Archive of Our Own ^beta

When Sherlock ripped open the cardboard box and took hold of the bright-pink 6-inch ballsy dildo he had bought a mere twenty minutes earlier, he had only one reaction.

Meh.

There was no thrill or disgust, no eager anticipation or revulsed second-guessing. There was only a need for data collection; a task, a chore, no different than any other experiment he’d conducted before. The only exception being that, in the past, his experiments didn’t require him shoving something up his ass.

Unbothered, thinking this simply needed to be done, Sherlock quickly washed the dildo and haphazardly plopped it on the floor right in the middle of the living room. He wasn’t afraid of anyone walking in; when he had returned from the sex shop, Mrs. Hudson had been blasting music from the kitchen as she cooked. She had just started her favourite classical album, hours upon hours long, so odds were she wouldn’t be a bother for the rest of the evening. As for John, he was with his sister for a family gathering. How long he’d be there, Sherlock didn’t know. But he didn’t expect him back anytime soon.

“Right,” Sherlock said as he rummaged through his things. “On with it, then.”

In no time, Sherlock, naked, was ready and surrounded by everything he needed: a timer, a notepad, two huge mirrors (one in front of him and one behind him, to check himself), two bottles of lube, ten or so plastic cups for collecting samples, and plenty of paper towels.

Now, for the data.

Sherlock grabbed a bottle of lube and spurted some out on the dildo. Having never done this before, he squirted out a hefty amount – far more than was needed. The lube dripped down the dildo, soaking it in its entirety before pooling around its suction cup on the floor. As satisfied as he could be, Sherlock tossed the already-half-empty bottle to the side, and, rather mechanically, he then kneeled over it and aligned the tip with his ass, feeling the cold lube smear against the warm skin of his entrance.

He knew that it would be wiser to stretch himself first – to avoid pain and injury – but he didn’t feel like sticking fingers up his ass. And, anyway, the corpse that had caused the need to do this research had heavy fissures around his anus, suggesting he hadn’t prepared properly either. So, if anything, the less preparation the better – and Sherlock pressed the dildo against his ass without much thought. His entrance clenched, ached, begged him to stop. He knew this wouldn’t be easy. Nonetheless, he continued.

Grunting in effort, Sherlock pushed and pushed and pushed – until the tip slid in with a slick ‘schlwmp’.

A throbbing pain shot through his body, accompanied by the tiniest hints of a pleased shiver caressing up his neck. Lube dripped down the dildo and smeared on his ass as he trembled all over at the sensation.

He hesitated, then. He had no idea what he was getting himself into. How would it feel, if he continued? Would the pain only become greater? Would it dissipate with time? Or would it be drowned under jolts of pleasure? Because what else, if not pleasure, was making others do this kind of act? Was the pleasure immense? Overwhelming? Was it enough he could risk becoming addicted to it?

Well. If it ended up that way, this wouldn’t be the first time Sherlock became addicted to something for the sake of solving a case.

For science.

Letting out a determined, controlled breath, Sherlock started the timer and placed a hand on the floor in front of him and another behind him to balance himself. Slowly, he shimmied downward, letting the dildo dive deeper into him and spread him wider and wider – until it hit something so inexplicably sensitive.

The feeling of the dildo pressing against his prostate made Sherlock let out a low, surprised moan. A pleasing itch crawling across his skin, urging him to feel it again, Sherlock’s hips hiked up a bit before bucking back down. The dildo nudged against his p-spot in that same, agreeable way, but with the surprise of the new sensation over, it didn’t quite hit the same and it didn’t make him moan again.

Was it pleasing?

Arguably, yes.

Was it addicting, though?

Absolutely not.

The burning pain slowly subsiding, Sherlock thrust himself up and down a few times, feeling the slippery cock prod his prostate and dig deeper into him. A pressure began to build in his lower stomach and a warmth began to wash over his skin, but he found it all so incredibly bland and unremarkable. There were times when he had felt a thrill thousands of times stronger simply walking around crime scenes. Even drinking a cup of tea could be as pleasant as this, under the right circumstances. So why were people so obsessed with this?

Thinking he might be doing something wrong or going too slow, Sherlock picked up the pace, his thighs burning with effort, and fucked the dildo with more vigor.

