**I do not own Sherlock or any of the characters within it. Alright, this is pure smut guys. For real. Like there is barely a plot. Just young Sherlock and John hooking up and enjoying it. I received a request for this story, which was as follows:

a teenlock where Sherlock and John have a sleep over after one of John's rugby matches and being that Sherlock is inexperienced, he starts inquiring about John's trysts and what it feels like etc. and John decides its best to show him after teasing him a bit first because he's so cruel lol. :p this might sound like so wierd lol, but I love it when there's nipple play between sherlock and John lol. John does that to Sherlock and Mycroft comes to the door to let his little brother know he has a date and he and John will have the house to themselves. All the more reasons for the fun that lies ahead! :D

So the following story is what came of that! Enjoy and please keep the prompts coming either here or on my tumblr page! **

The first time John Watson went to Sherlock Holmes' house, it was to study.

Well.

That's what Sherlock had said anyway.

It was obviously a ruse. Sherlock never studies.

"Do you want to come to mine to prepare for the Chemistry test tomorrow?"

John had looked at his lab partner, made a face to let Sherlock know that John knew exactly what was going on, and then grinned and agreed.

They'd spent the entire time on Sherlock's many experiments around his house including but limited to mold growth on a decaying carcass of a bird in the backyard, and the observation of maggot eating habits.

It was oddly entertaining.

The second time John went to Sherlock's house, it was to watch James Bond.

"What's your favorite film?"

This was Sherlock's attempt at getting to know John during class. They'd been lab partners for a few months and the mutual interest in each other was obvious.

However, John has had no intention of making the first move.

Not that he isn't used to that sort of thing. He's normally rather forward and direct; no sense in beating around the bush.

But Sherlock is different. Important. And if John has learned anything over the course of their friendship, it's that Sherlock needs to get to his own conclusions. He can't be told what to do.

Plus, John really wants to see Sherlock make his way to it first. The boy is a genius in all things scientific, but socially he has absolutely no idea what he's doing. It's highly entertaining to witness.

"James Bond," John had replied.

"Hm," Sherlock had hummed uncomfortably.

"Don't you want to know which one is my favorite?"

"Oh god, there's more than one?"

This is sort of why John has become rather infatuated with this young genius. Sherlock is young, a year younger then John, but he takes all upper level courses.

Sherlock is by far and away the most brilliant and equally clueless person John has ever met. It's fascinating and hilarious and rather sweet to watch. Especially when said brilliant and clueless genius is constantly trying to find ways to get John to his house without seeming like he is trying to get John to his house.

John has been enjoying this far more then he ought to.

"Of course there is more then one, you daft git," John had laughed. "You've never seen a single one, have you?"

Sherlock had shaken his head and was quiet for a long moment. And then he had murmured, "Maybe you can come over this week and we can watch one of them?"

John had agreed because little did Sherlock know, John was also very interested in spending more time with him.

He wasn't about to spill the beans on that little secret though.

Watching Sherlock navigate his way through his crush on John is so goddamn adorable John can't quite bring himself to give the young genius a break.

He really just wants to see how long it will take Sherlock to work up the nerve to do something about it.

John has been enjoying observing.

Call it an experiment in teasing.

The rub of it all is that the boy has no idea that John would love nothing more then to corrupt Sherlock Holmes. He would love to take Sherlock apart piece by piece, layer by layer until he's is a writhing, begging mess and the only word he can remember is John's name.

And then he'd like to treat the boy to a nice dinner and a nice cuddle.

But John won't do any of that until he's asked.

Because even if he is enamored with Sherlock Holmes, John Watson has a bit more control over himself. The kind of control that only comes with experience. An area in which Sherlock is lacking.

But when John finally gets that invitation…

Let's just say, he's got big plans for when that day finally comes.

So they had watched Skyfall at Sherlock's house because John was once told that he looks a little like Daniel Craig and he can't resist torturing Sherlock just a smidge.

And he had been rewarded with Sherlock squirming through the sex scene, scooting subtly closer to John on the couch and John had grinned maniacally and hadn't moved a muscle.

Nothing happened that day.

