John turned off the TV and scratched at his belly. Sherlock was sleeping with his face crushed into John's neck, a thin line of drool settling on his skin as Sherlock murmured occasionally. John picked up on certain words; his name, for example, followed by 'idiot' or 'fish-skin' (which boggled John's mind as to what Sherlock was dreaming). Deciding, in the end, that it was probably better not to know, John curled his arm around Sherlock and kissed the top of his head.

"Hey, wake up, sleepy-head. We need to go to bed," John whispered, gently rousing Sherlock from his sleep.

Sherlock blinked sluggishly before wiping his mouth shyly with his hand. Stretching dramatically, Sherlock tensed his body and then looked up at John, "Hmm?"

"Bedtime. You've been asleep since the opening credits of Star Trek started," John sighed playfully.

"Good," Sherlock responded as though that had been the plan all along, and then ran a hand up and down John's stomach, "Can we have sexual relations now?"

John hated to admit how much Sherlock's innocent naivety in asking for sex turned him on.

"Aren't you tired?" John replied, neither confirming nor denying Sherlock's request.

"I was," the detective hummed, taking John's hand and placing it over his impressive erection, "but now I'm not."

"What would you like?" John asked, putting careful pressure over Sherlock's cock as he rolled his wrist, giving in to the situation maybe too easily.

"I was thinking...perhaps...if you're amenable..." Sherlock stuttered, biting his lip in pleasure, "I hoped you might penetrate me."

"Jesus, Sherlock," John breathed, his own cock giving a twitch of interest, something not missed by Sherlock who switched to his best and most innocent eyes.

"Please, John?" Sherlock pouted, using his bigger hand to take John's wrist and pull his hand around until it was cupping Sherlock's buttocks instead, "I want to feel you here," he stressed with clear intent.

"You are an absolute menace," John groaned, pupils dilated already as he pinched and pawed at Sherlock's cheeks, "Are you sure? We can wait if you're not..."

"John," Sherlock snapped, forcing John to look at him, "have I ever hinted at doing something I don't want to do? No. I have not. I want to do this. I want to do it with you."

"Okay, okay I'm just – I was just checking," John replied softly, kissing Sherlock's head, "If that's what you want..."

"It is," Sherlock promised, "so take me to bed."

"Are you certain you wouldn't just rather pop in the next movie?" John asked facetiously while pointing his thumb to the TV.

"Joooohn!" Sherlock whined with a pout he'd never admit to.

"It's good; even better than the last one you slept through," he kept insisting.

Sherlock's face hardened into a glare before he stood from the couch, "If you are unwilling to penetrate me, I'll just go do it myself and make lots of loud noises so you can't concentrate on the movie," he said before turning on his heel and heading to his bedroom with purpose.

"Oh, come on!" John shouted after him with a bit of a laugh, "It was just a bit of fun!" before he chased after Sherlock, quickly catching up with him in the hallway.

"I've changed my mind; maybe you don't deserve to penetrate me," Sherlock pouted again with arms crossed over his chest.

John attempted to kiss Sherlock's lips, but the taller man consistently pulled his face to the other side so he was unable to land a proper kiss. John changed tactics.

"Would you like me to woo you?" He asked quietly at the corner of his jaw before placing a light kiss there.

"You may attempt it, but I doubt it will work," Sherlock responded flippantly, even as his body tilted his head to the side to grant better access to the doctor.

"Would you like me to seduce you?" John asked against one of the overly sensitive spots on the other man's enticing neck.

Sherlock groaned in agreement while his arms finally uncrossed, falling limply to his sides instead.

"Would you like me to earn it?" He asked his last question with a predatory growl before sucking and kissing the juncture of neck and shoulder.

"John!" Sherlock moaned aloud as his hands moved to grasp John's biceps and their bodies moved together of their own accord, clothed erections meeting with too little friction.

"Let me, love," John begged as he began to undo Sherlock's infuriating buttons one at a time, kissing the skin he exposed. John pushed him up against the hallway wall, so close to the bedroom they had both been aiming for, but now too far from it to care to try to close the distance.

Sherlock moaned again as his back pressed against the wall, his hands finding John's hair as the older man's head grew lower with each passing button. Only when John reached the top of Sherlock's trousers did he speak again.