Silent, he watched himself in the mirror, an unimpressed pout on his expression as he rode the dildo. His cock was flopping around here and there to the rhythm of his movements, but it wasn’t exactly erect. It was getting there, though. Probably. Surely, with enough stimulation, his body would take the hint and react on its own eventually.

Trying to find how to best arouse himself, Sherlock rolled his hips back and forth as he bounced on the dildo, finding some delight in the dildo thrusting deep inside him and its balls pressing against his ass, but the pleasure was never enough to send him moaning and shivering in bliss.

When the timer reached 5 minutes, Sherlock decided it would be best to stop. He was sweaty all over, his heart was beating wildly in his ear, and his cock was most definitely as hard as it could be now. Yet he didn’t feel it. There was no hint of ecstasy, no traces of mind-blowing delight, no indicator that he’d soon tremble all over with a need to blow. There was nothing but a lackluster pleasure he had quickly grown bored of.

Grumbling inside, Sherlock realized he either wasn’t in the right mindset to be enjoying this properly or simply couldn’t enjoy this like others did.

Whichever the case, Sherlock knew it was no use continuing. This was not only not optimal, but it was also impractical. His reactions would certainly bias the results, and he wouldn’t be able to draw any conclusions from them. And on top of all that, the dead man had been fucked doggy style – perhaps this cowgirl method would further bias the results, rendering it all meaningless.

Pondering what to do now, Sherlock half-mindedly sat on the dildo, balls deep, the feeling as unimpressive as before. But as he began to run the options in his head, some more legal than others, Sherlock heard the door open without a knock.

Oh shit –

Sherlock snapped his head toward the door just in time to see John push it open. They locked eyes – and John completely froze at the sight of Sherlock buck-ass naked and squatting on a dildo in their living room. The two mirrors stationed around him made it so John could very much see everything.

“Uh… John,” Sherlock cleared his throat, unsure if he should move. “Yes – Hello – You’re back early. Mind closing the door?”

“Jesus Christ – Sherlock – !” John blurted out at the same time, darting a hand up to cover his eyes. “What are y– is that – do you not know the word decency?!"

“This is for a case,” Sherlock tried to explain himself.

Saying so, Sherlock stood up. The dirtied dildo stayed stuck to the floor, and lube trickled down his legs, but he could not be less bothered by any of it. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist to hide himself – not because he was embarrassed, but because John’s face had turned beet-red and, standing at the doorway, he still wasn't closing the door.

“For a case? A case?!” John repeated in bewilderment, hand still blocking him out of view. “What kind of bloody case – Nevermind, I don’t want to know – Jesus – alright – just – text me when you’re done – ”

When he saw John make a move to close the door and run back the way he came, Sherlock came up with a brilliant idea.

“Wait – ” Sherlock called out, grabbing the door just milliseconds before John could slam it shut. “My dear John, you actually came in at a perfect time!” he swiftly managed to grab John’s wrist and tug him back inside. Closing the door behind them, he added: “I would really appreciate your help.”

John nearly stumbled over his own feet as he was forced back inside their apartment. His ears still burning, John eyed the lewd items on the floor before darting his eyes back up at Sherlock – his eyes lingering on his bare chest just long enough to be suspicious – and locked eyes with him with a lost and overwhelmed look in his expression. “What – what on earth would you need help w– ” he started.

“Nothing too difficult,” Sherlock quickly answered as he walked back to the dildo. “Actually, I’m confident you’ll like helping. No need to act prude; I know you’re a pervert behind closed doors,” he said, his tone as matter-of-fact as could be. “I’ve seen those porno magazines you stash under your bed. Quite the colorful collection. Not as colorful as the dildos you hide in your drawers, but colorful still.”

John’s face somehow turned redder. “Sherlock,” he tried to interrupt through an exasperated and ashamed groan, “stop going through my st– ”

“Getting to the point,” Sherlock continued, picking up the dildo and nearly dropping it because its shaft was still slippery with lube. “I was attempting to gather some data for a case that’s gone unsolved for a week now – it’s been troubling me a lot, you wouldn’t imagine – but I fear I am not fit for the task at hand. I admit I don’t get this whole ‘sex’ thing, so the conclusions I would draw from my samples would probably not be representative of the general male population.”

