Hoo, still Friday where I am, so got this one in on time. Spent the day at the ocean today, so I didn’t get a chance to draw until I got home XD Didn’t actually put a penis in the picture, so this might be cheating for Penis Friday…
I think I might be getting lazier and lazier with these as the week goes on…
They’re still very, very pretty! ;u; <3
For the third time that week, when John woke up something felt wrong. More than one thing, actually.
The first thing he noticed was that the room was too dark for it to be morning. The second was that there was someone, yet again, in his bed. Someone alive, luckily. And the third was that this person was Sherlock, dressed up like an airline captain.
“Sherlock,” he said, matter of factly.
“John,” was the just as deadpan answer.
“What time is it?” John asked, turning to check his alarm. One am.
“You don’t want to know what I’m doing here, dressed like this?” Sherlock asked, propping himself up on his elbows.
“I suppose it’s some lingering Thursday Madness. Thanks God it’s Friday.”
John slumped back onto the bed and rubbed his face with one hand, sighing.
“Yes, thanks God you have a free morning on Friday.”
“No, I won’t spend it watching another parade of ridiculous costumes- What are you doing?”
By the time John had moved his hand away from his eyes and finished the sentence, Sherlock had doffed his jacket and had started undoing the buttons of his shirt.
“Experimenting,” he answered simply, pulling the shirt open and sliding it off his shoulders.
“Alright, yes. On what?” John asked, dreading the answer.
Ah, there it was.
“And what kind of…” John started, but was interrupted when Sherlock crawled towards him and straddled his lap, knocking the breath out of him.
They stared at each other for a moment, Sherlock propped on his hands, one to either side of John’s head, looking down at him with the usual curiosity he has for dead bodies, and John looking up at him with the same lust-blown pupils he sported the day he caught Sherlock in the panties.
“And experiment about human bodies. Started with corpses, but since Monday I’ve started finding living ones… Interesting, as well,” Sherlock explained with a deep voice, and John couldn’t help but squirm under him.
“Mh, yes. So I’m just part of an experiment, good to know.” John hoped the disappointment would keep out of his voice as he said so.
“No, you’re more than that. You started this with these ridiculous pair of pants,” Sherlock retorted.
“What, the one you proceeded to fill my wardrobe with?”
“You got a reaction out of me, the same reaction I suppose you got on Tuesday.”
John’s face reddened instantly.
“You got turned on by those?”
“Quite a bit.”
John laughed. “And what are you doing now, trying to find out other things that turn me on?”
“You and me. It’s a study in penises.”
John would have liked to think that was a joke, but Sherlock’s face was so serious that he had to ask.
“You didn’t say that.”
“I did. Is that a problem?”
“No, but it’s a turn off,” he said, resting his hands on Sherlock’s waist carefully.
“Enough talking, then,” the detective said before leaning in to kiss John.
At this point, John gave up any idea of protesting, and instead ran one hand up Sherlock’s back to grab a handful of black curls, tilting his head just so he could deepen the kiss properly. Seconds into it and John could already hear Sherlock moan softly against his mouth, the sound so desperate and needy that John couldn’t help but groan in return.
Moments later, Sherlock started grinding down against John’s groin, and the contact caused them both to pull away from the kiss to gasp loudly.
John moved his hands down to Sherlock’s waist, undoing his trousers, and the other did the same, tugging at his pyjamas bottom. They ended up with Sherlock rolling down from John’s lap to lay next to him, so they could keep kissing even as they struggled with their remaining clothes, until both were naked and gasping for air, their legs as intertwined as their tongues.
Their bodies, already slick with sweat, rubbed deliciously one against the other, and John grew louder as his cock hardened more and more against Sherlock’s. He couldn’t believe this, his fantasies were going to become true. He was about to find out how Sherlock liked to be taken, how he wanted things to go, how he needed to feel John.
“Wait…” Sherlock whispered, breaking the kiss, and John pulled his lower lip gently with his teeth.
“What is it?” he asked back, voice hoarse, pulling Sherlock closer with a hand on the middle of his back.
“I forgot something. I’ll be right back,” the detective assured, getting up and moving as quickly as he could to get out of the room.
Oh, right. They would need lube, and condoms, and something to clean them off, and maybe even a camera.
Wait. Why was Sherlock holding a camera?
A flash of light made John momentarily blind, and he covered himself with the sheet out of reflex.
“Sherlock, no! Stop!”
“I told you this was a study in penises.”
“I hoped you were kidding!”
That was it. John growled and stood from the bed, launching himself a the detective and slamming him back onto the mattress, straddling his hips and pinning his wrists down.
“That’s it, fast and rough it is,” he decided.
Sherlock was about to open his mouth to protest, but a bruising kiss and a finger already probing curiously around his entrance made him quiet. After few minutes of kissing and teasing, John leaned back up to take a big gulp of air, before glaring down at him.
“No camera,” John ordered.
“No camera,” Sherlock replied, looking up at him a bit dazedly.
“No experiments, nothing else but us and sex. Is that alright?” John demanded, his inner Captain showing.
“Alright,” Sherlock squeaked out, and to John it must have been enough, seen how he leaned down again to growl into Sherlock’s ear: “You must always be an insufferable prat, don’t you?”
Sherlock opened his mouth to protest, but gasped when John grabbed his cock tightly and started stroking it.
“Really, I should teach you what’s your place…” he growled, biting at the spot behind Sherlock’s ear.
The man under him started trembling lightly, but the twitching in his hand told John it had nothing to do with fear. And then, just two minutes after he had started touching the other to test his reactions, John felt Sherlock writhe and moan, and something hot and thick cover his hand.
“Seriously?” was all John managed to say.
“I told you it was a study,” Sherlock panted, looking at the ceiling. “If it’s a study it’s because I don’t know much about the subje-”
His speech was cut off when John shoved him off the bed and gave his back to him, trying to sleep.
[Related fanwork: Penis (Friday) by muffinmoip]
Fanart of the wonderful fic Meet Me Inside by wakeneve on AO3, where John and Sherlock meet in prison, and John becomes Sherlock’s prison-wife. Don’t let the prompt discourage you, it’s really, really brilliant, go read it.
Penis Friday for John
YOUR ART, LET ME MARRY IT