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Two Simple Sentences	By : IDontKnowWhatImDoing Category: S through Z > Sherlock (BBC) > Sherlock (BBC) Views: 3980 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or any associated characters, and do not profit from this work.

Chapter List
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"I bet you won't stop me."
The meaning behind that quite simple sentence was not immediately apparent to John, which he thought was perfectly understandable really given that his brain took a small trip while he watched Sherlock slip a hand under the table, straight down into his unzipped trousers. Put that sight together with the pleasurable sigh he made when his hand came into contact with his cock and that they had not been magically transported to somewhere a lot less private than the packed restaurant they were currently still at; John's mind took a small trip aboard a high speed train with no brakes.
How could he possibly be able to understand the meaning behind those six single-syllable words when his thoughts were barreling along at dangerous speeds? A disjointed mess of thoughts with no signs of slowing,….
There was no way...no... he wouldn't, he was not about to...fucking hell, Sherlock was not...he really wasn't going to start masturbating...here?...there was no bloody way…oh my god was he really going to wank one off in public...right now?...fucking hell…
…John's brain was going off the rails.
Sherlock, being ever so considerate, helped John get past this unending loop and cleared up any doubts about his intentions by closing his eyes, leaning further back in his chair and with the movements of his arm plus another gratifying hum, making it absolutely clear that he damn well intended to have one off, right here, right now.
Swallowing hard, as his throat had quickly gone dry and almost choking in the process, John attempted to say Sherlock's name. All that came out was a mangled, "shh..kk.." followed by a rasping cough. Sherlock ceased his gentle ministrations, the only movement now being a playful chewing on his bottom lip. Not opening his eyes, he waited…waiting for John to piece his thoughts back together.
John stared and Sherlock waited, until that sentence finally made sense. 'I bet you won't stop me'
Oh Christ…All John had to do to win was tell him to stop. So simple and straightforward yet so calculated and deliberate. The beautiful bastard, sitting there across from him, wearing the outfit that begged 'bend me over the table and please fuck my gorgeous arse right now', with his trousers open and hand gripping his cock, with an blissful expression from the pleasure he was giving himself; fucking hell John could care less about winning or losing.
And there it was, Sherlock's new game. That's exactly what this was about, for John to see how far Sherlock would take it, for Sherlock to see how far John would let it go. A bet, not to win or lose but for the excitement of playing.
Sherlock hadn't moved except for teeth still chewing at his lip, just waiting, patiently waiting to see if John would play along. John licked at his own lip while trying to calm his racing heart. This was foolish, moronic, completely ridiculous, and could quite possibly get one or both of them arrested. But there was no getting past the fact that watching Sherlock masturbate for him surrounded by other people was also perversely arousing.
John glanced around the room to check if anyone had noticed his shameless partner submissively waiting, hand still unmoved from his trousers. Thankfully no one had because John really didn't think it would have mattered, there was no way he could not let this go on, at least for a little while longer.
After one more difficult swallow, he answered Sherlock's 'not really a bet' bet with just as simple a sentence, speaking barely above a whisper. "go on…"
Taking his cue, Sherlock started slowly stroking himself again, not once opening his eyes. He slid further down the chair, that amazing arse reaching the edge and John leaned a little closer in his own, taking in the captivating vision before him.
And oh dear god was it captivating. His own erection had not gone down since Sherlock's initial distraction and watching him now, breathing noticeably faster while rubbing his cock, the tightness in John's jeans was getting more than uncomfortable and he unconsciously shifted in his seat a small fraction. In perfect response Sherlock moaned ever so quietly. Not so quietly, John moaned back.
Curse the sodding table between them. John yearned to see more than just the movements of his arm as he stroked himself. To see that lovely hand rubbing that even lovelier hard cock. It was a wicked tease, made all the more tempting by the slowly increasing rhythm of his movements and faint lustful keening he could just barely hear over the din of the sounds around them.
John took another hurried glance around the room; no one was looking…yet. The closest, an elderly couple, were pleasantly enjoying their meal two tables away. His earlier suspicion that Sherlock had specifically reserved this table, one furthest in the back corner, and making sure he was seating facing away, his back to the interior; was confirmed. Bless that genius scheming mind of his for at least planning far enough ahead so that he wasn't now panting and rubbing his cock smack dab in the middle of the place.
