Chapter 1: Sherlock's First Suggestion
John glanced at the time on his phone. 20:47. He sighed and stuffed it into his pocket again as the cab brought him closer to home. He had told Sherlock not to wait up when he left for his date, but he'd hardly been out a couple hours.
She was boring -- John just didn't feel any kind of spark between them. He pretended not to notice the hints she was dropping to extend the night, and they parted ways. He doubted he would hear from her again, but that didn't really bother him that much.
He paid the driver and headed inside, climbing up to the little flat they shared just off campus.
Sherlock heard John’s key in the lock -- he was back earlier than expected. He quickly tried to tidy up the mess he’d made all over the kitchen table, a bit annoyed that he had to stop his experiment before he’d found the answer.
John came in and saw Sherlock scrambling to clean up. "You can keep working. I think I'm just going to go up to bed."
Sherlock stopped. He had a decision to make – yes, he did want to finish the experiment but if John was going straight to bed that meant he was unhappy and Sherlock did not like when John was unhappy. Of course, he hadn’t mastered how to fix it when John was unhappy, but he felt like he should try.
“I was just taking a tea break,” he said, leaving the mess and moving over to the kettle. “Want one before you go up?”
"Uh, yeah," John decided. "What were you working on? Something for class?"
Sherlock shook his head. “Just trying to figure out how much I’d need to use if I wanted to poison a flatmate who came home in a sour mood,” he said with a smile, handing John a cup. “What’s up?”
John smiled and sniffed his tea suspiciously. "Nothing. Just . . . a bad date, that's all."
Most of John’s dates seemed bad to Sherlock, but he knew well enough to keep that to himself. “Why’s that then?” he asked.
John shrugged. "It was boring." He didn't want to go into details, knowing Sherlock hated hearing them.
“Do you mean she was boring?”
“Maybe dating is just boring,” Sherlock suggested. “Maybe you keep blaming it on the girl you’ve chosen, but did you ever stop to think that maybe dating itself is just boring?”
"That can't be right," John said, sipping his tea.
“I’m smart, you should listen to me more,” Sherlock said. “Why do you think I never go on dates?”
"You don't like anyone.”
“Wrong. I like you and you are never boring,” Sherlock said. “See? Our friendship works perfectly -- I’ve no need to risk boredom with dating.”
"Yeah, but that's different," John pointed out.
Sherlock smirked. “You mean because I don’t wear too much flowery perfume? That’s all I remember about the girls I’ve seen with you,” he said. “However, I would start wearing it if it would keep you from forcing yourself to go out on boring dates. You’ll always grumpy afterward.”
"Because they never go anywhere!" John sighed.
“What do you mean –- go anywhere?” Sherlock asked, genuinely confused. Then he realised what John was talking about. “So sex is what you want then?”
"Well, I want a romantic relationship," John said. “And sex obviously."
“Romance,” Sherlock scoffed. “You’re a smart person, yet you’re basing your entire future on fairy tales you read as a child? First off, you’re not tall, that’s just a fact. Secondly, you don’t even have a horse – how are you planning to ride in on one if you don’t even have a horse?” He laughed a little and tossed a pillow over at John.
"Don't be stupid," John laughed, swatting the pillow to the ground. "You know what I mean."
“I don’t think I do,” Sherlock admitted. “I mean, I think I know what you’re talking about, but I don’t understand the appeal, I suppose.”
"I know you don't. I know it's not your thing," he said.
“Why is it yours?”
John shrugged. "I don't know how to explain. It's just something I want."
“All right,” Sherlock said. “Well, how can we figure out how to get you that then, because I confess I am getting a little bit bored with the horny-John-who-can’t-get-laid,” he added with a list.
"Excuse me, but it's not that I can't," John said indignantly. "I haven't wanted to yet. I just need to find someone I want to be with like that."
“Well, what qualities does that person have to have? Because we’re at university, John, your pool is somewhat limited,” Sherlock said.
"I don't know. Smart, funny, sexy . . ." He started listing. "Similar interests, easy to talk to . . ."
“Right,” Sherlock said, pretending he was making a list in the air. “Hair colour, eye colour . . . or are you going to claim those don’t matter?”
"I've never been picky about that before," he said.
“I’ve noticed,” Sherlock said. “Anything else you can think of?”