"Please. Let me show you what you mean to me; how much I absolutely worship you," he stressed before placing his hands on the flies of the trousers, his eyes pleading up into the massively dilated ones above him for permission.

"Oh, God," Sherlock moaned instead, eyes unable to leave John's.

John smirked a bit before pushing, "I love when I turn off that brain of yours, but I really do need to hear you say it."

Sherlock looked incredibly confused, as though he had lost track of the conversation, "What?"

John's smirk grew into a full, besotted grin, "May I, my brilliant detective, suck your cock and then bugger you senseless?"

Words seemed to have failed Sherlock completely as he simply nodded his head vigorously with a bit of a pleading look in his innocent eyes.

"Thank you," John responded sincerely before moving back to his task.

Sherlock's hands twitched in thin air as John quickly opened the flies of Sherlock's trousers, pulling them down to his ankles before kissing the inside of Sherlock's thighs gently. In their previous sexual escapades, John had discovered how sensitive Sherlock's thighs really were; whenever they were touched or caressed it was an immediate switch for Sherlock's arousal, goosebumps sparking across pale skin which seemed to lead directly to his cock. John smiled, kissing the silky soft skin and giving it a playful bite as he took Sherlock's prick from his boxers and gave it a few warm-up strokes, thumbing across the plummy head and smearing the plentiful precome.

"John," Sherlock gasped, his hips bucking forward in a not-very-subtle message of desperation.

Kissing Sherlock's leg once more, John leaned forward and breathed hot air across Sherlock's tip, moving in to messily kiss the leaking head as his eyes flicked to Sherlock's face. Sensing Sherlock's impatience (well, not so much sensing as seeing the utter need radiating from Sherlock), John opened his mouth wider and pushed more of his lover inside, controlling his breathing to ensure he didn't choke or gag (impossible with Sherlock's needy little thrusts forward) as he began to lick and suck at the shaft.

"Ooooh," Sherlock whined, his legs going slightly weak, which sent his fingers grappling at the hallway wall, "John - John should we not…take this to the bedroom?"

"Why?" John smirked, looking up innocently and using his tongue to trace the long vein along Sherlock's impressive cock. He pulled back, sitting on his feet as he tilted his head, "We're home alone. Nobody to interrupt."

"Ye-yes, I am aware of that," Sherlock gulped, attempting to clear the fog in his mind, "I just - I'm not sure that doing it in a hallway is appropriate. Anyone could walk in."

"Expecting someone, are we?" John teased, hand moving to cup Sherlock's scrotum.

"No. God no. I just - John! Desist! I cannot think!" Sherlock stressed in a muddle before exhaling, "I don't want my first time to be - in a hallway."

John blinked and carefully stood, stamping the life back into his cramped up legs as he stroked Sherlock's face gently, "I wasn't going to do that here," John promised, kissing the corner of Sherlock's mouth softly, "this was just a warm up. I was going to take you to bed and ravish you properly. Like you deserve."

"I'm not a blushing virgin, John!" Sherlock argued, despite the flush which covered his cheeks.

"You've been misinformed," John smiled, stroking a hand through Sherlock's curls before stretching up to kiss him again, "and wanting it properly doesn't make you a needy princess. I want to show you, I want to - I want it to be good for you. To be special."

"It's with you," Sherlock said in a moment of candid honesty before he looked down at his feet in embarrassment, "it's going to be special."

John took Sherlock's hand and pressed a kiss to the palm before beginning a walk to the bedroom, leading Sherlock behind him. There was a moment of hesitation before Sherlock cleared his throat and let go of John's hand. Turning around sharply, John expected to find Sherlock saying he had changed his mind or he wasn't ready, but what he found was a lanky detective bent in half, naked from the waist down and showing off his perfect arse and winking arsehole to the doctor.

"Sherlock?" John inhaled sharply, his heart rate skipping up twenty beats, "What are you doing?"

"Pulling up my trousers," Sherlock explained, "I didn't want to trip; I'd likely land on my penis."

John laughed and shook his head, "Arrogant. It's not that big," he chuckled.

