Grind Me Down (Johnlock)

Chapter 4

Sherlock felt grumpy the next day, finding it hard to concentrate. He didn't have a good case for distraction, and the cold case files Lestrade had given him didn't grab his interest. It was probably just from not sleeping well the night before.

He was actually dozing on the sofa when John got home later. Keeping his eyes mostly shut, he feigned sleeping as John took off his coat. He must have noticed Sherlock there, as he seemed to be trying to be quiet.

A few minutes later, Sherlock could hear the soft clink of the dumbbells being shifted, and he moved slowly on the sofa until he had an unobstructed view.

John had stripped down to his underwear and was going through his routine. He had a pair of earbuds in, listening to his music that way so he didn't disturb Sherlock. He was a good roommate overall, being considerate like that. Whenever he cooked, he always encouraged Sherlock to have some of the meal, and he found himself enjoying the shared meals more than he expected. He was tidy and paid his share of the rent and bills, never complaining much about Sherlock's body parts in the kitchen.

Sherlock had read John from their first meeting, and wasn't that surprised that John had turned out to be such a good flatmate. He had discipline from his years in the army, sticking to his routines and getting things done without fuss. He seemed to enjoy his work at the clinic, sharing stories with Sherlock over meals. He was comfortable with himself, that underlying confidence there in everything he did.

It was compelling, and Sherlock felt pulled by it. Even now, he was watching avidly as John went through his workout, seeing the way he ran through it showed how routine it was for him. He wanted to be fit and had the discipline to do the work to maintain it. His body certainly showed that he took good care of himself. Sherlock's eyes ran over John's arms as he did alternating bicep curls, the muscles in his upper arms flexing with the smooth motions, a glean of sweat on his skin.

He got lost in it, watching John, and it was a bit startling when John finished. Closing his eyes, he listened as John started the shower, drifting off to thoughts of him naked, running soapy hands over his body.

---

"Hey, shift over, would you?" John's voice brought him out of his daydreams, and Sherlock sat up. John sat down, handing Sherlock a large bowl of stir-fry. The scent of soy and fresh ginger rose up, making him realize he probably hadn't eaten all day.

John's eyes were amused as he watched Sherlock eat quickly. "Slow down. You'll make yourself sick if you eat so fast on an empty stomach."

His comment showed he was just as aware of Sherlock's habits as he was getting to be of John's.

John clicked on the TV to a sit-com, chuckling along with the jokes as he enjoyed his meal.

"The woman from the other night...," Sherlock started, putting his empty bowl down in the coffee table.

John flicked an assessing glance his way before looking back at the telly. "Yes. What about her?"

Perhaps he was overstepping, but he was so curious. "Um, was she from Grindr?"

John turned slightly towards Sherlock, finishing his bite of food before answering. "Grindr is for men. She is from FetLife." He turned back to his program.

He had answered the question, but Sherlock found himself unsatisfied. "What's that?" He hadn't come across it in his research before.

"It's a website for people into kinky stuff. It's hard to find submissive women on normal dating apps." John said, still seeming a bit amused by Sherlock.

The whole thing seemed so strange. Did John just regularly message people in a variety of apps to set up meetings for sex? Was this what people did now?

John seemed to sense Sherlock's befuddlement, as he set down his empty bowl and turned off the TV. "On Grindr, your user name is 'AlmostAVirgin'. Is that true? Are you really that inexperienced?"

When Sherlock had set up the account a year ago, he had tried to think of a user name that would draw in his suspect. He had deliberately picked the name, and used a picture where he looked young and unintimidating. It had worked, and he soon had enough information from the suspect to confirm his guilt. But it had also worked on many other men in the site, with hundreds of messages flooding his app. He had ignored them all, and gradually they tapered off.

Sherlock shrugged. "I have had a few partners years ago, but I really just don't have much interest in sex." It was always a bit of a shock how much time and energy other people devoted to it, searching for partners, arranging dates. Was it really worth all that to relieve an occasional biological urge? That part always mystified him.

"Your user name is 'ObeyMyOrders'." Sherlock shot back, wanting to turn the focus back to John. "Are you always just looking for submissive men or women?"

John shrugged. "It's what works for me. I find vanilla sex a bit dull." He shifted their dirty dishes to the side, and leaned back against the sofa, resting his feet on the old coffee table. He was wearing a light grey t-shirt with loose drawstring pyjama bottoms, and Sherlock's eyes traced along his body. He had seen so much of it now, zipping by in only a towel after his showers. What was he like without the towel?

Turning the TV back on, John went back to watching his show. "You can continue the nap I disturbed, if you want. Here, lie down and rest your head here." He patted his thigh.

Without questioning it too much, Sherlock obeyed, stretching out along the length of the sofa, his head resting on John's warm, muscular thigh. John pulled a throw over him, and Sherlock felt himself drifting off, hands stroking through his hair.

---

Sherlock awoke a little later to a tug to his hair. Pulling away, he rolled over slowly as looked up at John. He was asleep, and his hand in Sherlock's hair before must have moved a little.

Taking the opportunity, Sherlock examined John from this close vantage point, the light from the TV flickering over them. They must have shifted down on the sofa slightly. John's t-shirt was a bit rucked up, a stripe of bare skin showing above his waistband. There was a bit of light coloured hair, and Sherlock was tempted to reach out to touch it, wanting to feel the texture with his fingers.

Looking downwards, he froze. John was fully hard, the thin material hiding little and making it obvious he wasn't wearing underwear. Had John been having an erotic dream, Sherlock curled against him and his hand in his hair? Was he dreaming about him even now? Was that what was making him hard?

Sherlock found he was breathing a bit faster, his heart rate picking up. But still he didn't move away, his head still resting on John's thigh, his hard cock only inches away from his face, just the thin material keeping him from seeing John fully. It didn't stop him from looking closely, tracing his eyes over it. It seemed to be quite thick, and longer than he expected from a man of John's height.

He shifted on the sofa, and was suddenly aware that he was hard as well. Reaching down under the covers, he ran a hand lightly over his erection, and let out a soft gasp at the sensation. He had ignored his body so long, he rarely paid attention when he got an erection, ignoring them until they faded.

But now, lying on his own sofa, he traced his fingertips along himself while staring at John's cock, and felt a surge of heat. A surge of wanting. John's words from that first day rung in his mind, over and over, and the idea seemed so much more intriguing. What would it feel like to pull the drawstring undone on his pyjamas, and push the fabric away? What would it feel like to take John into his mouth, feeling his fingers clenching in his hair as he pleasured him?

He must have made a noise or something, because John shifted, and seemed to be waking up. Sherlock blushed, the heat warming his face, and he rolled off the couch, escaping to his own bedroom.