John shook his head. "I don't think so. I'm not that picky, you know?" He realised that sounded stupid, especially to Sherlock who watched him come home from many failed dates.
“Of course you’re not,” Sherlock teased. He closed his eyes like he was thinking. “I’ve got nothing,” he said. “I can’t think of a single person we know who is smart, makes you laugh, shares your interest, is someone you can talk to, and has hair and eyes. Not a one. Guess you’ll have to stay a virgin forever.”
John picked up the pillow and threw it at Sherlock. "Shut up. You're a virgin, too."
“It doesn’t bother me,” Sherlock said. “I have other things in my life besides trying to get . . . that.”
"Don't you care about it at all?" John asked.
Sherlock stood up and moved to the window, opening it before lighting a cigarette. “I’m not against it,” he said. “I’m sure it feels good and all, but there are lots of things in the world that feel good which I’ve yet to try. Since the sex one involves another person –- and we just agreed you are pretty much the only other person I can tolerate –- perhaps I should start with one of those things.” He took a drag. “So that’s why I’m not in the rush you are.”
"Well, I'm not exactly in a rush either. To do it, I mean. I want to actually like the person I'm with." He could only say this to Sherlock. His teammates would give him such a hard time if they heard him say that.
“Maybe that should be your goal then -– stop focusing on the sex stuff,” Sherlock said. “If it’s so important to meet someone new, just try to find someone you like rather than try to find someone you want to have sex with. I’m sure you get enough sexual satisfaction on your own for now.”
John rolled his eyes. "It's not the same," he said.
“Well, first off, you don’t know that, do you? Maybe it’s exactly the same except another person just happens to be there –- you don’t know for sure since you don’t know what sex is like,” Sherlock said. “Secondly, just shut up about it. I mean, you know I’m not one who is ‘into’ feelings and everything, but I have a feeling this whole conversation is quite insulting to me.”
"Why? Your personal choice is yours. We're allowed to want different things. I just want to find someone I enjoy spending time with," John explained.
“It’s insulting because I enjoy spending time with you, and it does seem like you spend a lot of time trying to find someone else you’d rather be with,” Sherlock mumbled. He finished his cigarette and flicked the butt out the window. “I’ll get that later,” he lied. “Besides, do we really want different things? We both want to try new things that feel good, don’t we? I think we just covered that –- maybe you should listen more carefully.”
"What?" John asked, looking over at him. "I don't want to find someone else to spend time with. I'm not trying to replace you." He stood up and paced a bit. "What do I need to listen to, Sherlock? I don't understand."
“I don’t know,” Sherlock said, getting up and moving over to the sofa. “It just seems like this whole part of your life excludes me –- you leave the flat all the time just to find someone new to like because liking me isn’t enough for you. I knew this would happen really, but . . . I don’t like it. That’s my business, though, it doesn’t mean you have to stop. I just wanted to say I don’t like it.”
"It's a different kind of like," John said. "We're best friends. Whoever I date . . . I won't like them more than you. Just in a different way."
“Right,” Sherlock said. “I fill one role, but now you’re looking for someone else who is clever and funny and shares similar interests and is easy to talk to. All things that don’t describe me, it appears. Right, I get it.”
"No! You're twisting my words," John said. "You're all those things. But we're friends."
“I’m not twisting your words at all,” Sherlock said. “I give you those things, but it’s not enough because we’re ‘friends.’ You made a stupid rule that I didn’t even get to vote on. When we moved in together, you’re the one who said we had to vote on all our choices . . . to make it fair, you said. How come we didn’t get to vote on this one?”
John stared at him. "What are you talking about, Sherlock? Do you want . . . do you want to be more than friends?"
“I thought we already were more than friends –- I thought we were best friends,” Sherlock said. “I want to do everything with my best friend. Why wouldn’t I? You’re the only person I like.”
"I know we're best friends, but sex isn’t a part of friendship. Do you want dating to be part of our friendship?" John asked.
“Not if you mean going out to stupid films and restaurants like you have been doing with the girls,” Sherlock said. He got up to put the kettle back on, leaving the room in silence for a moment. When he passed John to return to the sofa, he said quietly, “You know what I’m saying.”
"Those things are what people do on dates," he said. "I’m not sure I do know what you’re saying."
“Well, we’ve seen films, we’ve gone to restaurants together,” Sherlock said. “Does that mean we’ve been dating all this time?”
