John's eyes flew open and he sprung up in bed when he heard the whimpers of pain coming from not too far away. He listened for a while longer and sighed with relief when he realised it was Sherlock. He threw the sheets off of him and made his way towards Sherlock's bedroom.
Once he was outside the door the whimpering turned into gasping breaths, John was considering turning around when he heard a small sob. He knocked on the door quietly before opening it.
"Um S-Sherlock?" he said tentatively, "You awake?"
"I'm fine John," he heard out of the darkness of Sherlock's room, John could see the outline of Sherlock sitting up in bed, rubbing at his eyes, "go back to bed, I'll be fine."
John walked further into the room and stopped when he felt his knees hit the edge of Sherlock's mattress. He sat down, narrowly avoiding one of Sherlock's legs, and spoke soothingly to the distressed man.
"Are you ever going to tell me what these nightmares are about?" John asked.
He sensed, more than saw, Sherlock shake his head and lie back down, "they're not important."
John sighed; he got the same response every time. It was always either, 'it's not important,' or 'it's none of your business.'
John moved onto the bed more and lay down on the side that wasn't already taken up, "what are you doing, John?" Sherlock asked, as John prodded him on the back, "move over," John whispered. Sherlock did as he was told and John got to lie down comfortably. Sherlock was looking at him with confusion; John gave him a small smile.
"Turn around," John said.
"Why?"
"Just do it, Sherlock."
Sherlock sighed before turning over, exposing his naked back to John. John lifted up a hand and placed it softly on top of Sherlock's head, before rubbing and pulling at strands of Sherlock's hair. He heard a sigh of satisfaction come from his friend, and so continued on.
"Why are you doing this John?"
John continued to play with the other man's hair as he answered, "I notice that sometimes, when you're thinking hard, or when you're stressed, you pull at your hair."
He heard Sherlock chuckle, "I don't really notice when I do that..."
"I do."
He continued to stroke Sherlock's hair until he heard Sherlock's breath slowly evening out. John smiled, satisfied, and made his way back to his own bed.
The next morning, John made his way down to the kitchen and saw Sherlock making two cups of coffee. Normally, John would make the coffee and when Sherlock did make the coffee, it was only one mug, for himself. So John was shocked, to say the least, to see two steaming hot mugs of the caffeinated beverage in each of Sherlock's hand.
"Morning John," Sherlock said, placing the two mugs on the coffee table and sitting down in his usual chair as John made his way over to his.
"What's with the coffee?" John asked, sitting down and making himself comfortable, "you never make me coffee."
Sherlock nodded slowly, "this is just my way of saying thank you for last night."
"You didn't actually have to do anything Sherlock; a simple thank you would have sufficed-."
"It's coffee, John."
John nodded, taking a sip and thinking about what to say next.
Sherlock spoke before he could.
"There was a crime scene in the news this morning; I expect Greg will be driving this way as we speak..."
"So you do actually know that Greg is his name?"
"Of course," Sherlock said, taking a sip of his own coffee, "I only pretend I don't when he's being annoying."
"But you do it to him all the time."
"He's annoying all the time."
John shook his head and rolled his eyes.
Around about ten minutes later, when both Sherlock and John had finished drinking their coffee, they both heard the booming knock from downstairs, Sherlock smiled, happy to be proved right, "time to go grab my coat then."
John walked downstairs, Lestrade smiled, "morning John."
"Greg," he said, standing in front of the slightly taller man, "so, what's happened?"
"Oh, you know, just a very strange murder that happened at a very bad time; nothing more than the usual drama."
"Want to give me more details than that?" John asked.
"Wait until we get there..." Greg began to look peeved, "where the hell is Sherlock?"
"I'M COMING!"
Sherlock came down the stairs, two seconds later, wrapping his scarf around his neck and shoving his phone into his coat pocket.
"Is this what you call fashionably late?" Greg asked, looking bemused.
"Shut up Graham."
Three hours later, John and Sherlock had gone back home. Sherlock was sitting at the table on his laptop, pulling at his hair as he read the webpage in front of him. John was in the kitchen, making coffee for himself and Sherlock.
He heard a sigh of frustration from Sherlock; the man had his head in his hands.
"Are you alright?"
"I've got a headache."
