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The Red Snow	By : orceena Category: S through Z > Sherlock Holmes (2009) > Sherlock Holmes (2009) Views: 2450 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock Holmes or any of the characters within. I am not making any kind of profit from this story.

Chapter List
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And there it was. Dangling like a worm on a hook, and John was the fish. It was so easy to just be able to lean over and kiss his friend right there. He could do it and be happy. But, this was a first for him. A first for them, actually. It should be more special. John suddenly regretted his outburst. He regretted breaking Mrs. Hudson's favorite tea plates, but his temper showed no mercy. All of his questions that went unanswered soared through his brain causing his blood to boil and panic attack. Mary's beautiful face and gorgeous smile flashed. Then her blood, and the red snow, and Sherlock's peculiar behavior, the cold chill of the air. All just jumbled in his mind at once smothering him to the point of madness. He just wanted it all to end. Yet here he was lying next to the most brilliant mind who saved his life. He pulled him from the depths to freedom. And he wasn't afraid. Even after the punch to the face, Holmes just ignored it like it never happened. Surely their first kiss deserved more than just a brotherly peck of the lips. Those soft inviting lips...
John leaned forward meeting Sherlock half way colliding their lips together gently. Wanting more, John carefully extended his tongue dragging it across the lower lip of his companion. Sherlock opened his mouth to introduce his own tongue. Soon they were slithering together in a sloppy friendly battle. John took in all the tastes he could find. Cinnamon, tobacco, copper, and honey. Tongues grazed over teeth, counting them, claiming each tooth as if it were a mountain top. John didn't notice at first, but Sherlock had rolled on top of him never disconnecting from the kiss. He ran his hands through the doctor's hair while John returned the favor and wrapped his arms holding tight to the sleuth.
Sherlock pulled back first giving them time to breathe and time to look into each other's eyes. "You are absolutely gorgeous. Have I ever told you that?"
John blushed a little bit despite himself. He cupped the man's cheek. "Many times."
"I must confess something before we continue. It may shock you."
"What is it?"
"I've never done this before. With anyone."
John laughed a little. "That doesn't shock me at all, dear. I think you're about as virgin as they come."
"On the contrary, I've indulged myself in the pleasures of the flesh. Myself only, but all the same."
"I assure you, Holmes, it is not the same."
"But you end with the same result either way. Why should I compare it?"
"Trust me. The result may be the same, but there different ways to achieve it."
"I do trust you. Do you trust me?"
"No," gentle sarcasm leaked from his smile.
"Ah, Watson. You wound me. I shall have to remedy that."
Sherlock grinned before placing another brief kiss on his mouth and crawling up to the head board. John followed behind taking in Holmes' beautiful form as he went. He ended up straddling the man's slim, but strong hips carefully avoiding a position that would hurt his leg. Sherlock helped steady him by placing his hands on John's hips. Blood flowed to his phallus and he watched it grow hard as it rubbed against the solid stomach of his dear friend. Sherlock smirked at him before bring him in for another kiss.
John was too distracted to realize that Sherlock had brought one of his hands to his chest steadily playing with his nipple bringing it to full hardness. John's head repelled backwards as a moan escaped his throat giving Sherlock an open shot for a soft bite and lick.
"Sherlock..." it was barely audible.
"Is it this alright?" Sherlock slowly circled his nub with his thumb smoothing over the hardened flesh. John flushed heavily. "Please tell me that this is what you want." Kiss. "I don't want you to feel obligated. I would never pressure you, old boy. I would never hurt you. I know Mary meant the world to you and that this may frighten you. This is about you, John. And I must make certain that this is what you want." Another kiss to his collar bone.
"Holmes..." he breathed out.
"Is this what you want, love?"
John held his breath. The thought of taking this further thrilled him to very core. He felt more than ready. He knew he was more than ready. But Sherlock was right and he was truly touched by his words. This was something that required thought. His manhood may have been ready, but he felt fragile and weak. His instinct was taking over ramming rational thinking into a closet and locking the door. He was somewhere between ohgodyes and whatthehellamithinking. Sherlock sat patiently trailing his fingers lightly over his chest moving down his stomach before resting above his groin. "John."
He couldn't it any more. Mentality be damned. This moment made life worth it. ".....Yes...." he replied against Sherlock's lips.
