John
Sherlock left my room about five minutes ago, after ensuring me that not just would I admit what had happened, but I would also end up moaning his name. I was still frozen where he'd left me. Up against a wall, dumbfounded expression, semi-boner. I couldn't figure out what had happened. Obviously, I'd never been good with figuring out what Sherlock is thinking. No one is good with that. But right now I was more lost than I'd ever been before. He caught me staring this morning. Okay, right, that's my fault. I stared. I'll admit it. But then, instead of letting it go as he's been doing the past few years whenever he's caught me staring, he flirted with me. I mean he fucking winked. Sherlock Holmes winked, after catching me staring. And if that was it, I'd be fine. That would be just fine. But, no. He sits in his room hatching a plan for some "experiment" to pretend to be high, and then to undoubtedly tease the fuck out of me. And when I address what he's doing he sits back into his chair like it's all over. Only because that made me so angry, yes, I kissed him. Again, that's my fault. I gave in. But how the bloody fuck was I supposed to resist when he was breathing against my lips saying he wanted me?! Anyways. It was for an experiment. He's Sherlock Holmes. He doesn't date, he doesn't have sex. Well, maybe he has sex. Not with me, though! So, as to spare my feelings, the only possible option for me is to deny his experiment for once, and pretend nothing had happened.
The rest of the evening, I ignored Sherlock altogether. I walked into the kitchen to grab a cup of tea and he tried to kiss me again, so after that I stayed promptly in my bedroom, door locked, for I knew if he leaned in again like that, I'd be unable to fight the temptation. I went to sleep, my thoughts a hot mess.
I woke up the next morning to a knock on my bedroom door. I was half- asleep and so I groggily replied with a "come in."
I immediately regretted it as I came to my senses and remembered Sherlock was still trying to get me to admit that I'm attracted to him. I began to sit up and bed, but not before Sherlock was right above me.
"Thank you for the invitation." He said, his voice low and gravelly. He only had on some small boxer briefs. I took a sharp intake of breath, seeing how snugly they fit him. Suddenly his hand was on my chin and he pulled my eyes up to his.
"My eyes are right here, John." He said, leaning in close to my lips. I was about to give in, about to let him close the space between our lips. But I didn't. I couldn't let him win, I couldn't let him prove that I was so easy for him to manipulate. I mean it was completely true but that embarrassed me to no extent. So I pulled away and tried my hardest to sound annoyed.
"Shouldn't you be making tea or... putting on some clothes?" I said, looking away. He chuckled and ran his hand down my neck.
"You don't mean that. If I put on more clothes, you'd just be disappointed." He said, his voice still so deep and raspy that it made my stomach churn. I tried to fight my face from showing how badly I wanted him. I looked up at the ceiling, instead.
"Why would I be disappointed, Sherlock?" I said, still not looking him in the eyes.
"Same reason you can't look me in the eye right now. You want me." I nearly came right there. I shut my eyes tight and tried to fight away the boner urging to stand up.
"That... is absurd." I muttered, finally opening my eyes. I hadn't realised Sherlock had changed positions. I was now flat against my bed and he was over me in a relaxed type of push-up position.
"Absurd? Ah, so you're still trying to deny it." He said matter-of-factly. Yep. "No."
"Oh, so you're not denying it anymore? You're accepting it?" Sherlock asked, quizzically. He knew the answer. Of course I was trying to deny it. My eyes were anywhere other than the sexy man on top of me.
"John. If you look me straight into the eye and tell me that you have never been, nor are currently, attracted to me in any way at all, then I'll get off of you and never bring the subject up again." Sherlock said. Only then did I fell his hand emerge onto my waist. He was gently rubbing circles into the waistband of my pyjama pants. Shit. I pulled my eyes onto his. They were ice cold, mysterious, and so bloody sexy. I bit my lip hard, to prevent myself from saying that out loud.
"I never have been and am not currently-" I was interrupted by Sherlock's slender fingers going into my waistband. He was now fiddling with the waist of my underpants. I gulped hard. I kept my eyes trained onto his.
"Attracted.." I had to stop there because I knew it was a lie. It was a bloody lie. I groaned and let my gaze fall from his eyes. He wins. Again.
