Denial (John/Sherlock)

As John grabbed his shoulder Sherlock considered shrugging him away, but the touch was too overpowering and soon they were face to face again. With his hand on John's chest he realised the other man's heart was pounding just as fast as his. Did it mean...did John...want him too?

Sherlock forced his mind to stop asking a hundred questions at once, forced himself to stop, to focus, to look at John. He was saying something important. It took a moment for the words to register and a while longer for him to fully digest their meaning. John...wanted....to kiss him. He could scarcely believe it. Everything he'd dreamt about...coming true? But why? Why would John want /him/? He knew he was asking too many questions again, worrying. John had told him to stop worrying. It was all right. They both wanted this.

Sherlock exhaled slowly as he realised he'd been holding his breath for quite a while now. Then he closed his eyes, grabbed John by the collar of his jumper and brought their lips together roughly, giving in to his pent up desires.

John saw Sherlock's thoughts on his face, first he was surprised, then disbelieving, and then, finally, he was giving in to the urges of the moment.
He would have smiled, if Sherlock's lips hadn't crushed against his the next second.

It was messy, neither of them was patient enough, and John was kissing Sherlock as if he was water in the desert, needy, eager, almost violent in the way he invaded his mouth and fought with his tongue.

His heart beat too fast in his chest, his lungs lacking oxygen, but he couldn't help his arms from wrapping around Sherlock's waist, pressing their bodies close as he pinned him to the sink again.
He wasn't going to let him go this time.
He knew only now that this was what he really wanted, what he had wanted all along.

Sherlock moaned into the kiss, his hands wrapped round John hungrily running themselves down his shoulders, his back, his bum, anywhere and everywhere. His body was screaming out, desperate. He had waited so long for this. At least a year, possibly even more if he considered the possibility that he may have been in love with John long before he even realised it himself.

The meaningless kisses he had experienced with his one night stands melted away into the background. They were /nothing/ compared to this. He could feel John's body pressed up against his, could sense the desire and passion in the other man's kisses. It was unmistakable. No one had ever kissed him that way. No one had ever wanted him /that/ much.

Sherlock had forgotten all about his earlier nervousness. He tugged eagerly at the buttons on John's trousers. Kissing just wouldn't be enough. He had to make John his. Once and for all.

John had never thought he could want anyone this much, everything that Sherlock was doing, the kiss, the hands, the soft panting, it was drawing him closer and closer, making every part of his brain close down.

He had always been interested in sex, but not this way, not the way he felt his heart implode in need.

It was with wonder than he ran his hands through Sherlock's soft locks, his heart beating in his throat, scared things would just disappear any minute.

He wouldn't let Sherlock pull away, he would never part, he thought desperately, fingers resting on the detective's sternum again, shaking as he felt the hands on his trousers.
He couldn't believe what he was doing, but he wanted Sherlock to do anything to him, anything to relieve the tension that had formed in his pants.

With their lips still locked together and tongues clashing, Sherlock swiftly undid John's belt and urgently pulled down his pants, releasing the other man's erection. He left one hand still wrapped around his back whilst the other hand came down and found its way around John's erection.

Sherlock's recent sexual experiences had left him feeling more confident about sex. He knew what he liked and he was fairly certain he knew how to pleasure a man, despite it being a new area.

It felt amazing to suddenly become so intimate with John, just the feel of him in his hand as he began to gently move it up and down, gradually increasing the tempo. He broke away slightly from the kiss to whisper, "This is just like my dreams."

John gasped loudly when he felt his trousers slid to the floor, the cold air hitting his groin, he couldn't believe it was happening, his whole world spinning.
"Sherlock," he whimpered, breaking the kiss for a moment, just to breathe, his eyes moving down to look at those pale fingers wrapped around his erection.

"God," he moaned, the words only adding to his pleasure. "You should... have said... something..." he whispered, but he was searching for his lips again, his own fingers moving down to Sherlock's belt, he had to do something, he needed to reciprocate.

