Inspired by A Scandal. Come on, someone had to write it. Explicit content, you have been warned! ~K
"Sex doesn't alarm me." Sherlock bit back, venom tainting his words. Mycroft smiled slowly, relishing the act of humiliating his little brother in front of his friend.
"How would you know?" He purred. John raised his head in surprise to look at the consulting detective. Sherlock drew back slightly in his indignation. The doctor imagined that he saw a feint flicker of shame dance across the detective's eyes, but it passed so swiftly John began to wonder if it had ever been there at all. Sherlock's jaw set and he glared at his brother, snatching the photographs from his outstretched hand.
"Could I ask you something? Something personal." The doctor asked that evening, as the detective sunk ever lower in his chair, his fingers steepled with the middle fingers brushing his hairline.
Sherlock lay almost horizontally on the cushion now, his chin rested on his breast and his bright, quicksilver eyes narrowed in thought. He spoke with a laboured tone, as though the mere thought of speaking required a vast amount of effort better spent on brooding. "I am sure you are perfectly capable of communicating your question to me John. I believe you meant to ask if I would be inclined to answer such a question as the one of an intimate nature you have constructed." John nodded.
"Right" He replied "well, will you?"
John pushed himself forwards in his chair, closer to the detective, so close that their knees brushed ever so slightly. The doctor was suddenly very aware of their minimal contact, Sherlock's body heat radiated through the fabric of his trousers like a scorching flame. "Sherlock, have you ever..." John fought to find the right words, to show the depth of his friendship and concern for the other man. He leant forwards into the detective's line of sight. "Have you ever had a relationship, a partner...sex?" He ventured.
The detective flinched, his penetrating gaze settling on his flatmate accusingly. "Why?"
"I want to know, Sherlock, I want you to be able to tell me something that you wouldn't tell any other person. You can trust me."
Sherlock stood abruptly, scattering loose pages of documents and files around him carelessly. He stared John directly in his gentle eyes.
"No." He clenched his hands into fists. "Not that it's any of your concern, doctor. But do feel free to blog about it, I'm sure the world is just dying to know that Sherlock Holmes is a-" He faltered, his fingers uncurling slowly, flexing, testing. He wanted to know that he could say it without getting angry or hurt like the other times. "A virgin" He whispered. Then he turned sharply and strode to his room, leaving John very much confused.
The detective sat alone in his room, his long legs folded beneath him and his hands laced together in his lap. Composed, controlled, restrained...alone.
John Watson observed his friend from the safe distance of the door, just out of throwing range for the detective. He knew Sherlock could feel him watching him, but the other man made no move to show this knowledge. John took a breath and progressed into the room. There was still no movement from the detective. John moved forwards and sat slowly on the bed, which bounced slightly with his added weight. "I'm sorry" He said quietly. Sherlock didn't reply. "I had no right to ask you that, and I'm sorry."
"I just don't...get it." Sherlock said quietly. John frowned.
"Sex." The detective replied bluntly.
"I mean, I understand the science, but..." He paused, sucking on his lip, "It just doesn't look...comfortable."
John blinked, shifting slightly to look at his friend, his internal struggle. "It's ugly, and rough, and...I don't understand it." Sherlock continued.
"Sherlock, exactly how much of sex do you know about?" John asked.
"Enough. The internet is an invaluable resource John. There are more than enough websites to provide a sufficient education. I believe the colloquial term is 'porn'."
"That stuff isn't realistic! Sherlock those people are actors...more or less. They're paid to scream and moan and rut frantically like that because that's what a lot of people wish sex was like, spontaneous and angry and even painful in sometimes. But that doesn't mean it has to be like that..." John said, studying the detective's face intently. Sherlock said nothing.
"Do you know why I haven't ever had a relationship, John? Do you know why I've never been intimate with another person?" Sherlock said, staring blankly out of his window, the moonlight glancing off his angular features. John shook his head, but was unsure if the detective saw the slight action.
Sherlock turned his head to look at John, a sad smile on his lips. "Because I don't know how to be" John's breath caught in his throat. He reached out and tentatively took his friend's hand which was resting in his lap. Sherlock jumped and sprang away like John had burned him. He darted to the corner of the room and stood with his back pressed against the wall, his eyes glinting in the shadows. John held his breath, afraid to move too fast or too suddenly, he didn't want to scare Sherlock, to drive him away. Right now he couldn't bear to be apart from the consulting detective.
"Please" John murmured, "please just trust me Sherlock". He held out his hand, willing the other man to believe him. The detective relented, walking slowly, tentatively towards his friend.
"John I...I can't. I told you, I don't know how."
