There hadn't been a case for ages. Precisely for 4 hours , 59 minutes and 55 seconds. John had hid the gun because "Sherlock, my gun isn't a toy, you could actually shoot yourself in the head you idiot” ; it wasn't under John's bed, or in the unused rooms of 221 C. There weren't any trash shows, annoying doctors who didn't want to tell their names nor Mrs. Hudson for Sherlock to yell at. He sent a text to Mycroft but his brother did not bother to reply. Sherlock had started his descent into the dark abyss of boredom. He looked at the clock in the kitchen; he could hear the seconds passing and mocking him. 57, 58, 59. He groaned; it was unacceptable. Sherlock flopped onto the couch and pulled his dressing own tight around his body. What was the point of getting dressed when there was nothing to do? God, it was so dull without Work, or a good experiment, or cigarettes -Mrs. Hudson had hid them too-. He laid back on the couch with his legs dangling off the edge and decided to reorganize his Mind Palace for a while, and by the time he was finished, all would be fine, Lestrade would call and the game would be on again. Ten minutes later, his Mind Palace was untouched and his boredom was still very much present. Sherlock peeked over at John, who was sitting peacefully in his chair, reading the newspaper. He sighed. Loudly. Nothing. John kept on reading as if Sherlock weren't the most bored he'd ever been in his life. Sherlock sighed again. Rolled on the couch and then groaned. He flipped over onto his back, threw his arm across his eyes and said, "Bored!" He heard the noise of the paper being putting away.
"Alright then, come here, love" John said. The consulting detective eagerly climbed into the chair and straddled his boyfriend's lap. He set to nuzzling and kissing John's neck. The smaller man fisted his hands in Sherlock’s robe, pulling him down for a kiss. Their lips crushed together, the kiss sweet and bruising, with a lot of tongue and teeth. Sherlock’s lips parted involuntarily under the pressure of John’s searching tongue and a sigh escaped his mouth. John bit on his lower lip, and then sucked on it, causing Sherlock to mewl.
"You know, you can just say 'I'm bored, fancy a kiss?' No need to get all melodramatic about it", the shorter man joked, loosening his grip on Sherlock clothing, and moving upwards, brushing lightly the skin of his neck and then carded his fingers through his boyfriend's messy curls. Sherlock kissed John lips to get him to shut up, his hands running over John's chest, loving how soft and warm he was. He rolled his hips, earning a satisfactory moan out of John. He ground down on John's lap with more purpose and John lifted his hips up to meet Sherlock's. John broke the kiss, pulling his hair and forcing the other man’s head backwards, exposing his throat. Sherlock hissed, John’s tongue immediately started nipping the soft skin of his neck, teeth scraping against the tendons in his neck. He bit him, leaving red teeth marks on his milky flesh, marking his way down Sherlock’s chest, ripping off his dressing gown, revealing a shoulder, for better access. Sherlock’s eyes flew shut, his head still held back by John’s solid grip on his curls.
“John..” he panted heavily as John was sucking on the soft skin just above his right nipple.
"Yes, love?" he grinned. "Please..."
"What do you want?" John said, lowering his voice to a register he knew never failed to arouse Sherlock, and practically humming the last word. The detective was about to beg again when John's phone rang. He took the object out of his pocket and looked at the screen.
"It's Lestrade," John said. Sherlock groaned.
"Let it go." Sherlock rolled his eyes, and put the phone away. They kissed again, lips moving against each other's for a while, Sherlock becoming languid and pliant as John kissed him. John's hands had come up around his back and were running up and down the notches of his spine and over his sides; he pushed his hand between their bodies and wrapped his hand on Sherlock's cock. The detective trembled, and at the first touch of John's hand to his throbbing desire, he let out an urgent whine into the fabric of John's jumper.
"John!" he whimpered, writhing against John's body. "Please, John.."
“We need a bed,” John panted.