As Sherlock slowly walked back to John, dildo in hand, John’s mouth gaped in disbelief. His eyes kept shifting between the half-naked Sherlock and the used sex toy, frantically trying to process reality but seeming unable to.

“For those reasons,” Sherlock continued with a hum, “I need a test subject,” he said, his voice turning into a whisper as he stepped right in front of John. “Someone who’d like a little excitement – a little treat. And, well, I think you make a perfect candidate, so, for research purposes, would you – ”

John’s eyes grew wider by the second. “Oh – no, no – ” he said, finally understanding what Sherlock was suggesting. “Sherlock, this is not going where I think it is g– ”

  “ – please let me shove this dildo up your ass?” Sherlock finished over John’s words, an innocent smile on his lips.

The request, so blunt and unashamed, made John throw his arms in the air in despair. “No – bloody hell – Sherlock,” he said, “I am not letting you fuck me in the ass for ‘research purposes’!”

Sherlock found the wording very interesting. “But you would for other reasons?” he raised an eyebrow.

“That is not what I – ” John started.

“You implied it though.”

John’s mouth twitched with an urge to argue, yet nothing but another helpless groan left his lips. Red all over, he took a step back, crashed onto the couch behind him, and dug his face in his hand to hide his embarrassment.

“For the last time,” John spoke through his hands, his tone beyond hopeless, “I am not gay.”

“You kid yourself,” Sherlock scoffed. “Come on now, John, you’re smarter than this! I don’t need to tell you how statistically improbable it is for you, a single man in his late thirties who owns dildos and BDSM pornos – pornos which are very graphic and very much gay, mind you – to not be at the very least bisexual.”

More grumbles left John, but the complaints or objections or strings of denial were too muffled in his hands to be intelligible. Sherlock eyed him for a moment, but, getting nothing comprehensible out of him, he quickly moved on. John could stay in denial about his sexuality all he wanted; it wouldn't change the fact that Sherlock had a case to solve.

“Fine by me,” Sherlock shrugged as he took out his phone with his free hand. “If you don’t feel up to it, I’ll go on that gay dating app you keep downloading and deleting – Grindr, was it?”

Hearing what Sherlock was planning to do, John immediately snapped his head up. "No,” he blurted out. “You are not going on Grindr.”

“Why not? Are you afraid I won’t find a volunteer?” Sherlock scoffed, quickly searching up the app. “I appreciate the concern, but I’ll inform you men on the tube approach me every other day, so I am certain I will find an enthusiastic partner in no time.”

“That’s not – ” John groaned. “Sherlock, you can’t just go around shagging random twinks for your experiments!”

John’s tone was a curious mix of anguish and anger. Sherlock glanced up, his finger hovering over the ‘install’ button, and found John’s distressed eyes glaring at him. John truly didn’t want him downloading the app – he almost seemed to fear it – and Sherlock could not figure out why for the life of him.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t,” Sherlock frowned at John. “And please don’t let it be something sentimental like ‘people have feelings’,” he said, rolling his eyes as he made air quotes around the words. “I doubt any of the men I’d meet would be searching for anything more than a quick fu– ”

“STDs,” John interrupted, obviously letting out the very first thing he could think of. “You never know what some people might h– ”

“Not an issue,” Sherlock said, waving the dildo in the air in a self-explanatory manner. “My clothes aren’t coming off. Even if they had to, last I checked, condoms still exist in the 21^st century.”

John’s mouth opened again, wanting to object, needing to object. An odd sound, somewhere between a choked-back cry and an angry groan, echoed in his throat, seemingly blocking any real words from getting out. And with that, John was left stunned and tormented – and silent.

Silent, Sherlock eyed him carefully, giving him a chance to convince him not to continue, but John’s silence stretched on. And on. And on. Not wanting to keep wasting more time, Sherlock decided to ignore him, finally clicked on ‘install’, and got dressed. John watched his every move with an odd expression setting on his face, his eyes staying fixed on him even as Sherlock dropped the towel to clean off lube and put on pants.

 John seemed conflicted. Deeply, deeply conflicted. Yet, beyond the confliction, Sherlock couldn't read his face at all, which was highly unusual.

