Made by:ColorThroughMyEyes
Warning:Smut
Sherlock's breath catches as John leans for the wine. "A picnic John, really? How pedestrian." John simply smiles, pours the wine, and passes Sherlock his glass. Sherlock scowls at the glass, before finally accepting it. He sniffs, then swirls, impressed at John's taste in wine. "I didn't know you had knowledge of wine John." John ignores the snub and continues to lay out the rest of the items from the basket.
Sherlock watches as John prepares him a plate of delicate cheeses, crackers and fruit. John did not have his normal, sharp military efficacy while preparing the meal. He seemed, nervous, and if Sherlock had not been paying attention, he would have missed the slight tremor in John's hand as he passed Sherlock his plate. Was this, had John set this up as a date?
Sherlock slowly began to eat his meal, as John looked on. He could see John fidget and fuss at the items on the blanket, and slowly, John's nerves began to affect Sherlock. Sherlock dropped his napkin in his confusion, not knowing what to do with his hands. He finally decided to pick up his wine glass again. As he went to take a sip, John retrieved his napkin, placing it back on his knee, his hand, lingering longer than necessary. In his shock, Sherlock spilled his wine.
"Spilling your wine Sherlock? That is not like you", John said coyly, as he leaned in. Sherlock watched as that damn pink tongue darted from John's lips. John leaned in, catching the drop of wine as it slide down Sherlock's neck. Sherlock froze as John's tongue made its way up his neck, curved around his jaw, and stopped, just at the side of Sherlock's cupids bow. " Can't have you making a mess now, can I?"
John leans back in time to see Sherlock's eyes go black (since all fan fic needs the eyes dilating, yes? It is required). No longer the seas of color, but pools of shock and uncertainty. "John?"
The rich, deep baritone of Sherlock's voice, saying his name, went STRAIGHT to John's cock. Like, straight down there. Pooled in his belly and stuff. (Why is arousal always pooling in the belly I ask? I don't feel arousal in my belly. Is this a gay man thing? Or a fanfic thing?) Anyways, yes, deep, rich, thick, deep (I said deep) baritone voice, saying his name, straight to the man boner.
"Sherlock, you should not use your voice around me. I may not be able to contain myself". "Is that so, *lowers voice more* John?"
At this cocky display of ego, John leans the rest of the way and finally takes his first kiss from Sherlock *insert fireworks, more belly arousal being pooled, sparks at every point of contact on the body, etc*. Drowning, they are drowning in each other, yes. That is it.
"But John, we are, we are in the park, people will see!" At this, John growls, and shoves Sherlock onto his back. "Let them watch!"
Sherlock scrambles to remove John's jumper. The jumper that hides all his badass qualities. Kitten jumpers. He pulls off the first jumper, to find, a second jumper??? Oh John, why must you hide under so many jumpers? Let the world see your BAMF self. He swiftly removes the second, to find, a third??? Oh the curses, why so many jumpers John?? Finally, finally, the undershirt, which is, another jumper? Oh John, why? But finally, bare skin, yes. Once his hand makes contact with John's burning flesh, more pooling of arousal in the belly.
John finds himself fumbling with Sherlock's overly expensive trousers (not pants though, stupid Americans, those are his boxers, I mean, pants, I mean, oh shut up American!). The fastening on these expensive trousers, always, always befuddle poor John. "How do I pants (TROUSERS AMERICAN!!!!)??? How do I even?" Sherlock takes pity on John's inexperience with expensive clothes, and quickly snaps the trousers open. John finds equally expensive boxers (PANTS AMERICAN!!!), under the expensive trousers. A soft, wet spot indicates how much of Sherlock's arousal has made its way PAST his belly.
Johns mouth goes dry (or does it go wet? each author is different) when he sees the head of Sherlock's thick, red cock poke out of his fancy, black pants. It is not much different than his (since we always need to know the comparison), it is as long and lean as the man himself (because, this is required in all Johnlock descriptions of Sherlock's dick, we know this as truth).
Sherlock reaches over John's multiple, discarded jumpers to release John from his trousers/pants. It is obvious that his pants are painfully tight at the moment (though usually, John would be telling us this, but Sherlock knows everything!). John looks down as he sees Sherlock's long, delicate, fingers slowly wrap around his dick. "Oh god, yes" says John, in every story, as he watches Sherlock grip his dick. How often he watched Sherlock play his violin, or performed a delicate experiment, wishing those long fingers were at work on him. Sherlock's mouth falls open, and John's dick twitches with a need to be placed in that perfect mouth, right this minute.
Sherlock, being Sherlock, reads this immediately. He leans forward and slowly licks at the precum that has formed at the slit of John's dick. He had to taste John. He must know everything about John. He tastes like John, with a hint of home underneath the salt and cum. Yes. Home. John always tastes like home. Suddenly, John is nervous. Sherlock sees him naked, he is flawed, he is not as beautiful as Sherlock, Sherlock must make him feel better about himself by placing his dick into his mouth immediately, and enjoying it. This always makes John feel better about himself. See John, Sherlock thinks you're hot.
Sherlock wraps his lips around John's dick, and John's eyes roll back. The feeling is like nothing else. He has never had a man's lips around his dick, but it feels SOOOO much better than any woman's lips. It feels right, perfect, as if his mouth was made just for his dick. He makes a mistake of looking down at Sherlock. He sees those perfect lips, making a perfect heart and he almost loses it. His fingers twitch at the need to wrap into those curls, something he has always wanted to do, even if he is just now realizing it. He almost weeps at how perfect everything is.
"I, John, I have never had sex. I know you think I am asexual, which may be true, but you make me feel things now. I don't know what to do though."
"Don't worry Sherlock, we will go slow. I will make you feel good. Come here."
There, in the park, in the middle of the day, John leans over Sherlock. He spits into his hand, and slowly slides their dicks together. The feeling of flesh on flesh makes them both GASP together. John looks down at their dicks, and wraps his hands around their combined flesh. "Sherlock, our girth is too much for my surgeon hands, I need your help." Sherlock reaches down, weaves his long fingers into John's, and they both squeeze gently. Which of course, causes them to both GASP together. Hot, searing, throbbing flesh, yes, GASP for it boys. Slowly, they establish a rhythm, so perfectly in love at first touch, that neither of them are going to last very long. Panting, they rock into each other, foreskin pulling and dragging against each other. Their rhythm starts to become erratic as they chase their orgasms together. Sherlock, being the virgin, feels the world condense into a small point before his orgasm is ripped from him, John's name on his lips. John watches as Sherlock falls apart in front of him, the most beautiful thing he has ever seen, and hearing his name on Sherlock's lips is what finally draws his orgasm out of him. All of their cum is pooled now on Sherlock's belly, of course, messy boys.
Once they have returned from their earth shattering orgasms, John leans over, and picks up Sherlock's discarded napkin, which he uses to clean their combined spunk from Sherlock's belly. Sherlock is unaccustomed to such care. As well as the tight, unnatural feeling that is in his chest.
"Sherlock, you know I am not one of your experiments, right? I did this because I am in fact, gay after all. We are made for each other. We are perfect for each other. I am the perfect height for you to rest your chin on my head. Please tell me this is what you want Sherlock."
"You will come from across town to send a text for me, you make me tea, and you put up with my dickish ways John. I loved you before I knew you could also handle my cock."
"Is that a yes Sherlock?"
"You had me at "It's all fine" John."
