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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 Feeling

Chapter Three - Lust and Angst

John was on his bed. He had no idea how on Earth he got there, but suddenly he found himself smacked on his bed, utterly naked. He looked up; Sherlock was standing at the end of the bed, his lean figure only a dark shadow in the dimly lit room.

"Remove your clothes Sherlock." John said determined as he looked at the fully clothed detective. In a normal situation he would be completely ashamed of his own bareness, and never dare be this demanding, especially not wit h Sherlock Holmes. No, if this would be normal, he would be clothed, or at least not completely naked, and there would be a woman on this bed with him. A brunette, maybe a black haired girl, looking gorgeous.

But life with Sherlock Holmes couldn't be described as normal; it was the exact opposite of normal. It was fast, surprising, mad, with full of excitement and adventure.

And that was exactly why John was right now laying butt naked on his bed, with a man standing in front of him, slowly removing his shirt, sliding it seductively down his shoulders, letting it fall to the ground with an almost silent swish. If things were normal, he would be running away now, running fast as possible, because that predator look on Sherlock's face didn't promise anything good.

But this was madness. So he leaned on his elbows, tucked one of his legs and waited for his detective to unbuckle his belt. He was smirking as the black pants fell off of Sherlock and he stepped out of them. He was smiling wildly because Sherlock looked gorgeous in front of him and he couldn't wait to touch that marble skin.

The detective seemed now slightly awkward as he was standing at the edge of the bed, wearing only a white pair of boxers which didn't manage to cover his excitement. But then, he teasingly slithered his hands over his chest, up and down, and even further down, over his trapped manhood, lolling his head back with pleasure.

John couldn't help but laugh as he noticed the little figure on the front of the underwear.

"Bees?"

"I love bees." Came the smug answer. "Problem?"

"Just one, but I can redress that quickly." The good doctor said sitting up, climbing on all four towards Sherlock. As he reached him, he kneeled up and placed his hands on Sherlock's waist. Fingers slid into his hair as his lips went around the detective's erect nipple, and his hands traced Sherlock's back, feeling the projecting shoulder blades, the smooth waist and the firm butt. He drove his fingers under the boxer's soft fabric, and Sherlock moaned while his muscles stiffened beneath John's touch.

His lips wandered on Sherlock's upper body, sucking on his pure, white skin, leaving behind deep red marks. John knew these will be visible even the next morning and this thought somewhere deep inside filled him with satisfaction.

His mouth moved upwards until he reached that glorious neck. His tongue darted out and he licked the whole length of that beautiful line of alabaster skin. This was one of his favourite parts of Sherlock's body, his neckline. He moaned as he drove his wet tongue over and over it, as his teeth scraped the soft skin.

He let his right slide among Sherlock's silky, dark curls, while his left stayed under the pants, pulling Sherlock closer, until their bodies tensed against each other. As Sherlock' erection was pressed to his bare manhood, a lightning like feeling shook every bit of his body, making him more exited with every second.

Sherlock clasped his face and pulled it up for a heated kiss and John slowly slid two-two fingers each side under the edge of the detective's white boxer. With his pointing and middle fingers he started sliding down the only clothe left on the other man, while his tongue moved wildly between Sherlock's sweet lips.

He heard Sherlock's aroused gasp as the cold air touched his erection. He felt the hard, slightly wet manhood press against his groin and he moved while he moaned fervently into the other man's mouth.

The white pants with the cute little bee fell to the floor and Sherlock stepped out of that too. John leaned back, taking in every detail of this man in front of him. As Sherlock stood before him, entirely naked, looking shyly at his own body, his white skin vibrating in the deep darkness, John sat back on the bed, and his hand wandered over his own erection, caressing himself lightly and languidly. As his fingers were sliding on his arousing manhood, he didn't take his eyes off of Sherlock, no, he watched the great detective becoming redder by every stroke he made on himself.

Sherlock crawled on the bed, coming towards the doctor on all four, just like a panther, and John could almost hear the man purring. His eyes were fixed on John's hand, as it moved up and down on his rigid member. Suddenly his head followed his gaze and his soft, hot lips were once again around the wet tip of John's erection. The doctor hissed loudly as he felt the fervent sucking on the sensitive skin while his hips bucked up involuntary.

But John didn't let Sherlock linger there for much; he grabbed into his black mane and pulled him up. Sherlock's mouth was shiny most probably because of precum and before John could stop himself, he leaned in and licked it down from Sherlock's swollen lips, tasting himself. Sherlock moaned into his mouth, before he smashed him wildly to the bed, with teeth biting passionately into his lips.

As they kissed each other ardently their hands roamed on the other's body, fingernails plunging into soft skin. Their breaching hitched each time when their bare manhood were finally sliding against the other.

