Sherlock Fic. Well, Sherlock smut. ;)
Title: The Undoing Of A Doctor
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Pairing: John Watson/Sherlock Holmes
Rating: NC-17
Words: 1429
Notes: Pure, gratuitious porn, with a side of angst. Enjoy! ;D
John woke slowly from his slumber. Eventually, memory came back and he pressed his face into the pillow and thought, I just had sex with a man. Gay sex with a man. And this time he had no excuse whatsoever because he hadn't been drunk and there hadn't been a woman around. He lifted his head and surveyed the bedroom. Nope, not even the picture of a woman. He flopped his face back onto the pillow and concentrated on keeping his breathing even.
“You're freaking out,” Sherlock observed from somewhere to his right.
“'m not,” John mumbled into the pillow, willing his racing heart to slow and his silly mind to stop running in circles.
“Yes, you are. You're lying there, repeating the phrase 'I just had sex with a man' over and over in your head.”
John lifted his head and glared and Sherlock. “Now you can read my thoughts as well?”
Sherlock shrugged. “It's obvious, isn't it?”
Despite himself, John said, “Enlighten me.”
“You were a member of the military for over ten years, John. The Army is known for its antiquated views on homosexuality. If you wanted to or not, those prejudices had to have had an impact on your own view of the matter.”
Suddenly John was angry. He might not have thought of himself as 'gay' before, but that didn't mean he was homophobic. And this wasn't the first time he'd had sexual relations with another man. He told Sherlock so.
Sherlock raised his eyebrows. “Interesting. What excuse did you use? Drunkenness? Lack of female companionship? The old 'there was a woman around so it doesn't count'?”
John sat up and angrily pulled on his trousers. “Do I need an excuse to have sex?”
“You do. Especially when it is sex with another man,” Sherlock stated calmly.
John felt like punching him in the face. “Not that it's any of your business, but there was a woman around at the time.”
Sherlock gave him a shit-eating grin. John punched it right off his face.
Sherlock punched him back and they ended up rolling around on the floor, each trying to get the upper hand. In the end, John won - thanks to his military training. And wasn't that a funny coincidence. He knelt over Sherlock, pinning the other man's hands to the floor. Sherlock ceased his struggle to get free. His eyes sparkled with amusement and something else John couldn't read as he looked up at John. A bruise was starting to form on his left cheek.
“You got me, John. What are you going to do with me now?” Sherlock challenged, letting his body go completely lax.
Lust coiled in John's gut at the thought of having Sherlock underneath him, surrendering to him. There was no way he could ever match Sherlock's intellect, but physically he came out on top, even with his crappy shoulder.
He bent down, putting his weight on his hands holding Sherlock's wrists and brought them nose to nose. “What do you think I'm going to do with you?” John whispered, any thoughts about homophobia and excuses completely forgotten. Sherlock's body shuddered involuntarily underneath him, his eyes fluttering shut.
Interesting John thought and couldn't hide his grin. It seemed that he'd just found a weakness in the armour of the great Sherlock Holmes.
“You're mine now,” he continued in a low voice, putting his mouth next to Sherlock's ear. “Completely at my mercy. I can do whatever I please to you.”
Sherlock moaned. The sound went straight to John's groin and he ground down his hips, rubbing his hardening dick against Sherlock's abdomen.
“I could flip you over right here on the floor and fuck you until you scream,” John continued and followed his words with a not-too-gentle bite of Sherlock's earlobe. Sherlock writhed underneath him. John slid lower until he could feel Sherlock's hard dick brushing against his arse through the fabric of his trousers.
“Or I could ride you, make you come inside me. You'd like that, wouldn't you.”
Sherlock thrust up wildly at his words and John leaned up to watch Sherlock's face. He'd screwed his eyes closed and was biting his lower lip. A fine sheen of sweat covered his face and chest and John fought the urge to bend down and lick and bite at the expanse of pale skin underneath him. Instead he settled for kissing Sherlock, deep and dirty, claiming the other man's mouth. His erection was straining against the confines of his trousers. Suddenly he really wanted to feel Sherlock inside him.
“Don't move,” John said and let go of him to get rid of his trousers. Sherlock had opened his eyes and was watching John's every move.
“I want you to fuck me,” John said, kneeling down again, positioning himself right above the other man's groin.
Sherlock's eyes widened, he reached down and gripped John's hips. “Are you sure?”
John nodded. “I want to know... when I... your face... it was-,” he swallowed the rest of his incoherent babble and ignored the flutter of fear in his chest.
Sherlock stroked his hands down John's thighs and back up until he was cupping John's arse, making John shiver involuntarily. “I'm not going to hurt you.”
“I know.”
Sherlock playfully thrust his hips upwards. “We should move this to the bed, then.”
John got up again and held out a hand to help Sherlock up. He pulled himself to his feet, then used his grip on John's hand to flip them both onto the bed. John yelped as he landed flat on his back.
