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The last case they had been involved in had been a particularly dangerous one. There had been spies from abroad. Home grown murderers and they had been five seconds away from being dispatched to the land of the dead for real if it hadn't been for Mycroft and Lestrade showing up at the perfect time. They had been tired, and battered, and sleep deprived for almost a week, so it was natural that the bad guys got the upper hand as easily as they did at the end.
“Remind me to never again convince you to take a case from that brother of yours!” Watson had said once they discharged from of the hospital and inside the relative safety of their flat.
“Sure, now it’s my brother…” Sherlock huffed while dropping on the sofa with entirely too much grace for a man who had been about to pass out from hunger.
The doctor hated that about him. He was like a cat. No matter how bad things got or how ill he was, there was an inherent elegance in every one of his movements that made John want to strangle the man… or fuck him.
The thought had startled him. Of course, he wanted to bed the man at least once a week, every week of the year, but the doctor had always managed to hide it from the mad genius he lived with. At least, he believed that he had been able to because when it happened Sherlock was always too distracted with other things. Experiments, a new case, his own boredom or he had been simply not interested in observing his flat mate that closely.
This time, however, John could tell he had failed miserably. This was the first occasion he was positively sure he had let it show on his face and the other had registered it. He could tell by the way the consulting detective had changed his stance. Their petty soon-to-be fight completely forgotten in favor of studying the blond man, his eyes running over John’s body, reading, learning and reaching too many conclusions that John wasn’t sure he was ready to hear.
So it was time to make an escape.
“Tea?” he asked almost choking on the three letters word, and without waiting for a response made his way to the kitchen. That seemed to be the end of it. Since the taller man didn’t emitted a sound he began to relax.
John chastised himself on his stupidity. The mad genius was in love and happily married to his work, why would he cheat on it? And why in the hell would he choose to do it with a scarred, past his prime, former soldier?
He was acting like a proper idiot.
With a self-deprecating smile, he put the kettle on and went looking for two cups.
He was about to reach for them when a pair of arms surrounded his waist and a slender body plastered itself to his back.
“So, are you finally ready to admit it?” The voice at his back sounded dark and dangerous, just that tone had him hard in seconds.
John let his hands fall and grabbed the counter, trying to find the strength either to refuse the other or to let his desire subside.
“Admit… it?” he asked. Once again his voice failed a little.
The doctor knew himself well enough to know that his pulse rate was through the roof and his partner could tell that his temperature and breathing were escalating.
“Your sexual desire for me.” That was the detective at his top form; right to the point and without subtlety, no skirting around the issue.
Those words seemed to bring John back from his trance. The blond turned around, put the palms of his hands against the other's chest and tried to push the taller one away, but Sherlock didn’t allow it. The man was stronger than he appeared at first sight.
“Look, Sherlock, I’m sorry, okay? Usually I’m better at… concealing it.” There was no point in denying the other’s words since you couldn’t lie to the man. “Just, let me go and you can get on with your happy marriage and I’ll just… I’ll finish our tea and then… well…”
What was he going to do now? Maybe he would have to leave the flat. It would be for the best since, quite honestly, now than the other man knew the truth John couldn’t go back to just hiding his body’s reactions. And he knew the brunette; he would become a walking experiment again. The idea wouldn’t be so bad if they were in it together but being subjected to his teasing and knowing smiles anyplace and anytime. Maybe he would even play to excite him in the most terribly inappropriate places just to see if it worked.
Grey orbs focused on green ones.
“Don’t be an idiot, John,” Sherlock said harshly. “Why would I let you go now that you’ve finally come to terms with your attraction for me?”
Those words surprised him. Maybe he had been even better at hiding his feelings than he suspected. Still, he felt a little incredulous of the whole thing.
“Since when do you cheat?” the smaller one asked trying to put a smile on his lips.
“I always do,” the other said seriously.
That wasn’t a good answer. John’s anxiety and mistrust came back full force. Those words could mean so many different things…
“Oh. You mean that…” Sherlock said when he finally seemed to understand what the doctor was getting at. “Are you seriously trying to put me off with your foolishness?” He reprimand, while letting John feel his own hardness. Then without warning he spoke directly into his blogger’s ear. “We have been in a very loving, if platonic, ménage à trois, you, my work and me, so don’t you think it’s time we consummate it?” Now his seductive voice was back and John couldn’t help but let a soft whimper escape.
Sherlock grinned, knowing he had won. And now it was time to close the deal. He let one of his hands travel to the blond’s head to pull John to his mouth. And that was it, their first kiss, in the kitchen of their home.
Watson let himself go. His tongue went to find and play with the detective’s while his arms moved from their position, trapped against the other’s chest, to surround his shoulders and deepen the contact between their bodies.
“Let’s move this to the bedroom.” The brunette whispered, barely separating his lips from the tempting mouth he had been tasting.
