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Swallowed by Feelings	By : LetsHaveDinner Category: S through Z > Sherlock (BBC) > Sherlock (BBC) Views: 2595 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Sherlock Holmes fandom, nor the characters appearing in this story. I do not make money from my work, it is purely for pleasure.

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Swallowed by Feelings

Chapter Two - Alcohol and Curiosity

And here he was again. New Year's Eve. The snow was slowly falling outside; the tiny white spots swirled in the gentle wind. Fireworks exploded in every ten minutes, shorter, longer, colourful flashes outside the window; but even the distant noise of the explosions couldn't disturb their peace and comfort.

They had a long night; Sherlock thought even longer than expected. It was only two in the morning but he expected himself to be alone two hours earlier. Instead of bed, he had a comfortable armchair and instead of loneliness, he had John Watson and a glass of brandy.

They already finished a bottle of Merlot before and now they were slowly sipping the burning brown liquid while talking about everything. Literally everything. They wandered from the topic of stars to cases, then to brothers with power complex and sisters with alcohol problem. They just talked and talked, like never before.

Sherlock knew why he opened up this much to John. No, it wasn't the alcohol, or not just that. It was because of that few minutes in the kitchen, right after John suggested that Mrs Hudson should spend some day away from Baker Street.

Why then? It is simple.

Because that was the moment when he first in his life felt, actually felt, that he had a family. People, who accepted him the way he was, and whom he wanted to protect even if it cost his life. It was a weird, unusual moment actually, and even with his intellectual, or especially with his intellectual, it was hard to explain why exactly had he had this feeling back then.

"Do you hear me?" John asked, laughing, his legs thrown over the arm of the chair.

"No, sorry." He shook his head.

John laughed again and shook his empty glass.

"Be a lamb and pass that bottle, would you."

Sherlock poured more brandy into their glasses. "Cheers." They said in synchrony and as their glasses clinked, another firework blasted off outside.

"Tell me something Sherlock…" John leaned back on the chair, "Why do you never text her back? She… flirted with you but you've never texted her back. Why?"

"Her?" Sherlock asked, knowing exactly, who John meant.

"Don't do that."

"Why should I text her?"

"Because you can't walk away from the market without commenting everything and everyone you see and now there is a woman, whom you saw naked for the first time, who is a dominatrix, who drugged you, who faked her death but then told you she was actually still alive. You always respond, but not now. Why?"

"John… If I didn't know you better I might think you're jealous. And I did text her. Just today. See, there is no case here." Sherlock said, waving casually with his hand, and then looked out the window. He hoped John wouldn't force on the question as he didn't have a real answer. He hated feelings; they made everything so complicated.

"I'm… I'm not jealous." John said, drinking a bit from his brandy. Neither of them spoke, Sherlock was still staring out the window, while John was looking at him, gazing at the shape of his face, the line of his nose and cheekbones, the outlines of his lips.

"What?" Sherlock suddenly asked, looking right in his eyes.

John swiftly looked elsewhere, though he was sure Sherlock knew he was staring at him. Slightly blushing, he realized he had just too much alcohol in his system to actually consider saying out loud what he was thinking of just a minute ago.

He bent forward, and placed his glass on his knee. "Can I ask you something Sherlock?"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, and leaned back in his chair. "Whatever you want, my dear John."

John hesitated for a moment and his gaze once again shifted down from Sherlock's eyes. As the man was comfortably sitting with his legs apart, John unwillingly followed the curves of his body; the slim hips, the long thighs and even the bulge between them.

When he realized what he was looking at, he reluctantly licked his lips then suddenly, as if waking up from a daydream he shook his head slightly and looked in the bright, grey eyes.

"Have you ever had someone?"

Sherlock's eyebrow rose even higher, almost comically high as he slowly gulped; but he didn't say anything and the silence deepened.

John was just about to apologies and call it a night when Sherlock quickly emptied his glass and said slowly, "You mean…?"