So they continue to go about their school work and their dates that aren't dates at Sherlock's house and Sherlock attends all of John's rugby games and John waits patiently because he can tell how much more difficult it's getting for Sherlock. How much he's dying to touch John is so obvious with the way he practically vibrates when they're close, how he lingers when they brush shoulders or hands.

John adores all of this.

John would love to call Sherlock his. He would love to brand and mark Sherlock for his own and teach him all about pleasure. John wants everything with Sherlock. The dates, the sex, all of it. John is chomping at the bit for it.

And poor Sherlock is living in torturous ignorance.

It has been months. Months of non-dates and close lab work and Sherlock's bright blue eyes shining at him in the crowd at games.

Months.

John can barely take it anymore. His patience is wearing thinner by the day.

He's considering changing his strategy because neither of them are benefitting from this.

Until Sherlock finally approaches him after a victorious rugby game in the middle of a rowdy celebratory crowd.

"Congratulations," Sherlock calls and John turns to his friend, already grinning.

"Thanks mate!" He says happily. He lets his eyes run all over Sherlock because he just can't quite help himself. He's been getting a little more forward lately, trying to push Sherlock a bit and tonight would be perfect. He would love this young genius to be his victory treat.

Sherlock blushes as always and looks down. "You played really well."

John resists the urge to roll his eyes. Sherlock's attempts at small talk are always the worst, but seemly necessary for the boy to get to the point he's actually trying to make.

"Thank you," John grins. "And thank you for coming. Always nice to have you here."

Sherlock's already red face darkens a shade and John allows a somewhat evil grin to take over his face while Sherlock isn't looking.

"Listen," Sherlock murmurs. "Um...we should, maybe, I dunno, get takeaway or something to... to celebrate... if you don't have plans already."

"Sure," John nods, "sounds good. Just let me rinse off real quick and we'll head out?"

Sherlock visibly brightens. "Okay, yeah. I'll just um...wait at your car?"

John smiles. "Perfect."

John doesn't hurry.

He takes his time scrubbing himself clean of the grass and sweat and dirt.

He can't help making Sherlock squirm just a little longer.

But John is sure tonight is going to be different.

Sherlock has never invited him over on a weekend. He text messages him and keeps in contact, but they don't hang out on the weekends.

John is sure it's because Sherlock doesn't want to seem presumptuous.

It's adorable.

But tonight is Friday, and Sherlock has invited him over for takeaway.

And John is more then ready for a little post-game flirting to get the ball rolling with his favorite curly-haired friend.

As promised, Sherlock is waiting at his car, attempting not to look anxious.

"Ready?" John asks nonchalantly, knowing full well he's taken more time than necessary.

Sherlock nods sharply and makes his way to the passenger's side.

The ride is filled with conversation about the game, which is completely stupid. John knows that Sherlock has no interest in rugby or the other team's dirty tactics or the officials making bad calls.

John is sure Sherlock took his cues on topics from the crowd yelling and is trying to keep John interested.

It's sweet.

Sherlock has no idea how endearing he truly is.

They grab Thai food from one of their favorite places, and then head back to Sherlock's home.

Sherlock groans as he eyes the car already parked in the driveway.

"Mycroft is here."

John furrows his brow. "What's a Mycroft?"

Sherlock actually looks startled for a moment and then bursts out laughing. "Oh god, can I please tell him you said that?" He giggles and John beams. He loves making Sherlock laugh. The grin that spreads across his lips and the tint his eyes take is the absolute best.

Sherlock sobers slightly, still grinning and says, "Mycroft is my brother."

"Oh!" John says in understanding. John knows Sherlock has a brother but he never knew his name. All he's heard is that he's older, off at uni, and he's a giant pain in Sherlock's arse.

John is a little bit excited to meet him.

Sherlock drags himself into the house, a scowl already plastered on his face as his eyes search the sitting room. John follows close behind.

This should be good.

"Good evening dear brother," a cool voice comes from the opposite side of the room.

"Hello Mycroft," Sherlock says disdainfully. "Ah, I see you've gotten fatter since leaving home?"