And John knew he was lost. Lost in Sherlock, lost in these feelings, because he had never in his life felt anything like this. As if he just woke up from a dull dream, and fell right in the middle of the vivid reality, with Sherlock Holmes in the middle. This was so different than anything he'd ever done before, and just so much better. Sometimes during a hazy morning, after having some misty dreams he never remembered afterwards, did he feel something similar, but even that wasn't this remarkable, this intense. He knew he will never return to his old sexual preferences because nothing, nothing can top this. He didn't know of it would be the same having sex with other man, but he doubted. He was sure no man could make him this fierce, except the one, who was moving on top of him at this moment, right between his tucked legs, whose hard erection was pushing against his own, whose long, elegant fingers were now shaking as they seized his thigh, pulling it even more to the side.

His left slithered between Sherlock's buttocks and as the detective felt the fingers he groaned deeply, dropping his head back, flashing his long neckline. John bit wildly into the soft white skin as he swiftly turned them around because there was something he wanted to do since long.

He sat up on Sherlock's lap and looked at the man beneath him. His gaze was focused on the hazy yet sharp grey eyes, on the beautiful and elegant cheekbones, on the swollen, wet lips, on the long neckline, covered in red biting marks.

"John…" Sherlock spoke up and John had to close his eyes in please because Sherlock's voice was even deeper, even rougher even sexier as before.

"Feel me, John!" Sherlock whispered hoarsely, moving John's hand over his body.

John's eyes shifted over the hairless chest, and this time his hands followed his look as it wandered over the pink nipples and the projecting ribs, his fingers moving over every bone, until they reached the stiff muscles, rising and falling fast beneath his stroke.

"Touch me, John!" Sherlock groaned, his hands grasping into the navy blue sheets.

And John's hands slithered even further down, his thumbs caressing the detective's belly button and below that, carefully not to touch yet the erected manhood lying on Sherlock's stomach. He traced its outline while gasping from the beautifulness that was Sherlock Holmes, thrashing his lean body under him, moaning fervently.

Suddenly Sherlock grabbed his arm and looked at him as if he had yet another order for John, but then he hesitated and looked shyly away. John kept looking, his eyes searching for the other's gaze to meet his but Sherlock's eyes were fixed on the lamp on the nightstand, his cheeks bright red, his lips pressed into a thin line.

John moved swiftly, he lowered himself, while his fingers enclosed the hard erection and started stroking it lightly. Sherlock's gaze was right at that second on him, staring at him from behind half lidded eyes. John bit his lower lip, because he knew what Sherlock wanted to say before even a syllable could leave the detective's swollen lips.

"Taste me, John!" Sherlock moaned but John already took his manhood into his mouth and started sucking it. His hands pushing Sherlock's legs apart by the knees, while his tongue was sliding around and over the tip, wetting it, before sliding the whole manhood deep inside his mouth, sucking hard.

Animalistic moans formed deep in his throat as his tongue flicked over the soft tip of Sherlock's erection. He never imagined this could feel great, he always thought this was something only the receiving half enjoyed, but no. He groaned because he relished the sensation of the hard manhood sliding beneath his fingers and tongue, as the velvet, pink flesh tasted in his mouth.

As he was teasing Sherlock, the man was thrusting into his mouth, his back curving on the bed, his hands gripping into John's pillow, almost tearing it apart. His legs struggling against the restrain, but John could hold him easily in one place while his mouth was moving on him wildly and ardently, lustfully sucking and licking the long and rigid member.

John let his canine slid along the detective's long arousal, lightly, barely touching the sensitive surface but Sherlock still jumped from the sensation, his upper body tensing, arching away from the sheets, crying up wildly, lustfully.

After crushing back between the soft pillows, Sherlock covered his face with an arm, gasping for air and John reminded himself that he was the first man, who touched Sherlock here, his lips were the first ones sucking on this long, erect manhood, his tongue was the first one ever to lick along the wet manhood and that made his heart race with unbearable speed.

The embarrassment could be seen clearly from how Sherlock held his arm over his face, hiding behind it, not letting himself be seen while his yearning took over his body, not daring to look at John as he caressed him with his mouth as if this would be something sinful. And maybe it was, John thought, but it was their sin and therefore they could immerse in it fully.

"Look at me, Sherlock." He whispered, voice hoarse, licking Sherlock's wetness from his lips. Oh this taste! This wicked, delicious taste! he thought to himself and he let his pleasure be seen on his face as well, when Sherlock turned his foggy gaze towards him.