“The tea…”
“Forget the tea!” He exclaimed resentfully, while taking the lips beneath his once more if a little more forcefully than needed...
Suddenly, John broke the kiss. His dark eyes, the rapid beat of his heart and the way his breath had picked up showed the consulting detective that the man was in fact very much in accordance with the planned course of action. Then why was he stopping now?
“I mean… I put the kettle on… I’ve to…” the former soldier tried to explain that he didn’t want to cause a fire but the brunette would have none of it. Apparently, today the brunette had decided to be the centre of his attention no matter what. He was being pulled away from the kitchen.
“Sherlock…” He murmured once more trying to be heard.
“I put it off before I grabbed you, happy now?” the consulting detective said while they crossed the threshold of his bedroom.
Once inside he finally began the process of undressing John, tugging and yanking off every single piece of clothing he had with a sense of urgency. This had taken them entirely too much time. He wanted to see, to study every new part of the doctor that was revealed. Once the awful jumper and the shirt under it were removed, he brought the man to his body again and gave him another heated kiss.
Something inside Watson snapped and he sprang to action. He was going to have sex with Sherlock Holmes and it could possibly be the only time it happened, so he was going to make the most of it since he had the hunch it was going to ruin him for others.
The doctor began to give as well as he took, destroying Sherlock’s second favorite shirt, thank god he wasn’t wearing the purple one, and trashing his trousers.
Once the taller man felt that the former soldier was responding to his seduction he maneuvered them to the bed where they fell unceremoniously. Much to the blond’s surprise it was suspiciously free of anything that could be broken or could hurt them in any way, but it wasn’t the time or the moment to question it. John just raised an eyebrow when he was made to lie on the soft mattress and nothing poked him. But he decided not to make a comment and to leave that discussion for a later time. Preferably, once they had sated their lust with one another.
The consulting detective began to move his hands all over the now completely naked body beneath his, mapping every little part of it. From head, to waist, to toes. There was so much to feel, to see, to catalog. He could spend days just doing that, but that would have to wait. Once again he claimed John’s pink lips, now a little puffy from their kissing.
"John..." Sherlock whispered, trying to control his own voice, to mask his own need. He began to move slowly as if not to startle the other. He had some ideas he wanted to try. He was far from being the virgin or the asexual being so many people tended to make of him but he didn’t want to scare the other man.
The word seemed to penetrate the fog of desire that was clouding the doctor’s mind at that very moment.
"Sherlock?" the doctor half moaned, half whimpered fighting with himself to be the attentive man he usually was. A little doubt appeared in his green orbs, afraid the brunette was having a change of heart.
"No, of course not!" he answered the unasked question. He wanted so much to just keep going and forget about everything. But Watson was just too precious to scare him away for good, so he had to force the words out and deal with this before it was too late.
“There are so many things I want to do to you…” He confessed lowering his head to mark the strong neck.
“Anything, Sherlock…” He whispered, relieved and so excited at having this wild man all over him. The raw power and energy focused on his body, on taking him… They said he was an adrenaline junkie, but he suspected he was a Sherlock-junkie.
His hands caressed the strong back and eventually one of those hands came to rest on the black-haired head. The whole of his body seemed to respond to the man on top of him.
The detective smiled.
“Oh, you don’t know the half of it, John…” He said, speaking almost against the unmarred skin. Of course the detective had noticed how his voice affected the beautiful warrior and had decided to use every single thing he had to enchant him, to tie the smaller one to him.
There was still a little of the tan that was proof of John’s brave army service. Sherlock gave a tentative lick and let the taste of his doctor invade his mouth. The sensitive tissue tasted a little salty, the result of the exercise they were engaging in.
The doctor moaned, giving Sherlock a little auditory stimulation and praise. Maybe, the brunette thought, this was what had all those lovers coming for more once they had John, this way he gave himself over to pleasure.
That thought seem to unleash something inside of him. There was no way he would let John Watson have anymore lovers after today, tonight, whatever. This was his, his man, his blogger, his lover. There would be no others for him, ever again. He didn’t care what he would have to do to make sure of that, but he would. Mycroft would help, of course. After all, the British Government was in his debt since he had introduced the older Holmes to his life partner, the silver fox Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade.
Sherlock decided to reinforce his ownership by marking the man, the more visibly the better. And the best way to do it with the tools at hands was a love bite. He let his teeth catch the sensitive skin and applied tentative pressure. He didn’t want for the other to call it off because he acted like a beast, even if he was feeling a little feral right then.
The blond’s reaction was interesting. The hand at his head pushed him down trying to deepen the contact. The brunette smiled to himself. So, the good doctor wasn’t scared by his possessive streak and its physical manifestation. The movement of his lips sent tremors through the other’s body. And with that reassurance he sucked harder on the skin.