Now dressed, Sherlock quickly created a Grindr account and started tapping every profile in a one-mile radius. He stood in the middle of the room and glanced up, occasionally, to watch in growing confusion as John's face twisted with all sorts of emotions. One moment, he seemed terrified; another, he seemed depressed; and yet another, he seemed almost jealous. And Sherlock understood none of it. To him, John was acting overly dramatic for no good reason.

His phone buzzed loudly in the silence.

“See?” Sherlock said, pointing his phone screen at John. “Found a volunteer in no time.”

Seeing the chat message with an address, John’s breathing shuddered, and his inner confliction visibly deepened. Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him as he put on his coat and shoved the dildo in his pockets, as puzzled and clueless as before.

“Well, then…” Sherlock cleared his throat as he replied to the guy messaging him. “Have a good evening, John,” he said, walking toward the door. “Don’t mind the mess, I’ll clean it when I come ba– ”

Quicker than Sherlock could process, John dashed up to him and slammed a hand on the door so roughly Sherlock felt the floor vibrate beneath him. Sherlock staggered backward in surprise while John, just as swiftly, locked the door and glared up at Sherlock with a deep flush on his frustrated face.

“Not. Happening.” John breathed out, his tone reeking with anger.

Sherlock frowned heavily. “John, I, uh, I appreciate your concerns, truly,” he said, annoyed by his inability to understand John’s temper, “but this is perfectly safe and legal. I don’t see why you’re so insistent on not allowing me t– ”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake – you idiot – I don’t want you having sex with anyone because I lo– ”

John abruptly stopped mid-sentence; the words seemed heavy in his chest, the sounds, daggers in his throat. His hands turned to fists as his eyes, almost growing teary in their desperation, tried so helplessly to communicate something to Sherlock, to finish his sentence, to share his unspoken burden – but the meaning couldn’t reach Sherlock.

Sherlock’s mind raced with hundreds of words starting with a ‘lo’ sound, but none of them seemed right in this context. And that was because, out of all the words he thought of, not once did ‘love’ cross his mind; Sherlock had repressed the thought of a romantic attachment between himself and John so deep inside his mind that it seemed like the most ludicrous of possibilities, one not even worth wasting energy on. He was convinced John had taken his ‘I'm married to my work’ speech seriously on day one and thus would never allow himself to fall in love with him. And he was so, so certain nothing much had changed in between them that could warrant a sudden desire for a closer, more intimate relationship.

Unbeknownst to him, Sherlock had never been more wrong about anything.

Still glaring at him in silence, John gulped – hard – and his complexion twisted with hesitation and something else – something Sherlock couldn’t pinpoint right away. It was a hungry look Sherlock had seen in others before, a hunger which seemed incredibly tantalizing in its dizziness and unyielding in its grip on one’s emotions, a hunger which drove men to the brink of madness if it wasn’t satisfied, a hunger, instinctual, raw, carnal.

Sherlock’s eyes shot wide open when he finally understood the look on John’s face.

Lust. It was lust.

The realization hitting him like a freight train, Sherlock darted his eyes lower and finally noticed the very-much-apparent-and-screaming-for-attention erection poking through John’s pants.

“John,” Sherlock let out, thoroughly surprised. “You – John, you’re hard.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” John snapped back.

Saying so, John jittered all over with that familiar urge to punch Sherlock for being so oblivious to other’s feelings. Helpless and not in control of himself, John broke eye contact and stormed off, beginning to walk back and forth in the room and pinching the bridge of his nose like he was dealing with the most hopeless of situations.

“Jesus – Sherlock – ” John hissed out as he paced the room. “You can’t just ride a dildo and expect it to not affect others! And then – offering to fuck me? That’s – you’re – oh my fucking god – ”

Sherlock blinked at John, his eyes following John’s bulge as he walked. “Uhh, John,” he interrupted, “sorry, but I don’t understand why you’re so worked up about this. I’m not really asking to fuck you; it’s just a dildo.”

“Just a dildo?! Unbelievable,” John said through a whine. “You’re unbelievable!” The words were sharp and angry as John turned, facing him from the other side of the room. “Of course it’s just a dildo to you!”

“Uh, well, yes?” Sherlock continued, his frown not subsiding. “But dildo or not, I still don’t see what the problem is. Why are you so disinclined to help me if you’re this turned on? You obviously want it.”