"Well… girlfriend, boyfriend… anything in between. A relationship."

"John, you know it well, how hard it is to live with me; other than you and Mrs Hudson no one really can bear me for more than ten minutes."

"Well, that's… true, I guess"

"That should answer your question." Sherlock nodded.

"And love? Or affection? Not even unrequired?" John asked, already assuming the answer. But it wasn't what he expected.

"Once. I think." Sherlock murmured but didn't look John in the eyes.

"Was it a woman or a man?" John went on, not knowing himself, what made him ask all these questions.

"Man."

"So you're… gay?" he gulped.

"It doesn't matter." Sherlock said, and finally his eyes turned towards John.

"Of course it mat-"

"No it doesn't. I feel affection towards someone who arouses me, excites me, who makes me feel alive. The gender doesn't matter.

"Okay and what about…" John had to take a deep breath before going on. "…sex?"

Piercing gaze met John's, and for a moment, even though the hazy fog of alcohol in his mind, he felt intimated and aroused. He felt like he was trying to tame a wild jaguar and it excited him in a whole new level.

"You're going too far, John."

"Have you every slept with someone?" John resisted, leaning even closer towards Sherlock.

"I'm… I'm familiar with the method and the chemistry of it but no, I've never slept with anyone."

"I can't believe it…" John murmured and once again, Sherlock's eyebrow shot up.

"I mean… You of all people…" And for a split second he thought with that body, with those cheekbones, with that pair of eyes and with that deep, smooth voice? No one would ever say no to this man. But he said instead, "With your insatiable curiosity?"

"I know everything about it, and that is enough." Sherlock said, standing up and walking to the windows. If he was watching the street or the people or the fireworks, John didn't know.

"That shouldn't be enough. Do you remember when you said you don't care about the stars and planets but that doesn't mean you can't appreciate them? Saying this is enough for you, is like knowing everything about the universe, but never taking a minute to look up the sky at night and admire the stars…"

Even in the cosy darkness that surrounded them, John could see that Sherlock flushed, his cheeks turned slightly pink and he knew he was right.

"And what about you, John? I've heard you state more than once you are not gay. Have you never wandered to the other side, just out of curiosity?" Sherlock said defiantly, looking straight in John's blue eyes.

"No." John answered as he stood up too; the alcohol making him dizzy for a second. He placed his glass on the floor as he walked to Sherlock, who meanwhile turned his back on him again.

"And have you never been curious how it would be?" Sherlock asked quietly towards the window.

John reached out his hand and clasped Sherlock's shoulder. He stepped even closer as he turned the other man around, whispering, "Yes, I have." and with that he pulled Sherlock in a tender kiss.

He was surprised by every motion he made in the last few seconds but at this moment he didn't have any regret. Sherlock's kiss was sweet and gentle; unsure but needy. And he loved it more than he dared admit.

As staring out of the window a minute ago, Sherlock noticed the approaching footsteps and he even perceived his own, highly elevated heartbeat before a strong hand turned him around and lips met his for a gentle kiss.

This couldn't be real, why would John do such thing, he asked himself as his hand clasp John's neck pushing him slightly away. Was it curiosity? Simply alcohol? Or pity? His heart clenched.

"I don't need your pity." He growled, his face turning into a mask of anger.

"It's not pity," John murmured, his thumb trailing the lines of Sherlock's lips. "It's satisfying curiosity."

"Come on John, why would you be this curious so suddenly?"

"I… always were. I was in the military for god's sake. Things happen there, Sherlock, you know it too. Not to me, but they happen. I've seen things there and then I've seen things here at home, too. You basically give a shit if I see you just out of bed, naked, making your coffee. You probably don't even notice me." John whispered, not being able to tear his eyes away from Sherlock's lips. "But I saw you Sherlock, and what I've seen affected me in such ways I've never experienced. And a part of me even liked it."