"Yeah, bed" Sherlock approved shakily, still pushing his hips up to grind his pelvis against John’s.
"God, stop" he gripped his boyfriend's hips, "I'm not having you on the sofa again".
Sherlock smirked. "You could, if you wanted, just like yesterday" John kissed him again.
"Come on, love” he said, getting up. “Let’s go to bed.”
"You're beautiful" John murmured, as he pushed off Sherlock’s dressing gown.
Sherlock kicked away the blankets and leaned naked against the pillows, timidly watching from under his long eyelashes as John removed his red jumper. Crawling onto the bed, John straddled him, sliding his hand back into Sherlock’s hair and pressing his tongue inward, tasting his mouth. The impatient, greedy moans coming from Sherlock was like music to John's ears. There was a growl low in his throat as he pushed Sherlock down onto the bed without breaking the kiss. Sherlock’s hands roamed down towards John’s back and arse. Sherlock kissed him back just as desperately, and oh god, he felt like he’s drowning. He wrapped his pale legs around John’s waist to bring him closer, only to find that John still had his pants on.
“Aren't you going to take those off?” he asked, voice catching at the end, right when John bites him lightly.
“Soon,” John smirked. “Right now, I want to kiss you everywhere." Sherlock blushed bright red and John kissed down his chest, hands placed firmly on his boyfriend's hips to keep them from moving. He completely bypassed Sherlock cock, going to his inner thighs instead. Sherlock tried to squirm in John’s hold as the older man bit at his thighs, but his grip on him was firm.
"Stop teasing, get on with it, please,” Sherlock begged, squirming restlessly. He tried to touch himself, but John anticipated the action and used one hand to hold his hands above his head. "No, just me, okay?"
“Yes" Sherlock said breathlessly, overcome with sentiment, as John sucked a hickey onto his inner thigh. “Yes, John, yes. Just touch me, please."
Sherlock could feel the hand on his cock stroking him slowly once, up and down.
"You're so beautiful" he heard. And then a tight wet heat engulfed him and he was lost in pleasure. The detective whimpered, trying to move his hips, but the doctor held him with one hand. He was pining Sherlock down, one arm thrown across Sherlock's abdomen, the other skimming down, massaging his balls. Sherlock’s hips bucked up into the air when John pulled off his cock.
"Alright?" John asked. The other man nodded. John slowly leaned back, taking in the gorgeous sight before him: Sherlock’s eyes were glassy, pupils dilated, lips reddened. Christ, those lips... He battled himself for a moment over whether he shouldn't just spread Sherlock’s lips open with his cock and fuck his mouth fiercely. John’s thumb rubbed over Sherlock’s bottom lip. Their eyes locked, and Sherlock's tongue stuck out to lick it. Mesmerized, John placed two fingers in Sherlock’s mouth, and Sherlock suckled them immediately. After a moment, John moved them away.
“Oral fixation,” John accused, breathing deep.
"You're stating the obvious" Sherlock grinned when John laughed and nipped his lip. Getting John to laugh during sex always made Sherlock feel great, the way he felt like when he solved a case.
"Turn over, love. On your knees." And oh. Oh. Sherlock blinked. Once. Twice. That's what John wanted. Put his mouth on Sherlock's ho- His cheeks turned bright pink and he lowered his eyes, embarrassed, not wanting to face John; they had never done this before.
"If you don't want to-" John started, but Sherlock quickly shut him
"No. No, it's alright." he said, rolling on his stomach, pressing his face into his fore arm and canting his hips upward. It felt weird. John was about to eat him out, to rim him. Sherlock has watched videos about it on his
(John's) laptop and it had aroused him faster than anything; but he never proposed it to his boyfriend, afraid that the man would be disgusted and leave. He knew John would never do that but..
"I can literally hear you thinking." John chuckled, blowing lightly on Sherlock's hole. John nudged Sherlock’s thighs apart and Sherlock blushed, feeling way too much exposed. His breathing was ragged, and the heat in his groin was killing him and he could feel every little twitch John's fingers made as they moved down to his entrance.