"It's not just the activity, Sherlock. It's the intention behind them," John said.
“So you admit it –- your intention is to get sex. I knew it,” Sherlock said. He took a sip of tea even though it was still too hot. “I don't know. Maybe you should have that intention with me . . . you already said I fit all your criteria. Unless you really do fancy blondes. . .”
"It's not just sex," John said. "It's the intention behind that as well. And I don't prefer blondes . . . I just never thought of you like that. "
“Well, maybe you should,” Sherlock said. He took another drink before adding, “That’s what I am saying to you.”
John blinked at him. "Is that how you think of me?"
“Maybe,” Sherlock said. “I don’t know. Maybe. You’re the one who made the case for it, you know –- you’re funny and smart and you’re literally the only one I can talk to or have fun with. Maybe that would be fun, too.” He wanted to look at John, but was afraid it would embarrass both of them too much. “I’d rather try it with my best friend, I guess.”
John flushed lightly. Sherlock was all of those things for him as well. All this time John was dating girls thinking his first time should be more . . . traditional, but he realised now that was stupid. He was attracted to both, why couldn't his first time be with a boy? Especially a boy he already liked?
He moved closer to Sherlock and touched his arm lightly so he'd look at John. "Maybe it would be good to try it with my best friend," he said.
“Well, good,” Sherlock said, finally meeting John’s eye. “But maybe you should think about it overnight. I mean, maybe you would have with that girl tonight . . . and now I’m here. I don’t want to be your second choice. I know it’s not like that, but maybe you should be sure.” He pushed John’s thigh lightly. “Besides, the kitchen’s a mess -- I should clean up and you have a class in the morning.”
John flushed lightly. "Okay," he said awkwardly.
Sherlock reached over and grabbed John’s arm. “Listen, I kind of sprang this on you, on us, so all I’m saying is we don’t have to do it this very second, okay?” he said, then let go of John’s arm. “Maybe tomorrow you’ll meet the perfect woman, and I won’t be needed.”
“Shut up,” John laughed, relaxing a little. “Do you need help cleaning up?”
Sherlock shook his head and stood up to move to the kitchen. “You should probably know I was lying –- I’m not going to clean up. Well, I will, but I want to finish this tonight since I don’t have class tomorrow. But I will clean it up eventually so you don’t need to nag,” he added with a cheeky smile.
John rolled his eyes. "Okay. Well, I'm going to go to bed, then,” he said as he put his cup in the sink. “I have some reading to do before I sleep.”
“You coming straight back after class tomorrow?” Sherlock asked. “Around midday or later?”
"Probably around two," John said.
“All right,” Sherlock said. “I’ll make sure everything’s all nice and tidy before I go to sleep.” He gave John a smile and then got back to work.
"I'll believe it when I see it," John teased, going up to bed. He got out his book and read, but he was distracted, his mind going over everything they had talked about tonight and trying to see if there had been clues all along that he had missed.
Chapter 2: Sherlock's Second Suggestion
Eventually John dozed off. Waking up to his alarm was difficult. He got up and dragged himself downstairs to start getting ready. The first thing he was met with was a messy kitchen table. He worked around it and headed off to class.
Sherlock stayed up much later than he’d intended to, which helped distract him from thinking and ensured that by the time he’d finished, he was ready to crash. He tried to tidy up his mess, but left most of it, setting his alarm so he’d be sure to have time to finish before John got back from class. He climbed into bed with his laptop for a few hours before he eventually fell asleep.
When he woke, he cleaned up properly before having a shower and running a quick errand. When he returned, he lay down on his bed to read, but found his eyes struggling to stay open. He really needed to finish the chapter, but unfortunately his brain was exhausted, so he set the book down. Then he thought a bit more about John and their conversation before eventually falling back to sleep.
John was half present in the only two classes he had. When he was done, he stopped by the cafe for a snack and headed back to the flat, his mind back on Sherlock and their conversation. His stomach was twisting with nerves. He let himself in and looked around for Sherlock, realising he must still be sleeping. He got out his things to organise for tomorrow.
Sherlock rolled over in his sleep and then opened his eyes, thinking he must have heard John come in. He stretched a little, intending to get up, but instead curled up under the covers. Maybe he hadn’t heard John at all. He knew he could easily just check his phone to see the time, but the long sleep had been nice, and he just wanted to enjoy it for a few more minutes.
