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John walks in into the flat hauling groceries, and one back bag, passing Sherlock on the way to the kitchen. “Hello, Sherlock.” No response. Mind Palace then, won’t hear from him in a while, perfect…
John smirks, while putting the groceries away. Grabbing the black bag, he heads towards their room.
John open the bag, and pulls out the contents, and starts to undress.
Sherlock, looks up to the sounds of their bedroom door closing, sits up on the couch, and takes notes on the paper work in front of him. John walks back out into the kitchen. Sherlock looks up, dropping his pen, and stares.
“Tea, Sherlock?” John turns around. John is clad in only a long black dress shirt, going up about mid-thigh top few buttons undone, slightly off skew on his shoulders.
“Y-…Yeah, sure.” Sherlock, looking up and down, taking in the sight John. Gorgeous, fuck, he needs to wear that, just that, more often.
“Okay then.” He turns around on the spot, reaches up into the cabinet, and pulls out the tea. While Sherlock takes in the new sight with a light gasp. A hint of red showing as the shirt rides up, showing the bottom of his ass, shaped perfectly by white stitching at the seams.
The sharp intake of breath brought John back down, smirking. Got him. John finishes making his tea, strides across the room, hands Sherlock his tea, and sits in his chair, legs slightly parted, a shadowed dark red peeking out. Sherlock swallows, his mouth dry.
“John,” Sherlock leans back on the couch, slouching slightly, raising one eyebrow at John.
“Sherlock.” John leans back, parting his legs, placing one hand to rub at his neck, one on the inner side of his thigh. Shirt riding up more, exposing more of the red briefs. Looking absolutely wonton.
Sherlock smirks, eyes roaming. He sits down his tea. He lifts one hand, waggling his finger in a ‘come hither’ motion, rubbing at his growing erection under his trousers.
John smirks as he walks across the room towards Sherlock, slips a leg over Sherlock’s own, and sliding his erection along his leg. Sherlock leans up, kissing John, immediately pushing his tongue in deep, wrapping his arms around John’s waist.
“You need to wear this more often.” Sherlock said, sliding a hand around the waistband of the bright pants under the dark dress shirt.
“Just bought it, hoped you liked it.” John nipped at the other’s collarbones, unbuttoning Sherlock’s dark purple shirt.
“Oh yes, I do in a matter of fact. For now on, when we are alone, you wear this, nothing else.”
“Like the color then?”
“You’ve no idea.” He started, unbuttoning the black shirt with one hand, sliding his other hand down to John’s ass, under the red cloth, gripping, lifting him up. He slide his hand around the open shirt, down his belly, and rubbing John’s cock through his pants.
John looks down, Sherlock’s sizable length, pushing against his trousers. Sherlock lifts him up, sliding down, pulling John on top of him.
“Let me take a look then?”
John obeys, leaning back, hands on Sherlock’s lower legs, shirts opening on each side of him, erection straining the front of him through the briefs, darkening the red at the tip with pre-come. Sherlock, leans back, taking a breath, head on the arm rest. He slides his hand up along John’s legs, around his middle, grasping his buttocks, pulling John down against him.
“Sherlock, please, I need you.”
“Of course, John.” Sherlock, not taking his eyes off John, reaches next to him, reaching into the cushions of the couch, retrieving a bottle of lube.
“Really, Sherlock?” Eyeing the bottle.
“Comes in handy, didn’t it?” Sherlock says, sliding his hands up John’s thighs, placing the bottle in the waistband of John’s briefs. John leans back, unbuttoning Sherlock’s pants, lifting him up, and slides them off, his erection straining his black silk boxers.
Sherlock, switches their positions. Leaning down, spreading John’s legs, and licking a stripe up the cloth covered erection, stopping to kiss and suck at the moist tip. John’s hand runs in Sherlock’s hair, thrusting his hips up. Sherlock nips lightly.