"You were gagging on it, so it's big enough," Sherlock responded with a filthy grin, "Bedroom?"

"God yes."

John followed Sherlock the short distance into the room where they wordlessly paused next to the bed. John's hands raised up to slowly, almost reverently, trace along the edges of the already-unbuttoned shirt and then down his cloth-covered arms, never once touching the skin directly. As he unhooked each of the cuffs, he took a moment to play lightly with the digits of Sherlock's hands.

Once he had the last buttons undone, he finally moved his hands to Sherlock's stomach, lightly and slowly tracing them up the soft skin and light hair - aching to pause and play with his nipples, but he refrained - until he reached the broad, bony shoulders. Instead of merely pushing the fabric from the other man, allowing it to flutter down of its own accord, he chose to follow its path with his own hands. Sherlock couldn't say which touch was lighter: that of the shirt, or John's.

As soon as John's hands trailed away from his own again, Sherlock let out a deep breath through his nose and raised his hands to cup John's face so he could kiss him hard. John moaned deep in his throat at the contact, raising his hands again to grab at the lankier man's sides without thought.

With a few playful nips at John's lips, Sherlock shifted to remove John's vest and sweater. The younger man, however, possesses nowhere near the amount of patience the doctor has at the best of times, much less in a moment such as this. Compared to John's gentle, slow movements, Sherlock was downright chaotic and rushed. John smiled affectionately at his enthusiasm.

When Sherlock's anxious hands moved directly to John's flies, the older man covered them and gently guided them to his lips, kissing the knuckles lightly instead. The look of hurt confusion in the genius' eyes forced John to finally break the silence.

"There's no rush; there's all the time in the world," John assured him.

"But I want…" Sherlock trailed off all on his own, still a bit shy in expressing his direct wants at times.

John smiled warmly again, "I know, and I very much plan to bugger you senseless," his smile turned into more of a leer, "but it's not all about hard and fast."

"But what if I want it hard and fast?" He challenged, cheeks going a bit pink at the wording.

"Oh, there's plenty of time for that, too, trust me," John chuckled, "but our first time like this, I want to take it slow; show you how much I love you."

"I already know you love me," he delivered with a quizzical tilting of the head.

"Without words."

"That hardly seems necessary," Sherlock tried to insist, but John kissing him to shut him up before he could finish was quite effective. It's when all of the talking ceased again.

John moved his mouth slowly down Sherlock's body, pausing briefly to play with his nipples this time, only pausing when he had reached the top of his trousers again. Undoing the flies for the second time that evening, he lowered pants and trousers down at the same time, aiding Sherlock in lifting one foot and then the other to free himself of the cloth.

He then kissed his way slowly up Sherlock's left leg while allowing his own left hand to trail up the other leg. When he reached the thighs, he softly kissed all around both of them before jumping to his right hip bone. Sherlock whined to have his cock neglected, but it only caused John to smile in triumph.

In this same fashion, kissing every inch he could on his way back up, John finally stood and kissed Sherlock's lips again. Taking a few steps back and placing space between their bodies, John lowered his steady hands to his own flies, removing the rest of his clothing as Sherlock watch with rapt attention to each bit of skin as it became exposed.

"John," Sherlock whispered reverently as the shorter man extended his hand in invitation.

John led them to the bed where he laid down on his back, staring unashamedly up at Sherlock, who was standing rather awkwardly next to the bed.

"I don't know what to do," Sherlock reluctantly admitted.

"Whatever you want to do," John offered honestly, "touch anywhere; taste everything. You can explore or you can catalogue, or you can simply come in for a nice snog and a cuddle before I take you; it is completely up to you."

Sherlock clenched his hands before tentatively climbing onto the bed, head on the pillows as he rested against John's warm side, turning to kiss him gently. He noticed that his hands were shaking, his heart pounding in his ears, and he momentarily thought he might faint or throw up. Neither of which would be conductive to a good first time.

"Calm," John whispered, deepening the kiss and rubbing a hand up and down Sherlock's stomach and chest, "I'm going to touch you now…"

Sherlock nodded in understanding, only jumping slightly when John's hand wrapped around his cock and began to stroke. The friction was glorious, but not enough and it had Sherlock thrusting his hips into John's hand within sweet seconds, something John enjoyed as his other hand moved to the bedside table to pull out the pump bottle of lubricant they had bought for their heavy frottage and intercrural sessions.

