John can’t help pulling against the leather cuffs binding him to the headboard. Sherlock’s been working every inch of his body for what feels like hours and has only just reached the top of John’s inner thighs; teeth nipping and licking at the sensitive skin as his curls ghost over John’s throbbing cock and aching balls, making John light-headed with want.
‘Please, Sherlock, please I …. Oh God!’ John shouts as Sherlock sucks, hard, at the crease between thigh and buttock before pulling back and grinning at John with predatory intent.
‘That’s right, John.’ Sherlock’s voice is thick with lust and promise. ‘Let me hear how much you’re enjoying this…’
The last word is swiftly followed by Sherlock’s tongue sliding straight up the underside of John’s cock at the same time as a slick finger presses at John’s entrance.
‘Not today, John.’
John can hear unholy amusement in those words but can’t bring himself to care. Not when Sherlock’s other hand is curling round his cock, stroking it in tempo with the push and crook of the fingers caressing his insides.
‘Today is about you.’
Then Sherlock’s kissing him and slowly speeding up his ministrations as John writhes, gasping and groaning, held right on the brink of orgasm until Sherlock leans in and purrs, directly into his ear, ‘Happy Birthday.’