John press against him, mewling softly as John teased him with something that promised to be much better than his fingers. It almost seemed like too much at first as he felt his body stretching around John seemingly for ages before just the head was in. He took deep, shuddering breaths as John pressed forward slowly, grateful that he was taking this slowly at first despite the overwhelming need to feel what it was like when he was completely inside.
The way John groaned and breathed his name sounded sinfully pleasurable to his ears as he waited for him to finally bury himself to the hilt. He moaned when he felt John's hips press against his to signify that he'd reached his destination, reaching back to grab John's wrist and keep him there. "Wait. Just, stay like this a moment." he said breathlessly, wanting to keep this completely full feeling for a bit longer as well as give him a chance to acclimate to him. He took a few deep breaths before loosening his grip and moving back into a comfortable position with a nod. "Alright."
Initially, John was afraid he might have hurt Sherlock. The soft, almost whimpers he was making, combined with the heavy breathing, had him a bit worried. He worried his lower lip a bit, going as slowly as humanly possible, while at the same time, bracing him to pull out immediately should Sherlock show any signs of real, painful discomfort. As it was, he pushed all the way, slotting against the other man like some puzzle piece destined to be there. The sudden hand reaching for his wrist had him starting just a little, but he swallowed, nodding almost dumbly to his words. "Right, yeah," he murmured, his voice a bit strained as he closed his eyes, becoming completely lost to the sensations. His fingers lightly stroked the man's pale hips. "Still not too late to stop, if its... too much." It was exceedingly difficult to say those words, however. John would have been very, very disappointed if they'd had to end it there. It was still hard to believe this was actually happening, that he was inside the world's only consulting detective, Sherlock Holmes. It almost made him giggle again, although he reigned it in. The thought alone, combined with the intense feeling of that tight warmth around him, just about pushed him over the edge.
What could only have been mere seconds later, somewhere in his lustful haze he heard Sherlock give his assent. Swallowing hard, he nodded, and taking a deep breath of his own... he started to pull out. John did not, however, pull all the way out, of course - just enough so that he could thrust slowly back inside again, getting his own feel for this glorious thing. It erupted a loud, unbridled cry to escape his lips as how very good it felt. The pleasurable sensations that rushed through his body were almost too much, and they only heightened as he began working out a rhythm of hips thrusting. Already, he knew he wasn't going to be able to last forever - not when the overly sensitive skin of his arousal was completely enveloped inside Sherlock, buried inside him and being provided intense friction with each plunge.
"God, Sherlock, yes... you feel... amazing," he half-growls breathlessly, holding nothing back, breathing heavily, fingers gripping Sherlock's waist firmly, and face screwed up in tortured bliss. "You're so beautiful." Cliche words, perhaps, but even in the heat of passion, he meant them all. Why hadn't they been doing this from the beginning, again? It seemed like all the pent-up, sexual frustration and tension between them could have been resolved so much sooner had they been engaging in this.
John was certainly doing the exact opposite of hurting him, but it was still quite a lot to get used to. He wasn't used to feeling quite so much, both emotionally and physically. It felt like everything was turned up to eleven, and while he thrived on it, it was still affecting him quite a bit more than he was used to. The feeling of John fitting so well inside and against him was overwhelming in the hot pleasure it offered, and it felt like it was impossible to get enough air into his lungs. He succeeded in regulating his breathing at least somewhat after a few moments of deep inhales and John stroking his hips. He turned his head to glance back at John when he spoke with his famous 'are you completely daft?' look.
"You're out of your mind if you think I want to stop." he assured him, sure that he wouldn't know what to do with himself if they stopped now. As it was, he never wanted to stop. It had taken him a moment, but he was more than ready to continue now. He groaned when John pulled back, the slow friction threatening to drive him mad with desire. He echoed John's cry when he pushed forward again, fisting his hands in the sheets as he panted hard against the pillow. He could feel his inner muscles tightening around John at every thrust, as though his body was drawing him in even unconsciously.
He watched John's face intently, feeling warmth radiate from his stomach up to his chest at his words. They weren't cliche to him, certainly, having never heard that he was beautiful before. John complimented him in every other aspect, but he had still never heard direct compliments on his appearance before (he probably never gave anyone much of a chance, but still, he retained the praise wouldn't mean the same coming from anyone but John). He only wished there was some way he could touch John or kiss him from here to show him how much he liked hearing that. He reached a hand back to lace his fingers with one of John's hands on his hips, squeezing it tight when a particularly good thrust had him moaning again and pressing back against him. "Don't stop, don't stop." he chanted, wanting to dispel any notions in John's head that this was anything short of perfect.
