Then Sherlock pushed him over, flipped onto his back, expression dazed and wild. “Do it like this, John.” He wrapped his legs around John’s hips and pulled him in. “Like this. You’re not hitting the right spot.”
John soothed him, his distress disconcerting. “Okay, okay, Sherlock. I’ve got you.” He pulled Sherlock closer to his lap, opening his thighs to lower himself, get down to sherlock’s level. He blew gently on Sherlock’s chest as he worked his cock back inside of him, guiding it with one hand while the other stroked through Sherlock’s hair, traveled down to his neck. John kissed him when he’d seated himself, licked inside his mouth and then the hollow at the base of his throat, sipping the salted sweat that pooled there.
He aimed carefully, watching Sherlock’s face, angling his hips until he found it, the sweet spot, and Sherlock went rigid underneath him, a hoarse sound torn from him as he flung his head back. “There! /There, John, oh, fuck, god, do it. Go, do it!” and blunt fingernails dug into John’s sides as Sherlock sighed and coiled underneath him.
John drew back and let go, hammered hard, each thrust forcing a deep cry from Sherlock, who pulled him in almost angrily, unseeing, focus inwards. “More, more. John, /John, John /DO IT,” he cried.
And John did, worked until his every muscle quivered and burned. “Touch yourself,” he gritted, wrapping his hand around Sherlock’s neck, enhancing the arch of it, until all he could see was the strain of Sherlock’s throat, the seeking lift of his ribs, and finally the frantic motion of his arm as he did as John said, stripping his cock mercilessly.
It didn’t take more than a few seconds before he was coming, pyretic ribbons of ejaculate embellishing his body, covering dark moles, shining like rivers on alabaster flesh, and the convulsions of his frame, the clenching of the walls around John’s cock drew John’s own orgasm, so intense as to be nearly painful, but transcendent all the same, pushing semen deep inside Sherlock, claiming him internally, aggressively, and John collapsed with a shout and a shudder, aftershocks milking him of little bits more, he could feel it bathing the head of his cock, liquid heat surrounding sensitive skin, and he liked to think that Sherlock felt it as well, the heat and the power and the ownership of it.
[Part 1, Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13]
[ETA: Story complete and now posted: over 1k more words and more gifs for your pleasure:]
When John signs up to partner with Sherlock Holmes in photography class, he never guesses it will end up with him balls-deep in his study partner’s arse. Easy A?