"What if I don't want this?" Sherlock asked but the anger disappeared from his face as the gentle fingers caressed him. His lips parted and he was surprised to feel John sliding his thumb slightly further in. Against his better judgment, knowing exactly that this was the wrong move to make, he licked the finger before kissing it slowly.

"I dare you to look me in the eye and say you don't want to do this." John smirked.

"I don't want to do this." Sherlock stated, looking right into the piercing blue eyes.

John's left hand slid to Sherlock's shirt, pulling him closer. "That, Sherlock Holmes…" he whispered, as his right moved to Sherlock's neck, "…is a fucking…", his grip tightened as their lips became only slightly apart, "Lie." he groaned, kissing Sherlock once again, passionately and wildly this time, knowing exactly he was right.

Sherlock's heart pounded in his chest as he let John's tongue slid into his mouth. His mind still said this was a bad idea but its voice was quieter by every passing second, by every sweet kiss John gave him.

People called him mad all the time, but his usual behaviour was nothing compared to what emotions whirled in him right now. This, this was the real madness, standing at the window and kissing his only friend, feeling tempted to do all the things he sometimes dreamed about, things he never really wanted or just didn't know he wanted up until now, up until the first kiss John placed on his lips, because that one motion made him aware of all the dirty little desires he managed to lock in the bottom of his heart.

And naturally all these cravings didn't just surfaced slowly so that he could analyse them, no, they broke free at once.

He turned them around and pushed John's body back, knocking over his music stand. All his music scattered in the living room but he couldn't care less. They reached something hard, it was his table. Lips still sealed on John's mouth he swept his hand over the desk, pushing down everything, what just a few moments ago meant some kind of importance to him. But not anymore; now the only thing that mattered was to grab John's thighs and smash him on the table. The doctor's back crushed firmly against the wall, so hard that he could hear John's surprised gasps, and with that the last string that tied him to reality ripped too.

He grabbed John's hands and raised them over the man's head, holding them tight there against the wall. He leaned slightly back, just enough so that their kiss would be stopped. John instantly bent towards him, trying to catch his lips with teeth, but Sherlock didn't let him.

"Slowly…" Sherlock groaned, his voice filled with desire.

"No…" John wined impatiently but Sherlock held his hand firm singlehandedly while his right unbuttoned John's chequered shirt. He pushed the fabric away and lowered his lips over the sweet skin of John Watson, sucking on his neck, nipping on the red marks he just made.

John's head fell back, knocking against the wall hard. Gasping, he tried to free his hands but the sensation of Sherlock's mouth on him was just way too tempting to actually put any effort in the struggling.

Sherlock reached John's pink nipple and without any hesitation he bit it, hard enough that it would hurt but still gentle enough so that the pain would made John whimper with pleasure.

"Shit, Sherlock!" John cried out, his back arching towards the detective.

"Enjoying the firm hands of a man, are you John?" Sherlock asked smirking at him, his tongue sliding over and over his erected nipple.

"God, yes." John moaned with eyes closed tightly as suddenly Sherlock's hand slid over his other side, the man's thumb caressing his left nipple roughly.

Sherlock smiled smugly for a brief second then went back to licking John's body, tasting every millimetre of him. Meanwhile his hand moved again, slithering slowly down, caressing gently, exploring the yet untouched areas. Soon he reached John's pants but he didn't stop. Without the slightest hesitation he opened the buttons one after the other. He kissed John harshly as he slid his hand under the other man's jeans, caressing his erection through his red pants.

John gasped loudly into Sherlock's mouth, unable to kiss him back, to do anything else just moan in ecstasy. But the hand was gone as Sherlock tried to get him out of his underwear as soon as possible.

Sherlock let go of John's hand and pulled down his pants as much as he could. But then suddenly his raw emotions slowed down and he looked into John's eyes before his hand slowly slithered over his bare manhood which was already hard like steel.