Watson’s body arched. Without any doubt, the man had been waiting entirely too long for this to happen if he was already this lost, but of course the taller one wouldn’t comply. There would be times in the future for slow, soft lovemaking but this was about coupling. A claiming that had been waiting to happen for almost two and a half years.
The blood vessels Sherlock was putting pressure on ruptured soon enough, and with that the proof of their new status was clear enough for any idiot to see. The slight pain only seemed to stimulate his lover further, and he could feel the precum already being liberated from the other’s body.
“Sherlock… please…” John begged, not quite sure what for. He had never suspected that the man had this much experience, not that he was expecting a blushing virgin. But this… this was even better than his fantasies. This confident, way too in control, man was just, just, perfect.
At the doctor’s words the brunette released the skin and admired his work. It wasn’t as big as he wanted but it would have to suffice for the time being. He licked the skin once more, letting his lover feel his tongue leisurely laving the place he had mistreated earlier and eliciting some new moans from the one beneath him.
“Hush… I’ve got you…” He whispered while moving down the blond’s body.
The consulting detective found John’s hardened nipples, standing up, asking for a caress. He took one in his mouth, and sucked on the nub while his left hand tortured the other.
The former soldier let out something like a cry and let his free hand go to the other’s shoulder, almost clawing at it. He was gone, too gone to do anything else. He swore to himself that the next time he would be the one reducing the taller one to mewls and whispers and moans.
“So beautiful, my John,” Sherlock murmured against the heated chest before letting his mouth take care of the other nipple.
“Possessive… git.” It was the only thing John could answer to that. Of course he was Sherlock’s; there had never been any doubt about it.
The brunette let go of the nub and looked at his flushed man.
“You have no idea…” It was a warning and a promise.
Those were the most erotic words that Watson had ever heard. And he finally lost it. He came all over their bodies, so tightly pressed together.
A moment later, after he came down from his orgasm, he felt ashamed of himself. Something like this hadn’t happened to him since he was in his later teens. What would his partner think of him now? He couldn’t even warn Sherlock of his release.
It took very little time for the taller one to read the situation in his lover. He wasn’t disappointed in the least. Of course he had known it was going to happen. He hadn’t thought it would be so soon and so strong. Yet, he had to set John right in his wrongful thinking.
The detective waited for the doctor to look at him before speaking.
“It was perfect…” he said, simply and to the point. “You are my perfect mate, my lover, my John…” Then he kissed the disbelieving man passionately. “And now, I’ll take you to prove it.” He whispered against the pliant lips of the one below him.
“Sherlock…” was all he could mutter, while the man moved one hand to the nearest bedside table and picked a tube of… lube?
“I’m an adult male with a healthy sex drive, John,” he said with a smile at the other’s wondering look.
“I thought… it was all… just transport,” the blond rebuked, while unconsciously opening his legs to accommodate the other more easily.
“It is. But you can learn a lot from these activities about yourself… and others,” he explained, letting his voice tint with desire and secrets.
After what had happened, Watson couldn’t say he was surprised at the revelation that his flatmate wasn’t indeed untouched.
“Then show it to me,” he challenged. Now that his orgasm had taken the edge off, he could get a little more active in their joining.
That was something the consulting detective loved about this man he was with. The way he could be bold and caring, tempting Sherlock with his softness, his understanding and his resilience. Yes, this was the one he was taking for himself, for good.
The smile the younger Holmes gave John could have lit the whole street for a week and the former soldier was just so happy and proud he had been the one to put it there. And with something so easy, so inexpensive.
Expert fingers, coated with the lube, moved to the entrance of John’s body. One digit pressed gently to get inside since its owner wasn’t entirely sure when the smaller one had last let himself be taken by another man. And he was afraid to ask because if someday, by any chance he found out, he knew he would be sorely tempted to erase that person from the world. No one should be able to see, to feel, to touch what was only his.
“Next time, John, I’ll take you in my mouth until you come… I want to taste you so badly…” he said, while the other’s body finally accepted his invasion.
The consulting detective moved softly around the flesh, relaxing him and trying to find the spot that would get the other crazy.
He knew he had found it when the former soldier gave a little yelp and let his fingernails scratch his back.
“Sherlock!” He could only call his lover’s name almost like a plea.
“I’m right here, John,” he whispered, while another finger joined the first. Soon he would finally take his blogger…
The smaller one looked at him and moved to claim another kiss from that sinful mouth. Sherlock’s pupils were so dilated it was incredible. John had made it. He was seeing the wonderful, only consulting detective in the world, flushed with desire. And it was the best thing he had experienced, ever.
“Are you ready, John?” It was a superfluous question, of course, but he knew it was important to pretend that he didn’t know it at once.
His lover seemed to appreciate when he did little, boring, normal, things as much as he loved when he was being extraordinary. It was a difficult balance to maintain.