That 'are you daft' look was quickly becoming one of John's favorites, but for different reasons than when he received it out on a case. In the bedroom, it meant he could keep doing whatever lovely thing he was doing to Sherlock. And he really needn't worry about John stopping, anyway. Honestly, he didn't think himself physically able to stop, anyway, not when it felt this good, and he was so close to reaching that incredibly indescribable moment of climaxing. His entire body was on fire with the sensations, and he was quite literally sweating - the sheen lining his forehead, and plastering his hair to his skin there. A "God, you're so tight, it's glorious," escaped his lips when he felt Sherlock tighten around him, and the friction this caused, but he continued on with eager thrusts. It might as well have been the most erotic moment of his life, even though he'd had sex before. This was different. This was him and Sherlock, and this what his subconscious had somehow known they'd been leading up to, since their very first strange meeting.
He meant every word he said to Sherlock, of course, and although the other can't kiss him, just that look he gives him in the passionate heat of the moment is more than enough. This man was worth all that praise and more, and the good doctor wasn't likely to give up on it any time soon. When those long fingers lace through his, he curls his back around them, holding just as tightly. "Sherlock, Sherlock," becomes his own chant, mixed in with the other's in a beautiful line of two melodies, interweaving and harmonizing. He wasn't conscious of much other thought than how everything was building inside him, tensing up in his body with the promise of overflowing into something more intensely good than he'd ever felt before, with any previous lovers. It practice made perfect, then he couldn't imagine how he'd survive future lovemaking attempts. They were likely to be the death of him if they were more powerful than this, but really - what a way to go.
"Oh, Sherlock... God, yes, I'm..." but he trailed off as a loud, unashamed shout ripped out of him, most likely waking up poor Mrs. Hudson if she wasn't already up by now, what with all the noise they'd been making. His back arched up with that last, deep thrust, as the waves of pure ecstasy came riding down through him, and he fell over the edge into sweet oblivion. His entire world was alight, brighter than the brightest day in sensations he hadn't been aware he was even capable of having, as his body shook and trembled. His hand flexed on Sherlock's waist, the other laced within his fingers also tightening. He felt a great flood of affection and love for the other man as he slowly began to come back down from the peak, already knowing he would never tire of this and looking forward to the soonest opportunity of doing this again.
It was a good deal that John didn't think he could stop, because Sherlock would certainly refuse to let him at this point. He would do whatever he had to to make John continue, whether it was begging or tying him up (the latter actually wasn't that bad of an idea when he thought about it). Still, he was glad John continued of his own accord, because he was spectacular at this. 'Glorious' was right. He couldn't think at all beyond the overwhelming pleasure, and he didn't much want to. He just wanted to feel everything without trying to understand it or ruin it with introspection.
He whined softly as he looked back at John with a slightly glazed look in his eyes, gripping his hand tight as though gravity had reversed and hanging on to John was the only thing to keep him from floating away. Every call of his name threatened to drive him mad with wanting and undo him right there. It felt like nothing at all mattered outside of this bed, and if they could just stay there forever they would always be happy. He would be staying here as much as he could help it from now on, wanting to spend hours at a time shagging or otherwise wrapped up in John. He hoped John was prepared, because Sherlock had thirty-some odd years of sexual frustration to work out.
Each of John's thrusts forward pushed him closer to the edge, having found that perfect angle that hit his prostate every time and made him tremble in ecstasy. He managed to pull together enough comprehension to realize what was happening when John couldn't finish his sentence, only wishing the condom wasn't in the way so he could really feel it. He gasped when John gave that last hard thrust, his own release hitting him quite suddenly at the indescribable feeling combined with hearing John's shout and ragged breaths. His eyes fell closed as he sucked down air in an attempt to stop panting as he was. "John." he said breathlessly, just for the sake of hearing it as he gently stroked the fingers he'd held hostage almost in apology for gripping them so hard before.
And yes, he certainly knew that John could hurt him if he wanted to, but he knew he would never want to. He knew John felt an immediate connection upon meeting him just as he had, and now he knew that the feelings went far beyond just being colleagues, flatmates and friends. This extraordinary man masquerading as average adored him, and he reveled in the warm comfort of being loved just as he was for the first time ever.
He felt a fresh pang of arousal at John's devious expression as he agreed to indulge in what was likely to be the first of many kinks Sherlock never knew he had. He hummed in approval at that, looking forward to coming up with plenty of scenarios for the two of them to engage in.
