It's not decent.
Hello, shiny new fandom. ♥
Haven't written anything in ages, haven't gotten beyond Ep1... But I just couldn't resist. So, yeah.
Not beta-ed and written at an ungodly hour... Feel free to point out errors and such.
Untitled Ficlet
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Rating: NC-17 / Mature Audiences ONLY
Spoilers: None
Summary: Smut. No, seriously, that's it.
Notes: This is for alip99 over at the kink meme who prompted something like this quite a while ago. Sorry for being late to the party, honey.
Also, Standard Disclaimer and all that.
'It should look ridiculous,' Sherlock thought distantly. 'A body beyond conscious control, just a writhing, twisting mass of flesh.'
And yet.
He couldn't help but admire the fading afternoon light glinting off the androgenic hair that dusted lightly over sweaty skin, or spend a few moments marvelling at the contracting muscles underneath. He was sure that he could name each of the muscle groups he was so closely observing with one hundred percent accuracy, but found he didn't want to - he would rather touch.
He slid his hips forward to the edge of the armchair's seat and let his hands unclench from John's hips, let them glide underneath the unbuttoned shirt - his own that John had donned after their bodies had cooled from the first round. Sherlock let himself feel the light material on the backs of his hands and the warm texture of Johns skin in his palms, let himself react to the sound of John's heavy breathing in the otherwise quiet flat. Let himself take John's swollen bottom lip between his teeth and tug; lick and bite and suck and get it wet with his own saliva.
"I'm still slick enough, you know." John murmured, amused. Aroused.
Suggestive.
Sherlock hummed, letting the thought sink slowly into his mind, unanalysed for once. Slowly he let his hands wander back down towards the clenching muscles of John's arse. He had prepared John quite thoroughly the first time, used an excessive amount of lubricant and time to get him ready. No doubt he could slide right back into the tight, messy hole without meeting any resistance. However...
"Do allow me to ascertain the accuracy of your assessment, John. You are but a student, still."
John chuckled softly and arched his back. "You just wanted a chance to show off your vocabulary by throwing alliterations at me."
"Perhaps you would prefer some uninspired drivel, instead?" A rhetorical question for good measure, as Sherlock chose that moment to brush his thumb behind John's scrotum, pressing lightly to stimulate John's prostate, before moving back and letting his fingers catch on the puffy sphincter. John rewarded him with a sigh and let his head fall back. Sherlock could no more resist the offered throat than he could the eager press of John's hips. He latched on to that point right beside the thyroid cartilage and sucked, just as he thrust two fingers into John. John keened and clawed at Sherlock's shoulders, his back, and Sherlock felt his glans leaving a wet stripe on John's inner thigh.
He briefly thought of territorial markings and how they pertained to human sexual behaviour and then let himself bite down.
John only sunk one hand into Sherlock's hair and pulled himself closer.
“I do find you sufficiently primed. Well observed, John.” Sherlock remarked over John's panting breaths, nosing the shirt collar out of his way to the sternocleidomastoid and trapezius muscles. Before he could get there, however, he found his head pulled back, cradled within John's large hands, and looking into impossibly dark eyes.
“And what actions do you intend to take, now that you have confirmed your findings, Master Detective?”
Sherlock grinned. “Your demeanour would be considerably more threatening were you not so avariciously 'riding my fingers', as they say.”
John growled and abruptly dislodged said fingers with his own hand. Then he grasped Sherlock's erection, squeezed it once, twice and held it steady to sink down on. 'Never,' thought Sherlock wildly when he felt pressure against his pelvic bone, 'nothing so deep as this connection.'
John gave a savage, toothy grin and then he clenched down. Sherlock thrust involuntarily, even though he could not possibly get any closer and clutched at John's hipbone, arm slung around the small of his back.
“Sherlock,” Johns voice just a desperate hiss in his ear, “let me move!”
Moving. Friction. Good idea.
Sherlock let his hold loosen and firmly intertwined the fingers of their free hands instead. He buried his face back into the hollow of John's throat and sucked kisses into the skin without any kind of behavioural analysis. The scent of sweat and musk, the sound of quiet moans and sliding flesh, the feel of hard nipples rubbing against his chest triggered only the animal instinct of getting closer, an incoherent desire for more.
He brought their hands up, manipulated both of John's arms securely around his shoulders for better leverage and snuck his hand back under the damp shirt. With John held so firmly to him, he could afford to let go of the John's hip and seek out the place they were joined instead. Stroke and massage and dig into skin and muscle there.
“John,” he breathed against the other man's sternum. “Oh, John. Such a tempting hole, stretched tightly around my cock.” John's moan vibrated on Sherlock's lips this time. He bit a kiss into the hollow of John's throat, a string of them, following the jugular vein.
“So easily opened and eagerly offered. Do you even understand the effect this has on me, John?” he pressed out against John's ear, savagely driving up his hips. And John... John sped up, riding him even more fiercely. But it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough room for Sherlock to move with John. So Sherlock hooked his arms underneath John's trembling thighs, grasped his arse firmly in his hands and took. Again. And again.
And one last time, before John gave a hoarse shout and convolved, biting Sherlock's shoulder and straining against his abdomen, seeking even more friction whilst he ejaculated in several long, forceful pulses. And Sherlock could not help but bite back, and curl his hands into claws, and penetrate John as deeply as he could as he, too, came.
'It should look ridiculous,' Sherlock thought while John lazily smeared his semen into Sherlock's abdomen, while Sherlock's thumb, slick with his semen, slipped back into John, his palm cupping a buttock under loose shirt-tails.
And yet.
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