Work Text:
"I dare you to seduce Sherlock Holmes."
The memory rings through John's head as he walks down the halls, backpack slung over one shoulder, head low and shoulders hunched. He had no idea how he was going to seduce Sherlock bloody Holmes but he was the damned fool that had said yes.
What had he been thinking, exactly?
Well, truthfully he'd been drunk off his arse and thinking that if he completed every dare like the champion he was that the pretty blond girl, Mary, would maybe creep off into a corner with him for a bit of a snog. That had fallen through about the time he’d thought it was a good idea to have a drinking contest with Sebastian Moran and then say yes to Jim Moriarty’s idiotic, life endangering dare.
Now it felt like all eyes were on him as he made his way to Sherlock’s locker, skin getting itchy and uncomfortable under all the perceived scrutiny. The tips of his ears began to glow a soft pink that quickly traveled down the back of his neck and across his cheeks. Sweat started to soak the collar of his shirt and make the hem of his trousers chafe at the base of his spine and why the hell was he so nervous? He’d just be asking out the scariest person on the planet, attempting to sleep with someone who had eviscerated others in public with a few quick sentences.
Nothing John Watson couldn’t handle.
He stopped by the drinking fountain when he spotted Sherlock’s curly haired self standing at his open locker. He splashed himself a little with the cool water, taking a few deep breaths and running a shaky hand through his blond hair.
He could do this.
He could.
“Hey, Sherlock.” John said as casually as could be, leaning against the locker next to his classmates. Sherlock was younger than John by 2 years but had skipped a couple grades due to his insane intellect. Truthfully John thought Sherlock could have skipped a lot more, been one of those kids that went off to uni at age 12, but for whatever reason he hadn’t and here he was instead, staring into John’s soul with eyes that sparked and sizzled and left John feeling hollowed out by embers. He coughed and blushed, blinking to break the connection and looking instead at the taller boy’s shoulder.
“John.” Sherlock said, voice soft but not the way a girl’s was soft. Girls sounded airy, fluffy like clouds and breathy, sweet. Sherlock’s was soft like a blanket, with substance behind it, weight. John swallowed and looked up at him again, only to freeze in place when he saw the slightly amused glint in those incredible eyes and the uptick of a smile in the corner of plush lips. It made John straighten up and square his shoulders, confidence boosted by the strange realization that if he was already being laughed at, it couldn’t get much worse.
“Would you wanna grab a coffee sometime?” John asked, bracing himself. He knew he was going to get rejected and he honestly couldn’t think of anyway else to go about this. He’d just have to tell Jim he’d tried and been shot down. After all, trying a dare and failing at it wasn’t like being too chicken for it. Some things were just impossible, like drinking Sebastian under the table or avoiding humiliation when you hung around Jim for more than 10 minutes.
“Tea, coffee is only for waking up in the morning. Tomorrow after school. Meet me at my locker, 3 o’clock sharp. I know a good place.” Sherlock said with only a moment's pause to rake his eyes over John’s body one more time. His smile deepened in that one corner of his mouth, shutting and locking his locker without taking his eyes off the dumbfounded other boy.
“Don’t be late.”
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The first date was awkward, John fumbling with his words and his hands, unsure of himself and growing flustered when Sherlock seemed so cool and collected. When Sherlock asked about another date John couldn’t agree quick enough, head bobbing eagerly and eyes lighting up.
The second went smoother because John wasn’t thinking about the dare or how to go about it or hurting anyone’s feelings or if he was really into men or not. No, all John was thinking about was the way Sherlock’s mouth quirked when he tried to hide smiles, or how his curls ran rampant in a way that made his fingers and palms itch, or the way that bloody purple shirt clung to what muscles Sherlock possessed in a way that awakened in John a hatred of buttons.
It all spiraled out of control from there until John Watson found himself craving Sherlock Holmes, spending time with him after school as much as possible, joining in on experiments when allowed, following him home and staying until he was forced to go back to his own. It felt like his head was in a vortex, constantly spinning around with thoughts about Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock.