"Ah, so John admits defeat. Does that mean you'll kiss me again?" Sherlock asked in a flat tone. I was so surprised I didn't know what to say. I spat out the first thing I could think of.
"You wish!" Yep.. big mistake. He lowered his body against mine, closing all space. He must've been flush up against my boner.
"You're right." He whispered into my ear. His voice was deep and rough. My breath hitched. He slowly started grinding his hips against mine.
"Fuck." I hissed, through clenched teeth. He must've not just noticed my erection, but decided to indulge it.
"Admit it. You're hard right now, just because of me. I make you hard." He whispered into my ear. How can he sound so fucking put-together right now? His direct words shot another pang of lust towards my crotch. I licked my lips.
"Can't you just deduce from my left eyelid or something? Why do you keep asking me?" I said, suppressing a moan. His eyes narrowed.
"I want to hear you say it." He said sharply. I'm sure my dick must've been stabbing him, I was so hard, but he didn't seem to care.
"Why- why would you want to hear me say it?" I asked sheepishly. My voice was breathy and vulnerable and I hated myself for it.
"Because you make me hard too, John." He said, slowly biting his bottom lip and then releasing it from between his teeth even slower. I shut my eyes and just for a second, let myself give in to the lust he made me feel. The moan made it's way out. My eyes flew open and a blush was already imminent on my face. I was stuttering to apologise, when I saw his face. His teeth were clenched and his eyes pressed shut tightly.
"John- stop making me want me to fuck you senseless. I can't handle teasing like that." He hissed, obviously distressed. I looked down. Holy shit. Sherlock's long cock was standing right up in his boxer briefs. I didn't realise Sherlock Holmes got turned on like the rest of us mere humans.
"Next time you moan into my ear like that, and make my dick throb, I'm not restraining myself from putting your cock in my mouth, John." Sherlock said flatly. Neediness and lust pooled in his eyes. I was bright red and my breathing was a mess. I stuttered again.
"I wouldn't be moaning into your ear if you weren't grinding up against my boner." I said, hoping that would end the whole thing. Instead his eyes glinted with stubbornness and he pressed himself against me again. I shot out my breath but was able to keep it from being a moan.
"You're the one who let me into your room." He said, our hard dicks touching through nothing but my pyjama pants and his thin boxers.
"You're the one who knocked." I said sternly, holding my ground. I was regaining strength. I could do this. Sherlock can't work me like a puppet. He has weaknesses too. After all, it is his erection pressing up against me right now. He's hard. He's turned on. He wants me.
"You're the one who stared." He said, eyes narrow.
"And you're the one who gave me something to stare at." I said, allowing my rough voice to come out deep and strong. Sherlock licked his lips thoroughly and his pupils were darting around like he was trying to figure something out. Suddenly he hopped off of my body, and sat down, straddling my lap.
"And yet you won't kiss me back. What am I missing..?" He said, more to himself than to me. He was looking about and muttering to himself, not realising exactly what he was sitting on. Silent moans escaped my mouth. Each time he moved he caused me intense friction. He seemed to be coming to a conclusion with whatever he was working out in his mind, for he basically started bouncing on my throbbing erection.
"Sh-Sherlock!" I moaned, arching my back. I couldn't bare it any longer. His eyes immediately stopped darting around and he looked straight at me. Right at me, before looking down to see that he was basically dry-riding my dick. He smirked.
"I told you I'd have you moaning my name." He said. He was right. His hand came to my stomach and his other hand to my knee, giving him a steady balance. Oh god what does he need balance f- he started moving up and down on me. My head fell back and Sherlock's name fell from my mouth in a string of groans. He chuckled and started getting faster. My mouth parted and a shaky breath fell from it.
"Stop or I'll cum!" I was able to get out. Reluctantly, Sherlock stopped bouncing on my hard cock. In fact, he got off me altogether. I know I wanted him off to begin with, but now that I was throbbing, the lust made me want to reach out and pull him back onto me. Sherlock moved towards the door but turned back to me briefly.
"And to think- all that, before I even got your pants off." He said, crossing his arms and tutting out of my room. My head fell back against my pillow in shame. Fuck. He really can make me moan his name.
