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John
I held the toy in my hand.
It was smooth, dark purple, about as wide as two of my fingers at the top, with a flared base. I closed my hand around it, turning it on and feeling the vibrations.
A smile spread on my face as my entire hand started shaking.
This was going to be fantastic.
Sherlock was spread out before me on the bed, and I couldn’t help groaning as my head fell forward onto his chest.
“You’re so goddamn pretty”, I murmured and pressed kisses onto the smooth skin. Sherlock moaned softly in response and I melted into him at the sound.
I was kneeling on top of Sherlock, legs bracketed on either side of him.
I had become completely addicted to him. I mean, I was already hooked the day I met him, but from the first kiss onwards, I’d also become addicted to this. How he looked, how he sounded, how he moved – under me, on top of me, or next to me.
If I could have, I would have just kept him here, in this bedroom that had become our bedroom, and made him scream my name until he was hoarse, for the rest of our lives.
Which, well. We had done that. A lot. Unfortunately, though, we both had jobs, and responsibilities, and the human body needed food and sleep and all that. So, there was only, realistically, so much time we could spend here.
But, God, I’d been able to think about little else since Sherlock had sat next to me on the couch a few days ago and had shown me his laptop.
When he saw the look on my face at realizing what it was that he was showing me, he’d smirked.
And now we were here.
The package had arrived this morning, small and discrete, while Sherlock had been out. I’d unpacked it, thoroughly cleaned and charged it and made sure it was working perfectly.
Around noon I got a text from him.
Did you get it?
The only reply he got from me was: 😊
He’d been home in half an hour.
I moved up to Sherlock’s chest and gently pressed a kiss onto his right nipple, sucking every so lightly, and caressing just the very tip with my tongue.
“John”, he moaned and his hips moved upwards, into mine. I was still wearing boxers, but Sherlock was completely naked, and I indulged him for a few moments.
He was getting hard, slowly but surely, but we’d decided beforehand that we wanted to draw this one out, which meant that I could touch him anywhere but there, where he really wanted me. He’d meant it as a joke when Sherlock had said that this was going to be more difficult for me than for him, but I fear he may have been very right about that.
When I felt the rhythm of his hips speed up, I slid down lower and put my hands on his hipbones, stilling him.
He groaned in frustration.
“Christ, John, please…”
“You’re good, baby, you’re doing so well.”
Another groan that sounded dangerously close to a whine.
I smiled softly and pressed more kisses to his side, down to the aforementioned hipbone, where he was especially sensitive. He gasped and moaned faintly when I licked over the area.
“Are you ready, love?”, I asked, looking up.
We couldn’t have been here, on this bed, for more than ten minutes, but Sherlock already looked deliciously wrecked. Cheeks red, chest heaving, looking down at me through half-lidded eyes. His arms were resting on the pillow next to him – we had propped him up just a little bit so he could comfortably see everything I was doing. He now reached out to me with one hand, and I gently took it, kissed it, and then just held it.
“I am, John”, he said, voice so low that I swore I could feel it reverberate in my bones. My own cock gave a twitch at the sound, combined with the trust Sherlock always, without fail, put in me.
It was one thing to trust someone to point a gun at your head and not fire it. It was one thing to decide, with so much adrenaline running through your veins your whole body shakes, that you would give your life for what someone believes is right.
It was something else to trust someone with this. This kind of intimacy.
Sherlock’s hands stroked through my hair, and I slid down lower on his body, ignoring the stunning cock that was very sweetly begging for my attention, and instead pressed kisses onto his thigh.
“Spread your legs for me, baby”, I rasped, and Sherlock’s legs fell open, accompanied by high pitched moan that made my head spin.
I surged forward, trailing open-mouthed kisses on the inside of his right thigh, gently sinking my teeth in when I got dangerously close to his twitching cock.
“Oh fuck”, I heard Sherlock croak weakly.
The sound was music to my ears.
“Feels good, baby?”, I murmured, giving the same treatment to his inner thigh on the left side, caressing the right with my fingers, feather-lightly, feeling the marks of my teeth on the soft skin.