The doctor just nodded. He was prepared to beg to Sherlock to take him if he didn’t do it in the next thirty seconds or so.
And finally, it was time.
“You are mine, John H. Watson,” he declared in the other’s ear before entering his body.
The blond moaned and whimpered, unable to form a complete sentence. It was… too much. It felt so good to have the taller one inside him, taking him, marking him.
“Say it or I won’t move!” The man threatened and the former soldier knew he would be good to his word. Sherlock had a mastery over his body that was almost… surreal.
“Please… Sherlock…” He begged, his brain refusing to say the asked words.
“Say. It.” It was a command now, and it got him harder than even before. The perfect tone, the pressure on his body, the pure need radiating from the other…
“Yours!” He shouted, too lost to even think that maybe Mrs. Hudson would be able to hear him.
The brunette smiled again and began to thrust, slowly at first but picking up his pace quickly. He was at the end of his rope. Who could keep a cool head when he had the sexiest man alive moaning his name over and over again?
He latched onto his lover’s neck once again. This time he chose to bite the place where neck met with shoulder. It wouldn’t show as prominently as the mark he had left before but it would be a private reminder to Watson that he was well and truly owned.
And then, he felt his lover undulate beneath him once again, tightening his muscles around Sherlock’s cock, forcing a moan of his own.
The doctor looked at him, his eyes showing that he had done that little trick on purpose to make the consulting detective go mad.
“You are… full of surprises, John…” was all he said, before giving him another kiss, rolling them over and putting his hands on the man’s hips. “Go ahead, take charge, soldier…” He provoked while licking his lips.
Watson’s eyes got darker, if that was possible. Now that he was mounting his lover he could control their coupling. How deep he would take his lover, how long… how quickly. And he wanted to feel Sherlock come inside of him sooner rather than later. So he began to move at a frantic tempo. The other man just smiled and let him take his pleasure as he saw fit since it was clearly working for the both of them… It was a matter of minutes now before he would coat the smaller man’s insides with his seed, so he took John’s hands in his and entangled their fingers.
They came like that, John on top of Sherlock, the orgasm of the brunette triggering the blond’s second orgasm. The former collapsed over the consulting detective completely exhausted.
“You clean us up…” He whispered before closing his eyes. He always felt a little languid after coming and wanted to prolong the sensation as long as he was able to.
Without a protest, he felt the brunette move around slowly and a moment later something wet touched his body effectively removing the traces of their activity. This made him open an eye and look at his partner, who had a couple of wet towels in his hands and was diligently working on them.
“You planned this?” He asked, opening both eyes now, not really finding the strength to be mad at the other.
“I planned for this, there is a difference,” Sherlock explained matter-of-factly before throwing the things away and hugging the doctor, pulling him to his body.
Watson let a soft sigh escape. Of course the mad genius had known he was lusting after him. He wondered how long Sherlock had been waiting for this to happen.
“I’d say two years and six months…” Once again he answered the question that was on John’s mind. “But I only prepared the room when you went to the kitchen.”
John couldn’t help but laugh at that. It was so like the remarkable man to jump heads first into everything.
The consulting detective’s eyes shone at the other’s reaction. That was one of the reasons he had fallen so hard for the blond. The way John never seemed to be angry at him for being able to act on what he knew was coming either to prevent or to ensure it.
He licked his lips and gave a chaste kiss to the other’s lips.
“Go to sleep, John… I know you need it.”
A dark thought appeared at those words. So he looked, really looked, at the brunette but didn’t dare to voice what was on his mind.
“Don’t be an idiot, John. It’s my room, where would I go?” He asked, tightening his hold on the other.
“Forget it…” Watson answered, yawning. He could worry about things tomorrow he decided when the sleep began to take over.
“Of course not,” Sherlock was speaking softly now. “I never forget anything about you…”
That was as good as a confession of love. Relief washed over the doctor and he was finally able relax.
Once Sherlock knew that his partner was well and truly out he turned around to pick up his mobile. He had some arrangements to make since he and John would be otherwise engaged for the time being.
I won’t be taking any cases for a couple of days. SH
You two finally did it? GL
Getting better in your old age. SH
Congrats. About time. GL
He smiled at the text. The detective inspector was a good friend and he was happy Greg was so supportive of him and Watson being together. The yarder was the only one, apart from his brother of course, who didn’t try to make the former soldier leave him.
Another text came almost immediately.
You tell Mycroft or I will. GL
I’m sure he already knows. SH
Still, it’s not the same, and you know it. GL
Of course he did. It was like the time when his sibling had finally managed to get the police officer in his bed, a place he had not left since then. Sherlock had known, he could almost identify the moment it had happened, but he had expected the text from the older Holmes nonetheless. He couldn’t quite pinpoint why it had been that important, but it was.
I’ll tell him. SH
It was only fair, he thought.
No later than tonight. GL
Yes, Mummy. SH
End