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As the weeks passed, Sherlock learned to revel in each moment of intimacy with John. Typically, they could only meet once a week- a result of their opposing schedules and the secrecy they were forced to maintain. It was tough, not being able to have the freedom to go about whatever it was between them more casually, though perhaps it was the risk that kept them going. Sherlock could practically feel the rush of adrenaline flowing from John every time Sherlock shot a wink at him during Mass, or each time Sherlock snuck out to meet with him at night.
It became almost a routine to show up late on Monday nights to John's flat, which is how Sherlock ended up with two fists full of John's bedsheets, a pillow between his teeth, and his arse in the air.
A sheen of sweat coated his body and a steady flow of soft whimpers and curses flowed from his mouth, muffled slightly by the pillow. John was standing by the end of the bed, and had been gently massaging Sherlock's prostate with his fingers, keeping him on the verge of orgasm for what seemed like an eternity.
Sherlock moaned something inaudible into the pillow, and John pulled his fingers out and reached up with his clean hand, stroking Sherlock's curls off his forehead. Sherlock turned his head, peering up at John through half-lidded eyes.
“What is it, love?” John asked softly, running his thumb over Sherlock's lip.
“Please, need you inside me, need to come,” Sherlock begged, his voice raspy.
John pulled back, running his hand down Sherlock's back before he bent down to press a kiss to the base of Sherlock's spine.
“Turn over?” John asked, and Sherlock turned onto his back, scooting to the edge of the bed. He saw John reaching up to remove his shirt and collar- Sherlock had been surprised to find John still in his clerical shirt when he'd arrived.
“You should keep it on.”
John's eyebrows raised, and he smiled. “You like that, hm?” he asked, removing his hands from his shirt and running them up Sherlock's thighs.
“Yes, Father,” Sherlock replied, smirking.
John’s breath hitched, and he nodded, licking his lips. “Feeling bad?” he asked, smiling.
“Only for you,” Sherlock answered, biting his lip to make a point.
“Oh my god,” John chuckled. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to Sherlock's neck, and Sherlock hummed.
“I'm going to go grab a condom,” he said, pulling back.
“Wait.” Sherlock sat up, his cheeks reddening. “We don't have to use one.” He cleared his throat, looking down to the floor. “I mean, if you don't want to.” His tone was careful; unsure. He'd be lying if he said he didn't often fantasize about feeling John inside him without a barrier.
“Are you sure?” John asked, smiling.
“I was a virgin before you, and you've been chaste for years. I'm assuming you're clean.”
John confirmed with a simple nod.
“Besides, I've been dying for you to come inside me,” Sherlock admitted matter-of-factly. He could practically see John's pupils dilating and the hitch in his breath.
“Yeah, alright,” John agreed in a rush. He reached for a bottle of lube that sat on the mattress by Sherlock's side and uncapped it. “Ready?”
Sherlock nodded and reached down to stroke himself a few times as he watched John slick his cock with the lubricant.
John pulled him closer to the bed’s edge by his hips.
The moment the head of his cock slid over Sherlock's hole, Sherlock whimpered, propping himself up on his elbows to watch. He couldn't imagine a more perfect sensation than each time John's cock first pressed into him, and when it did, finally, his mouth fell open, a long sigh filling the room, and he rested back against the sheets as John’s cock pushed into him.
Once John was inside him fully- his cock pressed in down to the base- his hands slid up the backs of Sherlock's thighs, pushing his legs up so his knees pressed to his chest. One thing they'd discovered together was Sherlock's flexibility, and his adoration for the extra leverage it gave to John.
John began a steady rhythm of thrusts, beginning slowly as usual to allow Sherlock's body to properly adjust to the stretch.
The slick slide of John's cock made Sherlock release a relieved sigh as he relaxed back into the mattress.
“Love your cock,” Sherlock murmured.
“Yeah?” John groaned above him, speeding his thrusts.
Sherlock nodded, his curls bouncing on his head. “Want it all the time,” he said, an idea coming to his mind. “Can I ride you?” He propped himself up on his elbows, his head turned slightly to one side.
John’s hips slowed to a stop, his cheeks, neck, and chest reddened. “God, yes,” he answered breathily, licking his lips. He gripped the base of his cock, easing it gently out of Sherlock.
Sherlock moved off the bed as John made himself comfortable near the headboard. He folded his hands behind his head, watching as Sherlock crawled up the bed toward him.
They shared a kiss as Sherlock straddled John's hips. John hummed as Sherlock ground his hips down, his arse cheeks sliding against John's cock.
Sherlock pulled away from the kiss, sitting up straight. He looked to John for assurance, and John gave a small nod and a warm smile. Sherlock reached down, gripping John's cock and holding it steady as he positioned himself above it. He moved down, the head of John's cock sliding over his hole before slipping inside. He eased himself onto it slowly, letting out little whimpers as he sank down.
When John's cock was inside him fully, Sherlock placed his hands on John's chest, gripping the material of John's shirt. He rocked his hips forward and back, testing out the motion. Pulling his lower lip between his teeth, he rose up and sank back down, gasping as John's cock brushed against his prostate.
“You're doing such a good job,” John praised, running his hands up Sherlock's waist. He moved with Sherlock, thrusting his hips up as Sherlock sank down.
Soon, Sherlock's thighs began to tremble as his orgasm approached.
“Need help?” John asked, as Sherlock’s movements became stiff and rushed.
“Mhm,” Sherlock answered. He removed his hands from John's chest and lowered himself, tucking his face into John's neck as he whimpered.
John easily took control once again, wrapping his arms around Sherlock as he thrust up into him quickly.
“John, John,” Sherlock moaned.
John ran his hand up and down Sherlock's back, soothing him. “Getting close?” he asked, his hand running up into Sherlock's hair.
Sherlock nodded into John's neck. “Want you to come inside me first,” he admitted, his cheeks burning.
John moved faster, a slapping sound filling the room as his cock pounded into Sherlock. It wasn't long until he thrust his cock in as deep as he could, groaning loudly as his cock pulsed deep within Sherlock.
As soon as he pulled out, John eased Sherlock onto his back. He circled his hand around Sherlock's cock, leaning down to nip at his neck. The combined sensations made easily tipped Sherlock over the edge, and he gripped John's sheets tightly as he came. His body trembled as John worked him through his orgasm.
John pulled away, laying back on the mattress, panting heavily. As soon as the high of his orgasm finished washing over him, Sherlock curled up next to John, resting his head John's chest.
Though it was risky and their times together were limited, Sherlock had learned to savor the sensation of being close to John. And though there were so many elements working against them, he felt that nothing could truly keep them apart.