Sherlock was bored, and that would not do. He had already checked and marked the progress of his current experiments, there had been no calls from Lestrade or even Dim of the Yard, and his website was yielding nothing but idiots with moronic - and more distressingly, dull - problems that they wanted him to fix. Nothing even approaching a 2, let alone an 8.
He'd already been warned off of checking the flammability of anything else in the flat beyond John's chest of drawers, under pain of John leaving for good, and somehow his flatmate had managed to hide his gun in a place that Sherlock had been as yet unable to find, a situation in itself that irked him to no end. God, he was bored.
From the sofa across from him, John Watson snorted quietly in his sleep. Sherlock's scowl deepened. Even his flatmate-cum-sex partner was unavailable to him. Sometimes an orgasm was enough to put off the mind-destroying boredom for a few precious moments, but John had fallen asleep after having given Sherlock direct orders not to disturb him. Oh, dull.
Thinking further along the line of orgasms, a new train of thought left the station of Sherlock's mind. Last night during their sexual dabblings, John had noticed how sensitive the skin of John's scrotum appeared to be. Unlike Sherlock, the man had very little hair on his balls, and sometimes even the lightest touch was extremely ticklish to him. Sherlock assumed that it was simply the fact of the decent amount of black thatch that he had over his testicles protected his own skin from feeling this way. But did it really? Or was it just the John himself was particularly sensitive?
A new experiment was forming, and it unrolled in his mind rapidly. A test of the sensitivity of the skin of the human scrotum could possibly be of use in the future. Who knew, perhaps one day someone's freedom could depend on his observations! Yes, this was something that needed to be explored.
Jumping up from his chair, Sherlock strode to the bathroom and firmly shut the door behind him. He could have woken John up, and tried to engage his services in this experiment, but Sherlock knew that firstly, first-hand data was far more effective, and secondly, that John would probably kill him for waking him from his nap. So Sherlock found himself grabbing one of his disposable razors and oh-so-carefully shaving the pubic hair off of his testicles. This of course made an ungodly mess, but he could deal with that later. Time was of the essence!
Leaving the razor on the lid of the toilet, Sherlock took the hand towel and used it to wipe down his newly-bare sack. He shivered lightly as the skin of his balls tightened up at the sensation. Good god, there certainly was a difference! Leaving his trousers draped over the shower curtain rail, and his used pants in the bathtub, Sherlock left the bathroom wearing only his purple button-down shirt.
Sherlock started in his own bedroom. He squatted down on the bed, draping his balls on the duvet. Not ticklish, but somewhat scratchy. He tried on his desk - rough, and a possible way to end up with a badly-placed splinter, but not ticklish. He could, however, now feel the grain of the wood, which he surely wouldn't have been able to feel before. He tried several more spots with several more textures, each giving him different sensations. He made notes in his notebook as he went along.
Soon Sherlock adjourned to the kitchen. He placed himself on the counter (not enough sensation); on a shelf in the fridge (too much sensation!), and briefly considered the elements on the stove, but decided it wasn't necessary.
Checking carefully that John was still sound asleep, he made his way into the main room. He sat for a moment in his usual chair, before moving to John's usual spot, still making notations. He found he was rapidly running out of surface materials to experiment with. Briefly he tried sitting on his own hand, to check the feel of skin against skin; this didn't work, however, as he was too aware of the feeling of his own hand to really focus on the feelings of his sack. Tapping the arm of his chair for a moment, he briefly considered another way he could test skin to skin.
The easiest way would undoubtedly be to engage John in his experiment, and lay his testicles on John's skin. Perhaps the man wouldn't mind? But then again, he had said he would mind if he was woken up. But surely, Sherlock thought incredulously, John wouldn't mind if it was in the pursuit of science! And it's not as if he hasn't seen Sherlock and touched him there before. They'd had sex countless times; this couldn't be much different!
Mind made up, Sherlock crossed the room as quietly as possible, and positioned himself near the right end of the sofa. He placed one foot by John's cupped hand, which rested by his side, and kept the other on the floor, and then carefully lowered his genitals into the open palm.
Hm. Warm. Pleasant. The hand was slightly warmer than his exposed balls. Sherlock noted this all diligently in his notebook. He couldn't help it, but the feel of skin on skin was starting to give him a bit of an erection.
John murmured something in his sleep at that moment, and his hand began to curl around Sherlock's balls. Pulling carefully away, Sherlock took the moment to be thankful that the hand had closed slowly so he'd had the time to avoid getting his balls in a clamped fist. John was still not awake, Sherlock thought, watching his peaceful face, eyelids fluttering slightly as if he was in a dream, and his mouth open slightly.
Oh! thought Sherlock, what would breath feel like? Carefully, quietly, he manoeuvred himself up so that he could sort of squat over John's forehead. When the newly shaved skin touched the warmth and smooth skin, Sherlock shuddered. He rested his balls there for a moment, and then dragged them lightly and ever so carefully down over John's eyes, nose, and then rested them on his open lips.