"And I see you haven't changed a bit," Mycroft replies airily. His eyes dart to John and narrow a fraction. "Who's your friend?"

"None of your concern," Sherlock bites but John is already making his way across the room, hand outstretched.

"John Watson," he says with a smile. "Pleased to meet you, Mycroft."

Mycroft takes his hand with a raised eyebrow. "Quite," he replies.

Sherlock snorts. "Alright, well. John and I have food to eat and a rugby game to debrief so if you don't mind-"

It's Mycroft's turn to snort. "Rugby? Dear god, Sherlock, since when have you had any interest in sports?"

Sherlock goes beet red but John is having none of that.

"It's for me," he says. "I play and Sherlock has a keen eye for observations of technique and the things I need to work on. He's quite an asset to me, actually."

It's not an outright lie. Sherlock does has valuable insight on how to better John's game, but they both know that isn't why they spend time together.

He glances over his shoulder at the boy genius who is still red but preening like a bloody peacock.

He couldn't get more darling if he tried.

John resists the urge to laugh and turns back to the elder Holmes, who is looking between the two of them with a mix of curiosity and confusion.

John sort of understands that. Their relationship is rather odd, but most things regarding Sherlock are rather odd.

His brother of all people should know that.

"Well," Mycroft seems to right himself, "I'll leave you to it, then. Mummy and Daddy had to go out of town so the house will be quiet this evening."

"Of course they are," Sherlock murmurs, already heading down the hall.

John nods politely and takes off after Sherlock toward his room, takeaway in tow.

Sherlock immediately drops to the floor and spreads the boxes of food all around him, handing John forks and chopsticks and napkins.

They sit in silence and eat their food because John is famished and when John eats, Sherlock eats, which John has learned is a big deal.

Sherlock doesn't actively worry about meals and easily forgets to eat if no one reminds him. John has learned that Sherlock's parents go out of town at the drop of a hat on business, leaving the young boy alone often, and therefore leaving him without anyone to make him food, let alone anyone to remind him to consume it.

John has also learned over the months of knowing Sherlock, that the boy doesn't have many friends.

Which John truly cannot understand. Sure, he's a bit different but he's also incredibly interesting. Why anyone wouldn't want to spend time with him is really beyond John.

"I was thinking we should try to get through some more Bond movies," Sherlock says as they clean up their dishes.

"Sounds good to me," John says, because it really does.

They normally watch in the living room but since Mycroft is home, Sherlock suggests they watch it on his laptop.

On his bed.

John might actually bite right through his lip with the effort not to smile.

Sherlock is rather clever most of the time but this is so bloody obvious, John is dying to just laugh and then remove all of Sherlock's clothing.

He'll wait though.

He is rather curious what Sherlock's first move will be.

Sherlock kicks off his shoes and climbs onto his bed.

John notices his knees shaking as he makes his way to his side and John smiles softly.

He takes a sick pleasure in making Sherlock nervous.

They settle on top of the comforter against the many pillows Sherlock has and start the film.

Sherlock attempts to subtly lean over closer to John.

John can just get away with a grin.

They watch in silence, until Bond starts writhing around on the floor with a woman in a red dress and Sherlock shifts.

John holds his breath.

"John?" Sherlock murmurs softly, and John silently blows out the air, body thrumming with anticipation.

"Yeah?"

John can see Sherlock fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, staring at his hands. "Have you ever...done that before?"

John bites his lip to keep the smile at bay. Here we go.

"Done what?" He just can't help himself.

Sherlock visibly trembles. "Umm... the uh...where you..."

It's too painful to watch him flounder. John gives him a break. "Sex?"

John can see Sherlock's cheeks redden even in the dark. "Yes," he replies quietly.

"I have," John confirms.

He doesn't love to admit he's been with other people, especially to the boy he wants so badly, but he knows it's important for Sherlock to know.

Besides, he's not going to lie to him.

"Mm," Sherlock says. "And...And did you...did you like it?"

"I did," John replies. He can't tell where this is going but he's now the one vibrating.