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“Looks like your dare turned out really well, mm Johnny-boy?” Jim’s voice floated into John’s head and soured everything. His limbs immediately felt like water had replaced his joints, a rock weighing down his belly and his head suddenly clear of all the pervading thoughts of Sherlock to be replaced by fear.
The dare! The stupid sodding dare! He couldn’t let Sherlock know about it, not now. He couldn’t ruin what he’d been spending weeks building up. (Had it really been so long? It felt like only yesterday he was praying for his life at the water fountain…)
“Jim-” John began, teeth clenched and heart pounding. He needed to end this, now, before Sherlock heard so much as a whisper. Of course, that’s when Sherlock rounded the corner, looking pristine and gorgeous as ever. John’s eyes widened and he sent Jim a glare of warning, breathing stopping in his chest as he waited to see if Jim would give him away.
“Oh, Sherlock! I was just having a chat with your boyfriend here.” Jim said with a simper and an insincere smile. John could have strangled the life out of him then and there, an inferno of a blush cascading over his face as he didn’t meet Sherlock’s eyes for fear of seeing rejection. They’d gone on a few dates at first, but ever since those few times it had been just hanging out. As friends.
“I hope you weren’t planning on poaching, Jim.” Sherlock’s arm slipped around John’s shoulders and he looked up, confused. He knew Sherlock and Jim had a rivalry that ran deeper than anyone at school fully understood, but surely Sherlock wouldn’t pretend to be boyfriends just for one-upmanship?
“Heaven’s, no! I’m not some scoundrel out to break hearts. Johnny-boy is alllllll yours!” Jim winked, looking more gleeful by the second while John felt more embarrassed, confused, and hopeful. It was never good to let emotions show around Jim but as much as John wasn’t comfortable right then, there was no way he wanted Sherlock to take his arm back.
“Good. We’ll be seeing you, Jim.” Sherlock tightened his arm and steered John away down the halls. He dropped his arm down to place a hand at John’s lowback when it began getting crowded but otherwise remained in contact all the way to John’s locker. The touch made John’s tailbone tingle and warmth pooled below his bellybutton alarmingly fast for being in public.
“Uh, y-you didn’t have to…” John trailed off when he caught sight of Sherlock’s smirk. It made the warmth in his belly knot up into a snarl of heat that left him breathless. Oh, god. He wanted to kiss Sherlock so bad he was almost shaking.
“It’s only the truth, isn’t it, John?” Sherlock said with that blanket-softness that John wanted to curl up in. He felt his eyes widen and could only nod mutely. How he’d accidentally started dating Sherlock Holmes he hadn’t the foggiest but he wasn’t about to fight it. He wasn’t an idiot.
Sherlock suddenly moved his hand to John’s hip, squeezing gently while he loomed over his shorter companion. Intense eyes followed the motion as John swallowed.
“We’re going to my place after school.” Sherlock said into the scant space between them. John nodded, swallowed, and swallowed again.
“Okay.”
Sherlock let go and smiled as if nothing had happened. He gave a short chin-dip in John’s direction in place of a farewell and began walking to class, looking pleased with himself.
John’s hip felt like Sherlock’s handprint had been branded on for the rest of the day.
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From then on touches became more frequent and John’s grades began to drop like a stone.
He felt so guilty and terrible when Sherlock was away, and then starved for touch and attention when they were together. He couldn’t concentrate on schoolwork and his staying up late to fail at studying and homework was beginning to affect his rugby, too.
It got so bad his mum began to threaten him with grounding, specifically from Sherlock.
“What’s wrong.” Sherlock asked. He placed a long fingered hand on the top of John’s thigh and leaned close, laughing softly as John jumped a mile from the contact. He squeezed gently and spoke into a flushed ear.
“Distracted today?”
Oh, god, yes.
“M-my mum is threatening to...to ground me.” John said in answer, wincing at the quaver in his voice. He bit his lip when Sherlock exhaled a long breath along the skin behind his ear, tiny shivers rippling down his spine to pool right between the legs.
The library was no place for such things but he didn’t seem to have any control over his life anymore, let alone his body.
