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Sherlock grinds against John’s backside slowly, rubbing his throbbing erect cock against John’s clothed bottom. John is wearing his red pants. He lays flat and still against his bed, gripping his pillow in bliss, drooling, and groaning against it. Sherlock’s thrusting gets firmer but his pace is still achingly slow.
“P-please, Sherlock” John cries. John’s head feels like it’s fogged over with desire at this moment. He is fixated on The feeling of Sherlock against him. The firm press of his best friend's warm body on top of him, Sherlock’s and his ragged breathing, the movement of his bed.
“Fucking hell!” John cries. He’s throbbing, his cock trapped between the mattress, he can feel the dampness in his pants. Every thrust Sherlock does sends a jolt of pleasure rippling through him.
He feels Sherlock’s breath against his ear as the detective speaks, “It’s alright, John.”
John groans and tries to move gently under the weight of the other man as he feels aflame with desire but he is gloriously pinned. “Sherlock,” John cries as he manages to press himself more firmly against his friend, feeling the hard line of Sherlock thrusting between his arse cheeks. John groans as he feels Sherlock’s cock stutter and hears him cry out.
The detective is close but he's trying to extend this contact as best as he can.
“I'm right here, John,”
Sherlock whispers. John’s eyes roll back and he lets out a whimper.
“John?”
“Almost,” John says it feels like a slow beautiful torture.
He's so close. He can hardly take it, he's beginning to shake with the want of it all. He feels It building and building. “Sher- Oh, fuuuck!” “John?”
Sherlock calls again. John can hardly register what the detective is saying.
He whimpers and feels it all building. “John??” Sherlock’s voice is much more urgent now. Is he going to cum? John's eyes open blearily but it's dark. “Sher-” he tries to say but he blinks again. His eyes are open but it's dark. He seems to have drooled more than he'd originally thought because the pillow underneath him is quite damp. His heart is still pounding and his cock is so hard but he turns and changes position a bit and suddenly he realizes Sherlock is not on top of him and it's not as dark as he thought it was.
His eyes open and his brain feels foggy. He blinks against the sudden light that is shining from a low lamp next to his bed.
What the hell?
He rubs his eyes with a groan. “Sher-” and then he stops. Sitting in a chair next to his bed is Sherlock. Dressed in his dressing gown, pad and pen in hand, and staring down at John with wide eyes and a red face. John's heart rate accelerates as his brain catches up much too slowly.
Experiment.
He’d agreed to this experiment. Just that afternoon Sherlock had reminded John that the doctor still owed him a favour and had asked if John might partake in a harmless experiment. John would only have to lie in bed while Sherlock monitored his sleeping patterns and after he was done, the detective would leave. It was fairly simple and not as intrusive as Sheelock’s other experiments so John thought he had gotten off easy. It seemed that he was more wrong than he could have ever guessed because now he was lying in bed, hard as a rock having just dreamed about his best friend rutting against him and almost coming undone right in said friend's presence and now, he was shocked awake and absolutely speechless.
All Sherlock did was stare at John’s crotch until John could open his mouth to speak. “Dream,” was all that came out of his mouth. In John’s defence, he still felt groggy and very horny. His brain was working overtime.
“You…you called my name. You said- you were you-“ Sherlock couldn’t seem to find the words. “I was dreaming,” John says stating the obvious. “Yes,” was all Sherlock could say as he took in John’s dishevelled look. John was in his red pants like in the dream and a thin white shirt that had road up on his torso. Sherlock stared. That’s when John noticed Sherlock’s state. He was hard. John could see it even though Sherlock’s dressing gown was on.
He was aroused by John’s arousal. “I thought- you- I thought you were having a nightmare.” Sherlock finally said meeting John’s eyes. “At first, I thought it must be a nightmare but you weren’t dreaming of that. You were dreaming about me.” John supposed it must help Sherlock to state the obvious when sorting out his thoughts.
“You weren’t supposed to see that or…hear that. Fucking hell, Sherlock! I know I agreed but…” John laid back down with a sigh and covered himself with his blanket. It wasn’t Sherlock’s fault, John knew that…
“John, I-“
“No, Mate. It’s fine. It’s fine it’s not your fault…” John groaned and ran his hand over his face feeling quite stressed. This has to be a dream or a joke. Yeah, he was still dreaming. That had to be it. “But why did you stay when you realized?”
“I didn’t know what you were dreaming of precisely. It wasn’t unpleasant and I thought I could leave when I was done gathering data but then you…said my name. I should have noticed sooner by the way your hips were rocking and the way your eyelids fluttered, your shortness of breath, your groans, and how…” Sherlock’s voice was growing in breathiness as he glanced at John’s erection that was still visible under the blanket. “Aroused you were. It isn’t uncommon for one to become aroused while sleeping and if you are having a nightmare then it is normal to move, moan, and breathe quickly.”