Sherlock lifts John up from the couch, moves the coffee table aside, pushing his boxers down, and bends John over the cushions of the couch. John kneeling on the floor, Sherlock behind him. Sherlock pushes John’s shirt up to his middle, sliding down, grabbing the bottle of lube, and placing it next to them, lightly pulling at the waistband. The ass on this man…
“Sherlock, please, I need you…” John moans, pushing back against him. Sherlock pushes his cock against Johns red clad bottom. He leans over, kissing down his back, stopping short the bottom of John’s spine, grabbing the white tubing, pulling that garment, snapping it back. He moves around to his front, fishing John’s cock through the opening of the briefs, stroking him lightly.
Sherlock grabs the lube, clicking the bottle open, coating his fingers, bringing his mouth to John’s shoulder, kissing the scar lightly. Sherlock pushes his middle finger into John. John moans at the intrusion, pushing back. Lube dripping onto the red briefs below Sherlock’s fingers, staining it wine red.
A second finger gently pushes along the first, scissoring lightly. Sherlock leans up, nipping at John’s neck, under his shirt, and shoulder blades. He reaches around, pulling at John’s waistband of his briefs, and snaps it back, at the same time as he adds a third finger. Johns gasping at the feeling.
He withdraws his fingers, grabbing the lube, and coating his erection, pushing the red briefs to one side.
“Sherlock, I swear if you don’t- FUCK…!”
Sherlock pushes in, as John wails, sinking to the hilt, in one thrust.
“Very eager, John, then again, you better be. Walking into the kitchen like that, what am I going to do with you next, John. Maybe pay back.” Sherlock slowly withdraws.
“How about, fuck me now, hard, and we’ll find about that after.”
“Your wish, is my command.” Sherlock snaps his hips forward, impaling John with a sharp thrust. John cries out in ecstasy, putting his forehead on his arms on the couch. Sherlock grabs both of John’s shoulders, and thrusts, slowly at first, but harder after a few more.
Sherlock reaches around, sliding his hands through the waistband in the front, massaging the skin underneath. Pushing his hands through the bottom, grabbing John’s cock, stroking him languidly.
Sherlock angled his thrusts to hit John’s prostate directly, earning a wail and moan from John, grinning back on him. Sherlock pulled out.
“Sherlock? Holy…”
Sherlock flipped him over, slamming back in. Kissing John with passion, thrusting up into him, John’s legs wrapped around Sherlock’s middle.
Sherlock leans back, taking in the sight, John leaning back, arms above his head. Red in stark contrast, turning dark from the pre-come running down his cock, landing on his briefs below.
“Fuck! Sherlock… So close.” John reaches down, grabbing his cock in his hand, pulling in time with his thrusts.
“Me… too…” Sherlock ran his hands up John’s torso, wrapping his arms around him, biting lightly on his shoulder, and coming deep into John with a last few pumps, whispering John’s name, as John screams his. John came simultaneously as Sherlock, coating both of their stomachs and those red and white briefs.
After their post-orgasmic haze, Sherlock pulls out. John shakily stands up, tucks himself back into his red briefs, and lies on the couch, face down. He moves his head to the side, staring at Sherlock, smiling. Who is sitting in the carpet. Sherlock was staring right back, John, lying on the couch, hair mussed, breathing heavy.
Sherlock walks up behind John, straddling the back of his legs, watching as his come slowly dribbles out of John, further darkening his pants, creating a light sheen. He slides on the couch next to him, and they both fall asleep together.
The next day, John was sitting in his usual chair, reading the paper, when Sherlock walks in from their bedroom in his dressing gown behind John, kissing him on the lips as he passes by.
He walks over and sits on his chair. John looks up, eyes growing dark, grinning at the sight before him. Sherlock in his dressing gown wide open, and nothing else on but a pair of white briefs, with black outlined stitching.
“Like I said, pay back.” Sherlock says, staring back.
John lifts a hand, and beacons him over. Sherlock obliges.