“God, John, you’re – you’re… you’re amazing”, he whispered, and I felt my chest warming at the praise. Even if my reaction to compliments of all kinds was nowhere near as intense as Sherlock’s, I was far from immune to the effects – especially if the compliments came from the man under me, and in that tone.
“Mhh, likewise, love”, I whispered, and pressed my lips to the soft skin behind his knee.
I sat up a little and reached for one of the pillows lying on the bed next to us. It was particularly big and firm, so it would keep Sherlock nice and elevated.
“Hips up for me”, I instructed gently and Sherlock did as he was told, so I could slide the pillow under his hips.
If he lifted his legs now, bent knees and everything, he would be in the perfect position for me.
Just the thought and the anticipation made me shiver with desire.
“Perfect, baby”, I praised again, and I could hear Sherlock swallow audibly. “Lift your legs whenever you’re ready for me, yeah?”
Sherlock nodded, and I saw that while his cheeks were not getting any less red, his face otherwise looked quite calm. He knew that if he wanted to stop or pause anytime, that I would immediately drop everything to make sure he was okay.
It also helped that we had done almost all of this before. We were planning on introducing a new element, of course, but up until now, this was all familiar territory.
Sherlock carefully lifted his legs, and I gently smoothed my hands down the back of his thighs, encouraging the motion and letting him know that I was there, and he was doing so, so well.
“Perfect, love, that’s utterly perfect”, I breathed.
I shifted on the bed a little, making myself comfortable, and held Sherlock open with both hands on one thigh each, so his legs hopefully wouldn’t get tired all too soon.
Technically we also could’ve done this with him on his knees. But there was something about looking up into his face any time I wanted to and seeing the closed eyes and pinched brows that I just couldn’t get enough of in this position. And since Sherlock liked this, too, very much so (in his words, he’d rather have sore muscles in his legs tomorrow than have his face smushed in a pillow), this was perfect.
His hole was perfect and prepared for me, and I settled in to properly get him ready for what we were about to try. Or rather, use that as an excuse to do something I absolutely couldn’t get enough of, but didn’t have the opportunity for as often as other things that required less thorough prep on Sherlock’s part.
There was a bottle of lube to my right as well, lying on a towel and next to the toy, but for this I wouldn’t need it. Not yet.
Sherlock knew what was coming, had felt this sensation with me before, but still gasped softly when I kissed him on his perineum.
I applied my lips, and only my lips first, massaging the sensitive area. I introduced my tongue slowly, letting plenty of saliva coat the area.
I heard a soft curse under Sherlock’s breath at the first touch of tongue, and I couldn’t help but smile. He was so sensitive here, and I loved it so, so much, I couldn’t get enough of it. Of him. Us, really, together, like this.
I trailed open-mouthed kisses downwards, slowly, so slowly, and paused when I got to his rim. I licked, the skin there smoother than silk. The pitch of Sherlock’s moans got just a little higher at that.
I kissed softly, licked, careful and gentle, one broad stroke over his hole, and then I dipped in.
“Ah…!”, Sherlock gasped, gasp turning into a moan, when I dipped in again, and again, and again, gently coaxing him open. I drew back for a second, marveling at how much he was already trying to relax for me so I could enter him deeper, and, moaning myself unabashedly, I dove back in.
I was still gentle, but I was truly trying to get as much of my tongue into his body as I possibly could now. It wouldn’t stretch him, really – I’d do that in a bit with my fingers. This was just for pure pleasure, for both of us.
“Fuck, John”, he moaned above me, proving my point perfectly, and I groaned as I thrust my tongue in and out and in and out and…
“Oh my God”, he whimpered, and I felt his legs starting to shake.
My tongue was as far in him as it would go, and I leaned back to remove it completely, only to thrust it in again as far as I could.
“Fuck!”, the action punched all the air out of his lungs.
I was now rock-hard in my boxers.
Only when spit was dripping down my chin and when my jaw started to ache so badly I couldn’t hold it open anymore, did I release him.
I wiped my chin with the back of my hand and looked at the debauchery before me.
Sherlock’s cock was just as hard as mine, and had already turned a deep red color. Even though the lower part of my head was aching almost painfully, I had the bone-deep need to take him into my mouth and feel him come down my throat anyway.
But that’s not what we had planned.