He was pleased when John played to his impatience, moving to lay on his stomach as directed. He tucked his arms under the pillow, eyeing John from the corner of his eye as he laid out in complete trust and openness for him. He practically melted against the bed as John traced his spine, growling in lustful approval when he dragged his nails over his arse. He nuzzled the pillow in utter contentment, watching through hooded eyes as John prepared himself. He smiled when John started kissing his back, sighing and spreading his thighs obligingly as John moved down, down and- "Ohh." he moaned when John teased him with his tongue, grinding almost involuntarily against the bed at how insanely arousing that was.
He really started to squirm when John's finger first breached him, trying to get used to the odd but not entirely unpleasant sensation. He made a sort of 'nnghh' sound when John told him to relax, though he was certainly enjoying each new endearment John had for him. He groaned when John added a second finger, though it turned to a gasp of surprise as John found that bundle of nerves that shot electricity up his spine. "John!" he cried out, though it certainly wasn't a plea for him to stop. In fact, he was actively trying to push back against those fingers, wanting more of that intense pleasure right now. "Good, obviously good." he panted out, never imagining just how good it could feel. "More." he commanded lowly, still being pushy despite John being the one in control.
(OOC: Lol, it's okay! It threw me off too. XD I'm more used to prose style actually, so I'm good! <33)
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Sherlock's verbal response showing just how much he was enjoying this had John's head spinning in a daze of lust and longing. Of course he would command the doctor like this, even when he wasn't supposed to be the one in control. It had John giggling ever-so-slightly, because of this man, everything he was, and everything he was doing to him right now. "Yes, sir," he murmured in return, the smile on his face a bit goofy. That voice, as always, practically had him jumping to the next task, and it was sheer will-power that kept John from plunging his erection deep inside Sherlock. Masochist or not, he probably wasn't ready for that yet. Then again, he would never fail to surprise. Pulling his fingers out, his hands next went to grip Sherlock's hips, hitching him up a bit so he could position himself just so. The man's erection wouldn't be pressed against the bed now, either.
John hesitated only briefly, staring at the gorgeous bottom presenting itself to him, but nothing could have stopped him now, not even his own advice at, perhaps, taking this even slower. He let out his breath, trying to relax himself, and control himself.
"Tell me if its uncomfortable, alright? And just... try to relax," he somehow managed to say, one hand stroking soothingly over that pale, alabaster skin. With that, he moved forward slowly, letting the head of his length just tease the other for a moment, pressing against him. It almost didn't see possible - Sherlock was so tight, and John wasn't exactly small. But, God, he wanted this so very badly, to be inside the other man, to share that intimacy... he simply had to have it. With that, he slowly inched his way inside Sherlock, pushing without forcing. Almost immediately, a loud groan escaped his lips as he felt the overwhelming tightness and warmth of the other man. It was indescribably amazing and good and all things arousing and pleasurable. Again, it was an effort not to simply thrust himself deep, all the way inside.
"God Sherlock... yes," were the only coherent words he was able to exclaim. If it already felt this good, he was quite eager to know what moving and thrusting within the other man would feel like.
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His face flushed a bit when John giggled, shooting him a glare before his expression softened when he realized his laughter was adoring rather than derisive. He wasn't used to that by a long shot. His lips quirked in a slight grin when John said 'yes, sir' which reminded him once again that this was John and he could be relaxed and didn't have to worry. Despite the fact that he knew something bigger and better was on the way, he still bemoaned the loss of John's fingers. He waited not-quite-patiently for John to continue, though he was soothed a bit by his words and the gentle stroking of John's hand, nodding to his requests of him.
All cogent thoughts were thrown from his head when he felt John press against him, mewling softly as John teased him with something that promised to be much better than his fingers. It almost seemed like too much at first as he felt his body stretching around John seemingly for ages before just the head was in. He took deep, shuddering breaths as John pressed forward slowly, grateful that he was taking this slowly at first despite the overwhelming need to feel what it was like when he was completely inside.
The way John groaned and breathed his name sounded sinfully pleasurable to his ears as he waited for him to finally bury himself to the hilt. He moaned when he felt John's hips press against his to signify that he'd reached his destination, reaching back to grab John's wrist and keep him there. "Wait. Just, stay like this a moment." he said breathlessly, wanting to keep this completely full feeling for a bit longer as well as give him a chance to acclimate to him. He took a few deep breaths before loosening his grip and moving back into a comfortable position with a nod. "Alright."