“Whatever for, John?” Sherlock’s hand seemed to travel upwards for a moment, just a moment, just a few seconds of climbing that made John equally terrified his friend would feel something inappropriate going on and hopeful that it was what Sherlock was aiming for.
John had to tighten his thighs to keep from letting his legs fall open in invitation when the touch withdrew without incident.
“My…” John said after a moment to collect himself and then made the mistake of looking into Sherlock’s eyes and completely forgetting what he’d been about to say. Sherlock was scant centimeters away from him and his eyes were intense enough to make John’s breath stall out in his lungs. He wanted so much right then, more than he’d ever wanted from anyone else.
He wanted everything.
“Mm. Go on, John. I’m listening.” Sherlock said, soft, soft again, soft enough to envelope John in cotton. He didn’t think he could ever get over that voice. He didn’t think he’d ever want to try.
“My grades. They’re shite.” Was that him talking? It felt like someone else was pulling the words out of his chest because he certainly wasn’t concentrating on the conversation. Not with Sherlock’s eyes on him, hand back on his thigh, breath on his cheek, soft words spinning in his head and making everything else less important than Sherlock.
“Well, I can help.”
John’s eyes dipped down to watch Sherlock’s lips form the words without really registering what he’d said. He wanted to kiss him so bad. How could someone have such kissable lips? The hand was back on his thigh, rubbing the slightest bit, breaking John’s staring contest with Sherlock’s mouth as his eyes fluttered.
“I’ll tutor you.”
Squeezing, rubbing, long fingers, soft voice. Those lips…
“John!”
“Yes!” John jerked up and completely out of his seat, chair scraping obnoxiously loud in the quiet library. He blushed darkly as all eyes swiveled to him and Sherlock disapprovingly, making him hastily sit down and pull up to the table.
“Sorry, sorry...what were you saying, Sherlock?” John said as he put his head on the table and wished for death to take him. If it weren’t for Sherlock’s aversion to people and thus his need to sit in unoccupied tables he was sure he would have just flashed some ridiculous bulge at innocent library-goers just now.
“I’ll tutor you.”
John turned his head, eyeing his boyfriend dubiously. Maybe he’d heard wrong. Maybe he didn’t have enough blood in his brain just yet to function correctly.
“You hate tutoring people.”
Sherlock’s lips quirked in that way that John wanted to lick.
“I hate people.”
“...Alright.” John said. He sat up and ruffled his hair, sighing. He hadn’t even kissed Sherlock yet and he was acting like a lust-addled virgin. Why did Sherlock even bother with him again?
“Excellent. You’ll spend the night at my place tonight so you don’t fail the pop quiz tomorrow.” Sherlock smiled down at John like there was nothing else to it.
John slumped forward again and covered his head with his arms in defeat.
Because when Sherlock Holmes was in your life, there wasn’t anything else to it.
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“Come here, John.” Sherlock said with a motion of long fingers and a smoldering look. John responded like a well trained puppy and didn’t even care how pathetic he looked.
Because he was in Sherlock Holmes house.
He was in Sherlock Holmes room.
He was about to be in Sherlock Holmes bed.
Under the covers.
Sherlock reached for John’s cheek once the other teen was beside him on the bed, licking his lips once before leaning in and bringing them against John’s.
John made some sort of sighing ‘mm’ sound into the kiss, tightening his fingers in the sheets to keep from lunging at his boyfriend. He’d wanted to kiss Sherlock for so, so long and now that he finally was he found himself craving more so very badly.
Would Sherlock let him touch? Just a little. A hand under a shirt, fingers trailing a smooth chest, nails scraping gently along ribs, maybe petting the curling hairs that led enticingly lower.
John shifted his hips, practically squirming where he sat, breaking the kiss and dropping his head down against Sherlock’s shoulder with a dark flush. He was breathing fast, chest heaving like he’d just got done with rugby practice, and he felt embarrassed for being so stupidly horny so ridiculously fast. He’d never felt so wrecked from a kiss in his life and Sherlock was sure to think he was a cretin, falling to his baser instincts like a dog in heat.