He was clumsy, he was nervous, and definitely distracted, but eventually he was able to sneak his hand inside Sherlock's pants and wrap his fingers around his prominent erection.
God, it was a long time since he had touched another man's cock, but it had never felt like this.
Nothing had ever felt like this.

"You were always...going on dates," Sherlock mumbled between kisses, "Telling people you...weren't gay...I didn't think you'd be interested."

He yelped as he felt John's hand slide around his erection, the pleasure coursing through his body like an electric current. He reached down a spare hand and pushed his own pants down further so they dropped to his knees. The way John touched him was stronger, sexier, better, more....brilliant...than any other time in his life.

"I only started sleeping around," he gasped breathlessly, hardly able to talk anymore, "because I couldn't....have you."

There was a growl leaving John's lips when he registered the words, it took him a while, but he felt the jealousy sparking again. "I... am... not... gay..." he whispered, his hand squeezing the other's arousal just softly. "But you... just you... I want you..." he admitted, burying his face in the other's neck, his tongue coming out to explore the pale skin.

"I hate all those women... I can't stand the idea that they touched you before I could," he hissed, and started moving his hand up and down Sherlock's arousal, moaning softly for what was happening around his own.

"I'm sorry John," Sherlock whispered, and he genuinely was. "I would have waited for you...if I'd have thought it possible." There was no way he would have let any of those women near him if he thought that one day he might be able to actually have John. His John.

By now the sensations were becoming too great to ignore, but at the same time, it wasn't really enough. Sherlock wanted to possess John the way he'd possessed the women. To feel himself deep inside of him.

He temporarily let go of his arousal and moved both hands round John's back, bringing him closer, one hand gently tracing underneath his chin, forcing him to look into his eyes.

"I...I have to have you John."

I...I have to have you John.

Sherlock's eyes were fixed deeply in him and he felt his knees going weak, the mere idea of submitting to sex scared him in that moment. He had never done that before, and in the back of his head he knew it wasn't right, he was technically cheating on his girlfriend, and it was not something John did. John never cheated, John was proper.

But looking at Sherlock's intent gaze now, the lust in his eyes, the way he was pulling him close, possessive, the bundle of feelings that had formed in his chest.
He needed Sherlock.
And Sherlock needed him.
He couldn't say no. Like he was never able to say no to Sherlock.

"Alright. Yes. Fuck me," he agreed, words spilling out of his lips before he was even sure of this.


((Trust John to be absolutely indelicate about it ^^ ))

Sherlock was so relieved that John was agreeing to this. He leant down, gave him a quick peck on the lips, then gently released himself from their close embrace. With some difficulty, he pulled his pants back up.

"Just give me one second. Please don't go anywhere," he pleaded, before racing out of the kitchen and to his bedroom, on the way undoing all the buttons of his shirt. Once in his room he took the shirt off completely, hurled it onto the bed, then reached into the top drawer of his bedside cabinet, retrieving a condom and a half empty bottle of lube. He had become something of an expert at using these in recent months.

He hurriedly returned to the kitchen, praying that John hadn't changed his mind in the short time he'd been gone. The tightness in his pants was aching to be released again and he did so now, undoing his buttons and dropping them to the floor before his arms reached to wrap themselves once more round John's waist and bring him closer for a kiss. Sherlock glanced around the kitchen and his eyes fell on the table.

In one swift move he took hold of John's arms on either side and swung him round, slamming his back down quite roughly onto the table. A plate clattered off and smashed on the floor. Sherlock didn't care. He felt so alive and sexy and turned on. He couldn't believe how badly he wanted this man.

John didn't really have time to do much, Sherlock's warmth was gone in a flash, he hardly registered the words, and he felt naked and sinful in the middle of the kitchen.

The next second his friend was walking back towards him shamelessly naked and aroused, and John felt he could come undone just seeing that.
Sherlock was more than beautiful, his skin pale around the toned muscles, and he wanted /John/ of all people, it was a miracle.

He groaned when he was swung around none too gently, a passing thought suggested they moved to a bed, but he wanted this now, he was not going to delay this for fear of hesitating.
So he complied, uncharacteristically submissive, a bit scared of what was to come, but Sherlock was the only person he trusted in this world, so he parted his legs, welcoming, pulling him closer.

