Grind Me Down (Johnlock)

Chapter 9

John chuckled, pulling away from Sherlock. "Come on, I'm trying to watch this." He looked back at the TV show.

Sherlock huffed, shifting to sit apart from John, and crossing his legs. He had already endured watching John work out in his undershirt and boxer-briefs, and had eaten dinner beside him, smelling all fresh from his shower. There was something about the scent of John's shower gel, shampoo and John himself that made Sherlock want to burrow in close.

Smelling it during dinner had started a low buzz of arousal. Sitting now with John, Sherlock had tried snuggling against John's side, kissing his neck, thinking the whole time how much he wanted John out of his clothes, stretched out of his bed, finally able to explore every part of him.

But John kept shifting away from Sherlock. Moving his hand away from his leg. He had only gotten a quick hello kiss when John got home, leaving his lips tingling, and letting out a whimper when John started his workout.

This was torture. John, so close, so tempting. But everything he did was rebuffed by the man.

John glanced his way with a bit of a smirk. "Oh, quit pouting. You say you have such a great deductive mind. I'm surprised you haven't figured things out."

The comment sent Sherlock off the sofa and pacing around the room, stopping occasionally to look back at John calmly watching his movie. His dom was right. He just needed to review everything.

Finally sitting in his armchair, Sherlock closed his eyes to sort it all out. He went over every word John had uttered, all their interactions, everything he knew about relationships and dating, which really wasn't that much.

John wasn't paying him much attention today, but he didn't seem to wanting to stop their relationship, such as it was. There were no signals of that. Previously, John had only gone on dates a few times a week, so maybe he just needed a break of a few days between encounters. Maybe he just wanted to wait a while, to drive Sherlock into a desperate state again. Looking back at John, he nodded, thinking the last idea was the most likely.

Maybe John didn't like Sherlock initiating sex. Maybe being a dom meant he called the shots. If so, was Sherlock simply to go about his normal life, waiting for John to pounce whenever he had the urge? Surely there was something Sherlock could do that would encourage John into action, like kneeling in front of him had triggered a more intense session than John seemed to have planned.

Sherlock thought about it, and came up with a few ideas.

---

The next night, Sherlock went into his bedroom when John got home. He stripped down to his briefs and slipped on a silk robe that left most of his chest showing.

The delivery order came, and Sherlock served up a couple plates and carried them into the living room, passing one to John. He sunk down on to the pillow in front of the sofa, and quietly ate his meal.

He felt very aware of John sitting so close, and sensed his gaze often, tracing over his body like a caress. The attention was a balm against John's behaviour the previous day. Sherlock allowed the robe's sash to become undone, showing even more skin.

They quietly watched the movie, and Sherlock almost moaned when John's hand came to rest on his shoulder, warm and heavy. He played with Sherlock's hair, and stroking the back of his neck, teasing caresses that Sherlock arched into.

But it never grew into more. Sherlock was fully hard, shifting restlessly against his pillow, knowing John was enjoying looking at him. Why wouldn't he touch more, do more?

The movie ended, and John stood up. He looked down at Sherlock, sitting still on his pillow, skin flushed with arousal. "Stand up, Sherlock." His voice had a raspy edge that told Sherlock he was affected too.