Sherlock watched John as he throw his head back again, panting heavily as pleasure took over his body. With a swift motion he lowered his head over John's lap but a firm grip in his hair prevented him from taking John's hard manhood between his swollen lips.

"You don't have to…" John gasped, and Sherlock saw in his eyes that what he really wanted to say was the exact opposite.

"I thought this night was about satisfying curiosity." Sherlock said just for the sake of argument as he didn't have the slightest intention of not taking John in his mouth. "I'm curious about how you would taste, how it would feel to lick your whole length from the bottom to the top and I'm curious, how much I would like the sensation of sucking on your erection while listening to your wild cries. Tell me what you really want, John Watson."

"I want you to suck my cock until I came into your mouth." John said determined after long seconds.

Sherlock smirked and lowered his head. He licked the tip, testing, tasting John. It was much better than he ever expected it. He was perfectly familiar with the anatomy, he knew the Latin name of every millimetre he tasted, as his tongue slid further down on John's lengths, but tasting it was completely new experience, a whole different world. He knew how the skin was soft over the rigid flesh; he held his member more than a million times before, even when it was hard. Tasting it, sliding his tongue over and over it was however something else, something new and he liked it. Not to mention how much John's loud gasps and moans turned him on. He loved making people lose control and this, this was a perfect way to make John lose his.

"Keep talking." Sherlock whispered with lust filled voice.

"I… want… I want you to hold me hard. I don't want anything to be gentle, I want it hard. Hard like you mean it, rough as if this would be your last night on Earth and you want to make the very best out of it." John moaned, his hands grasping Sherlock's black curls tightly.

"Jeeezus, I want you to… I want your beautiful lips on my cock and I want you to look in my eyes when you make me come so that I can't forget, not for even a second that that mouth around my erection doesn't belong to a random woman but to you, to a man, to Sherlock Fucking Holmes. I want your long, slim and elegant fingers to be inside me when I come, moving as if it would be your cock. But most importantly I want you to be inside me, furiously moving, thrusting, grinding me into the bed; I want you to fuck the life out of me."

Sherlock was groaning loudly while listening to John. He never even imagined his doctor to be this dirty and erotic, but his rigid erection which he could hardly keep in his pants and his pounding heartbeat told him otherwise. He wanted to make John lose control but if this continues he will be the one not able to hold back, and gratify John's desire right there and exactly how the good doctor wanted: rough and lustful.

With darkness in his bright grey eyes, he met John's yearning gaze as he murmured quietly "Soon." Then he turned all his attention back to the hard manhood between his lips, but he didn't look away. No, because he wanted John to know who exactly was doing this to him.

Same as how Sherlock knew precisely that it was John, only John who turned him hard like never before, who messed up his so well organized thoughts, who turned his calm mind into a swirling dark hole. He knew his mind was still screaming somewhere deep, and he knew he reached the point of no return long ago, probably at their first kiss and from now on, nothing will be the same. He knew how his right mind yelled desperately that don't do this, stop the madness now or things will eventually get worse. He could hear the imaginary cries of his brain because it already knew what Sherlock tried to repress really badly: that this wasn't just satisfying curiosity, that his mouth wasn't moving on John's cock because of the alcohol, that tomorrow, when John will return to his old self and this night will be something they won't ever talk about again, he will feel again and the pain will be close to unbearable. But he didn't listen to the shouts.

The only thing he heard was John's cries, filled with pleasure, his fast panting, and his sweet gasps of "Sherlock". Voices that took away his mind, sounds that made all his secret cravings surface.

Not caring where his mouth was before, he grabbed John's neck with his left, and kissed him, while his right was still moving on John's hardness. He leaned slightly back and took his middle finger into his mouth. Waiting until John's attention turned towards him, he licked his finger lightly. He smiled when he saw the realization on John's face, about where that finger will be shortly. But suddenly the good doctor grabbed his hand and took it into his own mouth, sucking on it hard, wetting it. He let John's pink tongue slide on his finger until he judged it slippery enough then lowered his hand to John's entrance.