After about an hour of sitting in the quiet, John got up to make tea in the now tidied kitchen, pouring one for Sherlock as well and then going to his room. He knocked lightly and let himself in with the mugs.
Sherlock snapped back awake at the noise, pushing himself up quickly. “I fell back to sleep,” he blurted out guiltily and then shook his head to get it clear. “Fine,” he said. “If you must know, I woke up, cleaned up, slept, woke up and slept again.” He gave John a smile. “Thanks for the tea,” he added as he reached over for the mug.
John handed over the mug and sat on Sherlock's bed. "It's not like you to sleep so late," he said. "You're always up."
“I was up late doing the experiment,” Sherlock admitted. “But I cleaned up, I hope you noticed. Eventually at least.”
"I noticed," John nodded. "Did you figure anything out?"
“Indeed I did,” Sherlock said. “I now know exactly what it’ll take to silence you when you nag me so keep that in mind.” He took a sip of tea and propped himself up properly. “So how was class?”
"I don't nag," John protested. "Classes were okay. Kind of boring."
“When’s your next exam? I can help you study if you’d like.”
"It's not for a couple weeks. We have time," John said. “Do you have something else you want to work on tonight?”
“I’ve got nothing that has to be done tonight,” Sherlock said. He leaned back a little. “As you said, we’ve got time . . .”
John nodded and sipped his tea, looking around Sherlock's room. It wasn't as decorated as his own, but that didn't surprise him.
Sherlock waited for John’s response and when none came, he turned to look at him. “I mean, we’ve got time . . . so we could try. . .”
John looked over. Sherlock was staring back at him, and John knew exactly what he meant. "Oh. Oh!" He shifted on the bed. "We could . . ." he said, nodding.
“Okay, look,” Sherlock said quickly. “I’ve been thinking about it. I might have even done a little research,” he added. “But only because I know you’ve watched porn so you have a bit of a head start on me.” He slid down the bed a little and turned on his side. “We should start with kissing,” he said.
John put this mug on the bedside table. "Shh. Let's just . . . let's just be natural," he said. He lay down a bit and moved over toward Sherlock. Then he swallowed a lump of nerves and leaned in to kiss him.
Sherlock kissed back. It felt like an unusual thing to be doing obviously, but it felt nice as well. He opened his eyes but saw that John’s were closed, so he closed his again. When it was over, he asked, “Did you like it?”
John nodded, gazing at Sherlock. He tasted like sweet tea. John's body was warm from the kiss in a way it hadn't been before. "Did you?"
“I did,” Sherlock said. “It seems like something we’d do . . . I mean, we should’ve or . . . just let’s do it again.” He crashed into John’s mouth again, this time tangling their legs together a little.
John scooted closer, his hand coming up into Sherlock's hair as they kissed harder. He moaned softly.
“I like that,” Sherlock mumbled stupidly. He moved even closer. “Keep doing that, I think,” he said as he went back to the kiss.
John rolled his hips slowly, moving against Sherlock as they kept kissing. He continued playing with Sherlock's hair.
John’s movement was intriguing and exciting. “John,” Sherlock said, pausing the kiss for a second. “Are you getting an erection?” he asked.
John flushed lightly. "Yeah," he murmured. "Are you?"
“Yes,” Sherlock admitted. “I guess I must like it. Is that okay?”
John nodded. "Maybe we should take something off?"
“You mean your clothes?”
"Our clothes," John corrected, playing with the hem of Sherlock's shirt.
“We’ll be nude,” Sherlock said. “We’ve never been by each other nude.” He looked over. “But I’ll do it.”
"Do you want me to do it?" John asked. He started pulling on the back of Sherlock’s shirt.
“All right,” Sherlock said. His hands wandered to John’s waist, slipping open the button on his jeans.
John pushed off Sherlock's shirt, grazing his hand over the exposed skin. Then he copied Sherlock and started tugging on his pajama bottoms.
Sherlock felt a surge of embarrassment but then John’s hand brushed past his cock and he forgot all about it. He quickly fully pulled off his pajamas and then grabbed at John’s shirt. “Take your jeans off,” he said, trying to get the shirt over John’s head.
John moved away long enough to get his clothes off. He couldn't stop looking at every inch of Sherlock. "You're really sexy," he murmured.