A smirk on his lips when he felt the dish clattering to the floor, he liked the idea that there was going to be proof of this and neither of them could deny it happened.

Sherlock leant down and kissed the smooth soft skin on John's bare chest, sticking out his tongue slightly and tracing it right down to his belly button. As his hand found its way against John's erection he wondered what it would feel like to be inside another man...

"Have you...have you done this before?" he asked hesitantly, "I mean...with a...with a man?"

He turned his attention to the lube and squeezed a bit out onto his hand, rubbing it around to soften and warm it, then greasing it into his fingers. Sherlock had read up about this on the internet, and had dreamt about doing it to John hundreds of times. Now it was happening for real. His nervous, shaking fingers reached down between John's legs, and he carefully and slowly pushed a single finger into his enticing, tight hole.

John looked at Sherlock entranced by the movements of his mouth, every small step against his skin his heart skipped a beat and chills ran up his spine.
It was just so good.
For once he was feeling completely inexperienced, and he would have never thought he would feel that way with Sherlock, really, it was ironic.

"Never," he admitted, but then wondered if Sherlock would hesitate then. He didn't want that. "Don't hold back though, I can take it," he muttered with a confidence he didn't really feel.
He wanted this though, and he wanted Sherlock to do it. He wanted only Sherlock to do it.

He tensed instinctively when he felt the other's finger by his hole, then pushing inside, it wasn't completely unfamiliar, his sexual escapades had involved extremely intimate touching at times, but this was completely different, Sherlock's cock was going to be inside him.
They were going to be one.
Connected.

"God," he moaned, arching his back. He wanted it. And now.

Sherlock had to resist the urge to slam himself right inside and fuck him senseless. John's body was just so enticing, so beautiful and Sherlock's desire and need so great. But he forced himself to take things slow, he really didn't want to hurt him.

As he slipped a second finger inside, he leaned into John's face and kissed him eagerly along his neck, leading slowly up to his lips. His free hand explored the doctor's chest, lightly running his long fingers from his shoulder right down to his groin where they playfully danced around his hard on.

Sherlock enjoyed the sensation around his fingers as they explored deep inside, the muscles squeezing onto them tightly every time he pulled out. He pushed them even further and managed to find the prostate, his probing fingers massaging it a while. His eyes stared intently at John's face, trying to read his reactions. Sherlock was aching, bursting to be inside...

"Let me know when you're ready," he whispered.

He had no idea Sherlock could be so good, the usually cold detective was now hot as fire, he was lavishing John with attentions, he was luring him to a state of abandon and pleasure he had never been in.

John couldn't help the loud moan that escaped his lips when Sherlock touched his prostate, his hips buckling automatically, pushing against his friend's fingers as if in need.
"Do it, Sherlock," he whimpered, his eyes dark with lust.

He wanted him inside, he wanted him buried deep into his being.

He laid a bit back, bracing himself, but oh expectant at the same time.

Sherlock was enjoying the reactions he received from John and needed no further encouragement. He gently removed his fingers and temporarily stopped all activities to rip open the condom packet and put it on, leaving John looking desperate and needy as he waited. It was an even bigger turn on to see him wanting this so badly.

Sherlock grabbed John's legs and dragged him down to the edge of the table, then lifted them up slightly to enable easier access, his tall height giving him the advantage of being able to take John standing up. His fingers found the entrance once again and he guided himself towards it, pushing the head carefully against the expectant hole, before taking a little more lube and rubbing it on.

"Just...erm....try to relax," he whispered softly. "Let me know if you want me to stop." After offering this reassurance he pushed his hips towards John and felt himself slipping slowly inside.

John was writhing in need by the time Sherlock was putting a condom on, his hips were rolling expectantly, and his hands were looking for anything he could grab.
"Damn Sherlock, please," he pleaded, his eyes filled with desire.

It was surprisingly easy how Sherlock slipped inside him, but it hurt, it was like getting split open.
"Bloody hell," he winced, his eyes closing tight. "Make it stop Sherlock, move, make the pain stop," he muttered breathy, grabbing his arm and spreading his legs just a bit wider.

