A Scandal in Baskerville High

Chapter 12 - Come Again?

[wank warning] (heheh that's catchy)

**I'll be alternating POVs in this chapter. Just a heads-up! ~Garnent**

•Sherlock's POV•

The sight was too much - John, the John I crave on a regular basis, laying down like a ragdoll, in full submission, erection out, sweaty...it was a sight to behold.

And I put him there.

My own jeans were tight and felt like a cage around my own hard-on. I needed SOMETHING, anything, now. Part of me wanted to flip John over and do him right there, but I knew I'd missed my chance. He already came, he's done.

Also, I wanted to give him small tastes of what a true night would be like with me. I wanted to show him small clips of what could be, slowly bleed him out, until he was so desperate HE'D make the first move, and maybe even take the lead.

I'm going to make him crave it.

"I'm going to...take a shower. Cool down," John panted, getting up and staggering into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Judging by what just happened, he'll want a nice long, cold shower. Thirty minutes at least.

I got up, checking for any 'mess' left behind - there wasn't any - and strode over to my own bed.

I sat down. Don't really want to read, I can't concentrate on anything but my aching erection. I need something to bring it down.

I searched what I like to call my "Mind Palace" - a fortress in my own head where I can store memories and information, making it always easily accessible.

What to think about...No matter what I tried, my thoughts always drifted to John - the way he tasted; how perfect he fit in my mouth; the salty, somewhat bitter flavour that hit the back of my throat; his moans, pleading for more...

I did that to him.

I listened to the soft sound of the shower running and decided I simply can't take it anymore. Unbuckling my belt and jeans, I ripped them off, pulling them to my mid-thighs. It was such a relief - the cold air, the freeness...like being released from years if captivity. Pure bliss.

Biting my lip in anticipation, I lightly touched the tip, sending shivers up my spine. I won't last long, I know that. The knot in my abdomen was already tight enough, and soon it would break and I'd be finished. But I want - need - to savour this as much as I can.

I brought my memories of John back to play them behind my eyes, remembering every last detail. Remembering the exact number of times I bobbed my head and matching the number of strokes, trying to reenact the scene from John's point of view. I could feel the knot pull tighter with every stroke, and it was growing painful. It hurt to hold it back, but I wasn't ready to stop yet.

Not yet.

***

•John's POV•

The cold water ran down my skin, cooling the burning sensation and washing away the uncomfortable sweat. I sighed, smiling at the memory of Sherlock's warm mouth. Yes. God, yes...

I stopped myself. I'm trying to calm down, not get myself up again. I washed my hair and rubbed myself down with soap, taking one more moment to relish in the cool water before turning off the tap.

The first thing I heard was a small noise from the room. I wasn't sure what it was - too faint to make out - but I could guess. I wrapped in a towel and crept toward the door, opening it a crack and peering through.

I couldn't see much with such an excluding viewpoint, but I didn't need to. Sherlock lay on his bed, pleasing himself. I mentally slapped myself. Why is that so surprising? He just gave a blowjob with no pleasure to himself whatsoever, so obviously he'll need to jack off.

But my mind was taken away when a deep, lustful, throaty moan emitted from Sherlock's parted lips. His head whipped back, he was close. Fuck...I couldn't take my eyes off him, so hot. SO hot. I wanted to run in there and suck him off, taste him, feel him...but I was rooted in place. I physically could not move an inch.

Another groan exited his mouth, bringing me back to the night he stumbled in drunk. When he had me bent over the bed, pounding into me, I could remember the sound of every slurred moan, every sweet nothing whispered in my ear, so vividly...yes.

FUCK, yes.

I leaned against the bathroom wall, eyes still glued on Sherlock, and I gripped myself through the towel. Come on, John, pull it together...!

I observed the way he teased himself, not allowing himself to come, keeping his strokes slow and small. Unable to stop myself - my hand seeming to have a mind of its own - I palmed my otherwise naked member through the towel. My breathing grew ragged again, sweat balling at my hairline. Well, that shower was pointless. Guess I'll have another...after.

I clenched my teeth, puffing breaths out through them roughly. Sherlock let out another - rather loud - throaty groan and I threw my head back against the wall, whispering "Oh, fuck..."

Finally Sherlock seemed unable to take the pressure any longer, and he allowed his strokes to be faster and more pronounced. His hips bucked, a moan catching in his throat. I unwrapped the towel, unable to take it myself, and matched his movements, hard and fast, stroke by stroke.

"Fuck...oh, fuck..."

I glanced over again, watching as he came all over his stomach. Thick, white ribbons...fuck. Fuuuck.

I followed soon after, panting raggedly, before I stood and walked into the shower again, letting the water cool me off.

***

•Sherlock's POV•

I couldn't move. Every muscle bled with pleasure and energy-loss. I couldn't even keep my eyes open. I listened to the shower running, like rain on porcelin. Well, duh...that's what it IS. Silly Sherlock. My mind must be pretty dazed.

I needed a shower. Hurry up, John! I put my pants back on, zipping up my jacket to hide the stain on my shirt. Not that you could see it ANYWAY, my shirt is white.

When John finally emerged, clad in only a towel, I leapt up and took his place in the washroom. As I passed him, he cast me a satisfied and rather seductive glance. Okay, then...

Did he...see me? It is a possibility.

After my own 30-minute shower, I put both our clothes in the laundry basket, changing into pajamas and laying down to sleep. I prepared myself for waking up with an awkward inbent boner, knowing exactly what I'd be dreaming about tonight.

What's coming up? Hopefully, more wonderous sex from John. Yes, please. But a part of me wants more from John than just sex. A part of me wants all of John, everything he can give.

Just John, plain and simple John, all mine. Nobody else can touch him...

My Fruitcake John.

**Yay smut <3

SO I HOPE YOU'RE ALL TEMPTED TO TOUCH YOURSELVES NOW. JK. But was the smut good? I hope so.

I'm practicing. See, here's a summary of my 'Smut Plan' for "A Scandal in Baskerville High":

Fluff and regular plot-building chapters;

Followed by 1-3 chapters, at various points in the story, of minismut like BJ's, touching, and masterbation;

More fluff and plot-building;

More *graphic* minismut;

UNTIL FINALLY (as all is practice for) ONE BIG, SUCCULENT CHAPTER OF PURE, BLISSFUL, BEAUTIFUL FULL-ON SMUT. Closer to the end ;)

Heheheh I'm a tease :)

Be prepared!! It is called "A SCANDAL in Baskerville High", so that's kind of a clue/smut warning in itself.

Remember, y'all just keep being y'all!

XOXO, Garnent•.•**