“Shut up,” Sherlock said. “You never thought so before.” He pushed John down against the bed and leaned over his chest, kissing him roughly again. He let his hand roam up John’s arm over his shoulder and round to his upper back, pulling them even tighter together. He could feel John’s hot skin against his own and John’s cock pressing against his leg. These were good feelings – different, unexpected – but definitely good. “Let’s get under the covers,” he said quickly, slipping to John’s side and trying to get the blankets over them.
John followed him under the covers, moving on top of him as they kissed.
“This is good, right?” Sherlock said, letting his hands roam up and down John’s back. “We should’ve tried this before.”
John nodded. "It feels good," he said. He rolled his hips, sliding his hand down to stroke Sherlock's cock slowly.
“John,” Sherlock exhaled at the touch. Someone else doing that to him felt much different than when he did it to himself. He reached down and touched John’s cock which was hot and hard. His hand mimicked John’s stroke.
John moaned softly. "That feels good . . ."
“What do you want me to do?” Sherlock said. “Do you like it like this or something else?”
"This is good," John said, looking down to watch their hands.
“Have you done this with girls?” Sherlock asked, immediately regretting it.
John shook his head. "No," he breathed.
Sherlock wasn't sure if that was true, but decided not to ask any more about it. He shifted his body a little, trying to get a better angle. “I like what you’re doing,” he said. “No one’s ever done it to me before.” He closed his eyes and lost himself in the kiss and the pleasure of their bodies’ movement. It did feel good – even though he hadn’t spent much time thinking about or desiring this feeling, he could see why John had wanted this. He was glad it was John he was sharing it with. Maybe that’s why it was so good.
John started panting softly as pleasure built steadily. "Sherlock,” he moaned softly.
“Do you want to stop?” Sherlock asked, abruptly looking up at John’s face.
"No! Do you?" John asked, his hand pausing.
“No,” Sherlock said. “I just got worried.” He put a kiss on John’s mouth and then smiled widely. “I definitely don’t want to stop,” he said. He pushed John to the side and then moved to straddle him, pulling the covers up over his back. He looked down at John and then reached to stroke his cock again. “Is this how you like it? Tell me if you want to do it differently,” he said, looking down at John.
"I like it like that," John said. "I like this with you."
“I like it, too, John,” Sherlock said. He stroked himself with one hand while he stroked John. It was strange –- he was basically masturbating in front of his friend, which is not something he ever thought he’d do. Then again, he was also doing it to John at the same which is also something he didn’t think would happen. Then he got an idea. He scooted down the bed a little and asked, “What about if I use my mouth?”
John blinked and licked his lips. "Do you want to?" he asked.
“Yes . . . If you want me to. So far it’s gone well, right?” Sherlock said. “I’d only do it with you.”
John nodded. "It's all good so far," he agreed.
“All right then,” Sherlock said. “I’m going to try it –- but if I do something wrong or you don’t like it, you should tell me, okay?” He moved further down John’s body and then leaned over. He kissed John’s stomach and could feel John’s cock pressed against his neck. He thought for a moment about what he was going to do, and then shifted position so he could lightly kiss John’s cock. He licked it up and down and around the head, tasting the wetness that was leaking out. Then he held it in his hand and sucked it into his mouth.
John watched him moving lower, his belly twitching at the soft kisses. And then Sherlock's mouth was on him and he groaned softly. "Sherlock . . . oh God . . ."
John’s noises built Sherlock’s confidence, and he moved on John’s cock more freely, licking and sucking and using his tongue. Although it was all quite interesting, his mind was clouded by his physical urges and he found his hips rolling against the bed as he got even more turned on by what he was doing and how John was reacting. John watched Sherlock's body moving on the bed, watched his mouth and lips wrapped around his own cock, and he could hardly believe it was happening. He moaned Sherlock's name and gripped his hair. Sherlock loved John’s hand in his hair –- it felt as intimate as what he was doing to John. It all felt so good, but after a few more minutes, he lifted his head and said, “Should I keep going or should we try something else?”
"I want to try it on you," John said.
“All right,” Sherlock said, with a smile. He was quite eager and couldn’t hide the fact. He crawled up the bed and lay down. “Should I lie here?” he asked.