When I looked up into Sherlock’s face he was panting, curls plastered to his forehead with sweat. The look of desire in his eyes was breathtaking.
“John”, he whispered when our eyes met. “C-can you k-kiss me? Please?”
As extremely sexy as all of this was, I felt the deepest ache in my chest as he uttered these words so quietly.
As carefully but still quickly as I could, I crawled up his body to press my lips to his.
He moaned into my mouth as we connected. Sherlock loved tasting himself on me, and God, the feeling was so very mutual. I would never forget the shy look on his face when I’d tried to kiss him after he’d taken me into his mouth for the first time.
I propped myself up on my elbow so Sherlock could stay exactly where he was, and I felt his tongue softly slide over my lips and into my mouth, over my own tongue, and as my cock was pressed into Sherlock’s side I truly had no idea which moans were coming out of whose mouth.
When Sherlock leaned back a little I opened my eyes.
I felt the ache in my chest deepen at the sight. I’m quite sure that no one had ever looked at me with as much love in their eyes as Sherlock did.
I stroked over his cheek, into hair, over the shell of his ear.
“Still okay, love?”, I asked gently.
Sherlock nodded a little, eyes not leaving my face.
“It’s so good, John”, he confessed in a small voice. “You always feel so good…”
“You’re fucking amazing”, I whispered, voice just as hoarse as his if not even more so, and I kissed his forehead. “You’re going to be the death of me one day, you know that? My heart beats out of my chest every time you open your mouth.”
Sherlock chuckled softly at this.
“Should I book a first aid refresher course, then, just in case?”
“Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary. You’ve got the mouth to mouth reanimation down to a science, I’d say.”
Sherlock giggled at my horrible flirting. Making Sherlock laugh never failed to make me smile myself, never mind the fireworks I felt being lit in my chest.
“You’re an idiot”, he said softly, still giggling. I pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
“That I may be, but I’m your idiot.”
Sherlock’s smile softened, and his eyes shone brightly.
“I love you, John.”
I couldn’t help the sigh and the tugging in my chest.
I’d never get used to these words from this man.
“I love you too, Sherlock, so, so much”, I murmured and kissed him again.
As the kisses slowly deepened again, I felt Sherlock reach for something and press it into my hand.
When I pulled back a little and opened my eyes, I saw that it was the bottle of lube. I took it from him and checked in again.
“Ready, love?”
“Please, John”, he simply said, and I kissed him one last time before popping open the bottle and generously coating my fingers.
I wouldn’t need to stretch him too much today. The toy was specifically designed for people who’d never tried them before, but since I had already been inside Sherlock, and he’d taken me so beautifully and had enjoyed it so much, I had no worries at all about it being a comfortable experience for him.
Well, I was aiming for a little more than comfortable, but still.
I reached down, feeling for his rim again, and just circled him with my fingers, letting Sherlock get used to the feeling of being touched there again.
He sighed, and his eyes closed, face peaceful and calm. His left hand was resting on my shoulder, not really holding me close, but just touching me, establishing some point of contact with me, while his right arm was lying on the pillow next to him. That combined with his closed eyes and open legs made for such an erotic but also trusting sight that I had to concentrate as much as I could to not lose my mind at it.
Ever so slowly and carefully, I pressed my forefinger into his hole, not actually wanting to penetrate yet, just getting him to relax and get used to the intrusion.
Sherlock breathed in deeply through his nose, and out through his mouth.
“Perfect”, I whispered, not even aware that I was actually saying it out loud.
But Sherlock’s small smile made it clear that I had.
I dipped the tip of my finger in once more, sliding in a little without resistance, and I knew he was ready.
“Breathe in again for me, love”, I instructed gently, perfectly aware that he knew what to do just as much as I did, but I also knew that Sherlock liked not having to worry or even think about these things during sex.
So, he breathed in again, and when he breathed out I slipped my finger in, all the way to the second knuckle, without any resistance.
The softest of moans spilled over Sherlock’s lips as I carefully thrust my finger in and out.
“So good, baby”, I whispered, in awe of the gorgeous man under me. “Doing so well for me. How do you feel, Sherlock? Is it okay?”
