Work Text:
"Sherlock-"
"No, John."
"Sherlock, I really-"
"No, John."
"My laptop, Sherlock!"
"I need it, John."
"Where is yours?"
"Fizzled out. I spilled my tea on it."
John pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose and sighed. "What exactly are you doing?"
"Blogging," he murmured, fingers skittering across the keys.
"Well stop blogging, I need my laptop back."
Sherlock's eyes narrowed. John's usual annoyance at him "borrowing" his laptop had taken on a hint of impatience. His voice was pitched higher than normal, and Sherlock took it to be...anxiety? John was nervous about something. His gaze lifted to study his partner carefully.
Left hand in pocket, thumb hanging over the edge and tapping but fingers clenched inside. Coat still on, too distracted to remove it. Or...too focused. Too focused on his laptop. He's glancing at me every few moments, watching me without trying to appear as if he's watching me. Deep breaths, to keep himself looking calm. Clearly, something's on here he doesn't want me to see.
And being Sherlock Holmes, he had to find out what it was.
"John, when was the last time you cleared your browser history?"
"I haven't," he grumbled, and continued to tap his thumb on his pocket.
Not the internet, then.
"Well, I think I'll have to finish this post later, since you need your laptop back so badly," he said, and smiled warmly towards John as he let out a breath. "Let me just copy the text and save it to a file-"
"What file? Where are you saving it?" he asked quickly.
Aha.
"Oh, just in the Documents, if you don't mind," he said, and John's eyes widened as Sherlock began to click around.
"Why don't you just make a new folder?" he asked, just barely unable to mask the nervousness in his voice.
"Well alright, but it'll be in the Documents in case I need it again."
"Sherlock-"
There was a double click and the folder opened before Sherlock's eyes. There was a long, silent, breathless pause, before Sherlock looked up slowly and murmured, "You should learn to hide your things better, John. 'john_xxx'? Really?"
"No, please, don't." It was an anxious, whispered plea.
Sherlock paused. His heart pounded in his chest. He swallowed. "Who are they for?"
John blinked. "Sorry?"
"These...things. I haven't opened the folder so I don't know if they're videos or photos-"
"Photos."
"Photos." He breathed shakily, and clutched the edge of the laptop. "Who are they for?"
"What? They're not for anyone."
"Are you sending nude photographs to someone?"
"No, Sherlock."
"Are they with someone else?"
"No- Sherlock, you think I'm cheating on you?"
Alarmed expression, hurt, he's staring, he's staring, he's meeting my gaze, he's-
"Not seeing someone else."
"No, Sherlock."
"Then what are they, John?"
John bowed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose again. He paced, slowly, back and forth, in front of Sherlock. He shook his head. He sighed.
"Just open it."
Sherlock double-clicked the file. And his jaw dropped.
Picture after picture, many that looked like they'd been taken with his phone, of John. John, lying on his back, legs up in the air, one hand holding up his balls, and the other arched to take a photo of his arse...but there was something else. Sherlock zoomed in and saw a glint of silver and green...what? He couldn't see enough in the picture, so he switched to the next one. This one must have been taken with a timer, because John was on his hands and knees, arse towards the camera and his head down, and Sherlock could see, clearly now, the flared base of a green jeweled, silver plug.
"A plug, John. You have a plug and you never even told me." He put the laptop aside.
John's face reddened and he turned his face. "I didn't want to tell you."
"Why not?" asked Sherlock incredulously. He stood and reached for John's shoulder. "You enjoy anal sex, why would this be any different?"
"Because I wanted to wear it while I was fucking you." His face turned even redder, and he refused to meet Sherlock's concerned gaze. "I...I really like the feeling...and you always want me to top..."
"...Oh." Another long pause, and silent, slow breathing. Sherlock nodded his head once, then let his hand fall. "You're missing stimulation." Sherlock let his hand fall and sat down abruptly. He steepled his fingers and rested his elbows on his knees. He hunched himself over. "Yes, yes, that would probably be a wonderful feeling for you, wouldn't it. Yes. Oh John, I was so worried, I thought you were sleeping around or-"
"Yes, and you're a right fool for thinking that," he grumbled loudly.
"Oh John, we simply must try this now! Come on!" He hopped back up, grabbed John's arm, and dragged him to his bedroom. John stumbled.
"Wait- what, Sherlock, what are you-?"
"Oh don't be stupid, John, get your plug, get some lube, let's have sex right now! Let's find out how it feels for you, give you that stimulation you've been wanting so badly!"
