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vitruvianwatson:

vitruvianwatson:

For for-science-john (I am soooooo sorry if you’re not into rimming, but here ya go)

Sometimes when John wakes up after Sherlock he’ll hear the shower running and he’ll roll out of bed, go into the bathroom, pushing off his pants along the way, and slip into the warm shower behind him, his arms immediately going around Sherlock’s waist from behind.  Sherlock hums and leans back against him, and John presses kisses along his shoulders, his hair getting wet from the spray of water beating down on them both.  He licks the water from the notches in Sherlock’s spine, working his way lower and lower until he’s on his knees, his hands smoothing up and down Sherlock’s thighs, and sometimes Sherlock turns and John sucks his cock into his mouth, but other times he tells Sherlock to lean forward, and Sherlock braces himself against the wall, already shivering with need, and John parts those cheeks and presses his tongue flat to Sherlock’s hole, licking it in one long, wet stripe, and then teasing it with the tip of his tongue, making Sherlock moan his name.  One of those hands come back behind himself to press against John’s head, and he pushes his arse back against John’s mouth, and John licks all around that tight little hole, tensing it and pressing it inside as far as he can, and Sherlock whines, biting into his hand hard, and when John reaches around to stroke Sherlock’s cock the detective comes, hard, that little muscle fluttering around John’s tongue as it tenses.  Afterwards, John stands back up, smirking, and Sherlock turns around, leaning against him weakly for support while he strokes John cock until John comes.

@music-medic I forgot about this one from like a year ago lmao

vitruvianwatson:

On the nights when John tops, he likes to have Sherlock flat on his back, his legs bent and bracketed around John’s hips as John presses into him, one hand gripping the headboard for leverage, the other locked with Sherlock’s, fingers intertwined, pressing Sherlock’s hand back against the mattress by his head while he rocks in and out, slowly, so slowly, focusing on every sweet glide of his cock into Sherlock’s body.  He likes to be able to kiss Sherlock’s neck, to tease his nipples with his tongue, to watch every expression of ecstasy that crosses Sherlock’s beautiful face when Sherlock takes his own cock in hand and strokes himself in time with John’s thrusts until he comes with a strangled moan.

On the nights when John bottoms, he likes to lay flat on his stomach, to feel the warm, comforting weight of Sherlock’s entire body pressing him down into the mattress as Sherlock rocks his hips in shallow thrusts, mouthing at the back of John’s neck, his breath harsh and uneven in John’s ear.  He likes to feel Sherlock curved over him, Sherlock’s hair tickling his skin, Sherlock’s hands curling around the backs of his own where they’re gripping the sheets, Sherlock holding him with his whole body.  And he loves that he can always tell when Sherlock is close because that’s when Sherlock will struggle to get one hand in between John’s body and the bed, long fingers wrapping around John’s cock as best they can in the tight space, and that’s when he’ll breathe, “John” in the most beautiful voice John has ever heard.

Companion piece to this

vitruvianwatson:

On the nights when Sherlock bottoms, he likes to straddle John and sink down slowly, letting himself feel every inch of John’s cock as it slides into him until his arse is pressed down into the cradle of John’s hips.  He likes to stay that way for a minute or two, just breathing, his eyes closed and his hands on John’s chest, which rises and falls in a rhythm with his own.  He likes to lean forward, gripping John’s shoulders as John rocks up into him, gently at first, John’s hands tight on his hips, then moving to brush teasing fingers over his nipples, pulling low sounds from deep within Sherlock’s chest.  And he loves it when John bends his knees, feet flat on the bed, and thrusts up hard into him because that’s when Sherlock stops thinking and can only feel.  And sometimes he finds he can’t hold himself up, so John takes control, rolls him over and pushes back into him in one swift motion that makes Sherlock have to press his hands to the headboard to keep from being jolted back, and John’s cock hits just the right spot, his hand curled around Sherlock’s cock, stroking him hard and fast until Sherlock’s breath comes in gasps and pants, and he can’t say anything except “John, John, John” until he comes hard enough to make his vision go white.

On the nights when Sherlock tops, he likes to roll John onto his side after he’s worked him open, likes to curl up behind him in the bed and tease at John’s entrance with shallow thrusts, just pushing the head of his cock in before pulling out again until John is sweating and shaking with need, until John gasps his name in that way that sounds like begging.  That’s when Sherlock likes to pull John tightly against his chest and push all the way into him, one hand splayed out against John’s quivering stomach, holding him there while he thrusts in and out, in and out.  He likes the strangled sound John makes when Sherlock bites down hard into his shoulder, muffling his own groans.  And after he comes, shuddering, inside of John, he turns him onto his back and takes John’s cock into his mouth, swallowing him down and recording every sound, every bit of praise, every curse that comes out of his mouth as he works his tongue and hollows his cheeks and sucks until John comes down his throat.

Companion piece to this