A/N - Thanks to ScopesMonkey, as always. She encourages these deviations from sanity so if you enjoy this thank her.
Warnings – This is men doing it galore. If that is not your thing, or if details of that aren't your thing, then this is probably not for you. To the rest of you dirty minded
wonderful people, enjoy! :o)
They had debated it over Chinese food. Or rather, Sherlock had spent twenty minutes lamenting to John regarding an article he had read on the subject and outlining all the reasons it was clearly a myth. John had nodded along, picking at his chicken and cashews.
Sherlock had finally sat his Mongolian beef aside and picked up his laptop intent on hacking the journal's website and removing the article himself. The detective barely noticed John getting up and putting the food away and had begrudgingly turned his head to kiss John good night when the doctor went to bed.
Several hours later he finally broke into the system. He removed the article, sent a scathing email to the editor, closed his laptop and promptly deleted the whole incident from his memory.
Three weeks later he was trying desperately to recall every second of it. He wanted to remember every expression on John's face, every twinkle in the blue eyes. They had to have been there; John had known then. Sherlock reluctantly admitted that he hadn't been paying John much attention - which was an absolute failure on his part.
Twenty-six minutes previous, Sherlock had been on his knees, his back straight while he watched the compact naked body lying on the bed. The doctor was on his back, his butt resting on a pillow, a better angle for both of them. John's fingers were knotted in the metal rungs of the headboard, his knuckles white. The tips of his teeth were visible as he bit into his bottom lip and Sherlock had to resist the urge to bend forward and cover the small beautiful body.
Sherlock liked to sit up because it let him see absolutely everything. He could see John's white knuckles, his slowly bruising lip, and the sweat beading on his forehead and temples. Most importantly he had a clear view of John's cock. Each of Sherlock's thrusts made it bounce between them and droplets of milky pre-cum were landing on both of their abdomens.
John had to be desperate, had to be aching for release. Thanks to a mind numbing blow job that afternoon Sherlock was certain he could go all night - but not John. John's breaths were short gasps his chest stuttering with each one. His cock head was swollen and a deep purple, obviously aching. There were rules though, and Sherlock wouldn't touch John until he asked for it. When that gasping voice uttered 'please' or 'Sher-lock' then the detective would reach a hand down and pull in long solid strokes. But not before.
Sherlock put a hand on the knee pressed against his sides and squeezed. The muscles in John's leg were fluttering under his fingers and Sherlock smiled as he pulled his hips out and slammed forward. John grunted and his knees pressed into Sherlock's ribs. Sherlock pulled all the way out and thrust forward again. He wanted John to beg. He wanted to see the slightly tanned face contort in a mix of agony and euphoria. He longed for it.
Sherlock pushed his weight into John's thighs and arched his hips up as he pushed in again. John's eyes snapped open and Sherlock felt it. John's breath caught and he arched off the mattress. The doctor tightened almost painfully around him.
"Sh-" John gasped, "Sh-, -Lock," he whispered and Sherlock stilled. John's pupils dilated completely.
"Oh God," John managed as his head fell back and his eyes closed again. His muscles gripped Sherlock even tighter and the sensation tingled up the detective's spine, making him arch forwards slightly as his eyes closed. Sherlock forced them open as John let out a mangled cry and started whimpering.
The doctor's cock bobbed in between them sputtering milky fluid all over John's abdomen.
Orgasm, Sherlock recognized as John started to convulse. Sherlock glanced at his hips cushioned against John's ass, himself buried deep, and John's cock completely untouched. Then John stilled and his body melted into the mattress. He was debauched and looked indecent and Sherlock basked in the sight for one glorious moment before he collapsed forwards and emptied himself.
Sherlock's mind was mostly blank as the glorious sensations swept over him. But one word glowed neon against his closed lids and he whispered it as he finally stilled on top of his lover. "Myth."
John was asleep almost immediately. Sherlock watched him, memorizing it all again; he'd lost count of the number of times he'd memorized John. He never tired of it though. John was always new, always interesting, always stimulating.
And this. This. He was always going to remember this.