“It’s perfect”, he whispered, eyes still closed, just enjoying the sensations.
“D’you want me to add another? Or keep it like this for a little longer?”
“Just this, for now, oh, thank you, John, oh God…”
“Of course, love, of course, anything you want, anything…”
I was purposefully avoiding his prostate for now, not wanting to overwhelm him.
I bent down a little so I could kiss his cheek, and he turned his head, blindly searching for my lips, and I connected us again in a gentle kiss, tongues touching ever so briefly, while I slid my finger slowly in and out of him, over and over, pushing at the sides and starting to stretch him as gently as I possibly could.
Part of me could have carried on like this forever, the only sounds filling the room the noise of our kisses, the slide of my finger inside of him, our heavy breathing and Sherlock’s small noises of pleasure.
When I stretched upwards I knew I would eventually stimulate his prostate, and when I did his mouth dropped open in a perfect o-shape, and he said my name in a way that nearly made me come right there on the spot, from not a single touch to my cock.
“John…!”
The death of me. The true and complete death of me.
“Yeah, love?”, I could just about get out, and his eyes opened a little.
“M-more, p-please. N-now”, he stuttered, breathing heavily.
I obeyed immediately, removed my finger before adding another, but squeezed more lube onto them just to be safe.
I returned my first finger, slowly pushing in and out, and applied some pressure with a second one. Sherlock breathed in deeply again, and while breathing out, my second finger slipped in.
“Oh, yes”, Sherlock gasped, and I felt my cock strain against the fabric of my boxers when I entered him slowly, stretching him, preparing him for what was about to come.
I loved feeling the tightness of him, but always watched his face for any sign of discomfort, but his hazy eyes only reflected pleasure at what I was doing to him.
“Oh God, Sherlock”, I breathed, drinking in the view of my perfect, beautiful boyfriend being stretched open on my fingers.
His eyes met mine again, and he shifted his hips, trying to get me inside him deeper, but all it did was press my fingers against his prostate, and his mouth fell open again, a crease appearing between his brows, and he shifted his hips again, grinding down on me.
“Please”, he urged, it all happened so fast I felt I couldn’t breathe for a moment. I was so torn – there was the toy waiting to be used, but God, he was close, wasn’t he? I could fuck him with my fingers, nice and fast and deep and make him – no.
No, that’s not what he wanted, even if his eyes were begging me now.
Shaking myself out of my arousal-induced haze, I at least gave Sherlock a little bit of stimulation, dragging the pads of my fingers over the gland one, two, three times.
Sherlock’s moans turned to pitiful whines when I slowly removed my fingers.
“Oh John, please, please, it’s so good, I’m so close”, he whispered, and I gently stroked his perineum, the sensation good but nowhere near as when I stroked him inside.
“It’s okay, baby, it’s all good, I’ve got something even better for you, yeah? You still want to try that?”
Leaving the choice to him was difficult, I could see it in his creased forehead.
But his breathing calmed a little and he nodded.
“Y-yes, yes, p-please…”
I pressed a soft kiss to his forehead and reached for the toy.
I felt Sherlock’s eyes on me as I applied more lube to the silicone, and I wasted no time in lining it up with his opening.
“Okay, love?”, I asked once more, and Sherlock nodded, looking a little calmer and determined.
Paying attention to his breathing again, I pressed in the tip, and the curve made it slide in so easily that it required almost no push from me at all.
“Ohh”, Sherlock breathed. The toy was designed to press against the prostate, and it certainly seemed to be keeping that promise.
The flared base kept it from sinking in too much, and I gently stroked my fingers around his tight rim.
“Good, baby? Comfortable? Does anything hurt?”
“Feels good”, Sherlock whispered, and shifted his hips slightly, like he’d done with my fingers, and he bit his lip – which didn’t stifle the moan at all.
“That’s good”, I praised, encouraging him to try out whatever felt good – and especially not to hold back any noises. “Very good, baby. You look so beautiful right now, you know that? So perfect for me, absolutely gorgeous.”
“John”, he groaned, bucking his hips on the big pillow and when I looked down, I saw precum drip from his cock.
Fucking hell, what a sight.
