John's posture stiffened. He wasn't sure if he was ready for...
"No... like this..." He pulled back John's foreskin, exposing the slick and darkening head, and then he pulled his own back as well. He pressed the tips of glans together and kept them in place with one hand while he pulled John's foreskin down, stretching and releasing and stretching and releasing again, working the pliable skin gently with the other while John waged a war between his arousal and his curiosity. Once it was lengthened enough to cover both their glans, he pulled John's forward and then began the same process on himself, taking time to stop, breathe and refocus on his goal rather than lose himself in sensation. He pulled his over the top. John looked down at their connection and gaped.
"You... are a clever, clever man."
"That I am."
John closed his eyes and tilted his head back, focusing on feeling not just the most responsive part of his entire body flush against Sherlock's, but the sensation of being wrapped in each other. He needed to see it happening.
John opened his eyes just as Sherlock began to stroke his hand softly over both of them... a slow vibrato. In no time, John was wet as hell, and Sherlock must have been too, because the two of them fused together in a literal bond, stimulating each other in a way which had simply never occurred to John before.
Hands... I should do something with..., John's mind cut through the haze and ran his hands across Sherlock's chest, caressing the high-end cotton that was refined enough to feel like silk, as Sherlock sped the pace. John could feel his cock swell, could feel Sherlock's cock swell, too. Could see his shaft darkening, and Sherlock's, beneath his quickly moving hand. John looked up to see Sherlock staring at him. Eyes like... eyes like Sherlock's fucking eyes,there is no simile better than the actual thing, and he shuddered and squirmed and groaned and thrashed until he saw himself coming coming coming and then he wondered what it must feel like for Sherlock, fused together with John's come trapped around his cock and it must feel bloody magnificent because Sherlock's coming too and oh my God yes! And was that in his head or out loud, because damned if he knew which.
"Oh..oh......oh, John!" Sherlock cried with an immense sigh of relief, before reluctantly separating them and beginning to clean off their cocks, his hand and much of the chair. John moved Sherlock's hand aside, struck with the urge to find out what a mixture of the two of them would taste like, and pushed Sherlock to the floor. His mouth was on him, reversing the momentum of Sherlock's softening cock as it responded to John engulfing him. Sherlock's hands hovered over the back of John's neck, hesitating, wanting, but afraid to grab him tight. John placed those hands on his shoulders and shoved himself forward deeply on Sherlock's behalf. No words were spoken, but the message was clear. It's fine. It's all fine. Sherlock was reduced to an inarticulate string of guttural noise. Listening closely, which by God he did, John could almost decipher the broken syllables as variations of his name.
FILL 16b/?Three" (Threesome fail)
"No... like this..." He pulled back John's foreskin, exposing the slick and darkening head, and then he pulled his own back as well. He pressed the tips of glans together and kept them in place with one hand while he pulled John's foreskin down, stretching and releasing and stretching and releasing again, working the pliable skin gently with the other while John waged a war between his arousal and his curiosity. Once it was lengthened enough to cover both their glans, he pulled John's forward and then began the same process on himself, taking time to stop, breathe and refocus on his goal rather than lose himself in sensation. He pulled his over the top. John looked down at their connection and gaped.
"You... are a clever, clever man."
"That I am."
John closed his eyes and tilted his head back, focusing on feeling not just the most responsive part of his entire body flush against Sherlock's, but the sensation of being wrapped in each other. He needed to see it happening.
John opened his eyes just as Sherlock began to stroke his hand softly over both of them... a slow vibrato. In no time, John was wet as hell, and Sherlock must have been too, because the two of them fused together in a literal bond, stimulating each other in a way which had simply never occurred to John before.
Hands... I should do something with..., John's mind cut through the haze and ran his hands across Sherlock's chest, caressing the high-end cotton that was refined enough to feel like silk, as Sherlock sped the pace. John could feel his cock swell, could feel Sherlock's cock swell, too. Could see his shaft darkening, and Sherlock's, beneath his quickly moving hand. John looked up to see Sherlock staring at him. Eyes like... eyes like Sherlock's fucking eyes,there is no simile better than the actual thing, and he shuddered and squirmed and groaned and thrashed until he saw himself coming coming coming and then he wondered what it must feel like for Sherlock, fused together with John's come trapped around his cock and it must feel bloody magnificent because Sherlock's coming too and oh my God yes! And was that in his head or out loud, because damned if he knew which.
"Oh..oh......oh, John!" Sherlock cried with an immense sigh of relief, before reluctantly separating them and beginning to clean off their cocks, his hand and much of the chair. John moved Sherlock's hand aside, struck with the urge to find out what a mixture of the two of them would taste like, and pushed Sherlock to the floor. His mouth was on him, reversing the momentum of Sherlock's softening cock as it responded to John engulfing him. Sherlock's hands hovered over the back of John's neck, hesitating, wanting, but afraid to grab him tight. John placed those hands on his shoulders and shoved himself forward deeply on Sherlock's behalf. No words were spoken, but the message was clear. It's fine. It's all fine. Sherlock was reduced to an inarticulate string of guttural noise. Listening closely, which by God he did, John could almost decipher the broken syllables as variations of his name.