John walked over, carrying Sherlock's coffee with him, leaving his own on the messy kitchen bench that hadn't been cleaned of old newspapers for weeks. He placed the coffee down beside Sherlock's hand, before moving his hand up to Sherlock's scalp again and pulling at the hair strands lightly, like he had last night. Sherlock sighed, feeling content again, and opened his eyes to continue reading the article about the case he was helping Lestrade with.
John was reading over Sherlock's shoulder. He frowned; he didn't quite understand what else Sherlock could get from a poorly written article. All the details they already knew were there, for everyone to see, minus the fact that the two bodies had been found on their beds, the female in full latex gear, handcuffed to the bed.
He was reading the article for the second time when he felt Sherlock stiffen underneath him and let out a tiny moan. John frowned and stopped massaging Sherlock's scalp.
"Sorry," John muttered, "I didn't mean to hurt you."
Sherlock shook his head, "you didn't..."
John shrugged and continued to massage the man's head, Sherlock opened a word document and began typing things down, when suddenly his fingers stilled and his hands began clenching into fists. The man sucked in a deep breath and in the reflection of the screen, John saw Sherlock bite his lip, in the attempt to stifle another moan.
John's eyes widened as it finally dawned on him; Sherlock was getting immensely turned on by this.
John moved his hand away for a second, Sherlock's fingers unclenched and went back to being splayed across the keys of the keyboard, he began to type slowly, and slowly sped up, getting caught up in his thoughts. John put his hand back down to his side, before returning back to the kitchen and grabbing his own mug of coffee, which had gone room temperature.
"You might want to drink your coffee before it goes cold," John said, taking a sip of his coffee and trying not to act too awkward. Sherlock nodded, picking up his mug of coffee and sculled the whole thing before going back to the laptop.
"I'm guessing your headache is gone then?" John asked.
Sherlock nodded hastily, "oh yeah."
John nodded slowly, before pouring the rest of his unfinished coffee in the sink and making his way to his room.
His dream was odd that night. It started with him massaging Sherlock's scalp again, he had another headache while working on a case. He was just sitting there, and suddenly Sherlock let out a loud moan, and before John could react, he had been pushed off of his chair and pinned to the ground. Sherlock's hips grinding into his and panting hotly in his ear. John could feel himself getting hard. Sherlock's hand began rising towards the zip on his jeans, and-.
That's when John woke up, confused and extremely hard.
The next day, Sherlock went off to investigate the crime scene further, while John unintentionally slept in. He had been up until five in the morning after his dream, either thinking about what it could possibly mean, other than the extremely obvious, or jerking off to it. When John woke up, he remembered his dream and his difficulty sleeping from before and sighed.
When he walked into the kitchen, he saw a note on the bench that told him Sherlock had disappeared to investigate further. He made himself coffee and sat down at his spot before going back to contemplating the dream he had had.
It was at five thirty in the afternoon that Sherlock finally returned.
"You left at eleven this morning," John said, placing the laptop on the coffee table in front of him, "what took you so long?"
Sherlock shrugged, "oh, nothing."
It was that night that Sherlock had another one of his nightmares. John woke up to hear whimpers of pain again, and then heavy breathing. By this point, John was already out of bed, out the bedroom door and making his way to Sherlock's room. He threw open Sherlock's bedroom door to see Sherlock sitting in the middle of his bed, rubbing his eyes with the bedside lamp on.
"John, I'm-."
John continued to walk forwards and pushed Sherlock down on the bed, before lying down beside him, "are you ever going to tell me what these nightmares are about?"
"I don't know what they're about John," Sherlock said with a sigh, John looked over to see Sherlock's eyes looking damp, his face pale, "otherwise I would have told you by now..."
John frowned lightly, before making a motion with his hand, "turn your back to me..."
"You don't have to do this John," Sherlock said, looking the man straight in the eye, "I can handle it."
"It's not some big deal," John said, once again making the motion and pushing Sherlock's shoulder slightly, "it's just to help you calm down."
After a few more uncertain looks, Sherlock sighed and turned his back to John, who commenced what had happened not too long ago. He massaged the man's scalp and pulled lightly at the strands, listening as Sherlock breathing slowly began to calm.
John was beginning to nod off again himself. But he became alert when Sherlock's breathing turned harsher.
"Sherlock, -."
Sherlock turned over hastily, knocking John's arm away before grabbing both John's arms, swinging a leg over the man's torso, and pinning him down.
