Tumblr prompt fill for bloodsoakedleather

Prompt: John & Sherlock's first time. John, who is sexually experienced with men describes in minute, precise & explicit detail to Sherlock who lacks any sexual experience at all, exactly how he needs Sherlock to fuck him.

John let the chuckle resonate deep in his chest, it wasn't often he was able to surprise Sherlock and he relished in the small feat.

The detective was sprawled out gloriously naked on John's bed, the evening had been a slow build-up of foreplay, all leading up to this.

Their cocks were rubbing together as John laid on top of Sherlock. He kept the friction constant, the pressure flirting with not enough and too much has he rocked his hips forward, letting his precome drip onto the other man's aching penis as he lowered his mouth to Sherlock's ear.

"I can't wait to have you in mouth," he nipped on the bottom part of Sherlock's earlobe, earning him a small whimper before continuing. "It's been a long time since I've tasted come, but I'm pretty sure I still like it."

Sherlock quickly turned his head to face John, searching his eyes for answers. It was true that John had always claimed he wasn't gay, Sherlock hadn't taken into account that this didn't necessarily mean the doctor had only ever been with women.

John held the stare that was boring into him and smirked, "Didn't deduce that, then?"

Sherlock's mind was instantly filled with images. Pictures of John as a soldier, late nights in the barracks with other men who were lonely for home, his tongue swirling around the tip of a soldiers cock while a hand fisted in his short hair.

He wanted to be jealous, wanted to hate the men who had a piece of his John, but the images were going straight to his groin and he couldn't be bothered to care right now. His hips jerked up in response and John tightened his grip, pinning Sherlock to the mattress.

The doctor lowered his head to the crook of his lover's neck and licked a strip from Sherlock's collar bone up to his ear again, letting his breath wash over the heated flesh.

"It's going to be so good," John promised. "I'm going to suck your prick, but I don't think you'll be coming in my mouth tonight."

He never claimed to be as observant as the world's only consulting detective, but he wasn't oblivious to the fact that his words were going straight to Sherlock's cock and he had to hold the taller man down to keep him from thrusting, seeking the contact his body desperately craved.

John knew that when the duo changed the nature of their relationship that sleeping with Sherlock Holmes would be different than anything he'd yet to experience. He knew that he wasn't just going to be having sex with the detective's body, but that he would also be fucking his mind. It was no wonder that Sherlock never bothered with a physical relationship before, John seriously doubted anyone would have taken the time to work that out.

"I'll bet you'd love that, wouldn't you? Coming down my throat as a swallowed every last drop?" John went on, encouraged by the breathy little moans Sherlock was letting out as he continued to rock his hip, trapping their cocks together, held in place by their stomachs as the friction built.

"Next time," he mused. "Tonight, you're going to fuck me."

He'd never felt overly confident using dirty talk, but given the detective's response, it was something that he figures he'd taken for granted. Sherlock shuttered beneath him and that was all the incentive John needed to keep talking.

"It's going to be agonizingly slow. I want to ride you so I can see your face. Do you have any fucking idea how gorgeous you are, Sherlock? It should be a bloody sin for anyone to look the way you do. I'm going to slowly work my mouth down your stomach until I reach your cock."

At the prospect of being in his mouth, John felt Sherlock's prick give an interested jump at the notion and the doctor chuckled low in his ear.

"Don't get too excited, I told you that you wouldn't be coming down my throat tonight. I'm going to slowly take your bollocks in my mouth, one at a time and let them roll over my tongue. Would you like that?"

"Yes," Sherlock hissed out in a hushed tone, sounding utterly wrecked and John did an internal victory dance knowing that it was him who'd gotten the man this way.

Sherlock seemed to be a very quiet lover, only whimpering or moaning when he absolutely couldn't hold it in any longer, and even then they were so hushed that John wasn't even sure he heard them. However, he was also every bit impatient as he was out of bed and when John made it a point to stop talking, Sherlock huffed out in an irritated tone, "Then what?"

The doctor grinned into Sherlock's shoulder before continuing, "Then, after I think you've been in my mouth long enough, just before I think you're going to come, I'm going to stop. I'm going to straddle your face and hold myself open so you can lick my arsehole. I want to be nice and loose for you tonight. I want you to push your tongue inside me until I'm begging you for more."

"John, I, please…"

"Please what, Sherlock?" John playfully asked.

"Don't, don't stop talking. Please."

John lowered his head and planted light kisses along Sherlock's chest. He was rewarded with an outright scream when he bit down on the detective's right nipple and circled his tongue around the erect bud. He sat up and straddled Sherlock's thighs before taking the detective's cock into his hand and stroking it from base to tip. When he made a small circle on the head using his palm, the man beneath him arched his back and thrashed his head from side to side.

"Shhh," John cooed, "I've got you." And continued the assault on the man's leaking prick.

"Then I want you to use those long fingers of yours to stretch me, thrusting in and out, one at a time until you know I'm ready for you."

"John," Sherlock warned, and the doctor changed the rhythm of his hand, ensuring his lover wouldn't come until he was buried deep inside John's arse.

"When I'm nice and open, I'm going to lower myself onto you, centimetre by centimetre until you're bollocks deep in me. I can already tell you're going to be impatient, and I'll have to hold your hips to keep you from thrusting. I told you, we're going to go slow for as long as we can stand it."

He lowered himself onto Sherlock and claimed his mouth in a searing kiss, never once stopping the pump of his wrist as he fisted Sherlock's long prick. He locked eyes with the ebony haired man and whispered, "Only when we're both on the edge and can't stand it any longer will I ride you hard and let you pound into me."

Sherlock's eyelids fluttered and his pupils dilated more than John thought possible.

"My thighs are going to be on either side of you and the only sound we'll hear is your skin slapping my arse mixed with our screams."

John kept his eyes focused on Sherlock's and finished, "You have to scream for me, Sherlock. Can you do that?"

"Oh God," Sherlock covered his face with his forearm and nodded his agreement.

"No!" John barked. "No nodding. If that's what you want you have to tell me."

The detective moved his arm away from his eyes and grabbed the sheet to anchor himself.

"Yes," he finally said. "All of it, yes."