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For as long as he could remember, Sherlock had got compliment after compliment for his hair.
Dark, thick curls, especially against his lighter skin, seemed to do things to people.
When he was a child, Mummy’s friends had regularly cooed over his “adorable mop of curly hair”. Usually, Sherlock had try to take revenge for all the touching and prodding by deducing their most embarrassing secrets, though it hardly stopped them, not taking a small boy too seriously.
Sherlock also knew that Mycroft had always been rather jealous of Sherlock’s hair (and, possibly, the attention coming with it). Mycroft had inherited Mummy’s thinner, almost auburn hair, though Sherlock privately thought it suited him much better than grand-mère’s rich curls would ever have. Not that he would tell him.
Of course, Sherlock, too, was aware that Joan found his hair attractive. She tended to run her fingers through it when they kissed, certainly, and had, so far, made a point of tugging at it in pleasure when Sherlock was busy licking and mouthing her into ecstasy.
However, Sherlock truly believed that nothing, not even his own curls, could quite compare to Joan Watson’s hair.
It wasn’t thick, really, more on the thinner side, but it was long. Very long. Shiny and healthy, seemingly impossible given the fact that it had seen months if not years of desert combat, it went way past her shoulders to end somewhere close to her waistline.
It wasn’t dry or brittle or split at the ends. Frankly, Joan had some of the most beautiful hair Sherlock had ever encountered.
It was a pity to have her hide it in a braid or messy up-do when they were off chasing through London or inspecting a crime scene, but certainly more practical.
Besides, it made seeing it all loose and shiny in the bedroom all the more special. Like now, with both of them standing in Sherlock’s bedroom, carelessly undressed and pressed close to each other.
“Gorgeous,” Sherlock breathed against Joan’s ear, running his fingers through her hair, his fingertips tickling the skin of her back as he untangled the few knots Joan’s hairbrush had missed earlier.
Chuckling, Joan pressed closer to Sherlock, the softness of her breasts a welcome pressure against Sherlock’s chest.
“Glad you enjoy,” she teased, then turned her head to press a kiss against the side of Sherlock’s mouth.
“Oh, most certainly,” Sherlock replied before catching her lips with his own in a firm kiss.
They kissed for a while, a lazy battle of tongues as Sherlock busied himself with touching Joan’s hair, tugging and stroking it as he pleased, enjoying the trembles of aroused excitement coursing through Joan’s body.
In turn, Joan’s hands brushed over Sherlock’s back, teasingly exploring his body down to his buttocks, fingers squeezing appreciatively into Sherlock’s flesh whenever Sherlock pulled her hair a bit more than was strictly necessary.
“You like this,” Sherlock stated eventually as he tugged more firmly at Joan’s hair, breaking the kiss to watch Joan’s reaction. A small noise of pleasure escaped her, and another tremble made her body shift rather nicely against Sherlock’s.
“Yes,” she replied, a bit breathless. “Very much.”
Smirking, Sherlock pulled firmly, causing Joan’s head to be jerked backwards. He had known Joan didn’t mind him touching her hair, but this? Oh, this could be marvelous.
The pictures his mind rapidly painted for him were more than alluring. Sherlock’s cock twitched pleasantly at the thought of what this newly discovered stimulus might mean for this night’s activities.
They hadn’t been sleeping with each other for long, so Sherlock wasn’t too surprised that he could still discover and deduce new things about his flatmate’s preferences in bed, but this - well, this was just perfect.
“In that case,” Sherlock said, sending Joan a piercing look as he loosened his grip, only to move his hand up to gather most of the hair right at the back of Joan’s neck. “Let’s see just how much you enjoy it.”
He hesitated for a few seconds, grip firm but ready to let go the moment Joan protested or made a move to brush off Sherlock’s touch. Joan definitely wasn’t the type to keep quiet and endure when something didn’t go the way she enjoyed in the bedroom.
But no protest was forthcoming. In fact, Sherlock watched with great excitement, Joan’s breathing pattern became messier and she licked her lips in anticipation, clearly wondering what Sherlock might have in mind.
Smiling smugly, Sherlock brushed his free hand over Joan’s stomach, through the hoarser hair covering the space between her legs and, finally, teasingly slid his fingers over her clit. Sherlock was pleased to see that Joan was already growing wet. She made an appreciative noise when Sherlock slid a teasing fingertip inside her.
“Hmm,” he hummed as he pulled out again, rubbing his wet finger anywhere but her clit, teasing her with a featherlight touch as he circled the little bud. “This does excite you, doesn’t it.”
Joan tried to nod, but was restrained by Sherlock’s hard grip on her hair. Instead of fighting it though, Joan sighed in pleasure and moved her hips a bit, trying to increase the pressure against her intimate parts.
“You know what I’d like,” Sherlock purred, finally brushing a finger over Joan’s clit once more, making her tremble beautifully where she was standing. “I’d like you to suck me off while I’m grabbing your hair like this. Controlling your pace as I pull and tug at your hair.”
Joan’s immediate response was an aroused hum.
“God, yes,” she gasped and let Sherlock pull her over and towards the bed.
Coming to sit on the edge of the mattress, Sherlock led Joan to kneel in front of him. He was making sure to put enough pressure into his grip for it to be just a bit painful, but not enough to make it completely uncomfortable for Joan. He didn’t want to rip out her hair in the process. It was way too beautiful for that.