"I love your taste, Sherlock." He murmured, stroking Sherlock's erection with a hand. "It's slightly bitter, but spicy and special." He saw Sherlock getting redder by his words but he kept speaking. "But you only taste like that down here. Your skin feels salty in my mouth, and I love that too. But your kiss is so much different, it's sweet, however I can still taste the brandy on your tongue. It's burning the tip of my tongue." John added languidly. "And I can even taste myself."

Sherlock's eyes shot open, his lips slightly apart.

"Would you like to know how it feels, Sherlock?" John asked, running his tongue along his lower lip. "Would you like to know, how you taste in other man's mouth?" His voice was innocent and playful, but his eyes glimmering with lust.

Sherlock's response was a light nod, but the hunger in his eyes told John how curious he actually was. With a smug smile he sat up and leaned over Sherlock. He closed his eyes for a second when their erections touched but then he looked deep into the grey eyes beneath him, his mouth open, waiting for Sherlock to take the first step.

And after a moment of hesitation Sherlock moved, his finger slid into John's hair, his head rose from bed, and slowly he drove his tongue into John's mouth, spinning it around, teasing, tasting. John joined in, moving his tongue as if it would be dancing with Sherlock's; dancing one of the most sensual dances that could happen between two people.

His palm slithered on Sherlock's neck, his thumb caressing the detective's jaw, softly, lovingly, just like how he was moving over the man, with infinite care, knowing precisely where they were going this time, because he could sense the impatience in Sherlock's moves, too.

All of a sudden, as if Sherlock wanted to justify John's thoughts, the man turned them around so that once again he was on top. John instantly folded his legs around the detective slim waist, assuming what was about to come, as he was aware of the hard manhood at his entrance. They were still kissing, deeper now, his fingers playing in Sherlock's hair, his other hand caressing the detective's smooth back.

Sherlock involuntarily groaned, as John's hand moved over his ass, pushing him down and pulling him closer at the same, so that he could feel the member at his entrance protruding harder.

Sherlock stopped the kiss and looked at him, trying to say something but his eyes told everything to John, so he just placed his pointing finger over Sherlock's lips, silencing the man. It was needless to ask loudly if they really wanted this, as the need and desire was obviously seen in both of their eyes.

So rather he just kissed Sherlock once more, languidly, while he moved the long, elegant fingers to his backside.

When a finger entered him, he gasped again, because that odd, sensual pain returned but as Sherlock started moving his hand, he felt himself burning with pleasure again. He knew Sherlock was looking at him, but he couldn't open his eyes but suddenly, Sherlock added one more finger and his eyes shot open by themselves. What he saw took away his breath.

The usual confidence, the smugness that could always be detected on Sherlock's face was nowhere. Sincere anxiety and lust mixed in his eyes and John realized he never saw Sherlock more human in his life. Like a caring lover, he looked at John and the doctor suddenly realized that he didn't want this to be just one night. He wanted this, Sherlock, to be with him every night, and every morning when he wakes up. Not just as a friend, but as a lover as well. And he kissed Sherlock again, softly, trying to give all his feelings into that one kiss.

When he looked into the grey pair of eyes again, Sherlock spoke up.

"How…" He had to clear his throat to go on. "How would you like me to…" His fingers were still moving in John, so it took him a few moments to comprehend what Sherlock meant.

He leant to Sherlock's ear as he whispered, "Like this. I want to see you while you're inside me, Sherlock."

Sherlock was kissing him as he removed his fingers and positioned himself at his entrance. But then, as Sherlock slowly drove into him, he looked into his eyes and John felt that this beautiful moment will haunt him in his dream for years. The pain was immense but he kept his eyes open, so that he could look in the grey eyes.

He gripped Sherlock's shoulder as the man was trying to get carefully deeper into him. Inch by inch be felt himself being filled with the other's thick manhood. It was painful, reallypainful but at the same time the gentleness as Sherlock moved and the thought itself that they were joined in the most intimate way made him almost loudly beg for more.

He gave a small kiss to Sherlock then leant to his ear as he softly whispered, "Do it, Sherlock… Just… do it."

And Sherlock leaned on one of his elbows, while his right slithered up on John's thigh. He kissed John lightly, almost featherlike, then grasping strongly his leg, the detective shoved in him with one forceful thrust.

"Christ!" John cried up, his head falling back as he panted, gasping for air. But he wasn't the only one. Sherlock's eyes shot wide open as he buried his whole length in John.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked a moment later, as sweat trickled down on his handsome face, his voice rugged, his breathing hitching every time one of them even slightly moved.

"Yes," John nodded, smiling lightly. As their gaze connected once again, John raised his hand and brushed a wet curl aside from Sherlock's face. "And you?" He whispered, tracing Sherlock's lips with his thumb.