Sherlock is quiet for a long moment. They watch the film for a minute longer and then Sherlock abruptly says, "What does it feel like? …Sex?"

John has to restrain himself from rolling on top of Sherlock and showing him exactly what it feels like.

"It feels really good," John says, deliberately dropping his voice to a low husk. "It's nice to be close to someone like that, but the actual feeling is a bit difficult to explain."

Sherlock nods studiously, refusing to meet John's eyes. "Right," he murmurs.

John thinks Sherlock might chicken out as he falls silent and John almost makes his own move when the next words that come out of Sherlock's mouth knock the breath out of him.

"Could you...would you be willing to... show me?"

Fuck. Yes.

John barely manages to keep his cool as his insides explode with excitement.

"What would you like to learn?" John smirks, unable to keep himself from teasing Sherlock just a little bit longer.

"I-well, I...I've never-I don't-" Sherlock stutters through half sentences until he finally sighs. "Everything," he murmurs. "I would...like to learn everything."

Even without seeing it, John is fully aware his grin has turned a bit rapacious. "Well, then," he practically growls. "Let me show you."

The blush that covers Sherlock's sharp cheekbones is absolutely lovely. "O-okay," he replies.

Then he goes completely still.

John decides it's his turn to take over.

"Why don't you lie down?"

Sherlock nods in agreement and scoots down the bed, lying as flat and as still as a board.

John really can't help himself. He is fully aware that if he just kisses Sherlock, instinct will take over and the boy will relax. But John can't resist just a little more teasing. John wants to enjoy this boy's innocence for just a bit longer.

John flips the laptop shut and places it gingerly on the floor. He knows how important that piece of equipment is to Sherlock.

He turns back to find Sherlock's hands buried deep in the covers on either side of his hips and his grey-green eyes locked on the ceiling. His lips are pursed so hard they're turning white and his face is practically maroon.

He looks so nervous and so fuckable, John just barely keeps himself from jumping him.

Instead, John crawls over the bed and starts talking.

"First, I always like to start with the upper body," John says casually, placing his fingers at the hem of Sherlock's shirt. He pauses and glances up at Sherlock's face. "Promise to tell me if you want to stop at any time, okay?"

Sherlock rolls his eyes and John laughs. "Just promise."

Sherlock shoots him a glare but nods. "I promise."

John grins.

Then he grabs both Sherlock's hands, pulls him to a sitting position and pulls his shirt up. Sherlock looks a bit dazed but raises his arms compliantly, eyes now boring into John. "There we go," John murmurs and pushes Sherlock's now naked torso down on his back again.

John's eyes trail over Sherlock's thin, pale frame. He looks fragile and beautiful. "You're very pretty, Sherlock."

Sherlock's eyes are wider and darker then John has ever seen them and there is a very obvious bulge protruding from his trousers. "John," he breathes. "You... you should take your shirt off, too."

With pleasure.

"Okay," John agrees and pulls his t-shirt of his head.

Sherlock's breath stutters and John pretends not to notice. He's well aware how fit he is and proud of it. He welcomes Sherlock's stare.

He places his hands on Sherlock's hips and runs them up and down his sides. "Just relax," he soothes and it seems to work as Sherlock closes his eyes. "This is what I like, but if you don't like it, we'll move on, okay?"

Sherlock nods, humming softly under John's gentle touch.

John moves his hands closer to Sherlock's stomach, rubbing soft touches against his smooth skin.

He really is pretty. His skin is soft and smooth, completely untouched and delicate. John licks his lips as his hands run over the outsides of Sherlock's pectorals. Sherlock's skin breaks out in goose flesh and his nipples pebble to hardness, a deep flush taking over his chest.

It's the exact reaction John was going for.

He trails his fingers lightly over Sherlock's nipples, and the boy's back arches upward into the touch. His eyes fly open and his mouth drops, eyes darting to John in what looks like panic.

Sherlock has obviously never experienced pleasure before.

John watches as he closes his thumb and forefinger around each nipple and pinches.