"Then let me show you." Sherlock sat heavily on the bed, his eyes glassy and distant. John tried again, touching Sherlock's wrist this time. The detective did not pull away, letting the weight of the doctor's touch linger on his bare skin. "Sherlock are you actually going to look at me?" John said, releasing Sherlock's wrist slowly, trailing his fingertips along the delicate skin of his wrist, feeling his pulse quicken ever so slightly.
Sherlock looked at John desperately, his eyes betraying his distress. "I could never ask that much of you, John"
"Don't" John said, "please don't." He sighed, lowering his gaze. "I'm your friend, Sherlock, I want to help you. And I'd be lying if I said that I haven't wanted this for a long time."
Sherlock frowned. "So I was right. That night at the restaurant, you did want to..."
"I didn't then. I didn't know what to think. But I won't let my feelings get in the way of helping you. If that's what you want, I will guide you through it, and I'll make it as perfect as I know how."
Sherlock swallowed visibly, reaching out and grasping John's hand tightly in his own. "I want you to be my first John. I want you."
"You trust me?"
Sherlock felt a feverish smile tugging at his lips, he let it consume him, content to see it mirrored on the face of his friend. "Just, relax. Let me show you." John whispered. He leant in slowly, feeling the detective's breath hot on his cheek.
Sherlock was scared, he was scared and he was ashamed to admit it. He trusted his friend, but he couldn't bear to disappoint him, to ruin this moment. But when he felt John Watson's lips press gently on his, every uncertain thought scattered to the far corners of his mind, allowing instinct to overcome him. He tried moving his lips carefully against the doctors, which seemed to have positive effects, judging by the sharp intake of breath and light pressure applied by John. Sherlock's hands were limp and useless, one grasped firmly by the doctor, and the other lying dumbly in his lap. John moved his hand to the detective's arm, stroking the length of his forearm to reach his hand. The doctor took Sherlock's free hand and placed it carefully on his inner thigh. The detective instinctively spread his long fingers over John's leg, giving an experimental stroke of the doctor's thigh with his thumb. John smiled against his lips, conscious not to push Sherlock too far; he rested his own hand on the detective's hip, teasing the silk material of his shirt with his thumb and forefinger.
Sherlock was just getting the hang of their slow deliberate kissing when John did something unexpected. He felt a hot slightly wet pressure on his bottom lip and he froze. The doctor's tongue traced his lip lightly, knowing where the skin was most sensitive. Sherlock let out an involuntary little moan of pleasure as the doctor parted his lips and their tongues flicked together experimentally, the roughness of John's mouth strangely gratifying to feel moving against his own. He pulled back in embarrassment. "Sorry" Sherlock mumbled ashamedly. John frowned, tilting Sherlock's chin towards him.
"It's OK" John replied, kissing the detective once again. "Just let go" Then they were kissing again, more passionately this time. John could feel the raw longing and uncertainty behind the detective's cold unfeeling mask. The doctor took charge as agreed, pulling Sherlock's shirt from his trousers and running his fingers over the small patch of cool alabaster skin above the waistband. John stopped kissing the other man for a moment, his hands moving up to the top button of the detective's shirt. He began to undo the shirt carefully, not letting his skin brush Sherlock's chest so not to alarm him. The detective watched in fascination as he was undressed, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly as he swallowed in his nervousness. John resisted the urge to lean forwards and kiss it, his nimble fingers making short work of the buttons.
Sherlock sat statuesque on the bed, controlling his breathing and keeping perfectly still to allow the doctor to explore his torso. John unfastened the last button and sat on his heels to admire the flat planes of the detective's smooth chest. Then he placed a gentle hand over Sherlock's heart, feeling it beat for him. The other man smiled, reaching up and taking John's hand, covering it with his own. The detective's fear was communicated in his gaze, but even so he made the choice to try and participate in John's ministrations.
Sherlock moved his hands to the hem of John's jumper, his fingers creeping under the tee shirt beneath to stroke his skin tentatively. "May I?" He asked quietly, John nodded enthusiastically. The detective helped him off with his jumper, tugging it carefully over his head, the soft sandy hair sticking up on end. Sherlock grinned at his friend's appearance, realizing that he found a dishevelled John very attractive indeed. "I'm going to kiss you now, John" Sherlock forewarned the doctor, the question evident in the slight crease of his brow. John simply smiled, closing his eyes in preparation. Sherlock took a steadying breath, leaning forwards and kissing John tentatively, his nose brushing John's cheek and his fingers weaving into his sandy hair. The doctor did the same, removing his hands from Sherlock's chest and carding them gently through the dark curls. He dragged his nails over the detective's scalp analytically. Sherlock groaned deep in his throat, pressing himself against John so their chests touched.