Sherlock closed his eyes in relief and gently cupped the man's sensitive organ with a closed fist. John keened and fell forward onto Sherlock's hot body. Slowly, Holmes rubbed his thumb over John's head watching in triumph as the doctor's face twisted in pleasure. The head had started to leak smearing pre-cum over Sherlock's thumb. He used it to coat the tip of the shaft. His free hand tweaked and prodded John's one nipple. The man blushed and squeezed his eyes in pleasure. Sherlock set to work boldly bringing his fingers from where they were to his lips to coat them with his tongue.
"Lie down for me, love," Sherlock breathed across John's neck.
John obeyed spreading his legs for Sherlock to sit between them. He watched in fascination as Sherlock coated and re-coated his hand. He knew what was to come and decided to place his hand over his mouth just in case he need to call out. His toes curled at the thought. Satisfied with his hand, Sherlock returned his attention back to John's organ carefully avoiding his bad leg as he positioned himself just right. John bit into his hand when Sherlock tenderly began rubbing the underside of John's hardened flesh spreading his saliva. He massaged the beautiful flesh between his finger tips keeping a steady pace. John had his eyes closed his other hand was gripping the cool sheets below him. For once, since Mary's been gone, John's mind was empty. No more chaos. Just feeling. Physically feeling. Pure, raw, and exciting. He whimpered.
"John?"
"I'm alright, Sherlock. Please don't stop," he blushed at his own wanton voice. It reminded him of Mary. Her beckoning, her wanton face, her beautiful blush. She had lovely breasts and her wet soft heat could take him over and over again. "Sherlock, could you...?" He didn't know how to ask. Mary was a wonderful woman and he respected her, but she never would've done what he was trying to ask Sherlock. She thought it was too dirty.
Turns out, John didn't have to finish his question. Sherlock had already set to work slowly taking him into his warm wet mouth. His body tensed at the pleasure. "Oh fuck!' Profanity be damned, mentality be damned, morality be damned. There was no one else on this earth other than Sherlock Holmes. And he was happy.
Holmes had taken him all in and slowly withdrew while gently massaging the man's testes. John's body writhed and flexed in bliss. he soon picked up the pace deciding that John couldn't take the teasing any more. His tongue flopped against the head and he collapsed his cheeks to suck hard. Sherlock braced his tongue against his teeth when he felt they might get in the way and other times he grazed them over the veiny flesh. John moaned louder into his wrist trying to stifle his noises. He knew the door was locked and Gladstone didn't care (where ever he was). It was just out of courtesy he supposed.
A heat was growing in his belly and he knew he wouldn't be able to take much more. Sherlock was driving him crazy as he continued sucking and stroking. "Oh! Sherlock...I'm, I'm....going to....nnn!" He had his hands in Sherlock's hair by now careful not to actually pull. They just rode with the man's head as he went up and down surprisingly keeping the sloppy noises at a minimum. John could feel the sweat pouring from his forehead as they fell around his brow. The room was ten times warmer than he remembered. This is just what they needed to keep warm on a cold evening. "Oh, god, I'm coming...Sherlock! AHH!" He arched his back as he shot into the man's warm mouth. Sherlock kept his mouth closed tight as the member pulsed and spit ribbons and ribbons of warm fluid onto his tongue. John came down from his tension and began convulsing. He chewed on his wrist and panted loudly, his heart ready to escape his chest cavity. he sunk his body as far as he could into the bed almost sobbing at the unbearable pleasure. Sherlock locked his lips when he released him. John turned on his side as his body still stuttered. Sherlock had gotten up and spit into a waste basket.
When he didn't return right away, John sat up to look at him. Sherlock was biting his thumb. "Holmes?"
"Yes, Boswell," Sherlock turned and smiled at him dismissing his fingers.
John swallowed when he glimpsed the man's very erect and leaking penis. "Should I...can I?"
"Anything you wish, John." Sherlock crawled back onto the bed again resting against the head board. He gave John a chaste kiss along the way. He was on him immediately straddling his legs again gasping when Sherlock's manhood touched his thigh. He paused for a moment not sure of what he should be doing. it was a curious thing, actually. When John was making love to Mary, he imagined what it felt like to be taken. OF course he never proposed this idea to his wife, but now may be his chance to indulge.
"Sherlock, will you take me?" he whispered unsure of himself.
Sherlock froze. "I don't want to hurt you, John."
"You won't. I trust you. Please, Sherlock. Please have me." Just this once. They could have each other. Even if it only be this once.
Sherlock grabbed John's hand and kissed his knuckles. "Quelque chose pour vous, l'amour."
