Chapter Text
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.
Sherlock sighed, running a tired hand over his face. Counting the cracks in his ceiling was doing little in terms of entertaining him but what else could he do?
Well. 6 other things. But they all involved explosions and he didn’t fancy waking any of his family members at 3:48 am. Partly because he didn’t want to deal with Mycroft’s whining about how he needed at least eight hours of sleep at night, mostly because he didn’t want to get caught with John in what he knew would be a very indecent situation.
If John could just get here already!
His cock twitched in interest as his traitorous mind supplied him with a variety of images of what John could possibly have planned to do to him tonight.
Maybe he’d make him get on his knees and take him from behind?
Sherlock hoped not. He’s like to see what John looked like on top of him.
Maybe he’d raise Sherlock’s lanky legs over his shoulders and pound into him like that?
Mmm, those broad, sturdy shoulders…Would he let Sherlock mark them? And maybe his neck too?
Would he put his skillful mouth to use on an area other than Sherlock’s lips? A certain piece of his anatomy tented his trousers at the thought. Sherlock hummed with dissatisfaction at the erection denting his pajama trousers.
John isn’t here yet, he scolded it, What are you doing that for?
*
It had just gone on 4 o’clock when John sneaked onto the Holmes’ property, his lithe body blending into the shadows by force of habit even though he was sure everyone was long asleep. Except Sherlock, he hoped.
But then again, he could always think of a creative way to wake him up.
He crept up to the window closest to the tree by Sherlock’s room’s window and used the ledge as leverage to wing himself up on to the lowest branch and scamper up the sturdy boughs with the practiced ease of a country boy.
Thank God for growing up in Kent, huffed John as he alighted on the branch that stretched closest to Sherlock’s window.
He rapped lightly against the window pane. Almost immediately, the window opened to reveal Sherlock standing in front of John in nothing but a pair of low slung pajama trousers.
John’s eyes travelled along the broad expanse of toned chest visible in front of him, the pale skin stretched tightly over well-formed muscle, dark nipples surrounded by a dusting of dark hair.
“You’re late,” said Sherlock curtly as he flounced back towards his large bed, his hips ridiculously sharp in their movements further highlighted by the moonlight streaming through the window.
John climbed his way in gingerly, closing the window behind him and turning to show Sherlock the reason he was late.
Out of his pocket he pulled out a bottle of lube, a small pot of honey and a box of condoms.
“Sorry, I had to pick up some things,” smirked John, his lips pink and inviting. He deposited the items on Sherlock’s bedside table and walked over to where Sherlock was sitting in the center of his bed. His fingers came to the other boy’s chine to tilt it up.
The cupid’s bow lips were pouting up at him and he smiled as he leaned down to kiss them. A small gasp fell from Sherlock’s lips as John’s lips moved against them softly, not hurried, just touching for now. John shrugged off his leather jacket, tossing it behind him, his hands coming up to cup Sherlock’s face as he kissed him more deeply.
John urged Sherlock to move backwards and lie down with John hovering on top of him, their lips still moving together though Sherlock was boldly opening his mouth more and bringing his tongue into play.
John chuckled against the brunette’s lips.
“Good,” he mumbled, voice soft and low. “You catch on really quickly.”
Sherlock hummed in appreciation as John’s own tongue brushed over his before invading his mouth, exploring every crevice, every dip of his tongue sending shivers through Sherlock.
John’s lips were impossibly soft and now, moist. He could see why people would want to kiss and ‘make-out’- he mentally cringed at the use of the slang – if their partners in question were anywhere as skillful as John was with his mouth.
Their lips meshed together, trying to be closer, wanting more. Tongues tangled, breath was exchanged, whispers of “You good?” and breathless nods.
5 minutes into their passionate kissing and Sherlock's lips drifted off, kissing down John's neck as the latter moaned in appreciation. Latching on to his collarbone, Sherlock sucked a nice, red love bite and leaned back to admire it.
"Fuck," said John dazedly as Sherlock started impatiently tugging on his T-shirt.
“Off,” he urged, eyes sparkling in the moonlight.
John quickly complied, the shirt joining the jacket somewhere on the floor before he reattached his lips to Sherlock’s as if his lips were oxygen and he was gasping for breath. His hands fumblingly pushed Sherlock’s pajama trousers down and off, a moan leaving his lips when he realized that the eccentric boy had not bothered with any pants.
Regretfully, he broke contact with Sherlock’s lips who whined at the loss, hands trying to gain purchase on John’s warm skin to keep him kissing him. However, something else had grasped his attention and he slid down Sherlock’s smooth skin to the nest of dark curls between his legs where his almost fully hard cock was waiting for John. Eagerly, he wrapped his hand around it, the hiss that escaped Sherlock pleasing to his ears. His mouth soon followed and he gradually took Sherlock’s impressive length in amid Sherlock’s pleasured moans and gasps.
