the ding part 3
Title: The Ding
Author: Naturegirlrocks
Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Rating: M/R
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Summary: Sherlock has been back for three months, but there is something distracting him. John worries while he slowly accepts his attraction to the man.
Read it on AO3 or here:
part 1 part2
John was awoken by the sheer closeness to an other body. He flickered open his eyes to see that he was really watching Sherlock's smooth collar bone.
"Are you ready?" asked a familiar voice.
"For what?" John stroked his chin against Sherlock's .
"Mycroft is coming over," Sherlock smoothed his hand over John's back.
"Why?"
"To talk about us."
"Nothin' has happened yet," grumbled John, half between anger and sleep.
"But it's going to," whispered Sherlock close to his ear.
John blushed. He shifted.
"Why were you doing all those things?"
"Because I like it when I'm close to you."
"Why didn't you tell me before?"
"Scared..."
John smiled.
"From now on, you tell me everything. I was really worried about you."
They looked in each other's eyes for a moment. John felt a hand sneaking to rest on his hip. He giggled. Sherlock leaned forward and their lips met in a soft kiss.
John blushed as he put his own hand on Sherlock's hip and found only bare skin. He caressed it. Sherlock shuddered.
"Can I...?"
John nodded even though he had no idea what he was agreeing to, it was all good. He felt Sherlock's hand move from his hip to the front of his trousers, yes, this was definitely good.
His own hand kept stroking Sherlock's bare side. John could feel himself getting hard. Sherlock had opened his trousers and was stroking him through his pants.
"Sherlock..." whispered John.
"I see I made a good estimation on the size of my purchases."
"How many... did you buy?"
"Five," Sherlock kissed him again, and moved his hand underneath John's waistband.
John gasped when skin finally met skin.
"Can we...?" he finished the question by momentarily letting go of Sherlock and freeing himself from his restrictive pants by pushing them down his thighs.
"Definitely," said Sherlock.
He slowly began stroking John's length. John moaned, tugging on Sherlock's prominent hipbone and rubbing himself against those deliciously dextral fingers.
"Did..." he breathed. "Did you... research this too?"
"Self-experimentation," Sherlock captured John's lips in a soft, slightly wet, kiss.
"We are definitely... going to revise this this experiment later."
"I love it when you talk science," smirked Sherlock, and pressed his own erection against John's, holding the both in one hand. "This.... Oh! I... John!"
John had entwined his other hand's fingers with Sherlock's, encircling their cocks. Pre-ejaculate and sweat made the movement easier. John knew the antiseptic cream from last night wasn't far away, but he was damned if he was letting of this to go look for it.
Sherlock grunted loudly, spilling warm semen in between them, on their hands and bellies. John grunted his partner's name and followed with his own orgasm, reverently caressing whatever part of Sherlock he could reach with his lips, which was mostly nose, cheekbones and eyebrows.
They lay panting for a moment, kissing lazily. They were starting to stick together but neither were feeling any need to move.
At last John gathered his wits about him.
"When did you say Mycroft was coming?"
"I didn't say any specific time, but if you are wondering, he was here about five minutes ago and left again, quite quickly might add."
"Oh," John should have felt embarrassed but didn't, not one bit. "Your fever is gone. How... Hrm... How does your... backside feel?"
Sherlock shifted a little, seemingly taking note of his sensations.
"It feels very nice," he smiled mischievously. "Want to check, doctor?"
John suddenly felt very hot.
"Why don't we take a shower, and change the sheets? We need to talk."
Sherlock looked like he was about to pout. John kissed the frown between his eyes.
"And then you can show me all the things you bought from the penis-cosy-knitting lady."
"Yes!" Sherlock lit up with the idea. "Her name is Joan by the way, Mrs Hudson introduced us..."
"I don't want to hear it!"
John shook his head, tucked himself back to his pants, and, reluctantly, got off the bed. His trousers fell to the floor so he stepped out of them. He turned back to look down on Sherlock's half-exposed body.
"I want my own ding, though."
"Your own what?"
"You are the genius," John winked. "You figure it out."
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The End