John smiled. He forgot to tell Holmes he had begun learning French. He kissed him long and hard. Sherlock stroked John's lower back and buttocks before he flipped them over so he was resting on top of the taller man. John reached out for Sherlock's member stroking it a couple times. Holmes keened above him letting out a sigh. John grabbed Sherlock's free hand and began licking and sucking on the digits anticipation growing in his belly. Holmes watched his fingers disappear in and out of the wet mouth. "Je ne peux pas attendre, John. S'il vous plaît, j'ai besoin de mes mains."
John released him and spread his legs further open. He groaned when Sherlock brushed his wet fingers against his entrance. Slowly, Sherlock made his way in with one finger. It wasn't so bad, the feeling. Now when two tried to make heir way in, John had to will his body to relax. The third finger then was trouble. All the way through this preparation, Sherlock was either whispering sweet things to him in French, or he was kissing his semi hard member. He was doing everything he could to distract him from the discomfort. Soon, he felt a jolt of electricity run up his spine causing him to choke on a pleasurable cry. "Bloody hell!" Sherlock hit the spot again and again enjoying John's cries of bliss.
"Êtes-vous prêt, John?"
"Oui, s'il vous plaît..."
Sherlock removed his fingers and suddenly found John up on his knees pushing Sherlock over onto his back. John dived right away taking Holmes in his mouth coating him thoroughly. Sherlock closed his eyes and grabbed John's head rocking his hips upwards meeting his rhythm. "John, I can't last much longer. Pressé."
John sat over his friend's flesh and guided it into his opening. Sherlock helped by grabbing his hips. They both moaned at the contact. John slowly engulfed him, inch by blessed inch. This did hurt. He called out in pain. "Shh...Détendez-vous." Sherlock's guiding hands also worked as soothing tools, keeping him calm as he helped sink John lower and lower till he bottomed. "Etes-vous d'accord?"
"Just give me a minute," John winced hissing slightly. Sherlock waited.
John nodded. Slowly, he raised himself up and sank back down readjusting the size all over again. It felt so good. Being stretched, being filled. He twitched. Soon, he found a steady rhythm rising and falling picking up speed as he went. Sherlock met his eagerness as he rocked his hips in time to meet him shifting to find that spot within him again. John suddenly arched and tensed. "Nnnn....! Again, right there, please!' His pleas came out as jumbled syllables once Sherlock rocked harder into him. He was close to his climax. John began whimpering his name over and over as he rode him. Both men were now crying out. Sherlock gripped John's hips harder as he thrust faster.
"Je vais à venir! John...Je vais à venir!"
"Ce n'est pas grave. Venez à moi, Sherlock."
That did it. Sherlock's body tensed as he released himself into his friend's body. John grabbed hold of his hands and entwined their fingers as Sherlock sobbed out his relief along with heavy pants. John leaned down and captured Holmes' lips with his swallowing the man's cries. Sherlock's body sputtered and jolted on the bed leaving John no choice but to rock with him helping him ride out his intense orgasm. Finally, Sherlock had calmed and John collapsed onto his stomach next to him, both of them a panting mess of sweat and juices.
Sherlock rolled over first pulling John against his sweaty chest hugging him close. John grabbed onto his arm and began sobbing. Holmes propped himself up not letting go and kissed his forehead. "Thank you, John. That was incredible." John sniffed and laughed softly. "When did you start learning French?"
"About six month's ago. Mary and I were planning a trip there, so I took it upon myself to learn."
"You're a quick learner. Always have been. You never cease to amaze me." Sherlock stroked John's hair before laying out next to him. He was warm and settled into the cool sheets below him. John turned to look at him and found himself staring at Holmes' new scar on his shoulder. It looked like a cut, like someone had dragged a dagger blade across his skin. The line was thick and deep. Maybe not cut. Stabbed?
"Sherlock, how exactly did you get this wound?" He poked it. Sherlock looked over his shoulder and his mouth twitched.
"I told you. From the boxing ring."
"Yes, but how? It look like you were stabbed. Were you?"
"It was a small blade, Watson."
"So you were. How did you miss it?"
Sherlock sighed. "We should get some rest. You have a big day ahead of you."
John grumbled and his depression returned. "Ah, yes. The infamous statement. Every victim has one. Why didn't they come today?"
"I told Mrs. Hudson to keep them away by any means necessary." Sherlock closed his eyes.
John smiled and laughed at that. Even though Sherlock had changed the subject, he didn't forget. "Holmes? The blade?"
"I'll tell you soon, old boy. Now get some sleep."
John nodded and slipped his fingers in with Sherlock's before closing his eyes. The scar looked bigger for some reason before his nightmares consumed him.
*********
TBC
- 6
- 7
- 8
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The Red Snow