“John.” Sherlock said, voice soft but heated in a way that made John turn his face even deeper into the bony shoulder he was hiding in. He crossed his legs self-consciously and hoped Sherlock wasn’t about to make fun of him for his erection like he did the poor sod who’d popped an unfortunate boner in class.
“John, it’s fine.” Sherlock said in a whisper. He lifted his arm so that it lay across John’s shoulders and encouraged him to nestle deeper against Sherlock’s side. Long fingers rubbed gently at the smaller boy’s back while intense eyes drank in every detail of John’s quivering form.
“Sherlock, I’m so sorry!” John said into the soft silk fabric of Sherlock’s top. He glanced up at his dark haired boyfriend out of the corner of one eye and felt a pulse of longing at the look he was given in return. Gods, how could one person be so bloody gorgeous.
“I- I know it’s rude and beneath you, I didn’t expect anything to happen tonight, I promise!” John continued in a rush. He’d had girlfriends before who snapped at him for getting too eager, too fast. Especially the first time a girl let him get her bra off. John knew Sherlock considered human interaction messy and animalistic, too. It was just so easy to want him.
“Really, John? Because I was counting on it.” Sherlock bent down to kiss away the astonished look on John’s face. His hand that had been rubbing soothing circles began to descend, sweeping slowly down a strongly muscled side before hooking long fingers around a hip.
“If you were amendable, of course.” Sherlock said and then let his index play gently with the crease where leg and groin met, relishing in the gusty sigh that trembled out of John’s mouth and across the front of Sherlock’s throat.
“Yes, gods, yes, please.” John relaxed the tense line of his shoulders and gave in to Sherlock’s urging, legs opening without a care for how eager he seemed. The front of his pajama bottoms was tented obscenely.
Sherlock reached his arm around, thankful for long limbs when he was able to easily move his hand over and cup John firmly through his clothing. He felt John jump and give a small buck into it, sighing through his nose. When Sherlock looked up from what he was doing with his hand he caught sight of John biting his lip and watching almost reverently with lowered lids.
“Sherlock!” John yelped suddenly and locked an arm around Sherlock’s waist for support as his genius boyfriend slipped his grip beneath pajama and pants in one go to grip him skin to skin. John’s turgid erection gave a tangible pulse, twitching up eagerly into the attention it was suddenly getting like it had a mind of it’s own and no qualms about begging.
Using his other hand Sherlock deftly slid John’s clothing out of the way, hooking the hem down beneath John’s testicles so that he had unrestricted access. He began stroking then, slow and languid motions, savoring the hot flesh cradled in his palm and licking his lips when wetness began to pearl at the crown.
“Yes, yes, like that…” John said softly, almost whispering. He bit his lip and squirmed, toes curling into Sherlock’s bedroom carpet as he tipped his head back. He didn’t usually go so slow when he had a wank but that was because he got impatient and couldn’t hold out once it started feeling good. Plus the longer he lasted the harder it was to stay quiet and no one wanted to hear him panting and grunting to himself.
"Fuck!” John outright moaned as Sherlock’s fingers swept across the head of his dick, hips twitching up for more. He tightened his hold on Sherlock even more and tried to reign himself in, flushing down his chest as he shifted his arse around and spread his legs wider. He’d always been a bit of a squirmer if he wasn’t allowed to thrust, the pent up energy from all the pleasure needing to express itself someway.
“John, come here.” Sherlock said with a final squeeze before letting go altogether. He crawled up to the headboard and leaned against it, legs splayed out invitingly around his own aching bulge.
John licked his lips at the sight of it, shucking his disheveled clothing so that all he wore was his sleep shirt. He crawled onto the bed after Sherlock, erection swinging heavy and full below him, red and glistening from the pre-come that had been stroked into the sensitive skin.
Sherlock smiled at the sight, reaching out one hand to recapture the throbbing mess he’d left behind and begin stroking again while the other cupped the nape of John’s neck and pulled him forward into a scorching kiss. He smirked when John groaned from deep in his chest and nearly fell into him, one hand landing on the pillows behind Sherlock and the other gripping the headboard, white-knuckled.