"I really...really, tried to warn you," Sherlock said, panting. John looked up at him with shocked eyes, shocked, but not afraid. Sherlock's eyes were filled with desire and worry, "you can leave," Sherlock meant to move, but John's hands grabbed Sherlock's forearms hastily. Sherlock looked down at John and saw the same sense of desire he felt building up in his eyes.
"Maybe I want to," John said, his voice baring no sense of awkwardness or worry. Sherlock dived down without a moment's hesitation and attacked John's lips with his own. Moaning as he began thrusting his naked hips on John's clothed ones, grinding against him. John was still pinned down, rubbing his hands against Sherlock's upper forearms softly as the man above him kissed him with such a ferocity that it felt like every part of John was on fire.
Sherlock stopped suddenly, and got off of the bed.
"What are you doing?" John asked, getting up, panting slightly.
Sherlock crouched down and grabbed something from under his bed, two pairs of leather black leather cuffs, the chains connecting them were shiny silver. John swallowed harshly, noticing now that Sherlock was already naked and he was still in his pyjamas.
As Sherlock stood straight back up, John moved forward and kissed Sherlock hungrily. Sherlock moaned and was pushed onto a bed, John following and leaning above him, caressing Sherlock's torso softly and occasionally suckling at his neck. He began to undo the tie on his pants, when Sherlock grabbed John's hand, causing John to stop in his tracks.
"What-?" John looked down at Sherlock and it clicked, "you want to top."
Sherlock nodded.
John bit his lip and nodded slowly, "yeah...sure, okay," John climbed off of Sherlock hurriedly and lay back down on the bed, the tie on his pants only halfway untied. Sherlock fixed that quickly, tugging John's pants off with one swift movement. He stroked the outside of John's briefs with a finger, causing John to shudder and close his eyes at the sensation it left.
John watched as Sherlock's hands reached into his briefs and started tugging on his cock, making him gasp aloud. Sherlock snickered softly, stopping shortly only to softly kiss John before going back to his task. He took off John's briefs and threw them away into a dark corner of the room.
Next was the shirt, Sherlock pulled roughly at the buttons of John's button down impatiently, until he gave up and began tugging at the shirt, making the all the buttons pop off and scatter around the room. Sherlock threw the shirt on the floor and reached underneath the bed, two leather hand cuffs. He stood at the end of the bed, fastening John's feet the bed frame once again. John watched, not realising he was holding his breath.
John felt his hand get lifted up and his eyes flew open and watched as one of the leather cuffs was wrapped around his wrist and the other side of the leather cuff was hooked onto one of the poles sticking up on the bed head. He turned to Sherlock as he felt Sherlock do the same with his other hand.
"So this is what you're into?" John asked with a sheepish laugh, "bondage?"
Sherlock smirked, "oh, not quite."
The riding crop came into view as Sherlock slowly trailed it down John's naked body, when it slid between his legs; he thrust his hips up, causing him to get a harsh whack on his upper thigh from the riding crop.
A welt appeared in seconds, red and angry against John's honey coloured flesh, his cock twitched in a delight he could never have possibly imagined having after being hit with a riding crop. He bit his lip as the stinging sensation began to slowly fade out; sucking in a breath he looked at Sherlock, who was smirking again.
"Not exactly vanilla, are you John?"
John moaned as another slap of the leather riding crop landed on his other thigh, and barely noticed as Sherlock walked closer to him with something round in his hand.
John almost came when he felt Sherlock's touch on his cock again, but frowned when he felt something slip around it. He looked down and watched as Sherlock fixed a cock ring on him. Sherlock rubbed the slit, moving the pre-cum around it with his thumb, before lifting his thumb to his mouth and lightly sucking on it.
"Don't want you coming before I want you to..."
"You're a sadist Sherlock!"
Sherlock chuckled, "don't pretend you aren't enjoying it."
Sherlock moved onto the bed, sitting on John's slightly separated thighs. He leaned down and licked red tip of John's cock, he felt John's breath hitch suddenly and began sucking lightly on the tip, tonguing the slit and swirling his tongue around, dipping down further every so often to hear another rare sound leave John's parted lips.
Sherlock looked up every so often to see John's eyes closed and his mouth open slightly, Sherlock could hear John panting heavily and every so often could hear an 'oh God,' or 'holy shit,' from him. Those were the only intelligible words John was making.
"I need to come!"
