Sherlock Table 4/100 #47: Heart
Title: Frills
Characters: Sherlock/John
Prompt: Sherlock wears frilly, girly panties, and John freaking loves it.
Word Count (if fiction): 365
Rating: M
Summary: John finds Sherlock's choice of underwear very appealing.
Spoilers: Nerp
Warnings: PWP, sexual situations
They were purple, with a pink stitched heart right over the left bum cheek. Lacy white fringe ran over thighs and across hip bones and lower stomach. They were the embodiment of frill and feminine and delicate. It was the first time John had ever had a partner that he wanted to keep the panties on.
The first time he’d seen them, they hadn’t been together. An odd color sticking out of the waistband of Sherlock’s trousers caught his eye one afternoon as the man bent down to grab his phone charger. John had catalogued that bit of information away and saved it for later.
As soon as they’d had their first kiss, it all came back to John in a flourish of sexual heat and white ruffles. Sherlock and John had strewn themselves hastily across the sofa, lips desperate to meet again and again while tongues tentatively and then vigorously danced. The shirts were the first thing to go, Sherlock tugging at John’s white tee and then his own green button up. John’s trousers were discarded next, leaving him in his nothing-special shorts, which Sherlock teasingly played with.
John realized that Sherlock was making no moves to remove his own trousers, so he decided to help, unfastening the brown leather belt holding the slacks up to Sherlock’s waist. Sherlock tried distracting John from unbuttoning them, but John went on with determination.
“John, umm…” Sherlock started to say.
John had Sherlock’s pants ripped down to mid-thigh before the man could make another sound. John faked a gasp. “You like wearing girl’s underwear, do you?” he said in his most seductive voice. “Like walking around all day in your panties?”
Sherlock blushed. It was adorable. “It’s just…a small quirk I have,” he said.
John suddenly stood up, pulling Sherlock’s pants off him as he went. “Stand up,” he said. Sherlock did. “Bend over the arm of the sofa.”
And then Sherlock was caught up, as John brandished Sherlock’s belt in his left hand, smacking his open right hand to heighten the anticipation. Sherlock bent over the sofa, arching his back, displaying his lacy underwear and his scrumptious back muscles.
“You’re a bad girl,” John said.
THWACK.