.....said the fool to his majesty (de_throned) wrote,
.....said the fool to his majesty

Fic: A Bit Preoccupied

Title: A Bit Preoccupied
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: John/Sherlock
A/N: Originally written for/posted on the kink meme back in April of 2011.Thanks to grassle for the beta and brit-pick!
Summary: Sherlock’s glad to see the look on John’s face, glad that John chose to kiss him longer than usual, making him gasp for air.

John’s eyes are impossibly dark when he pushes Sherlock against the wall and kisses him, his touch rough and incessant. From the way John’s fingers are digging into his waist almost to the point where it hurts, Sherlock knows that he’s going to get fucked relentlessly into the mattress or the sofa. He’s been feeling restless all day, his mind spinning with static noise interfering with his train of thought, energy inside him swelling with no source of release. He’s tried playing his violin, but it was no use. He decides to work on an experiment and he ends up missing a crucial step because he simply couldn’t calm down to think for one sodding minute. He texts Lestrade to ask for a case and there is none. It hadn’t occurred to him that John was the perfect source for him to disperse this unwanted energy until ten minutes ago when they walked home from the restaurant.

Sherlock’s glad to see the look on John’s face, glad that John chose to kiss him longer than usual, making him gasp for air. John lets him reach down to palm at John’s erection through his jeans and rub with the right pressure to lure out a deep moan. Then John grabs his wrist and pins it steadily to the wall. It tells Sherlock all he needs to know: that John is willing to be his distraction, hard and fast, just the way he wants it.

Once they manage to get into John’s bedroom, the remaining ambient noise of the day is still humming inside Sherlock’s head, and that only increases his sense of urgency, his want for John to strip naked so that he could feel his skin flush against his own. He pulls at the neck of John’s jumper and kisses him hard.

John kisses back just as hard, openmouthed, and the sensation shoots right down to Sherlock’s groin, making the electricity spread to his whole body, making the noise in his head quiet down a little.

John’s hands are at his buttons, unbuttoning them with a skilled swiftness Sherlock can never get used to. He shoves the shirt down Sherlock’s arms, letting the sleeves restrict Sherlock’s movement as he reaches down to work at Sherlock’s belt.

After Sherlock’s completely naked, John quickly strips himself and pushes Sherlock down onto the bed. He settles on top of him and lets his lips come into contact with Sherlock’s. One of John’s hands trails down the side of his body, and a finger brushes at his nipple. Sherlock gasps and arches into the touch.

Sherlock reaches down to stroke John’s cock again, and he feels John push up and groan. He leans across, his hands fumbling with the drawer of the bedside table to get the lube and condom as Sherlock runs his thumb against the slit of John’s cock.

Their kisses are still rough, nearly bruising, but John suddenly slows down the pace and licks a slow line across Sherlock’s lower lip. Then he pulls out of the kiss, giving Sherlock a small kiss on his cheek. The sudden change of mood makes Sherlock open his eyes to see what went wrong.


Sherlock hears John set down the lube and condom on the pillow next to him, and he’s looking down at Sherlock with a contemplative expression on his face.

“Is everything all right?” Sherlock asks.

“Fine,” John answers. “I just thought of something.” He pushes himself up and reaches down to the bottom drawer of his bedside table, fishing out what looks like a silicone cock ring.

“Are you going to use that on me?” Sherlock says as he licks his lips.

John lets out a small chuckle. “Actually no, I’m going to be using it.”

Well this is certainly going to be interesting, Sherlock thinks to himself.

He sets down the cock ring along with the lube and condom and lowers himself back onto Sherlock. He starts nipping at the sensitive area of Sherlock’s neck, right above the collarbone, and Sherlock threads his fingers through John’s sandy hair.

John is drawing odd patterns down Sherlock’s abdomen with his tongue, leaving tiny red bite marks along the way. Sherlock leans back and gasps, his voice hoarse, and tries to concentrate. The energy inside him isn’t letting him go, and Sherlock can still feel the tension in his muscles, the need to burn it all away gathering within him.

Sherlock presumes that some time has passed when he feels John slide one hand between his legs, a wet finger pushing against his hole. Sherlock doesn’t know when John grabbed the lube, but he doesn’t care; he spreads his legs wider and moans.

“I want you to concentrate,” John says, trailing his tongue up Sherlock’s stomach to his nipple. He pushes his finger deeper into Sherlock.


“Concentrate,” John repeats himself. “Concentrate on what I’m doing to you.”

Sherlock opens his mouth to retort of course I’m concentrating but the words escape him when John adds a second finger, bending them to stroke at the bundle of nerves hidden in him. Sherlock ends up letting out a loud, breathy groan instead.

John takes out his fingers and reapplies more lube. He doesn’t warm it and simply presses his fingers back into Sherlock, making him squirm at the sudden coldness. Sherlock stares up at the ceiling and tries to focus on the sensations. John’s fingers are moving slowly in and out of him, but he’s purposely avoiding Sherlock’s prostate. It goes on for what seems to be ten agonizing minutes, and Sherlock groans in frustration.

“Are you ever going to get to the part where you fuck me?” Sherlock asks, not bothering to hide the irritation in his voice.

“Eventually.” At that, the next thrust of John’s fingers hits Sherlock’s prostate.