John nodded, using his hand to stroke Sherlock as he moved into a better position. He leaned down and licked the head, swirling his tongue around it before taking him into his mouth. He moaned softly, moving in a slow rhythm to get used to the fullness.
“That’s good,” Sherlock called out, more loudly than he’d intended to. His hands gripped the sheets underneath him.
John lifted and moved down again, going a little further each time. Sherlock tasted good and the sounds he was making -- they were driving John crazy. He lifted his eyes to look at Sherlock's face as he moved.
“John –- that’s too much,” Sherlock said, squeezing his eyes shut. “I can’t look at you or it’ll be over.”
John looked down again but kept moving his head, his tongue grazing the tip when he came up.
Sherlock’s body writhed under John’s touch. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me,” he mumbled. He meant not just the act but the feeling, how good John was making him feel. Maybe he should’ve expected it –- John was always so different than any other person he’d ever met.
John hummed around Sherlock's cock and looked up again. he couldn't help it -- Sherlock was too sexy, lost in pleasure.
Finally, Sherlock reached down and grabbed John’s arm. “You’re going to have to stop,” he said. “I can’t take anymore . . .”
John came up and kissed his mouth softly, lying beside him. "What do you want to try now?"
Sherlock pulled the covers up over their naked bodies before flopping flat onto the mattress. He ran his hands through his hair and tried to calm his body a little. “I don’t know,” he said. “I mean, there’s it –- did you want to do it?”
John shifted, his hand moving down to keep stroking Sherlock lightly. "I think I want to . . . do you?"
Sherlock looked over at John. “Do you know how?” he asked.
"I've watched some stuff before," John said. "Not just porn but . . . normal stuff." He felt his cheeks flush.
“What ‘normal’ stuff? What does that even mean?” Sherlock asked.
"Like . . . to learn. Educational," he said, his voice even quieter.
“All right,” Sherlock said, still not sure quite what he meant. “I read some stuff too, I guess. Should we try it?”
John nodded. "When you watched . . . which position did you like best?"
“I didn’t watch,” Sherlock corrected. “I read. I don’t know what I’ll like best since I’ve never done any of it.” He looked over. “But it seems like you might have an idea what you prefer, so let’s do that. Do you have condoms?”
John shook his head. "No," he admitted. He hadn't even thought about it.
“I’ve got some –- and some lube, it said we’d need lube,” Sherlock said, reaching over to his bedside drawer.
"Good, that's good," John said.
“Do you know what to do?”
John nodded. "I think it's easier for you if you turn on your knees."
Sherlock thought about it for a moment. “All right,” he said. He climbed up and then realised he should probably face away from John. He held his body up with one arm so he could reach down and hold himself.
John touched Sherlock's cheeks, spreading them a bit before opening the lube. He poured a good amount, slowly pushing in one finger.
“It’s weird,” Sherlock said instinctively. Because it was. But it wasn’t bad. His hand started to stroke his cock.
"Is it okay? Is it good?" John asked, moving it slowly.
“I think so,” Sherlock said. He realised his body was now moving, pushing back slowly with John’s rhythm, mirroring his hand moving on his cock. “Yes,” he said softly. “It feels good.”
John added a bit more lube and slowed again to add a second finger. "Is this okay?"
Sherlock made a small moan. “Do you like it?” he asked.
John nodded. "I like the sounds you're making . . . you're so sexy . . ."
“This is pretty sexy, John, what you’re doing,” Sherlock said. His voice was different -– it was breathy as his pulse was quickening.
John curved house fingers slightly, touching Sherlock's prostate as he moved his fingers.
Sherlock called out, feeling like a jolt of electricity had just gone through him. His arm shook on the bed, and he dropped to his elbow, letting go of his cock for a moment, worried he’d finish before it started. “John,” he mumbled, his voice soft in between the pants of his breath.
"Was that good?" John asked. "Do you feel ready?"
“I think so,” Sherlock said, pushing himself back up. “Are you? Use a condom, right?”
John nodded. He rolled on the condom and added a bit more lube to be safe. He lined up and started slowly pushing into Sherlock with a soft moan.
Sherlock felt the stretch of John entering him and suddenly it all seemed so overwhelming. What they were doing was big –- it would change everything even if both of them were sure it wouldn’t. “Wait, stop,” he mumbled, pulling his body away from John. “Just a minute . . .” he said as he let himself drop onto the mattress, grabbing at the sheet.