"I'm going to go to the bottom of the bed," John whispered, kissing Sherlock's nose in an intimate gesture, "and we're going to get started."

Sherlock bit his bottom lip but nodded in understanding as he fell to his back, widening the space between his legs and taking a deep breath as John got into position. John smiled, stroking up and down Sherlock's inner thigh before running his fingers up and down the crease of Sherlock's buttocks, using his thumb and finger to spread the cheeks, looking at the small puckered hole beneath. John moaned, eyes closing as he bit his lip and chuckled darkly, "I don't think this is going to last long."

"Then hurry up!" Sherlock hissed, covering his face with his hands, "The anticipation is killing me."

John shook his head playfully, hyper focussed on Sherlock's arse as he spread the cheeks wide and used his dry thumb to stroke around the opening softly, keeping it gentle in order to sensitize Sherlock to the feeling. Sherlock jumped, whining low in his throat as a mottled blush began at his cheeks and worked its way down to his chest. His legs kicked out and he inhaled deeply, attempting to calm himself as John prodded and circled the area, never pushing in, but just getting Sherlock used to his touch.

"In. John, put it in!" Sherlock groaned, wiggling his hips.

"You're so bloody impatient!" John grumbled in response, but quickly slicked his hands with lube and began to carefully - and softly - press his index finger into Sherlock's body. The detective's breathing hitched and he winced, dropping his hands to the bed in order to watch John work.

"Okay?" John asked, stilling his hand whilst using the other one to caress up and down Sherlock's thigh.

"Mmm," Sherlock said, but he was frowning with concentration, "Odd. Not unpleasant, but not exactly comfortable, either."

"Yeah, it's a strange sensation," John agreed, kissing the sensitive skin at the join of hip and thigh, "Just tell me if you need a moment."

"No. Continue," Sherlock said, although his voice was much more breathy and needy now, his eyes flickering constantly over John as he watched.

John shuffled closer to Sherlock and used his other hand to stroke Sherlock's prick, keeping it hard whilst he circled, rotated, and thrust his finger in and out of Sherlock's body. Once the younger man was relaxed enough, John added a second.

"Oh," Sherlock said softly.

"Still okay?" John quizzed, keeping his finger still.

"John Watson, I swear to all that I hold holy that if you keep stopping and asking me if I'm okay, I'm going to get up and hit you," Sherlock sighed, dropping his head back to the bed, "I'm not made of porcelain. I am bloody fine!"

"Alright, you miserable arse," John huffed, twirling his finger and smirking as he came upon Sherlock's prostate. John flicked his eyes up to watch Sherlock's reaction as he stroked his finger over the sensitive nerves surrounding the prostate, not pushing on it directly but certainly enough to stimulate it and cause pleasure, not pain.

"Oh!" Sherlock shouted, eyes opening wide, "That - do that. Keep doing it."

"No, then you'll come and be more annoyed with me," John chuckled, although he did roll his fingers over the gland again, "One more finger."

Sherlock sighed, nodding and clenching his toes in the bedding as John removed his fingers, then pushed them back inside, this time with three.

"Ouch," Sherlock winced. Obviously he hadn't intended on speaking as he froze and looked at John nervously.

"I know, it's a bit tight," John said breathily, his cock fit to burst, "just need you to relax for me. Bear down…like you're using the loo. It'll help."

"Oh yes, because that's what I want to do whilst having first time penetrative sex: imagine myself defecating."

John laughed, great belly laughs that shook them both, "Jesus Christ, Sherlock, do you think that's what I want to imagine, too? You shitting on my knob? No! But it's easier to push down rather than tense up. That's a fact. Now…push down and it'll help."

"Fine," Sherlock pouted with a grimace of distaste, "but I hate you."

"Likewise," John teased, but lifted Sherlock's leg to put a kiss on his bony knee cap to counter the words, "but you won't once I'm inside.