“Sherlock, gods, I’m getting, you can’t keep, your shirt-” John said in a babbled rush of air, back arching upwards as Sherlock’s stroking sped up in pace. He shuffled closer on his knees, thighs trembling as he got between Sherlock’s legs.
“On your back.” Sherlock growled, caught up in how John looked as his muscles began to twitch and clench in preparation. His boyfriend only gave him a confused look, eyes widening when Sherlock closed his legs around John’s knees and pushed him backwards at the shoulder. He fell back on the mattress with an audible noise, eyes darkening considerably when Sherlock loomed over him and shimmied out of his own pyjamas and pants.
Sherlock descended on his hapless John, bracketing him in with his own legs and rolling his hips in a graceful wave that started from the shoulders and went down to his knees. It only took a handful of these full body undulations before he’d lined their naked cocks up, pressing his down into the wet heat of John’s in a way that had John throwing his head back and keening .
Leaning down Sherlock drank up the noises coming from John, kissing him breathless and then letting him up for air only to thrust forward in a way that had their balls slapping together shamelessly. He nipped at John’s jaw, hard, when he went to reach between them.
“Sherlock, Sherlock, please, I’m so close!” John panted into Sherlock’s mouth, sucking in a gasp when teeth clasped around his lower lip and tugged. He reached up and dug his nails into Sherlock’s shoulder blades, needing an anchor for all the mind-bending pleasure.
John teetered on the edge for what felt like forever, Sherlock growling and nipping and biting to keep him in place while he took the both of them apart. John had never thought about getting off this way before, never even imagined that there could be a way to cum without hands or mouths or holes involved. The new sensations were thrilling and the fact it was Sherlock doing it, Sherlock controlling this, Sherlock giving this to him, made it all infinitely better.
John came with a shout, hands dragging down Sherlock’s back unconsciously as his cock pulsed and bucked against Sherlock’s. Cum spurted up the length of his belly, getting in the dip of his navel and all over his rucked up sleep shirt.
Sherlock thrust against him until John was finished, then sat up enough to get a hand underneath himself and began jerking a fist up and down his erection in quick succession. He watched John watching himself, the other boy spent and trembling but his blue eyes filled with hunger still. It spurred Sherlock on until he came with a wordless sigh, his seed mingling with John’s in a truly spectacular mess across the flat planes of the rugby player’s stomach.
“Gods, Sherlock...I know you’re not supposed to kiss and tell, but have you done that before?” John said between breathless, sated giggles. That was possibly the best shag of his life and it hadn’t even been a proper shag!
“No.” Sherlock collapsed beside his sweaty boyfriend, idly rubbing their combined fluids into the skin of John’s belly. It was messy and sticky but he felt compelled to do it anyway.
“You’re the first person I’ve been intimate with. Or kissed.” Sherlock said, cutting off what was sure to come. He looked up at John and caught a deeply guilty look that had his eyes narrowing.
“What?” Sherlock’s tone had turned demanding in a heartbeat, hand stilling on John’s stomach.
“I...erm…” John lifted a hand to scratch at his nape, looking anywhere but at Sherlock. God, he needed to come clean or his guilt would eat him alive! He was a terrible person. Utter trash for taking advantage of Sherlock this way. He lifted both arms and covered his face with his hands, beginning to shake not from the pleasant afterglow but from his own mounting stress.
“Sherlock I’m so, so sorry...but...I….” John blew out a breath and dug his nails into his forehead, feeling a wetness building behind his eyes. He had no right to cry though, he wasn’t the one about to have his heart broken.
“I...Iwasdaredtosleepwithyou!” John said in a breathless rush, tipping over onto his side and curling into a little ball. His eyes felt hot and a lump formed at the base of his throat, threatening to choke him.
“Oh, that? I already knew about it, John.” Sherlock said breezily, getting off the bed and moving to his dresser. He pulled open the bottom drawer and retrieved the tissues and wet wipes he’d hidden earlier alongside condoms and lube. Not that he’d planned on using the condoms himself, but if John had insisted…
“Wait, what? You knew?! Since when!” John said as he sat bolt upright. He blinked rapidly, dislodging the tears that had gathered on his lashes. He was dumbfounded. How could Sherlock have known? Why hadn’t he said something? What was going on??
