Learning To Communicate

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  • Public Bookmark 68

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    Summary

    Harry opens his big mouth and must pretend to date Draco Malfoy to keep things from blowing up in his face even further.

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    24 Apr 2018

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    Bookmarker's Notes

    consent :) learning to communicate.
    Plus cuteness

  • Rec *

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    Now that John's divorce has gone through and the dust is settling, Sherlock thinks that he would very much like to see if there is any possibility of moving their friendship in another direction. The only thing is, he has no idea how to go about doing that...

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    24 Apr 2015

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    Bookmarker's Notes

    Sherlock arranges himself on the carpet in front of John’s legs, which John widens to give Sherlock room to lean back if he wants to. He is terribly aware, however crudely, of the proximity of John’s crotch to his head. He thinks he can even feel the heat of it on the back of his neck, which is a dangerously interesting thought. John’s fingers begin to dig into the stiff muscles of his neck and shoulders, terribly strong for all their compact size. “You’ve got a massive knot here,” John says, pressing into it. Sherlock’s breath catches and John hears it.

    Now his hands are working down Sherlock’s spine, the back of his rib cage. His muscles are slowly releasing and every press of John’s thumbs and palms and fingers is addictive. This isn’t even remotely sexual, yet Sherlock finds himself incredibly aroused by it. It gets even worse when John pulls him fully upright again and works his way up Sherlock’s neck and into his hair, massaging his scalp. Sherlock can feel his exhalations becoming heavy and attempts to conceal the fact. He can now feel his erection pressing into the seam of his zip and every single touch of John’s fingers is making it worse. Those damnable fingers are tugging on his hair and his earlobes and Sherlock feels he may actually combust in unrequited lust any moment now. Finally John gives his shoulders a final squeeze.

    exhales harder than he meant to and attempts to focus on doing exactly that even as John’s hand twists and works over his jutting erection. He pushes the jeans and underwear down as far as he can push them and there it is at last – John’s thick, flushed, swollen penis, gleaming in the lamplight with a bit of moisture that’s already gathered. Sherlock wastes no time in getting his hand around it and mimicking John’s motions, his other hand settling onto John’s arse and squeezing. John is groaning, thrusting forward into Sherlock’s hand unreservedly.

    Given that his hands are cradling John’s face with a tenderness he hadn’t fully realised he possessed, his lips swollen and wet from John’s, Sherlock thinks this probably doesn’t need confirmation, but then perhaps it does. “I do,” he owns, his voice low. “John, I – I didn’t know how to ask because I was so concerned about frightening you off. Destroying our friendship.”

    John stops. “Wait, are you actually uncomfortable? I won’t do it if you don’t like it,” he says, sounding a touch worried. “I just – I read about it once and I wanted to try it, see if you liked it….”

    Sherlock is groaning, too, letting his weight settle onto John’s penis and then there are a few moments of breathless discomfort and stretching that it nonetheless pleasant because it’s John, within him, closer than he knew it could feel between two people, and they’re still sitting up facing each other on the bed, Sherlock leaning back a little as he grows accustomed to the feeling of John’s penis stretching him. The discomfort eases and he begins to move experimentally, which makes John gasp and moan unabashedly. They establish a rhythm, and once it’s set and John is moving within him, pushing into him regularly, Sherlock leans forward again, wanting to kiss him, and that does something interesting – he ends up gasping like a fish out of water instead of kissing John as something like electric shock happens within him at his movement.

    “Oh, fuck yes, found it, did we?” John groans, thrusting harder into him, and Sherlock cannot even answer him, his head thrown back in utter ecstasy as John’s penis hits that same place in him over and over again. He’s clinging to John’s shoulders and the back of his neck, fingers clenching in the soft hair there, and suddenly John is bending forward to bite at his throat and it’s more stimulus than Sherlock can take. He comes suddenly and violently, the force of his orgasm startling them both, shot after shot of ejaculate shooting up between their bodies and catching them in the chest and neck. John’s mouth is emitting a string of filthy language and Sherlock is still riding out the wave of intense physical bliss, barely noticing that John is driving into him as hard as he can in the position they’re in, until it isn’t enough and he’s pushing Sherlock over onto his back and pounding into him from above. Their bodies are slapping together, Sherlock’s penis still jerking out last remnants of his orgasm as John comes into him with a hoarse shout, slamming into Sherlock repeatedly, the rush of fluid spattering Sherlock from within, and that thought is so arousing that he would come again if his body had anything left to give. John’s movements slow and still, until he’s spent and collapses onto Sherlock’s already-languid body, panting on his shoulder.