They didn't speak of it the next day, or the day after that, or even the week after that. But it consumed Sherlock's thoughts. He tried to recreate the reaction several times but failed. Twice John took control and just wanked himself off, but on most occasions it didn't get that far. Sherlock would position John in exactly the same way, he'd sit on his knees in the same way, and he'd tried to move in exactly the same way. Then he'd remember it, John's cock twitching frantically between them, and he'd double over and come almost instantly.
Sherlock was never able to accept failure easily, so after John went to work one morning, Sherlock sat himself down in the chair and started to research. Certainly he was aware of pornography but had never paid much attention to it. He was annoyed that his Google search for "prostate orgasm' had brought up more pornographic material than information, but quickly changed his view after watching several of the videos. After masturbating to the image of someone who looked enough like John that Sherlock could ignore the Asian man in the video, Sherlock began shopping.
His order arrived two days later and Sherlock spread the items out on the bed, waiting for John to get home. However, he hastily tucked them away as John stormed into the flat after having a horrible day. Sherlock had learned enough during their relationship to understand that if they had sex that night it would not be the drawn out session that he hoped for.
But four long days later things were looking promising. They'd wrapped up a case that afternoon and Sherlock had taken John out for a celebratory dinner. The cab ride home was filled with gentle, provocative touches. The walk into the flat was disrupted by several slow lingering kisses, the kind Sherlock was certain John specialized in.
Standing in their doorway John suggested a shower - he was cold and the hot steaming water was his favorite way to get warm. Sherlock never minded showering with John, especially when his blue eyes promised sex. The detective had nodded, stealing another slow kiss before following John up the stairs.
"Do you want me to suck you off?" John whispered into Sherlock's ear as the hot water pounded against their bodies. Sherlock shook his head, unable to do much more as John's thigh pushed his balls up. "No?" John questioned pressing his palms into Sherlock's pelvis.
"I th- oh god that feels good," Sherlock stuttered and John nodded sucking on the spot just below Sherlock's right ear.
The detective gasped as warm wet fingers closed around the base of his cock. He gulped in a breath and waited for the surge of pleasure at John's touch to plateau. "I- I thought-" He went blank for a moment as John palmed the aching head. His hips jutted into the contact. "The toys-" he managed as John started kissing along his collar bone. Sherlock had told John about them. Sherlock went blank again as John rolled his thigh against the detective's balls while running his fingers over the shaft.
"Uh," Sherlock managed. The doctor chuckled and the vibrations rattled through Sherlock's body.
"Oh we're using the toys - or rather, you're using the toys on me. Brilliant of you to buy them." Teeth sank into muscle and Sherlock's breath caught. "We'll take it slow, I'm sure you'll be able to go again. Especially if we do this one quick." As if to confirm this the doctor pushed the foreskin up and twisted. Sherlock's toes curled and John adjusted his weight so Sherlock wouldn't slip.
"Mmmm," John hummed bending his head and latching onto a nipple. "I thought that would do it," he said flicking his tongue out between words. John repeated that action and Sherlock shivered, his fingers digging into the porcelain wall behind him, but he didn't come. John chuckled again as he moved to the other nipple.
"What was it?" John asked before latching on and sucking hard. Sherlock's brain went fuzzy and he ached when John pulled back. "Was it that you did it with this beautiful cock of yours?" John gave a long slow tug and Sherlock stiffened. The sensations started to coalesce in his groin, everything was getting tight. "Or was it that you were wrong," John kissed his chin, "about," the foreskin was pushed up and over, "mythology?" John twisted his hand and Sherlock exploded. His focus narrowed so that the only thing he was aware of was John's hand expertly working him through the orgasm. He cried out, folding forward, forehead landing on John's shoulder as he became aware of another hand brushing gently through his hair.
And then it was over. John released him and wrapped his arms around Sherlock's shaking body. "It's okay," the doctor whispered and Sherlock nodded as he placed a kiss onto John's shoulder. The doctor pulled on his curls until Sherlock lifted his head and met his eyes. He could see the love there, along with the desire. Sherlock smiled; he knew he must look ridiculous - he was feeling too wonderfully happy for his smile not to look idiotic.