Sherlock was breathing faster and stroking with increased vigor, tugging faster at his cock and arched back even more pushing his lower body up into his hand. If anyone looked their way it would be terribly obvious that Sherlock was in the mists of something sordid and that John was practically salivating at his performance.
He was oddly not feeling any signs of embarrassment. His only thoughts going back and forth between his mouth-watering partner and wondering when their waiter was going to stop by their table….which apparently was very soon, as he was right now headed their way. "Christ, Sherlock…"
Again in submissive response, Sherlock slowed his movements, however this time not halting them completely, still gripping his erection he went right on fondling himself but at a more inconspicuous pace, noiselessly sighing at the feel of his own touch. Waiting yet again…but apparently enjoying himself too much to stop entirely, unless John specifically told him to.
John's heart was beating so fast it was pounding in his ears, eyes darting between Sherlock and the waiter weaving between tables, getting closer and closer. Bloody hell, their waiter was almost to their table and Sherlock kept right on. John was the verge of snapping 'Sherlock stop' when two nicely timed events occurred.
The first being, their waiter veering off to the table of the elderly couple instead of theirs, facing away from Sherlock and himself. The other, well it was a good thing the waiter hadn't come to check up on their meal, since that one was the main reason John's mouth snapped back closed. Sherlock, in all likelihood deciding John wasn't as of yet going to stop him, had continued right on with his more enthusiastic manipulations. He had also, almost imperceptibly low, moaned John's name.
His heart skipped a beat and his own erection throbbed in his jeans at the deep, throaty way his name peeled off those sweet lips. And it skipped another when Sherlock began stroking himself even faster and moaned a little louder. "John."
The waiter was entirely forgotten. Christ almighty, his stunning lover wasn't in any way putting on a show of it. With his eyes remaining closed, Sherlock was wholeheartedly going at it; masturbating to thoughts of him. Jerking himself faster, panting and keening louder, all the while fantasising about him.
Fucking hell, this was not a god damn bet, it was exquisite torture at its finest. John's cock was pressed so tight in his jeans the ache became almost painful. God how he wanted to reach down and stroke himself, even if only over his jeans but he was frozen in place, not wanting to make any movements that would attract attention or disturb Sherlock in his endeavor to get himself off.
An endeavor that was so fucking exciting to watch. His own breath was eagerly striving to match Sherlock's as he just kept right on, stroking his cock faster. His coal black velvet jacket had fallen open with his back arched in the chair. The delicate white dress shirt straining at the buttons across his chest. A few strands of his dark locks sticking to his forehead from light sheen of perspiration.
Almost forgetting where they were, hungrily taking in every movement, every sound of his ravishing Sherlock, John was swiftly reminded when the elderly gentlemen near them let it be known that Sherlock's masturbation had been noticed. Doing so with an unpleasant snort, a few not well thought out swears and an angrily waving arm trying to flag down an employee.
Fuck…fuck…He had to tell him stop, he really needed to….The gentleman was determined in his distressing need to call attention of a waiter or another staff to get Sherlock to cease. Once more John was at the brink, about to say the one word he most certainly didn't want to.
"Sher…." was all he got out because now instead of just moaning out his name Sherlock added two words that held the promise of making everything unexpected up to this point pale in comparison.
"John…it's okay."
Dear god in heaven...was he...?
Five more word followed, five unbelievably simple words. Five words that made the fork John didn't realize he had been gripping this entire time fall out of his hand and clang loudly onto his plate. Between his ragged breathe; Sherlock said the words that were etched deep in John's memory. "John...you don't have to."
John got lightheaded and so wickedly turned on he was tempted to push the table out of the way and do exactly what Sherlock was replaying in his mind. Everything else in the room faded. He didn't care if the manager of the restaurant came up and told them he was calling the police. He didn't give one damn if Lestrade himself showed up to arrest them. He didn't give one rat's arse if the building was on fire burning around them. There was no way in hell he was going to tell Sherlock to stop.
Sherlock wasn't just masturbating to thoughts of him, he was going at it while remembering the first time John had sucked his cock. A moment John would never forget, not just because it was the first time he had ever going down on another man but because of the very next thing Sherlock had said.

Oh my. I seemed to have done it again, ending with another tease. My apologizes :)
- 6
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- 8
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Two Simple Sentences