The detective heard John licking his lips and he started babbling about how he was “not so sure about this, John", "it doesn't seem like the most sanitary practice and-"
"Just…" John sighed exasperatedly, "trust me, for once, would you?"
Sherlock huffed, still as red as a tomato, and spread his legs; John teased him for a while, barely touching him. Then, his thighs were spread even more and Sherlock couldn't even have a second to react before John’s mouth was on his hole. His brain short-circuited or just stopped working completely, his mouth opening in a noiseless moan and his entire body ceasing up. Whines, moans and vowels that end in breathless hah, uh, ah, nnh, sounds is all John could hear, could focus on as he was licking Sherlock.
"Okay, love?" the surgeon asked, tenderly.
"Yeah.. yes John" the answer was barely audible and interrupted by Sherlock’s hitched breath. John chuckled and then dived back in, licking deep, deep, into Sherlock. In, out, in, out, again and again, his tongue thrusts inside harshly. Sherlock whimpered, moving his ass back and spreading his legs even more.
"Fuck, you like it" the doctor smirked and Sherlock threw his arms over his face because, god,it was so embarrassing. John smiled. Sherlock perceived the voice of John telling him he was beautiful before spreading Sherlock's cheeks again. The detective couldn't help but mewl and buck back into John, thrusting as best as he could against John’s mouth despite his firm hold on him. He just wanted more, more of John’s mouth and hot, wet and dirty tongue, opening him up. He was so loud, but he couldn't hold the noises inside; it was more sensation than he could have imagined.
"John" he gasped in warning.
"I know, it's okay, love" John said, pressing kisses on Sherlock's back. "Come for me" He pushed one finger inside of Sherlock's greedy hole and the detective came hard on a great sob of pleasure in the shape of John’s name.
John rolled Sherlock onto his back. He had a gorgeous flush that went over from his face to his neck and chest, making a stark contrast with his very pale skin.
"Gorgeous," John said, reaching out to stroke a hand from Sherlock's knee to his ankle. The taller man opened his eyes.
“Alright?” the doctor continued, softly, leaning forward to mouth at Sherlock’s neck. Sherlock nodded.
"Fantastic." He pulled John on top of him and kissed him softly. "I'm going to suck you off" the detective grinned, dropping on his knees.
“Christ,” John choked. Sherlock looked at him from under his eyelashes, as he licked the underside of John’s cock. Sherlock’s lips were tight and soft, his tongue working hard against his cock and it felt so incredible that John couldn't help the sounds he was making.
“Fuck, yes. Just like that" John commanded, placing his hand in his lover's curls. God, Sherlock was mouth is too skilled for its own good. John tugged on his curls and thrust into Sherlock’s mouth at the same time, and Sherlock made the most wonderful sound in his throat. His eyes were wide, and jesus, it’s amazing, this sight of Sherlock delightfully choking on his cock, as if there was nothing else he’d rather be doing. Sherlock’s left hand was wrapped around the rest of John’s thick cock, and his right hand wandering on his own chest, sometimes pinching a nipple. Christ, as if the image of Sherlock on his knees and John fucking his face and the heart shape of Sherlock’s mouth on his cock wasn't the hottest thing he'd ever seen.
"Are you going to come?" Sherlock asked, shyly. John didn't answer. Instead, he let out a high, breathy moan, and then he was coming; it took him without warning, the pleasure suddenly shooting through him, burning all over his prick and deep inside his belly right to the edges of his fingertips.
John breathed loudly "Fuck.." Sherlock licked his lips, staring up at him. They kissed again.
They laid in silence, cuddling. Neither of them said anything for a long time, just thinking to themselves; Sherlock drawing invisible patterns on John's stomach as John was caressing his curly hair.
Finally, Sherlock turned to John. "I love you".
John smiled, eyes full of joy. "I love you too."