Sherlock crawled over him, eyes dark with pleasure. “I'm going to prepare you and then you're going to fuck yourself on my dick.”
John groaned and pulled Sherlock down for another kiss. When they broke apart again, Sherlock slid down to kneel between John's legs. He grabbed the lube from the bedside table and squirted some of it into his hand. When he looked up at John, an unspoken question in his eyes, John just nodded. Yes, he was sure.
Sherlock took his time preparing him. No matter how much John pleaded with him to just “get on with it, please... Oh my god, Sherlock, that's it. Yes. Please. More...” he wouldn't be rushed.
Finally he pulled his fingers out and slid up John's body. John wrapped his fingers into Sherlock's hair and kissed him until they were both breathless with it.
Sherlock eventually rolled them both over, so that John was on top again. “Do it,” he said, his voice a low rumble. Desire flared up in John, making his dick twitch. He pushed himself into a kneeling position, straddling Sherlock's groin, like he had on the floor.
He looked down, to where Sherlock was holding his own dick ready for John. At some point John couldn't remember he'd put on a condom. Holding himself upright on Sherlock's shoulders, John slowly lowered himself down. He could feel the blunt head of Sherlock's cock push against his hole. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest, but they were beyond fear now, beyond regrets and stupid, antiquated notions. This was just them, John and Sherlock. And if John couldn't put into words yet what this meant to him, it didn't matter. Sherlock was smart, he'd work it out.
He closed his eyes when Sherlock's cock finally pushed inside him, filling him in a way he'd never thought possible. Pleasure and pain became indistinguishable and then just pleasure as he rode Sherlock's cock. Sherlock's fingers were digging into his hips, holding him up; holding him together when John felt like he was breaking apart.
John had never thought he could come without someone touching his dick in some way, but he'd been wrong. When Sherlock adjusted their angle just so and started hitting John's prostate on every thrust, it became almost too much.
“Look at me,” Sherlock demanded, voice rough and breathless. John opened his eyes and the sight of Sherlock underneath him, sweating, panting and clearly about to lose control, pushed John over the edge. He could feel Sherlock's dick pulse inside him, just before the world went white.
###
John woke slowly. He could feel Sherlock's warm weight against his back and pushed sleepily backwards into the comfortable heat.
“Hey,” Sherlock said quietly.
“Shut up,” John mumbled, “I'm not freaking out. You can stop fretting.”
He could feel Sherlock's chuckle all the way down his back and smiled. Sherlock wrapped an arm around him, tugging him close.
“That's good.”
The End.
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Pairing: John Watson/Sherlock Holmes
Rating: NC-17
Words: 1429
Notes: Pure, gratuitious porn, with a side of angst. Enjoy! ;D
John woke slowly from his slumber. Eventually, memory came back and he pressed his face into the pillow and thought, I just had sex with a man. Gay sex with a man. And this time he had no excuse whatsoever because he hadn't been drunk and there hadn't been a woman around. He lifted his head and surveyed the bedroom. Nope, not even the picture of a woman. He flopped his face back onto the pillow and concentrated on keeping his breathing even.
“You're freaking out,” Sherlock observed from somewhere to his right.
“'m not,” John mumbled into the pillow, willing his racing heart to slow and his silly mind to stop running in circles.
“Yes, you are. You're lying there, repeating the phrase 'I just had sex with a man' over and over in your head.”
John lifted his head and glared and Sherlock. “Now you can read my thoughts as well?”
Sherlock shrugged. “It's obvious, isn't it?”
Despite himself, John said, “Enlighten me.”
“You were a member of the military for over ten years, John. The Army is known for its antiquated views on homosexuality. If you wanted to or not, those prejudices had to have had an impact on your own view of the matter.”
Suddenly John was angry. He might not have thought of himself as 'gay' before, but that didn't mean he was homophobic. And this wasn't the first time he'd had sexual relations with another man. He told Sherlock so.
Sherlock raised his eyebrows. “Interesting. What excuse did you use? Drunkenness? Lack of female companionship? The old 'there was a woman around so it doesn't count'?”
John sat up and angrily pulled on his trousers. “Do I need an excuse to have sex?”
“You do. Especially when it is sex with another man,” Sherlock stated calmly.
John felt like punching him in the face. “Not that it's any of your business, but there was a woman around at the time.”
Sherlock gave him a shit-eating grin. John punched it right off his face.
Sherlock punched him back and they ended up rolling around on the floor, each trying to get the upper hand. In the end, John won - thanks to his military training. And wasn't that a funny coincidence. He knelt over Sherlock, pinning the other man's hands to the floor. Sherlock ceased his struggle to get free. His eyes sparkled with amusement and something else John couldn't read as he looked up at John. A bruise was starting to form on his left cheek.
“You got me, John. What are you going to do with me now?” Sherlock challenged, letting his body go completely lax.
