Adult-FanFiction.org : Television / Streaming

Barrier	By : FairyBean Category: S through Z > Sherlock (BBC) > Sherlock (BBC) Views: 3385 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Barrier
- 1
Title: Barrier (or Sherlock and John's first time)
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Rating: R

-------
“John. I'm booooooooored.”

John ignored him, turning to walk into the room with his tea.

“John, I want to fuck.”

John Watson dropped his tea at the statement. In surprise at the vulgar language Sherlock was using as much as shock at what the words were saying. They had lived together for over a year now, solved many cases and were in a quiet month since those bombs tied to people turned out to be Moriaty and he had disappeared.

He took a breath that felt like it seared his throat and said “Well, there are places for that. Or we could go to a bar and get you a one night stand.”

He looked at Sherlock’s face, saw something there that was very like hurt and regretted the words immediately. Even if he had never said it, that night at the pool had changed Sherlock and John’s relationship immensely.

“Sherlock,” he breathed as the man unfolded himself from the sofa. Long legs gracefully carrying him forwards to where John stood at the entrance to the kitchen. He always looked hot in those suits, and today he was wearing a particularly see through white shirt. John noted the darker nipple shadows beneath it almost without realising as Sherlock came into his personal space.

He gulped as he took in the feathery hair, and those huge luminous grey eyes. “I want to be fucked by you,” Sherlock whispered right into his ear, his breath hot and the touch of fingers on his shoulder made him shudder.

“But I’m not-” he was going to say gay, but Sherlock’s lips touched his. It was clumsy, reminding him that in all likelihood Sherlock was a virgin but there was something about it that lit a fire in John. It was just so…

Cute.

He stifled a laugh with difficulty. He knew Sherlock would take it the wrong way and be hurt but as he let a little slip through his lips he found his hands tightening on Sherlock’s jacket. Sherlock didn’t seem hurt at the laughter, as if he knew what it was for and only redoubled his efforts to kiss John into submission.

Then he felt tongue, warm and wet and some control slipped in the doctor, a moan escaping his lips. It had been a long time since anyone had wanted him like this. He knew he could let go now, that Sherlock would take care of him…but he didn’t know who would take care of Sherlock.

“Sherlock, you have to stop, you have to,” he panted, breath ragged. When did that happen? He wondered idly but Sherlock had stopped. Their lips no longer entwined.

“Come here,” Sherlock said softly and merely embraced John for a moment before pulling back. “I know what I am doing John,” he added and smiled that smile only John got to see. The one that melted him inside. John found himself nodding.

“You always do Sherlock.”

There was a stunned surprise on Sherlock’s face at those words and he led John a few steps away from the spilled tea and smashed cup, into free space in the apartment. Then he slid his hands down John’s body. Removing his light jacket, his belt. They fell to the floor unnoticed as John tipped back his head and Sherlock licked and nipped at his throat. It was too slow, John thought as Sherlock’s hands cupped his buttocks.

And that thought unleashed something that John never thought would appear again.

*

Sherlock had been enjoying his experiment, to see if he could gently coax John into taking him. He had seen Mycroft and Lestrade, and it had disturbed him deeply before he had reanalysed the footage in his head last night. He had seen the tenderness, the trust that he had thought Holmes’ were unable to give and he craved it. He wanted it. But he knew John was trained to deny what he wanted. He was a service man after all. Lestrade had told him to seduce him, that that was how he had gotten Mycroft and after a large amount of blinking Sherlock had nodded and gone to look up the entire process, including sex acts, on the internet.

It didn’t however prepare him for being almost slammed into the wall beside the coat tree, or having his jacket pulled half down his arms so he couldn’t move as a tongue invaded his mouth. He had been planning on a blow job next, to get John in the mood, but as a moan escaped his lips while John’s hands were now undressing him it seemed it was unnecessary.

“Oh…John!” he said, his voice deep with lust. His brain registered that and almost smiled. Then John undid his pants, his own hanging open and clashed their mouths together in another fierce kiss.