With his free hand, Sherlock took hold of his hardening cock, stroking it once, twice, then once more tugged at Joan’s hair, pulling her forward.
“Suck,” he ordered and Joan willingly opened her mouth.
Rationally, Sherlock knew that Joan wasn’t perfect at this. She tended to take it easy on the pressure, clearly a bit too mindful of possibly hurting Sherlock, but definitely made up for it with enthusiasm.
And, frankly, there was just something absolutely stunning about her stretched lips around Sherlock’s cock. The sight alone helped making this one of most pleasurable things Sherlock had ever enjoyed in the bedroom.
As soon as he was sure Joan had become used to the feel of Sherlock’s cock in her mouth, Sherlock used the pull on her hair to his advantage, forcing her to swallow more of his length than she had before, then pulling her off completely, enjoying the way her lips glistened with saliva as they left his cock.
“Very good,” Sherlock purred, pulling her forward once more, moaning pleasantly as her mouth, warm and wet, once more engulfed his cock.
It was a gorgeous picture, incredibly arousing, to see Joan lick and suck his cock while Sherlock controlled nearly all of her movements, her hair golden and so very shiny against his curled fingers.
Soon, all Sherlock listened to were the wet noises of Joan’s lips sliding over Sherlock’s cock and her occasional hums of pleasure. Sherlock made a point of pulling her off completely every once in a while, if only to watch the shape of her lips or see her lick them clean before Sherlock made her swallow his cock again.
When, eventually, he felt the familiar tightening feeling, telling him that he was close, Sherlock decreased the pressure at Joan’s head immediately, giving her the option of pulling back before it was over.
To his surprise (and infinite pleasure), Joan only sent him a teasing look, eyebrows raised ever so slightly, and stayed right where she was. Moaning in pleasure, Sherlock immediately firmed his grip again and couldn’t help but thrust into Joan’s mouth as he came, trembling through his orgasm and letting pleased noises pass his lips freely, showing her just how much he loved this.
“Perfect,” he said when he slid out and realised Joan had decided to swallow her mouthful. Sherlock recognised it for the special favour that it was. “You’re a marvel, Joan.”
Pressing a small kiss against Sherlock’s softening cock, Joan sent him a look that was both teasing and full of arousal.
Feeling that he should make it up to her, Sherlock pulled harshly at her hair, forcing her to stand up or risk a few lost hairs. Clearly getting the hint, Joan stumbled a bit as she came to her feet, then let out a noise of surprise when Sherlock made her turn and lie down on the bed.
Unwilling to let go of her hair, Sherlock hurried to climb on the bed as well until he was looming right over her, knees rested on either side of her hips, hand still fisted at the back of her head.
“Now,” he said. “I’ll make you come.”
“About time,” Joan laughed, then bit her lip as Sherlock used his free hand to rub his thumb firmly against her clit.
Once, twice, he repeated the movement, enjoying the small noises of pleasure that escaped her, then moved on to slip a single finger into her, excited to find her wetter than before. Clearly, she had quite enjoyed sucking Sherlock off as he held her hair.
Adding another finger, Sherlock started a slow, teasing rhythm as he slid in and out, careful to avoid her clit for the most part, only brushing over it every third of fourth cycle. Simultaneously, he made sure to keep a firm grip on Joan’s hair, regularly tugging and pulling at it to show her just who was in control.
Slowly but surely, Sherlock took Joan apart.
“God, Sherlock,” she moaned her thighs clenching and unclenching as his fingers moved inside her. “Hmm, like that, yes.”
“You’re quite the sight,” Sherlock told her in a low voice, enjoying the way her breasts moved whenever another tremble of pleasure shot through her body, whenever she wiggled and shifted against Sherlock’s grip. She truly was something. “And so eager.”
With that, Sherlock added a third finger and increased the speed of his movements, until Joan moaned and shifted helplessly against the mattress, trying to move her head only to be reminded that Sherlock was holding it firmly in place.
When she finally came, her thighs pressed together, increasing the pressure of Sherlock’s fingers inside her as she clenched around him, wet and hot, whimpering as Sherlock continued to tease her through her orgasm.
Finally, she calmed down enough to let Sherlock’s remove his fingers. Sherlock made a thorough show of licking his hand in the most salacious way that was possible, then let go of her hair, only to collapse by her side.
Pleased, he ran a hand over her body, briefly cupping on of her breasts before loosely clasping her chin to tilt her head.
They shared a brief kiss, tasting themselves as their tongues met, then simply lay there, breathing.
“Good,” Joan finally said, sounding both amused and sated. “That was... good. More than good, actually. Magnificent. Brilliant.”
Sherlock smirked.
“Yes,” he replied. Teasingly, he ran his fingers through her hair once more, rearranging it so that it rested on the front of Joan’s body, running past her breasts and towards her navel. “All that, and more. Though I must say I enjoyed your reaction to my pulling your hair the most.”
Joan chuckled, closing her eyes, maybe feeling a bit embarrassed, maybe just tired of seeing Sherlock’s self-satisfied smirk. Right now, Sherlock was way too comfortable to deduce the right answer.
“I knew you liked my hair,” she answered. “Lucky for you I like you holding on to it, then.”
“Very lucky,” Sherlock agreed, pressing a chaste kiss against her cheek. “Very lucky indeed.”
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fin.