There was short moment, when looking into each other's eyes a silent agreement formed between them about that there was no stopping from here. Then Sherlock slid the tip of his finger in.

John cried out as the long finger stretched him and the detective froze.

"Does it hurt that badly?" He asked.

"It… fucking hurts." John nodded, but his hips moved slightly and his gasp didn't sound entirely painful. "It's weird, it hurts but it's still… ah… good." He almost moaned the last word as Sherlock started moving again, suspecting what John wanted to say.

And when even Sherlock's mouth return over John's manhood, Sherlock couldn't detect actual pain in John's voice anymore, just that sweet pain, the one that drives you crazy but you just don't seem to ever get enough of.

And Sherlock sucked him, hard as he could, his left gripping John's shaft with the same intensity, while his middle finger moved in the good doctor fast and enthusiastic.

John tasted good in his mouth, different, new, and exciting but he liked it. However all his senses sharpened, not just his taste. He heard John louder than anyone would expect, Sherlock almost wondered how so Mrs Hudson didn't come up asking what they were doing. There were also the smells; sex and sweat, one new and one which he was already familiar only this time it was in a whole new context, turning him on even more.

Adding one more finger, John's moans became even more vivid and noisy. Not that Sherlock mind it though, the good doctor was a pleasure to listen to as he get closer and closer to climax. He couldn't utter comprehensive words only syllables but as Sherlock fastened his speed even the syllables became senseless moans and loud gasps of intense pleasure.

As John put his legs around his back, Sherlock added one more finger, hitting exactly John's prostate and now John's was crying, shouting loudly, shaking under him. Wriggling, John moved up and down on his fingers, and between his mouth and Sherlock did his best to swallow his long and hard manhood as deep as he could.

John moaned something and it resembled to his name, or at least to the first syllable of his name. That and the fact that John was now almost uncontrollably moving under him, made him think that John wanted to tell him that he was close to climaxing. As if it wouldn't be obvious. He moved even faster and tried to suck John's cock even harder but the hands in his hair tightened its grip almost painfully.

"No…" John mumbled through gritted teeth "I'm… co-" And that was as far as John could go, because Sherlock looked him deep in the eyes and that devastating fire he saw in the grey eyes made him come with a feverish cry. His body twisted several times as he came but Sherlock kept his lips locked around his manhood, and he still didn't stop sucking him, neither did the long finger's stop moving inside him.

Minutes must have passed by when John finally came to his senses again. Sherlock was kissing his neck, teasing, nipping on his skin.

"I thought…" John started his voice much deeper and rougher than usual. "I thought you never did this before."

"I did not. Why, was it not… I would say satisfying, but it clearly was satisfying so let's say enjoyable?" Sherlock asked, and when looking at him John could see that under the mask of serenity, Sherlock was actually truly worried about his performance.

So instead of telling him how good he was, John simply grabbed Sherlock by his hair, pulled him close, and kissed him madly and wildly, just exactly how he felt while the detective had his lips on his erection and his fingers in his back.

As they kissed, Sherlock came closer to him with his whole body and John could feel his hardness pressing firmly to him. Suddenly a thought occured to him about how much he wanted to feel Sherlock's manhood inside him, moving fast just as his fingers did moments ago. A wave of desire rushed through him again, almost as intensive as his orgasm and he seized Sherlock's ass, pressing their bodies together even more tightly, grinding his bare groin to Sherlock's erection.

With a sudden move Sherlock turned him around and pressed him to the table. He grabbed John by his chin and raised it up, turning it a bit sideways, so that he could nib on his neck as his crutch was rhythmically thrusting forward. John meanwhile pressed back and groaned wildly in synchrony with Sherlock as their bodies crashed fervently.

"How does it feel so far…," Sherlock asked teasing, "…your first time with a man?"
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Swallowed by Feelings