Sherlock revelled in the emotions ripping through him. Things he thought he would never feel but he was glad they were all directed at John. He needed John now. Wanted him. “Bed,” he gasped out as his shirt was discarded with his shoes and jacket. He pushed John’s chest, pulled whimpering at the shirt that covered it. “Take me.”

This was Sherlock at his best, he knew, and he knew the doctor wouldn’t be able to resist him.

*

John loved the touch of Sherlock’s flesh. His creamy skin, those taught but slim muscles and the wonderful curly hair that was so dark compared to the rest. He had kissed him over and over, harder with teeth clashing and lips bruising but he knew it wasn’t enough.

As they stumbled towards the bedroom, hardly leaving contact with each other and yet stripping every item of clothing to the last, John wondered if Sherlock knew what came next, and faltered.

Sherlock looked at him, his eyes filled with the shine he usually only got on a case, tinted with understanding at John’s hesitation. And before he could speak Sherlock did.

“It’s ok,” he said softly and held out an arm as he walked backwards, palm up and fingers splayed so John could grasp them. “I know what happens now. Please John?”

That broke him in more ways that just knocking out a barrier. It broke through all the months of wondering whether Sherlock would live, whether he would live, the excitement, the pain and the many, many girlfriends who had dumped him because of his attachment to the detective.

“Ok,” he breathed back. “Ok.”

Sherlock almost bounced with joy at the words and John laughed as he suddenly had an armful of Sherlock. A happily smiling, smug Sherlock. Then John touched his arse, brought him forwards so their cocks rubbed together. Though Sherlock was taller it seemed to make little difference here, the detective began immediately rutting against him, breathing ragged, movements as sinuous as a snake.

And John lost the last of his inhibitions. “Bed, now,” he growled low in his throat, a sound that made Sherlock shiver with excitement before he let out a low moan because he would have to stop rubbing against John in order to get to the bed. John forced a rather comical break up when he stepped back and Sherlock mostly fell forwards into him with a tangle of limbs.

The laugher broke from both of them then and they were racing towards the bed, tumbling to it with John falling between Sherlock’s creamy thighs as if it had been preordained. Sherlock bucked under him as their lips met any piece of flesh they could. Licking, kissing, biting. It seemed Sherlock liked to lightly nip. And as his hands ran everywhere, mapping John’s body within his mind he knew that Sherlock was pleased with what he found.

John dipped his head and began to lap up Sherlock’s cock. Taking the head into his mouth, swirling around it with his tongue before dipping to the base and laving his tongue up the entire length, pausing to tickle the vein that pulsed there as Sherlock did nothing but grip the bed sheets in a white knuckled grip and keen his pleasure.

John smiled as he began to trace a finger around Sherlock’s hole. Gently at first, not pushing in at all, just round and round. Then he blinked as something not soft but not hard hit him in the head. He looked up to see Sherlock, back arched with his head thrown back and his mouth open but one hand was flat to the bed now, as if it had just thrown something.

“Hurry,” the ragged voice came from above him. “John…hurry.” Followed by a moan so erotic John would have sworn on his life it couldn’t have come from Sherlock unless he had just heard it. It made his own cock twitch in a rather needful way, a great need to be inside something tight and hot and…virgin. He nearly stopped then but Sherlock let out another gorgeous moan and bucked his hips.

John then noticed the tube of…something that lay next to his arm. It was brand new and a tiny sharp thought cut across his pleasure.

“You planned this?”

There was a ragged breath that could have been a sigh but Sherlock was too aroused to make it so. “O-of course I did! Now hurry up!” he said and bucked his hips, his cock sliding up John’s cheek.

John almost wrenched the cap off the tube and squirted it along his first two fingers. He just used one to start with, teasing the hole open so he could get inside. It was so hot and tight around just that finger that he was worried for his cock, but Sherlock was writhing, moaning, calling his name over and over and he couldn’t deny that it gave him an immense boost to his ego.