Sherlock gasps, the redness in his chest rising to his neck. "J-John," he whispers, breathing unevenly. "I-I-"

John ducks down and licks a strip over the hardened skin, laving and flicking his tongue in earnest. He's rewarded with a low moan and fingers tentatively grazing into his hair. He closes his mouth over the nipple and sucks.

"O-oh g-god," Sherlock breathes.

John drags his wet lips over Sherlock's chest and repeats the movements.

Sherlock is melting underneath him.

John grins against his skin. He knew Sherlock would be sensitive but this is a whole other level.

John trails his lips up Sherlock's neck to his ear, darting his tongue inside. Sherlock keens, gripping his hands at John's naked shoulders. "You're so responsive," John breathes against the shell of his ear, chuckling as a shudder runs through Sherlock's body.

"S-Sorry," Sherlock stutters, eyes attempting to flutter open.

John chuckles again. "Not a bad thing at all, love," he murmurs.

A whimper escapes Sherlock's lips, the heat of John's words clearly almost too much for him. John feels a wicked need take over and glides his fingers feather-like over Sherlock's skin. Just as Sherlock is relaxing against the touch, John reaches his nipple and twists.

The gorgeous cry that comes from Sherlock's mouth is so perfect John can't stop himself from rolling over on top of the young genius and grinding his hips down. Sherlock's spine immediately bowes, snapping his hips up to meet John's. "Come, Sherlock," John growls, because it's apparent that Sherlock is very much on the edge.

"J-John. John! Oh-John, please, oh...guh-" Sherlock is tossing his head from side to side, babbling and thrusting and clutching desperately to John, puffing hot breaths against John's shoulder.

John rolls his hips again and Sherlock's fingers dig into John's back, body pulling taut. Sherlock falls silent, eyes slammed shut, mouth wide open and god, it's a perfect sight as he comes. John encourages him, pressing his clothed cock against Sherlock's, bending to lick a sensitive nipple, doing his best to prolong Sherlock's orgasm. "That's perfect, Sherlock, there you go," he murmurs.

Sherlock shudders violently through it, holding John close to him as his hips stutter several more times.

Then he falls boneless against the bed.

John hovers over him, stroking his hair back from his forehead. "You okay?" he murmurs, appreciating the blotchy red spots all over Sherlock's face and neck, his sensually bowed lips looking positively delectable. He's such a beautiful young man with his dark curls and light skin and bright eyes. John can't get enough.

Fuck.

This is the tipping point.

They've been dancing for too long.

They're passed teasing and casual. John's been long passed teasing and casual for months now.

John wants it all.

He wants this slender genius to be his, permanently. He wants to call Sherlock his boyfriend and kiss him whenever he wants and hold his hand and claim him every minute of every day.

John is just reaching forward to lay a kiss on his lips when Sherlock's eyes suddenly fly open.

"I-I'm sorry," he mutters, wriggling out from under John and off the bed. "I'm...I didn't-I shouldn't have...I'm sorry," he mutters and hurries off into the loo, shutting the door softly, though the click of the lock is loud.

John stares dumbfounded at the door for a long moment.

What in the hell just happened?

He stays very still, replaying the events in his head and still can't quite understand. He thought he'd done pretty well, judging by Sherlock's reaction and quick release.

There is a knock at the door of the bedroom and John glances at it, frowning. He throws his shirt back over his head and answers just as the sound of the shower turning on fills the room.

Mycroft is glaring down at him, eyes running over his rumpled hair and flushed cheeks. He raises an eyebrow and says, "I just wanted to let you know I'm going out."

John furrows his brow. "Okay?"

Mycroft's glare hardens. "John, I am fully aware that you are a bit older then my brother and far more experienced. So I feel it best that I say this now."

Mycroft laces his fingers behind his back and his hard look turns icy.

"Do not fuck with Sherlock Holmes. He is more intelligent and clever than you could ever possibly comprehend and the only thing that could hinder his potential at this point is his heart. So. I will say it again. Do not mess with my brother. If you're not interested in everything with him, then don't do anything at all. Otherwise, you will very much have the wrath of the entire Holmes' family coming down on your head. Make no mistake, John. My parents may be occupied, and I may be physically absent but trust me when I say there are always eyes on Sherlock Holmes. If you do something wrong, if you hurt him in any way, I will know. Do I make myself clear?"