It felt so damn good being inside of John but seeing him writhing in pain made Sherlock hesitate a little. He wondered if he should pull out completely but he could tell John still wanted this...the way he spread his legs more, begging him to move.

"It'll be OK John...it'll...it'll pass." He withdrew a little, then drove himself deeper in, slowly building up a shaky hesitant pace while they both adjusted each other. Sherlock grabbed hold of John's thighs and held them apart as he steadily forced himself in and out, so tight it was almost painful.

"Is it getting better?" he asked, feeling John open up a bit around him, allowing him in further.

John nodded, he could take this, and the fact he wanted this more than anything did help quite a bit. He groaned softly when Sherlock maneuvered him to a better position, he felt oddly exposed, but the next second the other man started moving and he felt his breathing stop.

He felt his hips shudder, his muscles slowly adapting. Yes, he could do this.
It was Sherlock after all.
Sherlock pushing into him.

His hands moved to grab the other's arms, he needed to ground himself.
"Yes, Sherlock... yes, go... faster..." he whimpered, throwing his head back.

Sherlock could feel John relaxing, the pleasure starting to take over from the pain. He could read it all over the other man's face. He felt a thrill in his heart as he realised this was all /his/ doing.

He began to build up the pace a little, enjoying the waves of ecstacy that passed through him every time he pumped John that bit harder. He could feel John's fingernails digging into his arms, and he reached his own arms down, grabbing him by the shoulders to steady himself.

Then he truly let go, his hips thrusting wildly, faster and faster as he let out a series of profanaties mingled in with his lover's name. "Fuck...John....Christ....God John...." Sherlock reached a hand down to grab John's erection, moving it up and down in time to his thrusts.

John was oddly aware of the moment Sherlock lost control, it was in the way he looked at him, in the way he felt inside him, but there was a space in John's chest, filled with hot pleasure now, and Sherlock was feeding it directly with his desire.

"Sherlock," he whimpered, his legs now as wide as they could go, his hips coming up to meet each thrust, it was so good, it was more than that, and all he could not was lose control with Sherlock, arching his back and begging him to fuck him harder, faster, so much that he was quick to arrive a few seconds away from his orgasm.

Sherlock was pounding hard and fast into John. He screwed his eyes tight shut as he felt his climax creeping up around him, splashes of colour dancing in front of his closed eyelids, a warm tingling spreading right through his body from the top of his head to the tips of his curled up toes as he relentlessly hammered home.

He'd wanted to make it go on longer but he just couldn't help himself. Finally having John, his John, after all these years...it had tipped him well and truly over the edge. As the orgasm hit him Sherlock he cried out his lover's name, then opened his eyes wide, focusing on John's face, wanting to watch what he looked like when he came.

John felt the thrusts becoming even more desperate exactly when his own need required it, it took only a few of those for him to come. His back arched, pleasure shooting through him like a bolt and he was biting on his lower lip in a silly attempt to muffle his loud moan.

He knew that the pleasure brought by penetration was supposed to be different than everything else, but he had not imagined this, his eyes were unfocused and his heart beating irregularly in his chest, he felt weak and relaxed, as if fireworks were going off in his body, and everything was fine with the world.
His hand instinctively looked for Sherlock's, his fingers wrapped around his palm and he kept them there for a while as he regained his breath.

Sherlock collapsed forward onto John's chest, his legs weak and wobbly. As John's hand found his, he held it tightly, squeezing a little, breathless and exhaused but completely satisfied. For a while they said nothing and Sherlock was savouring the after effects of his orgasm and the sweet smell that eminated from John's body.

But this wasn't exactly the most comfortable position in the world - his feet on the floor with half his body bent over the table, so eventually he slowly stood up, allowing himself to slip gently out of John. He removed the condom and threw it in the bin, then reached out his hand to John, giving him a lift up off the table with a smile. Then he took him into his arms and held him close, just stood there in the kitchen.

"Was...was that OK?" he asked, suddenly a bit nervous that John might be already starting to regret it all.