Sherlock shivered all over. Now that was ticklish! Each breath that John took around Sherlock's balls inflated his erection. It was mere moments before he was hard enough to split wood. He took several breaths to calm himself down, and made the appropriate notes in his book. Looking up from the page, he glanced down John's body, and was surprised to see the tent that was forming in John's trousers. The penny dropped, as it were, and Sherlock looked down, to find John's eyes wide open, staring up Sherlock's body, making direct eye contact. Oops.
John had snapped into wakefulness the moment Sherlock's foot touched the sofa by his hand. He lay quietly, though, as he knew instantly that Sherlock was up to something. And that something quickly became apparent when suddenly his hand was full of... balls.
Well, this was new -
He cracked one eye open, and saw Sherlock above him, shirted, but naked from the waist down, scribbling into a black notebook - his latest volume of experiment results. John almost cracked a smile, but kept it under wraps. Instead he slowly began to close his hand, to see what Sherlock would then do.
He did not expect, however, to find Sherlock squatting his rear end over John's face. What the fuck? He felt the skin, which he just then registered were lacking the usual hair Sherlock had in that area, as it was drawn down his face, over his eyes and nose - just long enough for John to smell that exquisite musky, male scent he knew so well - and then down to his parted lips. Then the movement stopped. At which point John opened his eyes again, watching Sherlock make more notes. This time, however, he kept his eyes open.
"Jo--ack!" Sherlock started to say John's name and tried to move away from John's face but John grabbed him by the hips and held him there. He saw Sherlock's erection bobbing around above him, and was not surprised when a single drop of pre-cum dripped down onto the skin of his chin. He opened his mouth and sucked in one of Sherlock's testicles, letting it go with a pop, and then sucked in just the skin of the scrotum.
John wasn't the slightest bit angry at Sherlock for waking him up. He had no clue what the consulting detective was doing, teabagging him and writing notes at the same time (he had to get his hands on those notes), but sex with Sherlock was a great way to wake up, so it was fine by him. He'd still remonstrate Sherlock for waking him up afterwards though. John had given very specific instructions not to wake him.
John nosed the testicles on his face, and reached up further to lick and press on Sherlock's perineum, and then slowly moved further back, bringing his hands down to spread Sherlock's cheeks, baring the detective's hole to John's tongue. He lapped over the pucker several times, feeling it twitch and tighten reflexively under his tongue, and then applied himself to piercing that hole with the tip of his tongue.
"It - oh - it was - anexperiment!" the last two words came out as a squeak, as John had slicked a finger with saliva and took that exact moment to poke just the tip of it inside Sherlock. The notebook and pen dropped to the floor with a clatter.
John ignored him. Leaving Sherlock's cleft alone finally, John took the man's hips and repositioned them so that he could grab Sherlock's cock and bring it down to his mouth. After a few preliminary licks around the crown, John swallowed him down, using his hands to encourage Sherlock to set his own tempo and speed. This allowed John to reach down and open his own trousers and pants and pull out his aching cock to play with.
Sherlock took him at his 'word', and thrust deeply into John's mouth, hitting the back of his throat repeatedly as he fucked John's face. He was balancing his hands on the arm of the sofa, and his freshly shaved balls slapped against John's chin. John did his best not to gag and relaxed his throat to allow Sherlock to go as deep as possible.
It took barely any time for John to come, just from having Sherlock take his mouth so roughly. He pulled his cock several times with a saliva-slick hand and came so hard that most of his come hit Sherlock's arse, and dipped down onto John's chin, making more of a mess than usual, what with all the saliva and pre-cum.
John reached up again and took hold of Sherlock's balls as they swayed to his movements. They had tightened up considerably and were now gathered tight to his body. John knew what was coming. Not really wanting to swallow all of Sherlock's come, he pulled on the man's hips to indicate that he should pull out. Sherlock thrust three or four more times, but then yielded to John's demand.
The timing couldn't have been better though, as Sherlock started to come right then. The first spurt laid a stripe across John's right eye, some of the come getting stuck in his eyelashes, and the other two landed on his cheek and chin. Sherlock's prick twitched and pulsed, and a final spurt landed right across the lips of John's open mouth.
After a bare moment, Sherlock regained his footing, and picked up his notebook again. Without a word, he crossed to his chair and began scribbling frantically. John, face a mess and hair not much better, simply stared at him.
"Yes. I was bored."
John rolled his eyes and got up to go wash his face. He'd ask for details later. The come and saliva on his face was starting to drip uncomfortably. He disappeared for a moment, then came back out.
"Pubic hair..." he pointed back in the bathroom.
Sherlock smiled absently as he worked. "Not for me, thanks."