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What could only have been mere seconds later, somewhere in his lustful haze he heard Sherlock give his assent. Swallowing hard, he nodded, and taking a deep breath of his own... he started to pull out. John did not, however, pull all the way out, of course - just enough so that he could thrust slowly back inside again, getting his own feel for this glorious thing. It erupted a loud, unbridled cry to escape his lips as how very good it felt. The pleasurable sensations that rushed through his body were almost too much, and they only heightened as he began working out a rhythm of hips thrusting. Already, he knew he wasn't going to be able to last forever - not when the overly sensitive skin of his arousal was completely enveloped inside Sherlock, buried inside him and being provided intense friction with each plunge.
"God, Sherlock, yes... you feel... amazing," he half-growls breathlessly, holding nothing back, breathing heavily, fingers gripping Sherlock's waist firmly, and face screwed up in tortured bliss. "You're so beautiful." Cliche words, perhaps, but even in the heat of passion, he meant them all. Why hadn't they been doing this from the beginning, again? It seemed like all the pent-up, sexual frustration and tension between them could have been resolved so much sooner had they been engaging in this.
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"You're out of your mind if you think I want to stop." he assured him, sure that he wouldn't know what to do with himself if they stopped now. As it was, he never wanted to stop. It had taken him a moment, but he was more than ready to continue now. He groaned when John pulled back, the slow friction threatening to drive him mad with desire. He echoed John's cry when he pushed forward again, fisting his hands in the sheets as he panted hard against the pillow. He could feel his inner muscles tightening around John at every thrust, as though his body was drawing him in even unconsciously.
He watched John's face intently, feeling warmth radiate from his stomach up to his chest at his words. They weren't cliche to him, certainly, having never heard that he was beautiful before. John complimented him in every other aspect, but he had still never heard direct compliments on his appearance before (he probably never gave anyone much of a chance, but still, he retained the praise wouldn't mean the same coming from anyone but John). He only wished there was some way he could touch John or kiss him from here to show him how much he liked hearing that. He reached a hand back to lace his fingers with one of John's hands on his hips, squeezing it tight when a particularly good thrust had him moaning again and pressing back against him. "Don't stop, don't stop." he chanted, wanting to dispel any notions in John's head that this was anything short of perfect.
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He meant every word he said to Sherlock, of course, and although the other can't kiss him, just that look he gives him in the passionate heat of the moment is more than enough. This man was worth all that praise and more, and the good doctor wasn't likely to give up on it any time soon. When those long fingers lace through his, he curls his back around them, holding just as tightly. "Sherlock, Sherlock," becomes his own chant, mixed in with the other's in a beautiful line of two melodies, interweaving and harmonizing. He wasn't conscious of much other thought than how everything was building inside him, tensing up in his body with the promise of overflowing into something more intensely good than he'd ever felt before, with any previous lovers. It practice made perfect, then he couldn't imagine how he'd survive future lovemaking attempts. They were likely to be the death of him if they were more powerful than this, but really - what a way to go.
"Oh, Sherlock... God, yes, I'm..." but he trailed off as a loud, unashamed shout ripped out of him, most likely waking up poor Mrs. Hudson if she wasn't already up by now, what with all the noise they'd been making. His back arched up with that last, deep thrust, as the waves of pure ecstasy came riding down through him, and he fell over the edge into sweet oblivion. His entire world was alight, brighter than the brightest day in sensations he hadn't been aware he was even capable of having, as his body shook and trembled. His hand flexed on Sherlock's waist, the other laced within his fingers also tightening. He felt a great flood of affection and love for the other man as he slowly began to come back down from the peak, already knowing he would never tire of this and looking forward to the soonest opportunity of doing this again.
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He whined softly as he looked back at John with a slightly glazed look in his eyes, gripping his hand tight as though gravity had reversed and hanging on to John was the only thing to keep him from floating away. Every call of his name threatened to drive him mad with wanting and undo him right there. It felt like nothing at all mattered outside of this bed, and if they could just stay there forever they would always be happy. He would be staying here as much as he could help it from now on, wanting to spend hours at a time shagging or otherwise wrapped up in John. He hoped John was prepared, because Sherlock had thirty-some odd years of sexual frustration to work out.
Each of John's thrusts forward pushed him closer to the edge, having found that perfect angle that hit his prostate every time and made him tremble in ecstasy. He managed to pull together enough comprehension to realize what was happening when John couldn't finish his sentence, only wishing the condom wasn't in the way so he could really feel it. He gasped when John gave that last hard thrust, his own release hitting him quite suddenly at the indescribable feeling combined with hearing John's shout and ragged breaths. His eyes fell closed as he sucked down air in an attempt to stop panting as he was. "John." he said breathlessly, just for the sake of hearing it as he gently stroked the fingers he'd held hostage almost in apology for gripping them so hard before.
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