"Sure," said the detective, caressing John's thigh calmly with his palm.

John moved his hips and saw with satisfaction how Sherlock's head lolled back with please again. In response, Sherlock's groin bucked forward and suddenly John found himself, fervently gasping and moaning. He heard a quiet laugh at his ear and then the motion repeated itself and once again he cried up in pleasure.

Sherlock moved in and out of him, moaning with the same vehemence, his thrusts steady and powerful. John was soon thrashing on the bed, his legs around Sherlock, his hips moving in synchrony with the other man's grinding, his hands either roaming on Sherlock's lean body which was slick from the sweat, or gripping in the hard ass, pressing it down for more enthusiastic and forceful thrusts.

"How does it feel, Sherlock?" John asked suddenly, his lips pressed to Sherlock's ear, his eager voice making Sherlock drive into him even faster. "How does it feel, moving inside me?"

"Amazing." The detective answered looking once again in the navy blue eyes and John knew he meant it, because he felt the same way.

It was simply amazing how it felt as Sherlock moved in him, shoving into him, his lustful moans sounding up loudly with every eager push. His body salty with sweat, its taste lingering in John's mouth after every bite he made on the white skin. The smell of sex all around them, the sweetest scent, the mix of both of them, something he will sense on his pillow, on his whole bed for days.

His erection, weeping for release, trapped between their entangled bodies, Sherlock's manhood pulsing in him harder with every move, their raspy breathing, loud moans filling all his senses. Fingernails were dashing into his skin, teeth biting wildly into his neck making him cry same as how his lips playing with Sherlock's earlobe made the other man groan with ecstasy.

Their bodies oversensitive, sensing every touch and stroke, every bite and lick, burning with yearning, so maddeningly powerful that it was almost unbearable and still both of them craved for more, much more, for everything. Their passion destroying all the walls they had ever built to protect themselves, flaming fire consuming their fears until there was nothing else between them just lust and adoration for the other's body and soul.

At this one moment the world could fall apart around them, they would ignore it, because they were lost in each other, submerged in the other's ardent touches, fervid kisses and keen bites right until some maddening power got hold of their bodies making their rhythm uneven, their thrusts enthusiastic and fervent.

Their fierce cries filled the room as their orgasm reached them like a blinding white wave of intense pleasure. They were shouting with desire, but their bodies couldn't stop, the heat and power of their orgasm making them move until the blinding whiteness subdued their mind leaving both of them numb and boneless, panting, lost in the fields on sensation.

Moments could pass by, minutes could elapse, universes could perish and born again, neither of them would notice as they drifted in numbness, sensing only the other's hot, wet body.

John opened his eyes when he sensed Sherlock rolling down from him. Without the other's body he instantly felt much colder, and his first reaction was to pull him closer. But then he suddenly stopped before he could reach out.

What now? Could he even do that? All of a sudden he felt himself miles away from Sherlock, though they were still lying next to each other.

He turned his head towards Sherlock in anxiety, but he relaxed as he looked at the other man. The detective was on his side, leaning on one elbow, observing him, his usually intense gaze, now hazy, and a light smile vibrating at edge of his lips.

Fingers slid in his short hair, caressing him softly as Sherlock asked in a caring voice, "How are you feeling, John?"

John let out a rugged giggle, as he stretched an arm and started stroking Sherlock's arm with his fingertips. "Uh, I don't think I will be able to move in the next hour or two, but beyond that, fine."

"I didn't hurt you, I hope." Sherlock spoke up quietly, his voice full of worry and this warmed John's heart. He lifted his hand to Sherlock's face and caressed him with the back of his palm.

"Don't worry, you didn't." He smiled reassuring. Sherlock took his hands in his and placed a gentle kiss on it. John at that moment didn't want anything better than pull Sherlock down next to him, fold his arms around the man and fall asleep.

But then Sherlock looked at him and John noticed that his look changed. Sadness was in his eyes and John didn't understand for a second. The detective put his hand on the bed, turned around and sat up.

"Where…" John started but Sherlock cut in.

"I rather go now." He said, sitting at the edge of the bed, burying his head in his hands. His voice cold like a winter night. "You need some rest." And with that, he stood up.

John watched the man as his lean, naked figure walked silently in the room. This was exactly what he feared, that this beautiful night remains what it originally was meant to be: just one night. At least that was what Sherlock's cold tone suggested.

He watched the man as he picked up his clothes and walked towards the door. When Sherlock stopped at the opened door, John for a second hoped that he would turn around. But Sherlock didn't turn around. He didn't come back to the bed. He just whispered one sentence in the darkness. One sentence, which crushed all of John's hopes.

"Thank you for this night, John."
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Swallowed by Feelings