John blinks, and then hastily nods as Mycroft's icy stare takes on a murderous tone when he doesn't immediately respond.

Mycroft steps back and nods. "Good. You'll have the house to yourselves for the remainder of the night. I trust you'll do the right thing."

And then he disappears down the dark hall.

John's head begins to spin.

He knows Sherlock is brilliant. He cares about Sherlock. He would never want to hurt him. John recognizes the standard big brother 'don't hurt my baby brother' speech but there was something about it. Something that was unsaid but quite clear.

Although, it's not really anything to worry about. John has no intention of breaking Sherlock's heart.

But this little incident they just had is throwing John off his game. Of course he wants more with Sherlock. He wants to be with him. But maybe...maybe Sherlock doesn't want to be with him. Maybe he just wants to learn about sex. Maybe this is all just one big experiment.

John's stomach begins to churn.

What if Sherlock rejects him? What if Mycroft thinks John rejected Sherlock and comes after him? What if-

No.

Sod it.

Sod all of it.

He wants Sherlock.

All of Sherlock.

It doesn't matter what Mycroft thinks or says or does.

This is about John and Sherlock and what they want.

John closes the door and stands in the middle of the room ready to pounce when Sherlock comes out from the shower.

They are sorting this out tonight.

Fuck Mycroft and his meddling arse.

Sherlock was right. He is a pain.

Sherlock opens the door, curls wet and wilted to his head, skin still slightly damp with a towel slung around his slender hips. He stops dead when he sees John staring at him from the middle of his room.

"Oh," he says, seemingly caught off guard. "I didn't...I didn't think you'd still be here still."

John goes from focused to angry in a matter of milliseconds. "Really?" he spits. "You think I'd just bail after that?"

Sherlock's already pink skin darkens a shade and John is on him before either of them can process it.

He stalks toward Sherlock, crowding him until his back hits the wall.

Sherlock retreats, eyes wide and panicked.

"You think this is all I want from you?" John demands.

Sherlock shakes his head hastily. "No!" he cries. "No, no that's not-"

"Because that's pretty shitty, Sherlock."

"No, John, I-"

"I don't know what you think of me but that's not who I am."

"I know it's not-"

"I wouldn't do that to you-"

"Dammit John, would you shut up and let me talk?!"

John retreats a micro step, taken aback by the sharpness - and loudness - of Sherlock's voice.

Sherlock huffs an aggravated sigh. "No, I am fully aware that you would not do that to me," Sherlock bites out. "You are far too kind to ever do that to a friend, which I know you consider us to be." Sherlock runs a hand through his hair and looks down. "But I...I mean look at what happened," Sherlock waves his hand toward the bed. "I can't even last- I mean, how am I supposed to be...anything to you when I can't even-"

"What do you want, Sherlock?" John cuts him off, because this is fucking ridiculous. Sherlock is worried because he's a virgin? No. That's so not on. "Tell me. Because I want bloody everything with you. I'd like to date you and fuck you and show you how I can make your body feel things you haven't even considered. So, tell me. Right now. What is it that you want from me?"

Sherlock's pupils dilate. "I...I..."

John leans in and places a hand on the wall beside Sherlock's head. "Tell me."

And then Sherlock is surging forward, pressing his lips to John's, hard and insistent and perfect.

"You," Sherlock groans into his mouth as John pries it open. "I want more then...I want it all with you. I... I want to be yours."

"Good," John replies simply.

Then he rips Sherlock's towel from his waist and picks the boy up by his hips and, quite literally, throws him onto the bed.

"I'm going to devour you, Sherlock Holmes," he growls as he sheds his own clothing and crawls over the genius.

Sherlock whimpers, propping himself up on his elbows to reach John's lips. "B-But I... I already..." Sherlock tries but John covers his mouth with his own.

"That," John says, snaking his hand down to grip Sherlock's rapidly filling cock, "won't be an issue."

Sherlock throws his head back and cries out, quickly covering his mouth with his hand as John glides a rough stroke over him.

