Did he have somewhere in mind? God, no. No, John had no idea. He was considering the places he'd taken Sarah, Jeanette and... Anne? Anna?... but none of those would do. He just knew he'd want to touch Lucien somehow, place his hand over Lucien's, hold his eyes a moment too long, and to do all that in a public setting, seeing the man again for the first time after that night... it all felt more than a little intimidating. Moreover, John sort of wanted Lucien to himself. They had done the public setting - very public setting - and while John had very obviously enjoyed the thrill of that, he wanted to see what it would be like to be around Lucien in a more... personal setting. And Sherlock would be away for another twenty-four hours, at least
( ... )
Wide open, indeed, and John was certainly highly aware of the invitation. He was still smiling wryly in reaction to Lucien's words, feeling a strange sort of gratitude that they could so easily move past a moment and topic that was somewhat tense and emotional for him. He took a moment to watch Lucien, looking him up and down as he sipped from his wine, and not hiding that fact, either. He liked watching Lucien; there was something strangely animalistic yet put together about the man, rough and polished at the same time. It shouldn't make any sense, shouldn't even be able to exist in the same person, but somehow, in Lucien, it made perfect sense. And it looked damnably good, too, from John's vantage point
( ... )
That was Lucien in a nutshell, really: A walking contradiction and sometimes polar opposites in one bundle. He did his best to try to keep himself consistent, and most of the time he did whatever came naturally to him. Sometimes though, he surprised, or shocked, even himself. It felt good to be under John's scrutiny, he could virtually feel that gaze as it passed over him, and it was enough to turn something over low down in the pit of his stomach. He breathed deep and steady, enjoying the slow-burn arousal that he felt just being in the doctor's presence. It was in the air too, wasn't it? Almost tangible between them. Of course, they both knew what the evening was leading to, but the anticipation, it was all around them
( ... )
John was just as aware of the energy around them, like a living thing, heavy and pulsing, and growing more and more difficult to resist with every passing second spent in the other man's company. Not much longer, now. John topped up Lucien's glass and his own, and took a few large sips. For courage? Perhaps. Mostly his mouth felt very dry all of a sudden, and the wine certainly didn't do anything to help with that. But it gave him something to do as he watched Lucien.
This might be his first time being genuinely interested in a man, but he was pretty certain it wasn't supposed to be this... intense, this fast. He wanted to make Lucien laugh as much as he wanted to make him moan in pleasure, and that... that was far beyond sex already, wasn't it? Christ. Trust John to throw himself into something with all that he was. After one hook-up in a bathroom stall. Bloody hell
( ... )
Something jumped in Lucien's chest at the quiet and quite unexpected words. Nothing outwardly notable, no spluttering of wine or raising of eyebrows; he could congratulate himself on keeping a calm exterior. His heart beat that little bit quicker, though, pulse thrumming as the build up of anticipation started to find it's peak. Eyes on John, he took a last sip of wine and placed the glass carefully on the table. In moments like this he always had this odd feeling, a voice in his head that would wonder: What if he knocked over the glass and broke it? Self sabotaging urges, or fear of screwing up through his own actions, he was never sure which, but if nothing else, his job needed him to be cool and in control of the correct actions, so he was well practiced at shutting those ridiculous thoughts down
( ... )
Well, this was very nice, indeed. Unexpected, and far too much blood rushing down south far too suddenly, but still, very nice. Though Lucien was still little more than a stranger, John had the distinct feeling this man could take him by surprise even after a much longer period of knowing him. Lucien simply had that air about him, that delightful joie de vivre, a lightness to him that tugged at the corners of John's mouth, resist as he might. And oh, he was ever so aware of the temporary nature of that coyness. It was... different, yet again, having a man sitting on his lap, but there was something strangely comfortable about the weight, pinning him down on the sofa
( ... )
Lips parted a little, eyes lighting up with his amusement as he fake-gasped and pretended to be offended by such a suggestion. "Damn... And I was looking forward to getting my dessert, so very much..." He shook his head minutely, corners of his mouth curling up into a cheeky smile. "Hmm... Every. Single. Mouthful." His dark gaze was fixed on John's pale eyes, and he rolled his hips, grinding slowly against him as he bit out each word. He was already swallowing down soft noises, just from the tension and hunger in the air, from John's strong hands kneading his arse; doctor's hands, dextrous hands, hands that were more than used to handling a dangerous weapon. Oh yes. Lucien couldn't wait for those hands to explore his body a little more
( ... )
Very little could be more satisfying than hearing sounds of pleasure coming from a lover, knowing you were playing a part in that. And John very much felt like a part in this, like he was weaving a cocoon of warmth and intimacy and the slow burn of lust and desire around them, together with Lucien. Very much together with him. While John had absolutely zero experience with men - well, a little more experience as of last week - he still considered himself to be a good lover. But one could only be as good as the one one was with, and with Lucien, John could so easily see them soaring to greatness. He should probably feel like a sod for even thinking that way, but it was hard to feel even remotely amused about it, when simply kissing the man felt so good, so natural, so easy. It felt... like more. A lot more
( ... )
Pressing his cheek to the soothing warmth of John's palm, Lucien inhaled deeply. Lips parting, he sucked in the air through his mouth as well as his nose. He could taste him. The spicy cologne he'd put on not so long ago sitting over the mild soap scent, more deeply ingrained in his skin, a hint of chemicals and sterilizing alcohols that Lucien was more than familiar with, an own-brand shampoo that was trying to be fruity but came off as sweet, and then deeper down, all those natural scents that people try so hard to cover up. The slight tang of salt and the contrasting, complimenting, exotic male musk, other scents too, unique to John and to this situation, pheromones, and the unmistakeable rich smell of sex. It all smelt so delicious and he closed his eyes for a moment, moaning as he let them soak into him
