"No, Sherlock, you look good. I promise."
"I look like a woman."
"I feel emasculated."
"Shut up. We're trying something new. Just come over here."
John Watson had persuaded his partner to wear a pair of pink satin panties, complete with white lace trim, and nothing else. Sherlock was adamant at first, but at the lecherous gleam in John's eye, he decided to try it. His pale body was chiseled and tense and strong, completely juxtaposing the useless bit of fabric that dug into the sharp bone of his hip. At the command, however, he kneeled before John and looked up. John's mouth was slightly askew in a salacious grin.
"Good," he said. Sherlock's lime eyes dropped to the bulge in John's trousers. With a squeak of asking for consent, met with a hum, Sherlock's pale fingers worked at the clasp of John's belt. "On all fours, so I can see the lingerie." John commanded.
"Don't be ridic - "
"None of this for you, then." The war doctor shifted his hips away from Sherlock's eager gaze, but the pouty lipped detective obeyed and settled into a position in which John could see the expanse of his back and the flare of his rear from his tailbone, which was now adorned with shimmering cotton candy pink fabric.
Sherlock continued on in the usual way, pressing his nose to the tip of John's cock while it was still clothed and drawing it into his mouth slowly.
Once he pulled John from his pants, the smooth foreskin slid easily through his palm. Sherlock's cupid's bow mouth wrapped around John's length and he sucked his cheeks in, his sharp cheekbones more prominent as he did so. His eyes flicked up at John, their intense color as intimidating as it was lovely.
"Sherlock..." John was caught in the sight of Sherlock sucking him off, while his girlishly clad rear tempted his as it shimmied from side to side playfully.
John clenched his fists as he approached climax, but Sherlock knew him well enough to pull off and decrease his pressure as a form of pleasurable torture.
"Not yet," Sherlock mumbled around John's cock. He brought John close nearly four times before John wove his tremulous fingers into Sherlock's dark curls and guided him down.
Sherlock reveled in the feel and solidity of John filling his mouth, and as his head was pushed farther down into the patch of sparse blond hair at the hem of John's crumpled green shirt, he clumsily palmed himself over the satin panties. The material slid over his own skin smoothly, and it strained with his erection, a damp spot darkening the light pink into a less-than-innocent maroon.
Once John came, his fists pulling mass amounts of curls, Sherlock followed suit. John's evidence slipped from the numb corners of Sherlock's pretty pink mouth, and Sherlock pulled off, swallowing the remains.
"I've stained them."
John grinned, "Perfect."