Sherlock leaned forward and kissed John. Their lips moved slowly together, tongues darting out quickly before retreating again. It was easy and delicious and Sherlock was certain he could do it all night. But as John shifted, Sherlock felt the doctor brush his thigh. The detective remembered in a flash what they were going to try to do again and he was momentarily lightheaded. John's hands tightened at Sherlock's waist and they pulled apart.
"Slow," Sherlock said and John nodded.
Sherlock stepped out of the shower first and immediately handed John a towel. He watched John dry off, his mostly hard cock growing even more as the soft cotton brushed over it. Sherlock smiled at the image and brought his hand up to brush over the fiery yet silky soft member. John closed his eyes briefly before dropping his towel and heading out of the bathroom.
Sherlock moved quickly behind him, his whole body starting to tingle with anticipation. John settled on his back and tucked his arms under his head. Sherlock felt his eyes on him as he moved to his bedside table and pulled out his purchases. He set them on the bed and found himself suddenly nervous. He wouldn't meet John's eyes until the doctor's hand came up to trace over the purple beads.
"You've thought this through," John said holding one of them up and judging the size between his index finger and thumb. There had been dozens of sizes to choose from and Sherlock had estimated on one that would be large enough but not too large. Hurting John was not on the agenda. John raised an eyebrow and sat the bead back on the bed.
Sherlock reached for the lube as John grabbed a pillow and tucked it under his hips. "You should get a towel, too," John said and Sherlock nodded, stepping into hallway to grab one out of the closet. He returned to John having added a second pillow. The doctor was tipped at the most enticing angle and Sherlock could feel the stirrings of desire moving through his body again.
John adjusted the towel as Sherlock grabbed the small vibrator. It was red, thin, and had promised the maximum amount of g-spot/prostate stimulation. He felt that the little hook on the end might be useful. He put it on the lowest setting and drizzled lube over the tip. John put his hands under his head again and watched Sherlock's every move. The detective's fingers shook as he put them on the back of John's knee. The doctor lifted both legs obediently and brought his hands down to hold them in place.
John flinched as the vibrator touched just behind his balls. His leg slipped but Sherlock managed to catch it before it hit him in the face. "Sorry," John mumbled adjusting his grip. Sherlock smiled kissing the tender skin at John's ankle as he moved the vibrator lower, settling his hand on the back of John's thigh as the doctor inched his legs even farther apart.
"That's nice," John said as it brushed over his opening. Sherlock watched the small hole flutter as he brushed over it again and John hummed. Sherlock pushed it under John's balls and watched the doctor's cock twitch. Sherlock increased the pressure and John stiffened in response. The sound of the vibrations dulled. Sherlock used his thumb to increase the intensity before slowly letting it trace down.
"Oh," John whispered, his voice shaking as Sherlock traced the entrance one more time. The hole fluttered desperately as he pushed the vibrator in, but John's muscles were stiff and he met resistance. He pulled it out and circled the hole again. John's cock bobbed up and Sherlock noticed the slight sheen of sweat on the doctor's neck.
"Relax," the detective said, planting a kiss on John's calf. John nodded, but his body didn't respond. Sherlock pushed the vibrator in as far as it would go, but didn't force it. He brought his free hand up and circled the top of John's foot as he planted a tender kiss into John's arch. "John," he whispered and an instant later the doctor's body relaxed.
Sherlock let it slide in but brought it back out immediately. He circled the rim before bring it up and over John's balls. "Shit," John said his thighs shaking as Sherlock dragged it up the shaft.
"Relax," Sherlock repeated as he traced downward again. There was no resistance this time as John's body accepted the intrusion. The detective slid the vibrator in and out several times before angling it upwards. When John whimpered Sherlock knew he'd found the spot. He flicked the vibrator to the next higher setting and held it in place.
"Sherlock," John hissed and his cock twitched. Sherlock watched amazed as the first drops of the milky fluid appear on the purple head. The detective brought his free hand up and collected the fluid on his finger tip. John's eyes opened and he let out a loud groan as Sherlock sucked his finger dry.