"I'm sorry," John said immediately. "Did I hurt you? Do you want to stop?"
“No, not really, that’s not it,” Sherlock said. “I don’t want to stop it’s just . . . “ He turned himself away from John.
John felt panicked. He took off the condom and moved closer. "We don't have to do anything else -- it's okay." He lay down and moved closer. Maybe this had been a terrible idea.
Chapter 3: Their Solution
“That’s not it, John,” Sherlock said, almost in a whisper. “I do want to, it’s just . . .”
"Did I do something wrong? What is it?" John asked.
“Well, it’s big, isn’t it? You’ve been wanting to lose your virginity forever and now it’s about to happen and . . . I’m not sure now what it’ll mean,” Sherlock rambled. “I thought we could do it and still be the same but I don’t know if that’s true . . . because for me, it’ll always be you and for you, I’ll always be the first one and maybe you’ll regret that and you won’t want to be my friend anymore and I couldn’t live with that . . .”
John blinked at him as he processed all of that. "I'm not going to regret it! I want to do this with you. And I know we won't be friends after this, not just friends, but more. Do you want that? I do."
“Do you, really?” Sherlock said. “Because now I feel like maybe I even already love you -- not just because of this but maybe I always have, but I don’t know if I can do it right or if I’d be what you want.”
John stopped for a minute to think. Sherlock loved him? He slid up against Sherlock, spooning him. “Maybe I feel the same,” he said, putting a kiss on his back.
“Are you sure?” Sherlock said. “Because I can’t lose you, John. I don’t want to be without you.” He reached around himself to find John’s hand.
"I'm not going anywhere," he promised.
“Move closer,” Sherlock said, pushing back against John’s body.
John did so they were pressed tight together.
“I liked all of it,” Sherlock said. “Did you?”
John nodded against Sherlock's shoulder. "I did."
“It’s unusual,” Sherlock mused. “We’ve known each other for a long time –- I feel like you’ve been a part of everything in my life, so I guess it makes sense that you’re part of this as well. But it’s still unexpected –- us seeing each other like this, you putting part of your body in mine . . .” He closed his eyes and thought about it. Just because it was unusual and unexpected didn’t mean anything really. He’d had lots of unusual, unexpected things in his life, and some of them turned out quite well.
"We don't have to do more," John said.
“I don’t want to stop,” Sherlock said. “I just wanted to say it was unusual. But unusual is good, right?” He twisted himself around to face John. He lifted his hands to the sides of John’s head and gave him a soft kiss.
“You’re different and you’re very good. You’re my best friend.”
Sherlock tangled their legs, pushing himself into John’s body. “We don’t have any clothes on,” he said stupidly before kissing John’s mouth again. Then he leaned forward even more, pushing John onto his back. He kept kissing his mouth, but let his hand move down to John’s hip, gripping it tightly. “This okay?” he asked.
John nodded, leaning up to kiss him again.
Sherlock’s hand drifted to John’s cock, holding it until he could feel it start to stiffen again. Then he started a slow stroke, moving his mouth to suck on John’s ear and neck.
John moaned softly as his own hands moved over Sherlock's body, touching him everywhere he could. He got his hand between them and started stroking Sherlock as well, kissing his mouth again.
“Should we try again?” Sherlock asked. “We’ve got more condoms . . .”
John nodded. "Yeah, I want to try again," he said.
Sherlock lay back flat on the bed. “Could we try it like this instead?” he asked, holding onto John’s arm.
"Anything you want," John nodded. "This is good . . . this way I can look at you," he smiled.
Sherlock took a long breath. That was exactly what he wanted -- to be able to look at John, to know it was him, to know it was something they were sharing. He sat up and scrambled around for the lube bottle and condom box before handing them to John.
John started with his fingers again, kissing over Sherlock's torso.
Sherlock easily closed his eyes, relaxing at the touch of John's mouth and fingers. He had a soft smile on his face, knowing that he didn't need to worry about anything and instead just enjoy it all.
After a while, John asked, "Are you ready?"
Sherlock nodded and then said, "Yes . . . just slow, okay?" he added softly.
John nodded. He shifted up a bit and rolled on a condom, moving closer and lined up. He gazed down at Sherlock, leaning down to kiss him as he slowly pushed into his body.