"You can be loud, baby," John croones, accenting his words with a twist of his wrist. "Mycroft left."

Sherlock snaps his gaze back to John. "Wh-what? When?"

"While you were showering," John murmurs, planting openmouthed kisses along Sherlock's neck. "So you can be as loud as you like." John licks a strip along Sherlock's jaw up to his ear. "And I do expect you to be loud, Sherlock. Because I've got plans to make you scream."

John revels in the shiver that runs all over Sherlock's body. He strips Sherlock's cock faster, listening intently to the hot, panting breaths Sherlock can't control against his ear, the young boy grabbing at John's naked shoulders.

"I-uh! J-John!" Sherlock sounds bloody wrecked and John grins.

"Yes, Sherlock?" John releases him and hovers above him, blinking innocently down into the boy's wide eyes. "What is it?"

Sherlock stares back, his pretty pink lips parted with gasping breath. His chest rises and falls quickly, his slender body shaking. "Wh-What are you-"

John drops his hips, pressing his own hard cock against Sherlock's, and Sherlock groans loudly. His hands come to John's shoulders. "Mmm," he hums. "D-don't stop."

John grins and gives another roll of his hips, ignoring his own heady need for release and focusing on making Sherlock's world spin. He watches intently, leaning down to capture Sherlock's lips between thrusts. He sucks Sherlock's bottom lip in between his teeth and bites.

"Ah, god," Sherlock moans, fingers gripping into John's skin, eyes closed.

John smirks and ducks his head to kiss Sherlock's neck, giving a solid push of his hips. Sherlock whines and bucks upward, searching desperately for more friction.

John pulls back slightly and trails his lips down to Sherlock's nipple, pinching it between his teeth.

"John!" Sherlock cries, digging his hands deeply in John's hair.

John tries not to laugh. God, he's so beautifully sensitive. John is going to enjoy teaching him.

He trails his lips further down Sherlock's torso to his stomach and Sherlock's breath catches, his belly giving a little flutter under John's mouth.

"J-John?" Sherlock breaths and John glances up to see Sherlock's bright eyes watching him intently. "What-OH!"

John ducks and takes the tip of Sherlock's cock in his mouth. He engulfs the entire length and begins sucking in earnest, grinning around Sherlock's cock as the boy keens, gripping John's hair and throwing his hips up.

John coughs slightly as Sherlock's cock hits the back of his throat and suddenly Sherlock's hands are gone and his hips go still.

"Oh god, John, I'm so sorry-" Sherlock babbles, attempting to sit up but John's hand is on Sherlock's chest before he can catch his balance.

"Do not," John growls, giving Sherlock a shove to lay down, "apologize. I want you to fuck my mouth, Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock actually gasps and John grins wickedly, eyes never leaving Sherlock's as he glides back down and licks the underside of Sherlock's cock.

"Oh-" Sherlock whispers breathlessly. "Oh yeah...yeah okay."

John smirks and takes Sherlock's cock back in, practically feeling Sherlock's head slam against the pillow.

As Sherlock's fingers find their way back into his fringe, John swirls his tongue and deep throats, holding steady as the boy thrusts up into his mouth, tiny ah ah ah's escaping Sherlock's lips.

"Oh-oh John...John-I..I think I- oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck-"

John hums as Sherlock's spine snaps taut, hands tighten their grip and hot liquid floods John's mouth, Sherlock sobbing incoherently above him.

John is fucking preening, never feeling more proud in his life as he delivers Sherlock his second orgasm of the night.

John works him through it, only pulling off when Sherlock goes still and makes small uncomfortable noises from oversensitivity.

He crawls up that now fully blushing, thin frame, to find Sherlock still quietly panting, eyelids doing their best to open.

John's cock hardens to the point of pain as he takes in Sherlock's gorgeous body and perfectly debauched afterglow. He looks beautiful and filthy and sated and lovely and before John realizes it, his own hand is on his own cock, stroking himself off.

Sherlock's eyes flutter open. "John?" he says in a deliciously gravely voice and glances down between their bodies, eyes widening. "John," he whispers.

