A/N: I want to say thank-you to everyone that read this. My computer died last night so I've been a mass of frustration and unhappiness since. But the e-mails I kept getting from made me a bit happier. :)

John gave as good as he got. He had been wanting this (and yes, he could admit that now) for far too long, possibly from the very first moment that he had met Sherlock. Because of that impossibly sharp wit, that arrogant disregard for everyone's opinion of him and that manner he had of invading John's personal space, touching him like he had a right to do so. Which he didn't. But, God, was it ever hot!

Sherlock's hand tangled in his hair and titled his head to a precise angle to maximize his access to John's mouth. Meanwhile his other hand stole down the front of John's trousers to cup him through the material.

John whimpered, thrusting into the pressure. His world was quickly narrowing to that hand and those long fingers and all the wicked things they could do.

And then suddenly he was yanked back by the cord around his neck and he should have toppled onto Sherlock. Only he had moved, the bastard, so he fell unceremoniously to the carpet instead.

"A little gentler maybe?" John grunted, the fall having knocked some sense back into him.

"Gentle. Is. Boring." Sherlock said, punctuating each word with a kiss to John's slightly abused neck and easily depriving him of sense once more.

"Well, I'm— ah, new to this." John mumbled and he wasn't sure whether he meant bondage, being with a man or just Sherlock in general.

The dark-haired man lifted his head to smirk at him. "Relax, you're doing fine."

John groaned as he recognized the phrase. "Please tell me you don't do this with the skull."

Sherlock's laugh was warm against his skin and John shivered. "No, only you."

John was pretty sure he shouldn't feel as flattered by that as he did. But it was rather difficult to care with Sherlock's lips wrapped around his collarbone.

Sherlock approached the problem of exploring John's chest systematically, like he had a planned out, logical guide to sex— which, of course, being Sherlock he probably did. He was also very thorough. Too thorough, John thought as Sherlock discovered first one erogenous zone, then another, and teased them mercilessly till John was a wreck. The words 'please' and 'Sherlock' appeared to be the only ones left in his vocabulary so he compensated by repeating them over and over again.

John's skin felt tight and his nipples ached from the attention that Sherlock was bestowing on them, laving and biting them by turns. Pleasure coursed through him like molten lava and he was sure that if this continued he would quite literally explode.


One muscular thigh pushed its way between his and John sighed, rutting desperately against it. And then Sherlock's fingers were working at the belt of his trousers while he used his mouth to silence John's moans. His stomach tensed in expectation as the zipper was drawn down and then Sherlock's hand was on his cock. And it was glorious.

"What do you want, John?" Sherlock's voice was not entirely steady. "Do you want me to bring you off right now with my hand as you writhe on the floor?"

John whimpered. The hand gently stroked up and down his rigid flesh, pressure light. And not nearly enough.

"Do you want me to swallow you down?" Sherlock said against his mouth. Yes, yes, God, yes.

Lithe fingers skimmed over the head of his cock.

"Or," Sherlock dragged his lips to John's ear. "Do you want me to just fuck you through the floor?" He growled.

John's moan was a drawn out 'yes' as he turned his head and captured Sherlock's mouth before he could make anymore lewd suggestions. The hand buried in John's pants tensed slight and John felt an answering hardness against his hip as Sherlock readjusted his weight. John took the only chance he was going to get to drive Sherlock even a fraction as crazy as John was, bucking his hips up against Sherlock's erection.

He felt more than heard Sherlock's groan and it sent a spark of pure satisfaction through him. The detective tore his mouth away from his and levelled him with a suspicious look.

"I see your heterosexuality is firmly out the window." He said with an arch of his brow.

"Shut up and fuck me!" And no, he didn't miss the way Sherlock's eyes widened slightly in shock as his pupils rapidly swallowed up the little colour there was in his eyes.

After that John's trousers and pants were removed in short order.

"You're wearing too many clothes." John observed with irritation. If only he had his hands free, he would rip that shirt right off.

"And how much clothing do you want me to wear?" Was Sherlock's amused question as he stood up and began to unbutton his shirt.

Now there was a question John knew the answer to. "None."

Sherlock undressed with quick efficiency and not a hint of self-consciousness. Of course, that might have been because his body was perfect, all porcelain skin and sinewy muscle. John tried not to drool. Really, how had he fooled himself into thinking that he was not incredibly attracted to this man?

Now completely naked Sherlock knelt between John's legs and took hold of his cock. Slowly, keeping his gaze locked with John's, he lowered his mouth down till he could stick his tongue out and paint one broad line of heat from base to tip.

John threw his head back and cried out.

Sherlock, John found out quickly, wasn't teasing anymore. He licked, drew John's cock as far as he could into his mouth, ran his teeth lightly across the flesh. In short, he did everything to drive John completely out of his mind to the point where he didn't straight away notice the slick finger tracing his entrance.

Sherlock slowly worked his finger in and out. It felt strange but not unpleasant. And then Sherlock push his finger all the way in and hooked it and John saw stars. His back arched off the floor and he practically screamed.


"I liked it more when you were saying my name." Sherlock commented, rubbing at the same spot with his finger before pulling out and adding another digit.

Ever the considerate friend, John instantly complied. "Sherlock, oh god, please!"

Soon John was reduced to incoherency as Sherlock steadily loosened the muscles of his entrance. When he pulled his fingers out John growled at the loss but soon he felt something much bigger nudging at his hole.

John swallowed convulsively.

"Relax" Sherlock said running his hands across John's stomach soothingly. And as John met Sherlock's eyes he saw the same anxiety reflected back at him.

He relaxed.

Sherlock pushed in slowly. It burned a little as unfamiliar muscles stretched inside him but he breathed through it. Finally, Sherlock was fully buried inside him and that thought alone was enough to make John roll his hips and grunt: "Move."

Sherlock drew out and thrust back in, in one smooth motion. And that— that was actually quite pleasant. And then Sherlock lifted his hips and hit that spot inside of him and it was suddenly much more than pleasant. It was exquisite.

They set up a fast rhythm, both wound too tightly to make this last. For every one of Sherlock's thrusts John would buck his hips up to meet him, his legs wrapped around Sherlock's waist. Before long their movements became erratic and the sounds falling from their lips lost all meaning.

John drew in air in short, sharp gasps, only enough to let him moan another syllable. His stomach clenched with every thrust. Sherlock's fingers dug into the flesh of John's buttocks so hard that John was pretty certain that he was going to have bruises there tomorrow and that was not as disturbing as it should be to a medical professional. But none of that mattered because he was close, so close. And then Sherlock grabbed the cord around his neck and yanked him right off the floor into a brutal kiss.

And that was all it took. John came apart shuddering, his world blanking out for one perfect moment before he collapsed in a boneless heap with Sherlock crushing him as he too reached his release.

They lay there for a few minutes getting their breath back before John decided that the pain in his shoulders outweighed the pleasure of having Sherlock's naked body draped across his.

"Do you mind untying me?" He asked hoarsely.

"Mm. I kind of like you tied up like this."


"Oh fine." He rolled off and undid the belt that held John's wrists together. Then ran his fingers around the strap at his neck but he didn't remove it. John didn't think it was healthy to exalt in such possessiveness but he couldn't help the flash of pleasure this caused.

"So," he asked casually. "The experiment was a success?"

Sherlock smiled. "It definitely warrants further research."

Science is a wonderful thing, John thought. His arms now free, he rolled his shoulders experimentally, wincing at the aches that caused. He really hoped Sherlock's next experiment involved a bed…

A/N: Just so everyone knows, they used a condom. John was a bit too busy to notice but it was there… Practice safe sex kids.