“Want me to turn it on?”, I asked, aware that I sounded just as wrecked as I felt. My hard cock was pressing into the pillow that Sherlock was lying on, and if I wasn’t careful the pressure from that was surely going to be enough for me if the toy felt as good for Sherlock as we expected it to.
“Yes”, he gasped, rolling his hips and settling down again so I could find the right button.
I reached down, switched it on, and immediately saw the effect.
Sherlock’s eyes flew open, and after perhaps a second, the time it took for the feeling to register in his brain, they rolled back in his head. His hand that had been lying on my shoulder gripped me, nails digging into my flesh, and his other fisted into the bedsheets. My fingers on his rim felt him tighten, clamping down on the toy, which only must have pressed it more into the bundle of nerves, and a guttural moan was punched out of his lungs that left me breathless as well.
“Jesus”, I breathed, as I watched Sherlock react to the vibrator.
“John!”, he whined, his other hand clutching to my chest, and I carefully bent over him, now that my hand was no longer needed between his legs.
“That’s it, baby”, I encouraged him, mesmerized by the contortion of his face and how he undulated his hips, pressing the base against his rim again and again, almost riding the vibrator instead of just feeling it.
The slightly different position also had my cock not pressed up against the pillow anymore, but Sherlock’s side, and he noticed.
He blinked, and his eyes locked with mine once more. And he didn’t just look hungry, he looked like he was starving.
“I need to touch you”, he stated, completely out of breath, and I could just about nod my head when his hand that had been on my chest reached down between our bodies and felt the outline of my cock over the fabric.
A wave of arousal hit me and I gasped for air when Sherlock’s shaking hand slid into my boxers and gripped my cock.
We’d only decided that I wasn’t to touch him – me we had never talked about. I hadn’t even thought about it, really. But Sherlock had, of course.
Our lips met, but neither of us had any concentration left to coordinate the kiss, so it was messy, and wet, and fucking perfect.
“I’m so close”, Sherlock whimpered. Wordlessly, I moved down to suck a bruise into his neck, knowing how much he liked to be kissed there, and hoping that the added stimulation would be enough to tip him over the edge.
It was.
My own eyes rolled back in my head as Sherlock shouted my name, voice strained and back arching, pressing the toy as deep inside of him as it would go.
I looked up into his face, felt his legs shaking, but still he didn’t let go of me, his grip only tightening unconsciously, and I was coming too.
“Sherlock!”, I gasped, burying my head into the crook of his neck. He was still stroking me, and I was pretty close to seeing not just seeing stars but the sun and the moon as well.
“John, oh, J-John, God…”
The one arm that wasn’t reaching down my body, Sherlock had slung around me, holding me close, his hand over the scar on my shoulder. I rode out my incredible high against Sherlock’s side, the intensity of his moans slowly subsiding, and I felt his strokes becoming slower and more deliberate. Sherlock’s concentration was clearly returning.
I shivered from overstimulation, kissed the skin on Sherlock’s neck that I could reach, and groaned his name.
“J-John, c-could you, p-please…?”
My eyes shot open.
“Oh my God -”
The vibrator was still going.
I reached down and pressed the off-switch.
I felt Sherlock’s whole body relax.
“Thank you”, he panted, and smiled at me.
“So sorry, love”, I apologized, more sheepish than anything. I couldn’t believe that I’d not thought of turning it off before.
But Sherlock seemed completely unfazed.
“No need to apologize, John”, he said, his voice and the look in his eyes completely earnest. “I was… distracting you, after all.”
At that I couldn’t help but smile, too.
“Sure, if you put it like that.”
We were both grinning at each other like idiots, and it only took a second for me to reach back up to him and kiss his stunning lips.
“That was amazing”, I whispered between kisses. “You’re amazing, Sherlock.”
“You’re perfect”, came the response, which made my head fall into the space between his neck and shoulder again.
“You can’t just say things like that, Sherlock”, I groaned, very glad that I could hide the blush on my cheeks here. When I breathed in, it was just him, just Sherlock, and I felt like I could have stayed there forever.
“I can”, he said, sounding mighty smug. “And I will. Because it’s true.”
The corners of my mouth were tugging upwards so much they almost hurt.
“I love you too, Sherlock.”