The stimulation makes the noise in Sherlock’s head slowly fade away into nothingness, but he doesn’t pay much attention to it anymore as he fucks himself with John’s fingers. John stops kissing his stomach and sinks lower, running his tongue on the inside of Sherlock’s thigh. He finally takes Sherlock’s cock into his other hand and gives it a firm stroke before he licks at the head. Sherlock moans in relief and clutches the back of John’s head as John fits what he can of Sherlock’s cock into his mouth.

It’s unbearable, the heat and constant suction, the way John’s fingers in Sherlock’s arse match the movement of his mouth. John’s flicking his tongue against the slit of Sherlock’s cock is what does him in. He comes hard, thrusting into John’s mouth.

John licks him until he stops bucking. When Sherlock falls limp, he sits up, puts on a condom, coats his own cock with lube, and fits the cock ring all the way down to the base. He then strokes himself back into full hardness, takes hold of Sherlock’s legs, and slides into him smoothly. Sherlock meets the thrust with a roll of his hips, watching as John’s eyes flutter shut, the grip John has on his legs tighten as he struggles to maintain composure.

John stays still for what feels like an eternity, and then he starts to move, ever so slowly.

John changes his position from kneeling between Sherlock’s stretched legs to leaning down so that their chests press against each other, with Sherlock’s legs hitched over John’s shoulders, and Sherlock can feel the steady beat of John’s heart against his own.

It didn’t take long for his cock to harden again, with John’s lazy thrusts directly hitting his prostate each and every time. So Sherlock reaches down between their bodies to touch himself, spreading the pre-cum at the tip with his thumb. John’s hand comes to join his, and they stroke him together at the pace Sherlock likes.

Sherlock’s mouth is hanging open, his breath coming in small, barely audible gasps when he comes again. His orgasm pulses through him, melting his spine and making his body shiver at the hypersensitivity. He watches with half-lidded eyes as John continues to thrust in and out of him, and lifts a tired hand to trace the faded scar on John’s left shoulder.

John plants a kiss on Sherlock’s sweat-covered temple and works his way down the side of his face. They’re breathing the same air, John’s lips occasionally coming to brush against Sherlock’s, and it’s the most intoxicating feeling in the world.

“Turn around.” John says softly.

Sherlock complies and carefully flips himself around, buries his face in the pillow and sticks his arse high in the air. John holds him by the hips and enters him again, bending down to suck at the back of Sherlock’s neck until he’s all the way in.

They move together, John thrusting into him at the torturously unhurried rate that’s been maintained the whole night. Sherlock is hard yet again, and John works his hand around to Sherlock’s cock and strokes him in earnest. Sherlock tries to push his hips up, trying to get John’s thrusts in the right angle; he gives a helpless jerk instead.

Sherlock moans and writhes under him, John’s grasp on Sherlock’s hips tightens as he moves a little faster than before, letting Sherlock’s hips meet his thrusts. John’s hand trails down to gently cup Sherlock’s balls. Sherlock’s moans are louder now, his throat raw, as he claws at the sides of his pillow. He pushes back hard, letting John’s cock strike the sweet spot, and moans oh God there, right there until the sensation is too much for him.

John stays on top of him as he spasms, arms anchoring him as he shudders helplessly. When he finally stills, John shifts so that he slides out of him. The cold air on his back makes him shiver, but John has a warm hand on his back.

“Come on,” John says as he lies down. “We’re not done yet.”

He motions for Sherlock to climb on top of him, and Sherlock cautiously moves to straddle John’s hips. He positions himself and takes John’s cock in his hands and lowers himself down, penetrating himself.

He looks down and whispers in a hoarse voice. “Please.”

John meets his gaze and reaches out to rub circles against Sherlock’s stomach, just above his hipbone. Sherlock breathes and leans down, letting his hands fall to the sides of John’s head. John grabs the lube and pours the cold liquid down onto Sherlock’s now renewing erection, and Sherlock can feel it running down his length, between his thighs and deeper down. John’s fingers are smearing the wetness across his legs, mixing the semen and lube, rubbing it obscenely over the parts of them that are connected.

Sherlock lifts himself a bit and runs his fingers over John’s lips, slipping them inside his mouth and biting back a groan when John licks at them eagerly. His legs are sore, but he ignores the discomfort and starts to ride John’s cock. He balances himself on the palms of his hands, and it’s so good, the heat and pressure, the way John is finally bucking into him hard and rough.

He uses what’s left of his energy to clench tightly at the root of John’s cock as he sits himself down, releasing when he pushes back up. Suddenly it’s all a blur, and all he can hear is John’s half-stifled whimpers coming from the back of his throat. John’s nails are digging into his hip, and Sherlock feels the throbbing of John’s cock inside him as he comes.

“Fuck.” John groans, and Sherlock continues to move up and down until John’s body stops shaking.

He finishes himself off as John watches him, pupils dilated. Sherlock bites his lip so that he won’t cry out, and then it’s over and he has his forehead on John’s shoulder and they’re both breathing hard.

“Is the noise gone now?” John asks, still breathless.

“Yeah.” Sherlock manages a chuckle. “Long gone.”

Tags: fic, i've officially gone off the deep end, john/sherlock, nc-17, sherlock
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