( ... )
Lucien hadn't been the only to let his imagination run free this past week; it was as if a switch had been flipped, that night at the bar, and John's body had gone back in time by at least ten years. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd been this sexually excited, positively randy, even, which was both mortifying and thrilling, embarrassing and amusing. One shift at the clinic, he had come alarmingly close to locking the door and having a quick wank during lunchtime, thoughts of Lucien having plagued him all morning. He had resisted until he came home, and even then it had to wait until bedtime; John simply could not do it knowing Sherlock wasn't entirely immersed in his violin playing or nighttime kitchen adventures. But oh, it had been good, so good, much better than a quickie at the clinic would have been. John had dragged it out, something he also had not done in a while, properly enjoying it, slow touches, building it up, all the while thinking of Lucien's eyes, his mouth, his hands... his cock
( ... )
The rough little scratches of John's blunt nails on his flesh, the soft brushes and more definite touches, not quite groping, but yes, purposeful and intending to feel him. When was the last time he'd really been touched, properly touched? Not just a hurried squeeze here and a necessary stroke there, an almost polite prerequisite to fucking and nothing more. This was so different, he felt like he was being studied, his body explored, every part of his form being paid attention to. It made him feel important, appreciated. Not just an object to help another man get off, but part of the whole. Lucien wasn't innocent in this; he'd had plenty of quick fumbles, and as giving as he could be, they were just bodies and the pleasure that he could give and take were abstract, just interaction, cause and effect. In general, he preferred that. His life was complicated and it was easier not to give the impression that this could be something more to his partners. But with John... There were thoughts playing in his mind that scared him a little if
( ... )
John was in no hurry... That was to say, his fingers were itching to reach out and touch the other man, to explore every inch of skin with his hands and mouth, leaving marks in his wake, not as any sign of ownership of possession, but as small tokens of reverence. Because Lucien's body was worth worshiping. And so John did just that, sitting back more comfortably in the sofa and allowing his eyes to roam over Lucien's almost fully exposed body, head to toe and back up again. He wondered, not for the first time, if he would feel this way, had he been presented with another man. And, again, not for the first time, he had the strange sensation that it would be horribly uncomfortable, for both parties. No, there was something special about Lucien, just as there had been that evening at the bar. John felt somehow drawn to the other man, against logic, against all reason, everything he'd ever known about himself, and every sexual experience he'd ever had
( ... )
His skin ticked under John's touch, little flickers, shivers as he responded to the tickling trail that his caresses left behind. Lucien looked down in fascination at the path that John's fingers took, the feeling and the view lining up and confirming that this amazing man was exploring him freely. He nodded at John's request, not at all worried that he was starting to freak out and didn't want to go any further. He clearly wasn't, and that gave Lucien a warm, confident feeling. They were going in John's own time and Lucien was more than happy to give him it. He had all the time in the world right now, and he wanted more of this, more of John's attention so acutely focused on him while he returned the fascination back
( ... )
Even through the layer of cotton, John could feel that twitch against his tongue, and it briefly made him smile. This wasn't so bad. Not bad at all. He could take his time like this, work his way up and gather more courage while teasing Lucien at the same time. For the longest time, John's mouth worked at the cotton-clad length, wetting the fabric with his tongue and lips, until he eventually felt bold enough to suck at the head of Lucien's cock through the fabric. He had no idea what it would feel like, having never had this done to himself. But from the fingers in his hair and the little sounds and breathing heard from above, John could only assume he was doing something right
( ... )
It had to be said, for someone that was a near novice at handling another man in a sexual setting, John was continually impressing him. Not just because he was facing every step with confidence, or maybe bravery, but because John was performing more than admirably. Lucien couldn't begin to judge how much experience the other man had with members of the opposite sex, and he didn't want to start to think about that in too much detail, but he was certain at the very least he'd paid attention. He doubted that John had taken his partners for granted and just let them pleasure him, he'd taken note of what felt good and how the other person had achieved it. He must have done, for this kind of assured attention that he now paid Lucien. Either that, or it was a natural talent that had up until that point been completely neglected. He had enough sense not to tell John that he was a cock-sucking natural though, at least for now
( ... )
John couldn't help the feeling of pleasure and pride that coursed through him at Lucien's words. The knowledge that he was doing this to the other man, drawing out these sounds, these words of praise, was an incredibly heady and powerful sensation. He wanted Lucien to feel good, wanted the other man to know that they were in this together, that John was just as capable of pleasuring the other man. Many of these things were new to him, but he was not a blushing virgin by any standards, and he considered himself to be a very giving lover. It was never going to be a situation in which John would allow Lucien to take complete control as he himself fumbled about. Certainly, there would be moments in which John would have no idea what to do, but that was only to be expected. The least he could do was make sure to enjoy this. And he was most definitely doing that
( ... )
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This might be his first time being genuinely interested in a man, but he was pretty certain it wasn't supposed to be this... intense, this fast. He wanted to make Lucien laugh as much as he wanted to make him moan in pleasure, and that... that was far beyond sex already, wasn't it? Christ. Trust John to throw himself into something with all that he was. After one hook-up in a bathroom stall. Bloody hell ( ... )
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