Sherlock chuckled, still sucking John's cock, going at a faster speed now, and bobbing his head up and down repeatedly. The chuckling causing vibrations and trembled down John's cock and created waves of pleasure that made John moan louder than he had before. Sherlock lifted his head and took his mouth away from John's member, and smiled at the other man.
"You may need to come; but I don't want you to."
John threw his head back into the pillow and cursed Sherlock.
Sherlock unhooked one side of the leather cuffs off of the bed frame, before doing the same with John's other hand. John rubbed softly at his wrists before trying to remove the cock ring.
Sherlock picked up his riding crop again and slapped the leather against John's shoulder, causing the man to hiss and look back at Sherlock, "don't touch the cock ring," Sherlock said, smirking darkly, "Maybe I should tighten the straps..."
He forced John onto his stomach and pushed his hands back onto the bed frame and tightened the leather cuffs, making sure John had no way of getting the cuffs off the bed posts without difficulty. He pulled John's hips back, and reached into the draw in his bedside table, pulling out the lube.
"You want to continue?" Sherlock asked, waving the tube of lube in front of the other man's face. John nodded hastily, "Oh God yes," he panted, pushing his backside out, towards Sherlock's hips. Sherlock smirked and opened the tube, pushing the clear liquid out and onto his long fingers. He circled John's puckered hole with a lubricated digit before pushing it in, slowly.
He heard John hiss, but at the same time, he pushed into Sherlock's finger. Sherlock slowly began fingering him, adding fingers one at a time, before he had three in there pushing in and out lightly.
Without warning, Sherlock pulled away his fingers, causing John to groan in disappointment. Sherlock smirked again before grabbing his riding crop from the side of the bed and slapping it against his arse.
"No more groans of disappointment John."
He saw John nod.
He grabbed his heavy, hard cock, and levelled it with John's entrance. He put one hand on John's back to steady him as his other hand guided him into John's heat. Sherlock moaned aloud as he entered John, throwing his head back slightly at the pleasurable sensation. He could feel John breathing heavily and the occasional small moan as he continued to push in, until he was completely in.
"Hold on to the headboard," Sherlock demanded. John's hand's wrapped around the posts quickly and without hesitation, seeing as they were really the only things he could grab. Sherlock pulled back slowly, and pushed back in just as slow; waiting...
"Fuck me harder," John said, shifting his hands on the posts.
Whack
"What's the magic word?" Sherlock grunted out, trying hard to control himself and thrust at a slow pack. A red welt began to expose itself on John's upper back.
"Please..."
Sherlock wrapped his arm around John's stomach, still holding the riding crop and began thrusting harder and faster. John's choked moans and whimpers indicating that Sherlock was hitting his prostate with every thrust.
Sherlock bent down and trailed bites down John's back, John moaning underneath him uncontrollably.
He was going to come soon.
Biting his lip, so hard it could have bled; he reached down and carefully took off the cock ring that had been hindering John for the last few minutes. He wrapped his long fingers around it, stroking it along with his thrusts; John threw his head back, leaning it against Sherlock's shoulder as he continued to jerk him off.
With one last, strong moan; John orgasmed, shaking uncontrollably as he came on the bed sheets and on Sherlock's hand, Sherlock panting breaths making his ear hot as he did so.
Sherlock came with a long, loud moan, nails digging into John's hips as he rode out his orgasm, whimpering as waves of pleasure tumbled over him. He flopped, drained from his orgasm, onto John's back, panting heavily. He moved his mouth slowly and sucked a bit of John's skin between his teeth, making John breathe in suddenly. When Sherlock was done, a purple bruise was forming. Dark and purple compared to the other light purple bruises that would appear all over his back from Sherlock's mouth.
After they both caught their breath, Sherlock reached up and loosened the cuffs, before taking them off the bed posts and off of John's wrists. John turned around, rubbing his wrists softly, before lying on the bed and opening his arms wide. Sherlock lay down, laying his head on John's shoulder, and pecked the other man's neck lightly.
"Did you enjoy it?" Sherlock whispered.
John nodded, "very much so..."
"I knew you were bisexual," Sherlock said, smirking softly in his sleepy state. John rolled his eyes before pinching Sherlock's arm slightly, "shut up, idiot."
"So is this going to happen every time you come to 'save' me from a nightmare?"
"I said shut up, Sherlock," John said playfully, "don't make me hit you with your own riding crop."
After a few more minutes of conversation, both fell asleep, happily, in each other's arms.