Sherock's eyes fluttered closed at the prospect and John felt the sudden change in atmosphere, from playful banter to something utterly intimate and beautiful as he worked his fingers in and out of Sherlock, giving a subtle twist occasionally followed by a brush to Sherlock's prostate. Sherlock, meanwhile, was clutching at the bed, head moving from side to side and his hair wild as he breathed heavily and looked up at John with adoration.

"Are you ready?" John asked, cautiously pulling his hand away from Sherlock's bum and wiping the lube onto the bedding as he stroked up and down Sherlock's thighs, "You're in charge; whatever you need."

"I need you. Just you," Sherlock said, reaching up to touch John's face with a smile before lifting his hips and thighs into a better position so John could shuffle up the bed.

John boxed Sherlock in with his arms on either side of his shoulders, their faces only inches apart as he carefully attempted to find Sherlock's entrance. Noticing that John was struggling without his hands, Sherlock used his own hand to position John against his hole, feeling the odd, blunt sensation against his most intimate part as John bent to kiss his lips.

The next few seconds stretched out in a slow dance of tongues and kisses, the only sound in the room being their breathing and the soft click of their kiss before John slowly began to push inside, inch by inch, as slowly as he could, only stopping when he was halfway inside.

"Is that okay?" John asked, looking down reverently at Sherlock as though he was the most beautiful thing in the world. For that moment, Sherlock truly did feel beautiful.

"Perfect," Sherlock insisted, although he couldn't stop the wince of pain at the stretch.

John kissed Sherlock again, moving to trail kisses down Sherlock's jaw line and then his neck as he worked his way inside Sherlock with tenderness and care, checking with Sherlock each time he winced or hissed at the pain.

It only took a few gentle, shallow thrusts for Sherlock to adjust to the intrusion, but it wasn't until the doctor found his prostate again that he truly began to enjoy the sensation.

"Oh my God," Sherlock sighed in reverence as waves of varied emotions washed through his body. Never could he have expected such an experience to be so incredibly pleasurable.

"God I love you," John whispered, staring into Sherlock's eyes.

Sherlock reached up with his right hand to clasp the back of John's neck in response, bringing his mouth down to meet his own with a greedy whine.

When John reached down between their bodies to grasp Sherlock's cock, the younger man's eyes shot open in alarm.

"John, no! Stop stop stop," he rambled frantically.

Completely shocked by the abrupt change, John removed his hand as though burnt at the same time he paused his hips.

"What is it, love?" He asked with concern.

"No, I didn't mean stop," Sherlock stressed in annoyance, like John was supposed to understand this.

John tilted his head and scrunched up his brow in confusion, "You said it three times."

Sherlock sighed heavily, as though he were the most put-upon human on the entire planet, "I simply meant your hand on my penis. It was far too much stimulation this early on in our love making."

John smiled warmly, head falling to Sherlock's neck where he couldn't help but chuckle lightly.

"What?" Sherlock asked, confused, but desperately wanting John to resume fucking him instead of dealing with all this talking.

"You called it 'love making'," John said through a clear smile, judging by his tone, before softly kissing Sherlock's neck affectionately.

"I...well, yes...I just thought…" he stammered ineloquently through his embarrassment.

John took pity on him and raised his head to smile lovingly down at Sherlock's face so he could see that he wasn't being mocked, "I think you misunderstand me," John started before leaning down to kiss Sherlock with clear intent, his hips moving in small circles and causing them both to shudder. He pulled back to finish the statement, "I love that you think of it that way."

Sherlock pulled John's head back down again, but aimed his lips towards John's right ear, "Then get on with it," he whispered before gently biting the earlobe.

John moaned deeply, his hips thrusting forward of their own accord as desire rushed through his body and straight to his cock.

"You bloody madman," John cursed, pulling his head up and away again, "of course you already know my erogenous zones."

Sherlock locked his ankles and pulled John deeper into himself, moaning wantonly at the feeling before panting, "You're incredibly easy to read."

John began thrusting again, but he was definitely curious, "Oh yeah? Tell me another one," he challenged.

Sherlock smirked mischievously before moving his right hand to John's stomach, "If I touch right about here," he muttered while lightly dragging his fingertips down about two inches of skin, near his navel, causing John's hips to thrust forward sharply again, the older man hissing at the feeling, "Oh, John!" Sherlock moaned at the harsher thrust, eyes closing in pleasure.