The doctor slipped the shirt from his friend's shoulders, casting it aside and turning his attention to stroking tentative patterns over Sherlock's pale skin with his fingertips. The detective arched his spine at John's touch. The doctor smiled against his lips 'ticklish are we Mr Holmes?' he thought privately, attempting another approach. He tried lightly brushing the detective's nipple with his thumb as they kissed, pressing himself closer to the other man. Sherlock sighed contentedly, his fingers returning to the tee shirt John wore. He broke the kiss momentarily and stripped it from his torso, his eyes flicking over to the scar tissue knotted at his friend's shoulder uncertainly. John lifted his hand and cupped the detective's face in his palm. "Everything's fine, you can touch me wherever you are comfortable" He whispered. Sherlock nodded, then he leant forwards and pressed a soft kiss to the scar and John hummed in pleasure, so he did it again.
John rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder in return, turning his head to suck on the other man's neck lightly at first, but when the detective pulled him closer he latched onto the perfect marble skin and sucked a red mark just behind Sherlock's ear. "Oh" Was all the taller man could say, lost in the perfect moment. John made a move and pushed gently against the detective's chest, directing him to lie on the bed. Sherlock laid back obediently, the doctor almost in his lap now, their bare chests pressed together. 'This is unexpectedly pleasant' Sherlock's brain murmured to itself as John ran his hands up and down the other man's torso, letting his hands rest on the detective's hips and pushing tentatively against him. Something sparked in Sherlock's brain and he gasped as the minimal friction sent a dizzying heat straight to his groin.
John grinned triumphantly, rocking back on his heels to observe the detective blushing furiously, his erection straining against the confines of his tight trousers. Sherlock reached down, his hand hovered uncertainly over his crotch, not wanting to do anything until John helped him. He couldn't remember the last time he had an erection, even when he was a teenager he hadn't been interested in touching himself or seeking out the pleasurable activities of his peers. He was above the senseless rutting and sexual exploration other boys of his age seemed infatuated with, preferring science books to dirty magazines, and the sweet caress of the wind on his cheek to the rough fondling of an over-eager girl or boy.
The doctor was still grinning; the very sight of Sherlock Holmes standing fully to attention was enough to make him achingly hard without a hand to himself. "John...I-I" Sherlock stuttered in his embarrassment.
"Shhh" John uttered soothingly. "We're going to do this right, and we're going to do this slowly. I promise I'll look after you." He breathed, lowering his body onto Sherlock's and kissing him tenderly. Sherlock flinched in surprise as the John's arousal came into contact with his own, albeit through the fabric of two pairs of trousers, and what came as more of a surprise was the effect it had on his body. John grunted as Sherlock thrust his hips unconsciously against his, begging for a release. He looked into the detective's eyes and melted under his pleading gaze.
John slipped a hand between them and fiddled with the other man's belt awkwardly, tugging at it just enough to show the detective what he wanted. Sherlock raised himself up onto his elbows, allowing John to pull him the rest of the way into sitting. John unfastened Sherlock's belt slowly, taking his time to pull the leather through the belt loops, his fingers ghosting over the waistband teasingly. Sherlock followed his lead, fumbling uncharacteristically with John's zip and undoing his trousers clumsily. The doctor could see him getting more and more distressed, so he took Sherlock's hand and held it tightly, giving it a squeeze to indicate his trust. Sherlock conquered his jeans and John stepped away from him momentarily. The detective frowned in confusion, had he done something wrong?
John smiled reassuringly at him, walking to the other side of the bed and peeling back the crisp clean sheets suggestively. "I want you to feel comfortable" John said tenderly. Sherlock understood, and he hurried to pull back the covers and slipped between them. John followed, inching across the double bed and taking the detective in his arms once more. They kissed slowly, drawing out the inevitable. John could feel Sherlock was scared of the next step, and so he held him for a moment to comfort him.
The doctor's hands found their way to Sherlock's waistband once more. They stopped kissing as the detective allowed him to pull them gently over his hips and his straining member. John made sure not to hurt him as he tugged them past Sherlock's penis and down his legs where the detective kicked them away helpfully. Sherlock copied his movements, making sure to avoid John's arousal and stroking his fingers ever so slightly over the doctor's thigh. John shivered and wriggled closer, desperate to touch him. When they were almost fully unclothed, John hooked his thumbs into the waistband of Sherlock's boxers and pulled them fractionally over the detective's hips, enough to expose a strip of dark hair below his abdomen. Sherlock gasped slightly and closed his eyes as John gave him the lightest of strokes and smoothed the pad of his finger over the sensitive skin. "Is this OK?" John murmured, pressing against him. Sherlock didn't reply, having lost the power of coherent thought at that merest of touches. This was it; this was finally going to happen for him. Strangely, Sherlock wasn't scared anymore; the nerves had been replaced by a giddy anticipation which coiled in his stomach. He was about to lose his virginity at the age of thirty three to a handsome army doctor whom he trusted entirely, and had a deep and profound affection for. John would look after him.