Long fingers grasped his gelled blond hair as their owner panted hot breath against his head. John continued bobbing his head, his mouth sliding deliciously against the warm skin of Sherlock’s prick when he remembered the honey he’d brought. He let Sherlock slip from his mouth and chuckled at Sherlock’s groan of distaste.
“You really like leaving me hanging, don’t you?” muttered Sherlock from behind the hand he’d thrown over his face.
John didn’t reply, instead bringing over the honey and tipping the pot so as to drizzle the sweet syrup onto Sherlock’s cock and chest, smothering his nipples and prick with the honey and immediately sinking down on top of Sherlock’s chest to lap at the hard nubs. Sherlock gasped and fisted his fingers in John’s hair again as the older boy’s clever fingers rubbed his left nipple while his mouth ravaged his right. He felt like he was using up all of the air in the room and it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t enough.
Open mouthed kisses were placed on each of his nipples, a trail of them travelling upwards until John found Sherlock’s sweet spot beneath his right ear and sucked hard, Sherlock’s encouraging moans filling his ears. He kissed the bruised, reddening skin and continued upward to Sherlock’s lips.
He could taste the honey on John’s tongue; sweet and so naughtily delicious. His groin, however, was beginning to feel decidedly sticky.
“Uh…John,” Sherlock spoke against John’s lips. “If you don’t plan on sucking off all the honey you poured onto my cock, we might have a problem with some bears.”
“Don’t be silly,” replied John, his smile blinding as he resumed his earlier position. “There are no bears in Sussex. Bees, however…”
Sherlock shivered as John resumed his ministrations on his cock, his clever tongue quickly bringing Sherlock to orgasm after only a couple of minutes.
His shout when he came thankfully went undetected and he slumped back on his pillow, basking in the afterglow. He was aware of John finally taking off his jeans and pants and crawling up to curl up next to him, lazily kissing his neck and cheeks. Sherlock turned his head slightly to meet John’s addictive lips, their mouths simply nudging against each other before John reached for the lube and pointedly made his way down, slowly, giving Sherlock time to speak if he didn’t want to go through with what he had planned next.
Sherlock said nothing, a small smile playing on his lips as John raised his legs onto his shoulders. He squeezed some of the lube onto his fingers and pushed Sherlock’s arse cheeks apart, about to attempt breaching the ring of muscle.
His first finger slipped in effortlessly. His second with little resistance.
“Sherlock?” he asked incredulously.
“I…er…made good use of my time?” answered Sherlock breathlessly, a pleasantly surprised sound emitted from his beautiful lips when John leaned up to kiss him hard.
“God, you’re delicious,” hissed John as he resumed working his fingers in and out of Sherlock.
“Can you take three?” he questioned.
Sherlock nodded.
~
More lube and four fingers in and Sherlock was positively writhing on the bed. He’d started getting hard again a minute ago, 10 minutes after his last orgasm.
Thank goodness for teenage refractory periods, he thought as John grazed his prostate again.
“Please, John, I’m ready, I’m ready, nghh” he moaned, wanting John sheathed inside him so badly.
John, looking utterly disheveled and in need of release, bless him, stood and shakily walked the short distance to grab a condom off the bedside table.
Sherlock’s arm, shot out to stop him. “No,” he pleaded, green eyes wide and glittering. “I want to feel you. All of you.”
John groaned and hurriedly coated his shaft with lube, sighing at the brief relief his hand provided before getting back into position. He reached for Sherlock’s hand, interlacing their fingers.
“Tell me if it hurts, okay?”
John’s deep blue eyes bore into his and he nodded.
The tip of John erection easily slid into Sherlock and the rest followed with little resistance. John was larger than average and that fact meant that, fully sheathed, he was quite close to Sherlock’s sweet spot.
As if to compensate for his previous gentleness, John’s thrusts were deep and unforgiving, making Sherlock cry out, the pleasure almost blinding as his brain struggled to grasp every little sensation and store it away for later inspection.
“Gonna make you come so hard,” John rasped out, his mouth tantalizingly close to Sherlock’s ear. Sherlock could only moan as his arse took a relentless pounding.
“Yes, John, yes. Like that, oh gosh, YES,” helpless to reign in his moans, he let loose, letting his words mingle with John’s grunts and groans. John’s hand had also gotten a grip on his cock, the stroking almost pushing him over the edge.
John’s orgasm took him by surprise. His hips stilled and a deep groan reverberated through him and resonated through Sherlock as he spilled his load into Sherlock’s willing arse.
Sherlock shivered at the strange sensation before he too was coming all over John’s hand and his own chest.
Exhausted, they slumped together, John slipping out of Sherlock who grimaced at the odd feeling of his stretched out hole and the cum leaking out.
John curled his body around Sherlock’s, his head on the younger boy’s chest as he panted.
“Hey, Sherlock?” he inquired.
“Yes, John?”
“How about dinner and a movie tomorrow?”
“Sounds great. Shower now?”
“God, yes.”