“Since the day you asked me out.” Sherlock said with a shrug. He moved back to the bed and froze when he saw that John was crying. His thoughts derailed at the sight, chest tightening uncomfortably while he tried to figure out when he had caused John distress during the conversation.
“John?” Sherlock tentatively held out the box of tissues, suddenly unsure. He’d thought for sure John would be relieved to no longer be feeling guilty over the silly dare. Sherlock wasn’t sure why John was so invested in telling or not telling in the first place. It was clear from the second date on that John wasn’t in it just to get laid.
Obvious.
So what was the problem?
“You...you utter prick!” John lunged up and tackled the taller boy to the ground, heedless of his tears cascading freely down his cheeks now or the mess he’d just made of Sherlock’s silk sleep top by sandwiching and smearing still wet cum between them.
“Here I was thinking I was taking advantage of you and you already knew !” John reared back and punched him, though only on the shoulder and not as hard as he could have. He just wanted Sherlock to understand he was mad at him without actually bruising him.
“You could have told me! I almost broke up with you out of guilt! Twice! ” John said through a sniffle, sitting back on his heels while straddling Sherlock on his bedroom floor. He scrubbed a hand across his eyes, feelings twisted up in a convoluted snarl of relieve, anger, guilt, betrayal and happiness.
God, feelings were useless!
“I thought it would be better if you told me. No one likes it when I point out their secrets.” Sherlock said, brows furrowed as John displayed an alarming amount of emotion while plopped half naked in his lap. He looked happy and angry but was currently crying. What was Sherlock supposed to make of that?
“Well, no. Not usually. But you shouldn’t have kept this from me!” John choked a little and ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. He needed to get ahold of himself dammit!
“I...won’t keep your secrets from you?” Sherlock said with a slight uptick to add the questioning tone. He was confused by the whole thing. Did sex make John emotional or would he have been like this at school, too?
“No you tit, next time tell me you know!” John sighed and slumped where he knelt, looking suddenly deflated and miserable. He looked down at Sherlock sadly, stomach burning with shame.
“I’m sorry Sherlock. I’ll understand if...if you don’t want…” John bit his lip and looked away, completely missing the suddenly frantic look on Sherlock’s face. Even if Sherlock had known all along, how could he want to stay with John, knowing that he was such an idiot?
“No! John, no!” Sherlock sat up and wrapped his arms around his smaller, stupid boyfriend. How could he not want John in his life? However he’d come into it he was still the best part of his life, hands down. Sherlock wouldn’t ask him to leave over something as paltry as a dare and a few secrets that weren’t secret.
“Don’t leave me.” Sherlock whispered into his neck. He tightened his hold when John made to pull away and then yelped when he felt a sharp pinch to his arse. He backed off with a severe pout aimed at his now pulled together boyfriend.
“Sherlock. I won’t leave you, you great git. Not if you don’t want me to.” John said with a wide smile. He reached a hand up and cupped Sherlock’s cheek, rubbing at his bottom lip with his thumb tenderly.
“Let’s just forget all about the dare, okay? I stopped thinking about it by the second date and you knew about it way before then so it’s pointless for us-” John rolled his eyes as Sherlock interrupted him with a scoff, “ me , pointless for me, to keep agonizing over it. Jim will probably try and use it against you somehow.”
“Jim is always trying to set me up for failure. It’s one of the many reasons I saw through your machinations so quickly. But I agree. About forgetting about the dare in it’s entirety.” Sherlock said lightly before dipping forward and biting the tip of John’s thumb playfully.
“Now that that’s sorted, let’s go have a shower, mm? Someone got us filthy.” Sherlock purred, swiping his tongue across the pad of John’s thumb and standing up. He held out his hand to help John to his feet, ignoring the eye-roll and the muttered words about whose fault it really was they were dirty.
There was a large shower waiting for them after all and Sherlock’s family was away on business or at school, so John wouldn’t have to try and be quiet.
Sherlock had plenty of experiments to try with his John before the night was through.