Fic: Blow-by-blow (5/7)

[anarion]

Finally: chapter 5 of the 'Blowjobs for science' series. Sherlock is in for a surprise! :)
Fasten your seat belts, ladies (and gents)!


Title: Surprise Blow
Words: 1495
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: none
Pairings : Sherlock/John
Beta: the wonderful verityburns
Disclaimer: Sadly the characters are not mine and no money is made (that would be sooo cool!).

Summary: 'Blow-by-blow' is the follow-up series for my blowjob 221B which can be found here. John teaches Sherlock about blowjobs.



Previous chapter here

[Because Verity made the valid point that the previous porn has probably erased all the case related information in your brains here be a summary of things that happened before: Sherlock asked John to help him with a case about a man who was murdered while receiving a blowjob. Since Sherlock had never gotten a blowjob before, John agreed to show him what it feels like. (You know, for science…)
In order not to give his own attraction to Sherlock away, John has decided to concentrate on the case during future blowjobs.]


Surprise Blow

A few days later John woke up after reading the autopsy report again late at night and decided to act. It was not fair that he was the only one suffering through this whole blowjob debacle, today he would show that he could be as professional and case-orientated about this as the brilliant bastard.

Today he would try to 'murder' Sherlock while bringing him off. He put a little plastic knife in his pocket. If he managed to poke Sherlock in the chest with it, the course of events might get clearer.

Sherlock had his back turned, standing at the kitchen counter in his usual state of undress. John slowly walked right up behind him, then put his hands out to grip the counter on either side, effectively capturing him.

“John, considering the fact that you’re the one always preaching about personal space, I am slightly confused by your current behaviour.“

“I just thought today might be a good day to try the spontaneity thing.“

“The... ?”

John placed a firm hand on Sherlock’s arse, making the other man actually jump before deliberately stilling himself.

“Oh. Oh! I wasn’t sure you if you were still willing to do that after last Tuesday.”

“All the reasons why I am doing this are still valid and I’m still not letting you go down on me. As long as we’re clear on that...”

“We are.”

“Ok then.”

John placed both his hands on Sherlock’s hips and closed the distance between them, pressing his whole body against Sherlock’s back. He buried his face between Sherlock’s shoulders, breathing in his scent, while he moved his hands under the other man’s shirt and slowly stroked upwards.

He caressed Sherlock’s nipples, feeling his heart beat elevate under his palms, and at the same time he monitored his own bodily reactions closely, in order to step away before his erection was hard enough to be noticed by Sherlock.

At the moment their contact was more tender than arousing though and John knew that he was on dangerous ground, because he could explain his erection as a purely physical reaction. But the sort of cuddling he was doing right now?

He moved his hands down towards the waistband and Sherlock made a deep rumbling noise in his chest, that John actually could feel in his own body. He suddenly imagined the same scenario without clothes and himself buried deep inside Sherlock and wondered where else he would be able to feel the rumbling.

At that point he had to nearly jump away from their full body contact, because his cock went from ‘possibly hard in about three minutes’ to ‘rock hard in two seconds'.

Luckily, Sherlock didn’t seem to have noticed. John moved his hand further down and cupped the other’s slowly hardening cock.

“Turn.”

Sherlock did, leaning against the counter and grabbing the edge with both hands.
There was something in his gaze that made John’s heart stutter, but he ignored it and went to his knees to nose Sherlock’s cock, smelling musky, male and so very much like Sherlock.

He started nibbling and breathing through the fabric until the standing man’s breath turned into soft huffs, then he slid down the trousers (discovering that his flatmate once again did not bother with pants), grabbed Sherlock’s hips and licked a broad line along his shaft.

Sherlock whimpered and John looked up matter-of-factly.

“I will try to kill you this time.” He waited until Sherlock’s eyes widened and then added, “Literally. With my plastic knife.”

He showed the knife and then bowed his head to lick again and Sherlock’s eyes fell shut. This would be way too easy.

He pulled his lips over Sherlock’s glans and sucked softly, increasing the pace when Sherlock started to rock his hips to get more friction.

John looked up and tried to figure out how to create the same pattern of wounds that were described in the report. No, the angle was all wrong.

Sherlock made an impatient noise and John realised that he had stopped moving.

“Focus. Please.“

“I am. I was thinking about how to murder you. That is the whole reason for this exercise after all. If you noticed that I was distracted, so would he when they were frequent lovers. Plus I would still have to get up to kill you, because from down here the angle is wrong. The only thing I can think of is that the murderer used the after glow of the orgasm. But since the victim was still erect after death that did not happen.“

“John...“ He actually sounded close to begging.

John grinned and circled his tongue around the glans before swallowing Sherlock’s cock completely. The resulting growl nearly made him lose his concentration on the case.

John gripped the base of the other man’s cock with his hand, slackened his jaw muscles and started sucking Sherlock in earnest.

The tall man was rolling his hips and moaning, gripping the edge of the counter so hard that his knuckles were completely white.

John decided to try to place himself in the role of the killer. So they were lovers and he needed to get up without arising suspicion. He could suggest moving to the bedroom or pretend to go for lube... His thoughts travelled off to an image of Sherlock, bent over the kitchen table, being thoroughly fucked by John.

“You’ve stopped – again.“ It was almost a sob.

“Yeah, sorry. Let’s try something else.“

John replaced his mouth with his hand and stood up. Sherlock was still a little way off orgasm so John again concentrated on the How, especially to distract himself from the hot, wet cock gliding through his fist and the open-mouthed moans filling the kitchen.

“This is a better angle, but you would have wondered why I got up, so I need something to distract you. I think I could kill you right know, if I were to kiss you...“

Fingernails suddenly digging into his arm and a hoarse cry made him refocus in time to guide Sherlock through his abrupt release. Hot fluid covered his hand and he watched breathless as Sherlock’s head rolled back and his whole body shook as he rode through his orgasm.

What happened? John wondered. Was it the thought of John kissing him that tipped Sherlock over the edge? No, it couldn’t be. This was for science, nothing more.

Sherlock slumped forward, almost tripping them both, but John caught him and held him close. He had to stumble a few steps back though and suddenly found himself against the fridge, his fantasy of being pressed to a wall/door/whatever by Sherlock crashing down on him.

He cursed silently, because until now he had managed to distract himself from his own arousal by concentrating on how to kill Sherlock (in a manner of speaking). That all went right to hell.

John helped Sherlock sit on a chair and got a towel to clean him up.

“That was technically not a blowjob.” Sherlock opened his eyes and looked at him accusingly.

“No, but I just proved how difficult it is to kill someone while at the same time blowing them. I also answered the question of how to not m...”

Sherlock quelled him with a glare, which shut him up very effectively, and announced that he was going to have a shower.

He got up, stripped out of his trousers and bent to pick them up, presenting John with a fine view of his very erotic backside. The fact that he was still wearing his shirt made the sight just that tiny bit hotter.

John had to grab the edge of the table for support and cursed silently because he was in actual danger – despite all his efforts – of coming in his pants. In their kitchen. Without a touch.

He also was incapable of looking away and like a hypnotised rabbit he watched Sherlock leave the room.

Bloody hell, did he actually just wiggle his arse?



Next chapter here!



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AN: Yeah, I have no idea if an erection stays after dying. Partly because I never had an erection, partly because I never died and certainly because I never experienced both together. Call it artistic freedom. :-)

Title of the series by atlinmerrick! <3


Also, I need everybody's help!
I am writing a 221B about John contemplating his crazy living situation. So if you have any ideas for crazy/funny/dangerous/brilliant/mad/impossible things Sherlock might have done, please tell me! :)







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