"Please," John whispered letting his head fall back onto the pillow. He pulled on his thighs spreading them just a fraction more. "Do the beads," he said, his body stiffening again before he took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. Sherlock shifted the vibrator inside John and the doctor shuddered, toes curling next to Sherlock's head. The detective smiled slowly easing the vibrator out. He brought the lube up and coated three of his fingers before placing a hand on John's thigh. He was reaching out with his index finger when John interrupted him.
"No," John said. "Just the beads." Sherlock paused for a moment, glancing at the beads. "Please," John begged. "It's fine, Sherlock." Sherlock met his eyes again and saw the confidence there. John knew exactly what he was asking for.
Sherlock hesitated a long moment before reaching for the beads, holding them between his index finger and thumb to judge the size. He'd almost purchased the larger size but that suddenly seemed like a horrifying idea. He held them up again, wanting John to see them, to accurately understand the size. John's eyes grew darker as he looked at them and the expression shivered up Sherlock's spine. The doctor finally grabbed the lube and tossed it at Sherlock. "It's fine," he repeated, adding: "Please." They stared at each other another second before Sherlock nodded. John sighed, his head falling back on the pillow. He brought his legs up again and dutifully held them in place.
Sherlock was still, lost in the image of John spread out before him, open and willing and oh so beautiful. Sherlock traced his still slick fingers from John's balls as far down as they would go, slipping them between the towel and John's lower back. John arched slightly and Sherlock brought his fingers back up. The detective skillfully traced lube over the tight opening before picking up the first bead. He coated it liberally and held his breath as he pressed it against John's skin.
John's breath caught but his body stayed relaxed. Sherlock increased the pressure, watching diligently as the skin and muscles reacted and then started to give way. He pushed harder, placing his free hand over John's sternum. He felt John's heart pounding against his palm. He increased the pressure just a fraction more and the muscle and skin gave way.
John cried out and Sherlock pulled back, alarmed. Before the detective's brain could catch up John was muttering quietly. "Fine. Fine. It's fine," he whispered, opening his eyes to meet Sherlock's. The detective was astonished; John's eyes revealed no hint of the pain. Only anticipation and pleasure shone back at him. John liked it. That much was obvious.
"John—" he began.
"Do the next one," John said, relaxing again. When Sherlock didn't move he added another "please." Sherlock could hear the desperation and the want. It stirred something alarming inside of him as he reached over to lube up the second bead. As Sherlock pressed it against Johns' skin he felt the other one move, shifting inside John. The doctor wiggled at the sensation.
"Breathe," Sherlock said as he settled his hand over John's pelvis and pressed down. It went in easier than the first, but John still cried out. It terrified Sherlock and sent a twinge of pleasure up his spine at the same time.
"Next," John said a moment later, the smile apparent in his voice. Sherlock repeated the action and the third one slipped in with a gasp and grimace.
There were nine beads and they each went in easier than the previous one. "Oh god," John moaned when the last ball was pushed in. Sherlock watched, amazed. John's muscles were squeezing around the intrusion, the small purple handle bobbing slightly in response. Sherlock traced his fingers over the hole and watched it respond. John gasped and eased the breath out of him as Sherlock traced upwards. The detective's fingers dance tenderly over the skin before he pressed his knuckle into the doctor's perineum.
John bucked. "Fuck!" he cried as his legs clamped together, trapping Sherlock's hand. His whole body shook for a second before he calmed.
"John?" Sherlock questioned but the doctor just shook his head. He appeared unable to use his voice. Sherlock leaned over, tracing his hand up John's thigh and across his chest. Sherlock pulled his arm gently and the legs eased apart enough for him to withdraw his hand. The doctor shuddered as Sherlock quickly pinched a nipple before bring the hand up to cup John's jaw.
Sherlock's thumb traced over tightly pressed lips and John opened his eyes to look up at him. His pupils were huge, the bright blue barely discernible around their edges. John's lips puckered into the thumb and Sherlock leaned over to place a kiss on the doctor's jaw.