"You were so good for me, love," John groans softly. "Watching you come was one of the sexiest things I've ever seen."

Sherlock is gaping at him, eyes flicking between John's. "John," he repeats and John bites his lip, enjoying fulfilling his plans of making Sherlock forget every word except his name.

"Yes?" John murmurs, dragging long pulls over himself.

Sherlock hesitates, looking unsure. Then slowly he trails his fingers down John's belly, touching his hand gently. "...Can I? I'd like to...try."

John grins and sits up on his knees. "Absolutely," he says and Sherlock comes to sitting position, John straddling his waist. He lets go of himself and Sherlock wraps long, warm fingers around his cock.

"Mm," John hums as Sherlock pumps him once slowly. "That's perfect."

Sherlock looks up at him and John smiles, tangling his fingers in Sherlock's curls. "That feels so good," he murmurs because it really does and because Sherlock puffs his chest out with pride at the praise.

For some reason, that only spurs John on.

"You're doing perfect, baby," he groans, eyes locked on Sherlock's, hands still buried in his hair. "I've been wanting you to touch me like this for so long."

Sherlock actually grins, his strokes coming faster now. "Really?" he breathes.

John nods. "God, yes. You're so gorgeous, Sherlock. I couldn't wait to get my hands on you and yours on me."

Sherlock's mouth falls open slightly, eyes glittering. "I...I've wanted that too."

John hums, brushing thumbs down Sherlock's cheeks. "Yeah?"

Sherlock nods. "You're... you're very attractive, John. I mean...you're nice to… look at."

John has to keep himself from laughing, which is helped when Sherlock runs his thumb over the head of his cock.

Sherlock's dirty talk will need a little work but that was something John would very much enjoy teaching him.

"Thank you," he grins, biting his lip as Sherlock adds another hand to his shaft. "Mm, that's it." He tosses his head back and groans, pushing himself harder into Sherlock's grasp.

Sherlock takes the hint and pumps faster. "John," he breathes. "You look…very good like this."

John grins. "Faster, baby," he murmurs, dropping his head down to look into those shining blue eyes. "Just a little-oh yes."

Sherlock pumps him hastily, mouth hanging open as he watches. "Are you…will you come…on me?"

John moans and bites his lip hard. "Can I? Will you let me?"

Sherlock nods quickly, stroking John faster. "Yes. God, yes please, John."

John almost chuckles but a crackle breaks out at the base of his spine and he's suddenly almost there. "Yes, Sherlock, fuck, yes I'm close…so…close…."

Sherlock flicks the head with his thumb and John's hips jerk forward, spilling himself all over Sherlock's chest.

"Jesus, Sherlock," he groans as his orgasm crashes over him. He rides out against Sherlock's hands, moaning softly as his hips shake and stutter to a stop. He glances up to find bewildered eyes looking back at him.

"Not good?" Sherlock whispers in concern.

John shakes his head hastily. "Very good."

Sherlock grins. "Oh…well. Good then." He nods more to himself then anything and glances down at his chest. "What do I…"

"I got it," John laughs and hops off the bed in all his naked glory to grab a flannel.

He cleans Sherlock off and then pulls back the covers, climbing in. "Come have a cuddle," he smiles, stretching out an arm and Sherlock scurries under the covers, pressing his naked body flush against John's.

He's warm and sleepy and perfect.

"You okay?"

Sherlock nods against John's chest. "Better then okay." He gives John a little squeeze. "Thank you."

John chuckles and tucks him closer. "Thank you. You made me wait long enough, you prat."

Sherlock suddenly stills and glances up. "Are we…"

"Together?" John finishes. "Yes. We are. If that's what you want."

A slow smile takes over Sherlock's face. He nods and leans in, planting a soft kiss on John's lips. "That's what I want." He snuggles back against John's chest.

John smiles in the darkness. "Alright, then. Night, love."

The reply he receives is a tiny snore.

**I do not own Sherlock or any of the characters within it. Smutty and Fluffy, who says we can't have both? Thank you for reading and feel free to send requests either here or on my tumblr page!**