Sherlock enjoys orgasms. What he doesn't enjoy is being touched. And so; Sherlock and John, face to face, Sherlock touching himself and John talking, telling him how...
Filled: "And the heat goes on..." 1/2
anonymous
July 30 2010, 04:03:19 UTC
“And the heat goes on…(where the hand has been)”
a/n: title from the Talking Heads, “Born Under Punches.”
It had finally come to this.
Another night, another roof-top chase, another return to Baker Street, another pause at the bottom of the stairs, breathless and disheveled. And when Sherlock turned to him, eyes lit up with deviltry, and something else, John knew what he was seeing.
He might not have been the smoothest operator on the block, but he recognized an invitation when he saw one.
And if it wasn’t his usual M.O., well, he would just add it to the list of ways Sherlock Holmes had turned his world topsy turvy.
And if it seemed dangerous, well, maybe that was the best part about it-John could feel his balls tightening just at the thought of the perils involved. So he turned his body towards Sherlock’s, pressed those thin shoulders back against the wall, pushed a knee between those racehorse legs.
Sherlock shoved him away instantly-used both hands to do it, too.
Shit, John thought, chagrined and frustrated, misread
( ... )
Re: Filled: "And the heat goes on..." 3/3
anonymous
July 30 2010, 04:11:24 UTC
Sherlock was close now, John could tell, the hand pumping his cock had lost its rhythm, devolving into jerky, frantic strokes. His head had fallen forward, waves of dark hair shadowing his face
( ... )
Re: Filled: "And the heat goes on..." 3/3wave_of_sorrowJuly 30 2010, 19:12:28 UTC
Fuck. I just got a new bunk and now that one exploded too. Holy shit. What really did it for me was how uncertain John is at the beginning and how quickly he adjusts to the situation. Guh.
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I need this in my life
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a/n: title from the Talking Heads, “Born Under Punches.”
It had finally come to this.
Another night, another roof-top chase, another return to Baker Street, another pause at the bottom of the stairs, breathless and disheveled. And when Sherlock turned to him, eyes lit up with deviltry, and something else, John knew what he was seeing.
He might not have been the smoothest operator on the block, but he recognized an invitation when he saw one.
And if it wasn’t his usual M.O., well, he would just add it to the list of ways Sherlock Holmes had turned his world topsy turvy.
And if it seemed dangerous, well, maybe that was the best part about it-John could feel his balls tightening just at the thought of the perils involved. So he turned his body towards Sherlock’s, pressed those thin shoulders back against the wall, pushed a knee between those racehorse legs.
Sherlock shoved him away instantly-used both hands to do it, too.
Shit, John thought, chagrined and frustrated, misread ( ... )
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*bookmarks*
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