"You?" John asked, every muscle in his body so tight that energy pouring off of him. Sherlock leaned back, wanting to understand the question. John's eyes darted down, eyeing Sherlock's lap. He had the beginnings of an erection again and the sight of it suddenly surprised him. He'd managed to completely disconnect from his body. "You?" John asked again. "Can you?" Sherlock understood. He leaned up kissed John on the lips and nodded.
John wanted to come with him, not the beads. He didn't think John would make it through the beads coming out, but he'd try if that was what this man wanted. Sherlock traced his hand across John's abdomen, collecting the hot seed on his palm before reaching between his legs. He pulled on himself, feeling the increase in blood flow almost immediately. He leaned forward and kissed John; the doctor's lip were tense, but moved easily with his. Their tongues danced eagerly until John moved slightly and his body started to convulse as the beads shifted inside of him.
"Oh- uh- oh," John gasped, pulling away from Sherlock and closing his eyes. Sherlock reached for the lube and coated himself.
"Legs up," he whispered and John nodded, lifting his shaking legs and holding them apart.
"Fast," he muttered. "Just- fast." Sherlock was puzzled for a minute before realizing he meant the beads. Sherlock had been planning on going slowly, allowing John to gain control between each one. Blue eyes locked with his again and Sherlock nodded. He placed his hand behind one of John's thighs and grabbed the tiny purple handle. John held his breath and Sherlock pulled.
John cried out, his body convulsing as each bead popped out. Sherlock watched amazed as John's cock twitched frantically, but he knew it wasn't over. As the last bead popped out he knew John hadn't had an orgasm. The doctor was close, probably as close as possible, but his legs collapsed onto the mattress and he was still hard.
"Oh god," John managed, his body stilling. Sherlock admired the view, pulling on himself while John calmed. Their eyes locked and the sight took Sherlock's breath away. He was certain that no one had ever looked at him the way John was in that instant, no one had ever wanted him that badly, needed him so much. And no one ever would. The detective's heart swelled with want and love. He put his hand on John's knee and the doctor lifted it.
John's cock bobbed with anticipation and Sherlock felt himself twitch in response. He placed John's calf on his shoulder and leaned forward, positioning himself before slowly easing in.
He was larger than the beads and he realized a moment too late that he hadn't prepared John further. He had a moment of panic before John gasped out in pleasure, his back arching off the mattress. Sherlock noted the doctor's hands weaving through the headboard again and made a mental note to steal some handcuffs.
The thought was lost as he brushed John's prostate and the doctor started to keen. Sherlock leaned forward putting his weight into John's thigh. He pulled out and slowly pushed forward again. John started to shake, the bed vibrating with him.
"Don't stop," he managed as Sherlock set a steady pace. Muscles tightening around him made him want to still, but as John pushed up into him he knew that wasn't welcome. "Don't stop, please." The desperation John's voice made Sherlock close his eyes and he started running through images of dead bodies in his mind. He had to keep going.
"YESSSSS," John hissed. And he clinched around Sherlock, stopping the detective's movements. "Oh God," John moaned. "Oh God."
Sherlock forced his eyes open just as John erupted between them. Sherlock straightened, wanting to see it all. The milky seed was landing across John's abdomen, his face was contorted and he cried out as his cock throbbed. He spurted across his sternum and the sight proved too much for Sherlock. He leaned forward, putting his weight on his hands. John's leg slipped to his hip. Sherlock closed his eyes and pulled out as much as John's clenched muscles would allow, then he pushed forwards again. He heard John grunting beneath him but couldn't stop. He pulled out again and thrust forward.
Sherlock's arms gave way and he collapsed, landing face first into the pillow, his cry was lost in the cotton and the feathers. He emptied himself painfully into John, only vaguely aware of one of the doctor's hands coming to rest between his shoulder blades. His lungs ached for air as the gasped in the pillow. A hand pulled on his curls lifting his face enough to get a breath. Sherlock buried his face in John's neck, the memory of this encounter searing itself into his brain.
"Not a myth," he mumbled as John managed to get a blanket over them. John placed a kiss on his shoulder and Sherlock could feel the smile.
"Not a myth," the doctor whispered as they both drifted to sleep.