Human Error_404 [Johnlock]

4

[552 words]

smut ish

     Sweat ran off his forehead and chest, leaving him utterly breathless. His breathing uneven and heavy as he felt the rush inside him. What Sherlock had done, straddling his hips like that. really made John fume. His eyes were shut tightly, imagining his best friend in a lewd way.

His mouth naturally formed an O, back arching and feeling the sweat drip into every crevasse of his skin. The wrinkles by his eyes when he squinted or smiled enough, under his arms, and at the nape of his neck. The feeling was intense. Just imagining his flatmate, undressed and worn, panting and gesturing for 'more'.

John let out a breathy low groan, arching his back and curling his toes. He was close. The knot in his abdomen that threatened sweet release seemingly growing with each thrust into his own hand.

As John pushed his hard in and out of his fist, he let out an inhuman sound. His body shaking slightly to ride out his strong orgasm. As he had jacked off, Sherlock's name along with breaths laced in curses left John's lips softly but needingly.

As his body began to limp, he shifted his postion and sat up, fixing to go for a shower.

It was dark out, the room silent with the exception of his shuffling feet. Already naked, he turned on the warm water and let it run l for a moment before getting in.

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Sherlock sat in his chair with a newspaper covering his upper body. He sat silently, waiting for John to wake up so they could go on a case.

As John came down the stairs, he passed by Sherlock to make some tea.

"There's a case." Sherlock's tone was bland and unchanging. John hummed in response and sat down with the two cups of tea.

"Sherlock..." John hesitated. Sherlock looked away from the paper, interested in what his friend had to say. "What if.. someone were to have feelings for you... how would you react?" Sherlock cocked a brow and tried to read John's movements and expressions.

Sweaty palms, little eye contact, dry mouth, flushed face. Pulling at his jumper sleeves, his pupils dialating and the shortness in breath. Sherlock saw all the signs but it couldn't be because John was not gay.

"John, love is a dangerous disadvantage. Ive always thought that. A vicious motivator." Sherlock looked back at John who seemed to look the tiniest bit hurt. "But." He continued, seeing John perk up when he spoke. "If it were to be someone I know.. Someone who is close to me... " Sherlock trailed off smirking at John. "Anyway. Lets go on to the case then, Lestrade is waiting.

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When John and Sherlock arrived him they both collapsed into their chairs and sighed. It was late and they both were tired. John yawned and got up, shaking Sherlock slightly.

"Will you be sleeping tonight?" John looked at him through half closed eyelids, falling asleep and falling into Sherlock's chest.

Both too tired to move, left it and woke up to an interesting ordeal. John was on the floor, face down snoring away while Sherlock had his foot on top of his friend. When John finally woke up, he noticed something poking his arse. When he looked he turned red and rolled out of reach.