As the second finger slipped in, John took him back into his mouth, right to the back of his throat and sucked. Sherlock almost screamed and bucked high off the mattress. John’s free hand held his hip down as much as he could and smiled around the erection in his mouth when he heard

“Oh god…oh god…oh..John!”

“Yes?” he said politely with a wicked grin spreading his lips and he scissored his fingers inside. “I think you're ready now Sherlock,” he said and withdrew the fingers. Sherlock was wetter than any of his previous partners had ever been, but he knew he was new, that he needed it. And so as John sat back, Sherlock whimpered at the emptiness he had left behind.

John leaned over that lithe body, tasting his skin and licking his lips. He kissed him as he took a pillow from the other side of the bed and drew back to push it under Sherlock. The detective didn’t question though as John slid rough hands over his thighs and lifted those beautiful, long limbs over his elbows before he lined himself up and pushed.

*

Sherlock had never felt anything like it. The pleasure swirling with the pain as John’s cock entered him. He had a brief moment of sheer panic as he felt how big it was in comparison to the fingers but it was pushed out of the way as the pain stilled his every muscle. He knew it could be worse. John had prepared him thoroughly. He knew from his reading that some men didn’t bother, and John had gone above and beyond what he had merely needed.

John was still, buried in him to the hilt but unmoving. Allowing Sherlock to get used to it he knew but he couldn’t stand it. “Jooooooohn,” he whined and wiggled a little. He didn’t care if it hurt. He wanted it now. “Fuck me,” he breathed.

John let out a mix between a moan of pleasure and a whimper of pain as that voice went through him and Sherlock gasped as John’s cock twitched inside him. “Yes,” he breathed putting his head back so John could kiss his neck. “Yes, John. God. Move.” He stretched out his hands and wrapped them into John’s hair, pulling him roughly forwards and down for a kiss, pulling him deeper inside himself and letting go to the things that were to happen.

He moved his legs a little higher, on John’s shoulder now. Those powerful muscles taught with the effort of holding back. Sherlock clenched his muscles and could feel John’s moan as it was ripped from him as easily as he could hear it. The heat between them was building, sweat forming as John let go too and thrust into him like a spear striking a deer. Straight and true. Sherlock yelled his name, hands tightening their grip on those arms, feeling the muscles move to give him pleasure, and John was panting now too. Their breathing syncing up as Sherlock noted John’s hair sticking to his temples and found himself arching from the bed.

John had found his prostate.

And then it was a blur of limbs and thrusts and shouting and moaning as John started to thrust with abandon. “John! John! Oh god, oh god!” Sherlock couldn’t say anything else. The odd ‘fuck’ or ‘oh god Sherlock’ from John broke up the moans but that huge member sliding in and out of him was something Sherlock never wanted to stop. His skin was a beautiful pink, tinged with red where he was getting warm.

Sherlock caught John’s eye on one particularly brutal thrust forwards and the doctor blushed but didn’t stop. With a grunt he gasped. “Close Sher-“ and his thrusts sped up.

“God John, I’m there!” he almost yelled as John’s cock rubbed into his prostate. John smiled as he pushed forward again, the same angle, the same spot hit and Sherlock threw his head back again. His fingers scrabbling at the sheets, not knowing what to do with them. Then John palmed his cock and started to rub. Sherlock keened loudly, not caring who could hear him and could hear John whispered “fuck, fuck, fuck,” over and over as he thrust and stroked and then Sherlock was coming, beautifully hard all over the bed and John and his own chest but he didn’t care. His muscles were all taught and on the next thrust John had wailed out something and filled him with his seed.

For a moment everything was still and then John collapsed, making sure not to fall on Sherlock.

“Sorry,” he muttered and tried to turn away. Sherlock, almost boneless with pleasure turned him back, crushed his lips against John’s and then murmured

“But that, John Watson, My John Watson. Was nothing at all to be sorry about.”

John looked at him, debauched, rose tinted skin, beautiful smile and slightly sweat dewy hair and smiled.

“In fact, now it’s my turn,” Sherlock said with a grin like the Cheshire Cat and rolled on top of his doctor.
- 1
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Barrier