Lust coiled in John's gut at the thought of having Sherlock underneath him, surrendering to him. There was no way he could ever match Sherlock's intellect, but physically he came out on top, even with his crappy shoulder.
He bent down, putting his weight on his hands holding Sherlock's wrists and brought them nose to nose. “What do you think I'm going to do with you?” John whispered, any thoughts about homophobia and excuses completely forgotten. Sherlock's body shuddered involuntarily underneath him, his eyes fluttering shut.
Interesting John thought and couldn't hide his grin. It seemed that he'd just found a weakness in the armour of the great Sherlock Holmes.
“You're mine now,” he continued in a low voice, putting his mouth next to Sherlock's ear. “Completely at my mercy. I can do whatever I please to you.”
Sherlock moaned. The sound went straight to John's groin and he ground down his hips, rubbing his hardening dick against Sherlock's abdomen.
“I could flip you over right here on the floor and fuck you until you scream,” John continued and followed his words with a not-too-gentle bite of Sherlock's earlobe. Sherlock writhed underneath him. John slid lower until he could feel Sherlock's hard dick brushing against his arse through the fabric of his trousers.
“Or I could ride you, make you come inside me. You'd like that, wouldn't you.”
Sherlock thrust up wildly at his words and John leaned up to watch Sherlock's face. He'd screwed his eyes closed and was biting his lower lip. A fine sheen of sweat covered his face and chest and John fought the urge to bend down and lick and bite at the expanse of pale skin underneath him. Instead he settled for kissing Sherlock, deep and dirty, claiming the other man's mouth. His erection was straining against the confines of his trousers. Suddenly he really wanted to feel Sherlock inside him.
“Don't move,” John said and let go of him to get rid of his trousers. Sherlock had opened his eyes and was watching John's every move.
“I want you to fuck me,” John said, kneeling down again, positioning himself right above the other man's groin.
Sherlock's eyes widened, he reached down and gripped John's hips. “Are you sure?”
John nodded. “I want to know... when I... your face... it was-,” he swallowed the rest of his incoherent babble and ignored the flutter of fear in his chest.
Sherlock stroked his hands down John's thighs and back up until he was cupping John's arse, making John shiver involuntarily. “I'm not going to hurt you.”
“I know.”
Sherlock playfully thrust his hips upwards. “We should move this to the bed, then.”
John got up again and held out a hand to help Sherlock up. He pulled himself to his feet, then used his grip on John's hand to flip them both onto the bed. John yelped as he landed flat on his back.
Sherlock crawled over him, eyes dark with pleasure. “I'm going to prepare you and then you're going to fuck yourself on my dick.”
John groaned and pulled Sherlock down for another kiss. When they broke apart again, Sherlock slid down to kneel between John's legs. He grabbed the lube from the bedside table and squirted some of it into his hand. When he looked up at John, an unspoken question in his eyes, John just nodded. Yes, he was sure.
Sherlock took his time preparing him. No matter how much John pleaded with him to just “get on with it, please... Oh my god, Sherlock, that's it. Yes. Please. More...” he wouldn't be rushed.
Finally he pulled his fingers out and slid up John's body. John wrapped his fingers into Sherlock's hair and kissed him until they were both breathless with it.
Sherlock eventually rolled them both over, so that John was on top again. “Do it,” he said, his voice a low rumble. Desire flared up in John, making his dick twitch. He pushed himself into a kneeling position, straddling Sherlock's groin, like he had on the floor.
He looked down, to where Sherlock was holding his own dick ready for John. At some point John couldn't remember he'd put on a condom. Holding himself upright on Sherlock's shoulders, John slowly lowered himself down. He could feel the blunt head of Sherlock's cock push against his hole. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest, but they were beyond fear now, beyond regrets and stupid, antiquated notions. This was just them, John and Sherlock. And if John couldn't put into words yet what this meant to him, it didn't matter. Sherlock was smart, he'd work it out.
He closed his eyes when Sherlock's cock finally pushed inside him, filling him in a way he'd never thought possible. Pleasure and pain became indistinguishable and then just pleasure as he rode Sherlock's cock. Sherlock's fingers were digging into his hips, holding him up; holding him together when John felt like he was breaking apart.
John had never thought he could come without someone touching his dick in some way, but he'd been wrong. When Sherlock adjusted their angle just so and started hitting John's prostate on every thrust, it became almost too much.
“Look at me,” Sherlock demanded, voice rough and breathless. John opened his eyes and the sight of Sherlock underneath him, sweating, panting and clearly about to lose control, pushed John over the edge. He could feel Sherlock's dick pulse inside him, just before the world went white.
###
John woke slowly. He could feel Sherlock's warm weight against his back and pushed sleepily backwards into the comfortable heat.
“Hey,” Sherlock said quietly.
“Shut up,” John mumbled, “I'm not freaking out. You can stop fretting.”
He could feel Sherlock's chuckle all the way down his back and smiled. Sherlock wrapped an arm around him, tugging him close.
“That's good.”
The End.