Re: Stolen Moments pt 17/?velvet_maceJanuary 8 2011, 21:42:23 UTC
Undressed John stood straight and watched him, the expression on his face was mild, as though he weren't at all bothered by what was going on.
"You are amazing," Sherlock said. His groin itched and tingled in a terribly pleasant way. His heart sped up from it's customary 55 to a racing 90 beats per minute. The excitement he felt in his chest was not unlike that of starting a new case. Except for the way his brain seemed to have grown quiet and focused on sensory input, it was all in all quite similar to an experiment.
"Come here," said Sherlock after drinking in the sight of him for the better part of a minute. "We'll start with kissing."
"Kissing?" asked John.
"Yes. Would you like to kiss me?"
"Yes," John was smiling. "Very much want to kiss you." But then he frowned. "You don't want to kiss me. I shouldn't."
"Of course, I want to kiss you," said Sherlock.
And that was apparently enough to break through John's inhibitions. He walked over, no more clumsily than normal, until he was pressed against Sherlock's chest. His arms fitted around Sherlock in a way that instantly felt right and natural. One hand reached up and pulled his neck to make him bend, and Sherlock belatedly realized that his participation was necessary in this. He leaned down and John took his mouth.
He'd been prepared for it to be warm and a bit wet. He vaguely remembered from years ago that there would be pressure, both suction and simply the press of their heads together. What he hadn't remembered, what he hadn't expected was that the kiss would make his nipples harden and tingle. That it would make his cock go from hard to rock hard. Suddenly the touch of his own clothes was far too distracting and uncomfortable to bear.
Sherlock broke off the kiss with a deep throated sigh, then stepped back to undress as quickly as he could. John simply stood, passively watching, a smile of pleasure on his face. Sherlock reached and missed a button when he realized that John had gone from flaccid to hard himself. He'd lengthened about another inch, drawing the foreskin back so that the tip of his cock peaked out. Still only 45 degrees from vertical and the lack of prominent veins suggested that he hadn't filled out as much as he would.
Sherlock couldn't stop himself from reaching out and giving the member a careful, tentative pull. John looked down as if vaguely surprised that he had a cock at all, then sighed. The skin seemed softer than Sherlock's own, perhaps because there was no feedback from the erection itself interfering with signals coming through his fingers. It was warm and the erection felt heavy. It filled out more as Sherlock held and squeezed it. Ah, there were the veins, the head had now fully emerged from it's cowl, deep red and slightly moist.
Sherlock licked his lips. His mouth flooded with saliva. His own cock began to protest the chafing confinement. It was astonishing how quickly he shed the rest of his clothes.
John was watching him, his eyes huge, mouth slightly open. "You may touch me," said Sherlock. "Anywhere you like."
"You are amazing," Sherlock said. His groin itched and tingled in a terribly pleasant way. His heart sped up from it's customary 55 to a racing 90 beats per minute. The excitement he felt in his chest was not unlike that of starting a new case. Except for the way his brain seemed to have grown quiet and focused on sensory input, it was all in all quite similar to an experiment.
"Come here," said Sherlock after drinking in the sight of him for the better part of a minute. "We'll start with kissing."
"Kissing?" asked John.
"Yes. Would you like to kiss me?"
"Yes," John was smiling. "Very much want to kiss you." But then he frowned. "You don't want to kiss me. I shouldn't."
"Of course, I want to kiss you," said Sherlock.
And that was apparently enough to break through John's inhibitions. He walked over, no more clumsily than normal, until he was pressed against Sherlock's chest. His arms fitted around Sherlock in a way that instantly felt right and natural. One hand reached up and pulled his neck to make him bend, and Sherlock belatedly realized that his participation was necessary in this. He leaned down and John took his mouth.
He'd been prepared for it to be warm and a bit wet. He vaguely remembered from years ago that there would be pressure, both suction and simply the press of their heads together. What he hadn't remembered, what he hadn't expected was that the kiss would make his nipples harden and tingle. That it would make his cock go from hard to rock hard. Suddenly the touch of his own clothes was far too distracting and uncomfortable to bear.
Sherlock broke off the kiss with a deep throated sigh, then stepped back to undress as quickly as he could. John simply stood, passively watching, a smile of pleasure on his face. Sherlock reached and missed a button when he realized that John had gone from flaccid to hard himself. He'd lengthened about another inch, drawing the foreskin back so that the tip of his cock peaked out. Still only 45 degrees from vertical and the lack of prominent veins suggested that he hadn't filled out as much as he would.
Sherlock couldn't stop himself from reaching out and giving the member a careful, tentative pull. John looked down as if vaguely surprised that he had a cock at all, then sighed. The skin seemed softer than Sherlock's own, perhaps because there was no feedback from the erection itself interfering with signals coming through his fingers. It was warm and the erection felt heavy. It filled out more as Sherlock held and squeezed it. Ah, there were the veins, the head had now fully emerged from it's cowl, deep red and slightly moist.
Sherlock licked his lips. His mouth flooded with saliva. His own cock began to protest the chafing confinement. It was astonishing how quickly he shed the rest of his clothes.
John was watching him, his eyes huge, mouth slightly open. "You may touch me," said Sherlock. "Anywhere you like."
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