John didn’t realize Sherlock was staring at his erection until he looked up. He’d never seen Sherlock’s eyes so dark. “You were moving as if something was holding you down, you didn’t thrust as if you were the one giving. You dreamed of me above you.” Sherlock’s words went straight to John’s prick. The detective didn’t seem put off in the least. John decided not to lie. He was getting too hot under his blanket. Sherlock was so visibly aroused and reciting exactly what he saw seemed to be turning the detective on.
“You were on top of me, grinding and holding me down.” Sherlock’s eyes pierced Johns, pinning him down as if daring him to lie and urging him to speak. “Going quite deliberately slow. You were whining. Do you often dream about me on top of you?” John felt faint. His heart pounded. “Both ways. Often.” he sounded wrecked. This was too much for 3 AM.
“Likewise. You were about to come when I woke you. My apologies. Please continue.”
John paused. His brain couldn't comprehend.
“What!?”
“Likewise. I disturbed you. My apologies. Please, do continue, John.”
John blinked. He wondered if he was still dreaming but either way, he wouldn't let this moment pass. If the love of his life wanted him to get off right in front of him, he wouldn't complain.
He glanced at Sherlock one last time and then moved the blankets down and laid back properly, watching Sherlock’s eyes follow the movement of his hand, down to his aching cock. He palmed himself as he watched Sherlock’s chest heave. He allowed a soft groan to escape his mouth. His eyes rolled back. He was still so hard and so close. He feared this wouldn’t take long.
He glanced over at Sherlock again. The detective looked like he was about to cry. His eyebrows were drawn up and his lips were in a pout but his eyes told a different story. They were dark and cataloguing every move John made. He was still gathering data. John didn’t mind the way this experiment was turning out. Sherlock’s eyes on him were fanning the flames. John groaned again and pulled his pants down. He watched Sherlock’s eyes widen at the sight of his thick cock. The wave of pleasure that hit John was almost enough to send him over before he could begin.
John was panting now, shaking with desire. He stroked himself slowly and watched Sherlock breathe and stare. He looked like he wanted to devour him. His very look alone was making John so close.
Sherlock seemed to realise this and he stood up quickly. For a second, John thought he was getting up to leave but instead, the detective took off his dressing gown and untied the strings of his thin pyjama bottoms. Sherlock sat back down and pulled his hard cock out and began to stroke slow and firm. John groaned out and Sherlock threw his head back and bucked into his fist and when he looked back at John he began to speak, “You must have deduced.”
John was far too busy watching Him stroke himself to pay enough attention to what he was saying. “What?” John croaked out, glazed over with lust. “I like it slow and firm. I’d want to coax every moan from your lips, John. Feel every possible sensation. Make you come shaking and recked so that you’d feel it long after we’re done. I’d want you aching for it.” Sherlock's voice was like lava. “Fuuuck,” was all John could say before squeezing himself so he wouldn’t come.
Sherlock’s voice filled his head and made him cry out. “Fuuuck, please, fucking- Sherlock!” John could barely get out the words. He reached for him. Sherlock seemed to understand the detective came over quickly and got on his knees in front of John.
John scooted to the edge of the bed and Sherlock wasted no time as he took John’s cock into his mouth a sucked long and hard. John cursed at the ceiling as he threw his head back. “Fuuucking yessss!!” John couldn’t watch as Sherlock's head bobbed. He knew if he glanced down, that would be it for him. Sherlock was surprisingly good at this and he was about to come any second. Sherlock's mouth was wet, hot, and absolutely lovely. John could just imagine what it must look like sucking him down. “Sherlock,” John groaned. Sherlock pulled off and John glanced down at him. His flushed cheeks, red lips, and blissed-out expression were something John knew he could never part with or unsee.
He was so beautiful. “Sherlock! Oh, fuck,” John threw his head back and then looked back down at his best mate. He panted out, “You’re so fucking gorgeous. You look so gorgeous with my cock in your mouth!” Sherlock groans and grabs his own cock quickly. It seemed that John wasn’t the only one close. The detective stood up, pushed John back onto his bed, and kissed him within an inch of his life. John kissed back with as much enthusiasm.
Once their cocks brushed each other they were both scrambling to get Sherlock's pyjama bottoms off and slotting themselves between each other’s legs so that their cocks matched up. Sherlock took them both in hand quickly and thrust himself onto John. John cried out and held Sherlock close as his friend tossed them both off together. John knew he only had seconds, he squeezed Sherlock’s arse and Sherlock buried his head in John's shoulder. “John!” He cried and that was enough, John shook apart coming so hard he didn’t know where he was for a second. Sherlock went off soon after crying out and coming all over John’s stomach and chest. Sherlock felt like jelly. He threw himself on the side of John so that he didn’t crush the other man.
There is silence for a long time neither of them feels the need to speak but John takes his shirt off and cleans up their mess then throws it on his floor without a care. He leans in closer to his detective and they spoon. “Got enough data?” John say’s before he begins to doze off. Sherlock blinks for a second as he was not expecting that. He smiles. “Not nearly enough.” He says groggily feeling as if he’ll fall asleep any second. “I think we will need to run a few more tests shortly. That’s is, if you are amenable.” John chuckles. “Oh, I think I am quite amenable.”