Sherlock exhaled loudly against John's kiss as his body adjusted to John's intrusion. He wrapped his arms around John's back and squeezed him, wanting him to be as close as physically possible -- closer than he'd ever been to another person.
John kept moving until he was all the way inside. He kept kissing Sherlock, panting softly.
"John," Sherlock exhaled. He looked up at him and kissed his mouth hard. "Does it feel good to you? Do you like it?"
John nodded. He started moving slowly. "Feels so good . . . yes. . ."
Sherlock moaned at John's movement. The stretch was intense, and John's weight felt heavier than he’d expected. "Keep moving," he mumbled. "Slowly." He buried his face in John's neck and concentrated on his breathing. John did, finding Sherlock's mouth again to kiss him as they moved together.
Sherlock’s mind was filled with too many thoughts and too many feelings, so he did his best to not think and just experience what was happening. His hands roamed up and down John’s back then into John’s hair as they continued to kiss. John's mind was blank, pleasure flooding his body. Every nerve was on fire. "Sherlock," he moaned against Sherlock's mouth, kissing him between breaths as he moved faster.
Sherlock slid his hand between their bodies and started to stroke himself. At first he tried to match John’s rhythm, but soon both of their bodies were just jerking against the bed. “I might --” he started to say as the electricity filled his body.
"Me too," John moaned, his hips moving faster as the pleasure built.
Suddenly Sherlock called out loudly -- no words, just a sound as his body arched up off the bed and his orgasm passed through him. He squeezed his eyes tight and tried to remember to breathe. John gasped softly. Sherlock was squeezing around him and it pushed him over the edge. He came, moaning Sherlock's name and kissing him sloppily. He felt it through his whole body.
They lay there for a few minutes as they both caught their breaths. Then Sherlock awkwardly wiggled his arm out from between them and wiped his hand on the sheet and then wiped his sweaty face with his other hand.
John slowly pulled out and tossed the condom, laying down again so he was cuddling close to Sherlock.
“So, you’ve done it now,” Sherlock said, pulling the sheet up over himself.
"You have too," he said.
Sherlock turned his head to look at John. “Do you feel different?” he asked.
"A little bit, but I think it's because I did it with you," he said. He shifted a bit. "It's a good different."
Sherlock crinkled his face. “You’ve been trying to do this forever and now you have . . . I expected you to be a totally changed man,” he said. “Is that what you were expecting?”
"I don't know what I expected. Do you feel like a changed man?"
“Maybe,” Sherlock said. “But I think you’re lying. I think you were expecting something. I hope you weren’t disappointed.”
"I'm not disappointed at all," John said. "I liked doing that with you."
“Good,” Sherlock said. “We should’ve tried it before maybe -- saved you all that money on your stupid dates.” He stretched a little. “Did you like doing it that way or do you think you’d prefer something else?”
"I liked it," John said. "I wouldn’t mind trying everything. But we're not in any rush. We’ve got time, like we said earlier," he smiled.
“Does that mean you want to do it with me again then?” Sherlock asked, staring up at the ceiling.
John licked his lips and nodded. "Don't you?"
Sherlock rolled over and said, “Yes, I do want to do it again. But I don’t want you to go out and do it with other people. Now that I know what it’s like . . . I don’t want you to. Maybe you’d like it better with a girl or with someone else, but I don’t want you to do it with anyone else.”
"I wasn't planning on doing it with anyone else," John said.
Sherlock looked at John properly. “You’ve been trying to have sex with everyone you know,” he said. “Now you’re going to stop?”
"I haven't been trying to have sex with everyone! I've been trying to find someone I want to have sex with. And I found you," he said.
Sherlock looked over at John’s face. He wasn’t lying -- Sherlock always knew when John was lying, and he knew John was telling the truth. “Okay, then, if you insist,” he said. “But if we’re going to keep doing this, do we have to . . . have dates and things like that? Can’t it just be how we were except this, too?”
John smiled. "Yeah, I think it could be like that."
“Good,” Sherlock said. He smiled genuinely and then stretched a little. “I know you’ve got to get up to eat dinner and do homework or whatever, but maybe you could sleep in here tonight and we could . . . try again?”
"I do want to sleep here, and I don't want to actually get up just yet," John said.
“All right,” Sherlock said. He curled into John. “This okay?”
John turned so they could cuddle more comfortably and nodded. "It’s perfect," he said.