"Sherlock, you can't just-unngh!" he moaned as Sherlock quickly cupped and rubbed John's cock through his trousers.
"Can't I?" he said, his voice dropping to a deep and sultry bass. "Go get your plug now, John," he commanded softly. "And I'll help you get it in this time."
"Sherlock, I don't need to."
"Yes, you do."
"No. No I don't."
"Why not?"
"It's already in."
Sherlock sucked in a breath as John tore his coat off and pulled off his jumper. It was only as he reached for his trouser buttons that Sherlock began to remove his own clothes. His eyes never left John's body, except to catch the damp stain on the back of John's pants, a lube stain. John cleared his throat, and Sherlock's gaze jumped back up.
"Do you want to see? In person?"
Sherlock nodded mutely. John walked past him with a slow, sensual stride, and sat on the edge of the bed. He scooted backwards, laid himself flat, and lifted his legs in the air. Sherlock turned and placed his hands on the backs of John's thighs, and dropped to his knees on the floor to get eye level with John's firm, round arse. There, in front of him, barely a nose away, was the pretty green jewel on the silver plug. Sherlock noted a slight redness where the edge had dug into his cheeks.
"How long have you had it in?"
"About half an hour. I put it in before I left the hospital," he mumbled.
Sherlock pressed a gentle kiss to the plug, and John hissed a bit. Sherlock pushed his cheek away from the edge and traced his tongue on the reddened areas. John whimpered a bit, enjoying the sensation of warmth and softness on a tender area. Sherlock pulled on the base a bit, sliding the shaft and the rounded part of the plug out a bit, then slid it back in. John hummed contentedly, and moaned when Sherlock repeated the motion. But after a few, John placed a hand on his curls and stopped him.
"Up on the bed, bend over, I want to fuck the senses out of you."
"God, John," he hissed, scrambling up. "Please." He leaned on one hand and began to stroke himself with the other. John gently pulled his hand away.
"Let me take care of that. You just hold still." John uncapped a bottle of lube from the bedside drawer, and spread the liquid over his fingers and cock. He swiped up Sherlock's crack and teased a finger into the hole. He was impatient, though, and he wiped the rest on the covers before sliding the tip of his cock into Sherlock. Sherlock backed against him, pushing him deeper as John moved towards him. He was balls deep inside him when he felt himself clench more around the toy. "Oh, oh god."
"John?" asked Sherlock with a keening moan.
"Oh it feels wonderful, Sherlock," he groaned, pulling out and thrusting in again. The shifting of his body made it feel like he was getting fucked as well. "Oh yes, yes, Sherlock, this is amazing."
"Good," moaned Sherlock, "Now will you please just pick up the pace a little- ah!" he yelped as John swatted him.
"Impatient bastard, let me enjoy this."
Sherlock pushed himself back on him. "You'll enjoy it more if you move faster, I'm sure of it."
"Oh fine, fine, but you asked for it."
John bent himself over Sherlock, reaching one hand to brace on his hips and the other to wrap around the man's aching cock. The first touch made Sherlock hiss at the contact, and whimper and buck as John tightened a bit more around it. John's hips snapped forward and Sherlock almost lost his balance. John rolled back and thrusted forward again, pulling a deep and throaty moan from the man beneath him. John woudl cry out as well, as the heavy toy in his arse would brush against every sensitive nerve and send jolts of delight through him. Harder he'd thrust, quicker he'd go, and soon Sherlock was a whimpering, moaning and nearly screaming man beneath him. Sherlock could no longer beg him, instead he was just crying out in pleasured bliss. His body tightened, and he could feel the pressure building in his gut as he was pushed closer and closer to shooting a load all over John's hand and the covers beneath.
John was feeling the same buildup and immediately let go of Sherlock's cock to grip his hips and yank him forward and back, thrusting and pounding him (and because of the toy, himself) frantically until he came with a loud series of groans, painting the inside of Sherlock's arse with sticky white spunk. His body rippled around the plug, and the feeling was so intense he thought he'd never stop cumming.
John finally slumped over him and dizzily watched as Sherlock yanked on his own cock, hastily rubbing out a desperately needed orgasm onto the blanket. His arse clenched over John and nearly had him hard again. But Sherlock slipped forward, spent, onto the sticky covers, and groaned. John curled himself around his lover, and Sherlock turned to face him.
He pressed a kiss to John's nose. "Mmm. How did it feel?"
"Unbelieveable."
"I thought it might."
"Mmm. You have no idea."
There was a pause, and Sherlock shrugged. "No, no I don't. But someday, I can certainly find out."