"I'll make it special, I promise" John said, kissing him. Sherlock didn't know what to do, so he kissed back urgently, his hands mapping John's body and skirting lower to brush the cotton of his underwear.
"I trust you" He whispered, taking down John's boxers in one swift movement, and exposing his manhood beneath the duvet. John gasped and followed suit, dragging Sherlock's underwear quickly over his sharp hipbones and over his legs. The detective whimpered as John took him in his arms and pressed their naked bodies together, nuzzling his neck adoringly.
"You are amazing" John growled into Sherlock's throat, burying his face in the detective's shoulder and sneaking a glance at their bodies twined together intimately. His cock gave a twitch at Sherlock in all his glory, spread between his legs. John sighed at the perfection of this moment, in the arms of Sherlock Holmes, feeling the detective's heart beat frantically against him. He risked one last glance at the other man, his eyes searching for any sign of discomfort. Sherlock looked perfectly content, his eyes half lidded with desire. John wrapped his arms around his impossibly skinny waist, spreading their legs apart a little and beginning to rub slowly against the detective. Sherlock gripped John's hip possessively in his heightened pleasure, his hands sliding round to touch the doctor's arse and give it a gentle squeeze. John chuckled, his hands roaming freely over the detective's naked body. He trailed a finger over the cleft of the other man's buttocks, following the crease and teasing the delicate skin. Sherlock made a hiccupping sound as John skimmed his opening with his warm fingers, and bucked his hips against the doctor's.
John closed his eyes, allowing the sensation of the other man's body moving confidently against him to dominate his thoughts. Sherlock was learning, understanding John's body and exploring it with his own. The detective moved down to rest his head against the doctor's chest, curving his back to maintain the contact between them. John breathed in Sherlock's scent, the heady mix of the detective's shampoo and their combined sweat consuming him. They lay side by side, writhing together slowly in their uncertainty, enjoying the pleasure of another person's body and very being connected with their own. Sherlock raised his arms and looped them around John's shoulders, drawing him closer and kissing him as the doctor rolled his hips in long, throbbing circles of sensation. John continued to stroke the detective's arse absently, squeezing and releasing the gorgeous toned flesh in his hands. He pressed one finger against Sherlock's opening again, teasing the tight muscle with the tip and then withdrawing, each time entering deeper into him. He began doing this in time with the undulations of their hips, feeling the detective coming undone in his arms. "Oh John..." Sherlock whimpered, "John John John" He chanted, his breath coming fast and ragged now. He was close, the doctor knew.
John slipped a hand between them, withdrawing from the detective's body and separating their aching members. Sherlock gave a little tremor of grief at the loss, his eyes closed tightly. The doctor wrapped his fingers around Sherlock's erection loosely, not wanting to cause the other man pain. Sherlock groaned loudly and suddenly as John gave him a long, slow stroke along his length. The detective's fingernails dug painfully into John's muscle and he thrust encouragingly against his palm. John rubbed him again, felling the tension coiling in his gut as he came close to his release. Sherlock dipped his head down and kissed John with such passion and enthusiasm that it sent them both over the edge.
They cried out together, each holding the name of the other man on their lips, their simultaneous orgasms taking hold of their bodies. John held on tightly to the detective as the taller man's body shuddered and convulsed in pleasure and relief, the wet residual semen coating their skin.
They said nothing for a long time, basking in the afterglow of their union. Sherlock cuddled closer, resting his head on John's and wrapping his arms around the small doctor. John smiled to himself and leant up to kiss the detective. "Sherlock Holmes, you are no longer a virgin" He said quietly, and brushed a stray curl from the other man's forehead. The detective seemed to stiffen at that thought, barely breathing for a moment.
"Thank you" He whispered "you truly are a wonderful friend." John's heart sank pitifully.
"I was rather hoping I could be more than that" He said mournfully, tracing light circles on Sherlock's chest with his finger "because I think I might have just gone and fallen in love with you Sherlock, and there's not a damn thing I can do about it"
The detective swallowed "You have?"
"Head over heels" John replied honestly, because now he knew how he felt. That last night had revealed the true depth of his feelings for the man currently curled protectively around him.
Sherlock sighed, relaxing his tensed muscles. "I was rather hoping you would say that" He murmured "because I think I love you too John. I always have, and I can't keep pretending. What you did for me last night was...spectacular, and it made me realize that I never want to have that with anyone other than you. There's nobody I will ever be this happy with and who I would rather have as my first time." He took John's hand, staring into his eyes. John smiled shyly. "I gave you my virginity tonight John, but you have something far more precious in your possession." He placed John's hand over his chest. "My beating heart."
They kissed deeply and sleepily as the sun crept over the horizon and bled into a new and perfect dawn.