"Dammit, enough of that now," John ordered, his thrusts taking a decidedly more deliberate rhythm.

"Agreed," Sherlock mumbled, left hand moving to play with the hair at the base of John's skull, his right grasping John's muscled forearm, still caging him in.

They fell into silence as John's hips moved, the only noises in the room being the wet slap of skin against skin and heavy breathing as they drowned in sensation. Sherlock arched his back, moaning, his eyes fluttering closed as he ran his hands up and down John's back, scratching him slightly in the process as his cock was rubbed by John's stomach, smearing them both with the plentiful precome which was flowing from him.

"Sherlock," John moaned, dropping his head to Sherlock's clavicle, "I don't know how much longer I can last.

"It's okay," Sherlock soothed, cupping John's cheeks and pulling him down for a kiss, "just stay with me; stay right here."

"Where would I go?" John asked in confusion before realising that Sherlock meant the eye contact that they were making. John made a concentrated effort to keep his eyes on Sherlock alone, opening his expression so that Sherlock could see his true feelings.

It seemed to work because Sherlock's breathing hitched and he was clenching around John's cock, his inner muscles fluttering around John whilst his left hand moved from John's cheek to wrap around his own cock, stroking rapidly in order to meet John and his orgasm.

"All I ever wanted was you," Sherlock whispered, keeping his eyes fixed on John.

"Oh god," John moaned, knowing there was no escape from his orgasm as Sherlock climaxed intensely, spilling between their bodies in thick pulses whilst his insides clenched and throbbed around him. John kept his eyes open as best he could as he reached orgasm, coming with a harsh cry of Sherlock's name as he came hard, filling Sherlock with his come and shivering with the sensation.

Once the aftershocks subsided, John gracelessly collapsed the short distance onto Sherlock's body.

"Oof!" Sherlock grumbled, nudging John's side roughly.

With a heavy groan and a herculean effort, John was able to gently remove himself from inside and on top of Sherlock before settling onto his side and dragging the lanky man close again.

"You're amazing," John praised with a content, sleepy smile.

Sherlock shook his head, nose barely brushing the other man's, before surging forward to close all of the space between them. John chuckled as Sherlock's nose came to rest against his neck, his arms wrapping tightly around his body to hug him yet closer.

"Yes you are," John countered the wordless argument quietly, running his right hand through those consistently-riotous curls.

"Not compared to you," he mumbled, already losing the fight to stay conscious.

"A perfect match, we are," John agreed with a soft kiss to the top of his lover's head, "but we need to wash up before you fall asleep."

"Hhmm-uh," Sherlock grumbled in annoyed dissent. He was not going to be moving from this spot for at least one hundred years.

"You're going to regret this," John sing-songed, trying to muster up the energy to pull them both to the bathroom, because that was assuredly the only way he was getting this younger lump out of the bed.

"Would never regret you," Sherlock responded so quietly and sleepily that it was almost an unwitting confession.

John smiled, "That's very sweet of you, but I meant the semen drying all over you."

Sherlock peeked one eye open and pulled back just enough to see a bit of John's eyes in return.

"I know," John assured him, still smiling, "you hate it when I'm right."

"You'll need to carry me. I can't possibly move."

"Oh no, princess," John teased and Sherlock awoke more fully to become properly offended, "you'll need to walk. But I'll help support you."

Sherlock sat up and pushed John towards the edge of the bed, since he was on the side closest to the door. He may need to walk himself to the other room, but he sure as hell wouldn't be doing more walking than absolutely necessary.

As Sherlock stood from the bed, he grumbled a facetious, "Chivalry really is dead."

To which John simply interlaced their fingers to lead them along, "I assure you it is not."

Once inside the bathroom, Sherlock pulled John close to him for a tender kiss before stepping away and teasingly demanding, "Prove it."

And John - never very adept at refusing this man a single thing - did.

A/N: As always, I would love to hear your thoughts via comment or constructive criticism!

Check out more of KittieHill's works by searching her on AO3 - she is brilliant!

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