The oblivious seriousness in Sherlock’s voice only seemed to anger John some more. Squeezing his eyes shut, John gritted his teeth and slammed an open hand into a wall. His fingers dug into the wallpaper as he grumbled something under his breath, his ears fuming red, his cock twitching in his pants, before he paused and took a long, staggery breath. Silence fell in between them again. Short, but tense.

“So… hmm…” Sherlock awkwardly started. “Can I leave or do you – ?”

“No – ” John sharply interrupted him. “You’re not going anywhere – listen – fine – fine!” he let out in the most desperate of tones. “You can use me as your bloody test dummy – just – give me a minute. I’m not drunk enough for this – ”

Sherlock broke into a smile when John finally accepted to be his test subject; in truth, there was no one else he’d rather collect data from. However, seeing John move toward the kitchen, he quickly darted up to him and grabbed him by the wrist. John shivered under the abrupt and rough touch, and his cheeks washed over with a bright blush.

“No,” Sherlock said, “no alcohol. It could skew the data.”

John groaned as he yanked his wrist free and went back to the living room. “No alcohol, great, just great,” John grumbled as he dug his fingers in his hair. “You seriously – we – Jesus, let’s just get this over with,” he blurted out so quickly the words bled into one another. “What do you want me to do?”

“You can start by getting undressed,” Sherlock smiled as he took the dildo out of his pocket and removed his coat. “I do need access to your ass, after all. Then, well, you can pick between the floor and the couch. Whichever you prefer.”

John passed a hand over his reddened face. “I can’t believe this is happening – ” he mumbled under his breath. “Seriously – like this – ”

Walking up to the couch, avoiding Sherlock’s stare, John began to take off his clothes. Any hesitation John might have had was countered by the anger flowing through his veins; he quickly and rather roughly took his shirt off, kicked his shoes and socks out of the way, and tossed his pants to the side. However, as Sherlock picked up a bottle of lube and a towel, John reached down to his boxers – and the realness of the situation suddenly hit him in full force. Freezing, he breathed in a shaky breath, his fingers fidgeting around the last piece of fabric keeping him from being fully naked.

“… Hesitating? Already?” Sherlock commented as he walked up behind him. “John, I should warn you I won’t be going easy on you. If a part of you doesn’t want to do this, you shouldn’t force – ”

“Shut it,” John hissed. His blush expanded all the way to his back, but still, he gathered the strength to pull his boxers down. “Just – fuck – don’t you dare tell anyone we did this. And don’t – ”

John let out some more desperate orders, but the words all flew right over Sherlock’s head. Instead of listening, Sherlock, curious, stepped closer, going to stand by John’s side to glance down at his erection.

“Mmph,” Sherlock said, interrupting whatever John was saying. “Average.”

John’s mouth stayed half-open in surprise and confusion, whatever words had just left him falling into irrelevance. He looked up at Sherlock and, following his stare, finally understood just what he was referring to. In a flash, John grabbed Sherlock by the collar, his blushed and angry face abruptly coming so close to his their noses almost collided.

“If you want me to do this,” John snarled at him, “you better shut the hell up and do this properly. No deductions, no sass, no – ”

Sherlock defensively raised his arms up. “I was only commenti– ”

“Dildo. My ass. Now.”

Hearing John so pissed in his helpless horniness, Sherlock let out an amused huff; this certainly wasn’t a sight he got to see often, and there was something about this, something about all the tease he was in control of, something about knowing those lustful eyes were begging for him under all their anger, that kind of made Sherlock fancy it some more.

“Alright, alright,” Sherlock couldn’t stop himself from smiling even though John looked so close to wanting to punch him in the face for real. “No need to be impatient. Here, get on your hands and knees,” he said, pushing past John and laying down the towel on the couch to prevent the lube from staining it. “Make yourself comfortable.”

His breathing itching, John glared at him one last time before following his instructions. As Sherlock cleaned and lubed up the dildo, John stepped up on the couch and kneeled down. His every movement were incredibly awkward, and his hands trembled as they landed on the couch. He mumbled something along the lines of ‘oh god what am I doing?’ as he lowered his chest and raised his ass in the air, trying to find a comfortable position on the couch before settling for resting his chest on the armrest, arms tucked on either side, with his head left dandling over the edge.

 “Comfortable?” Sherlock asked.

John’s skin turned a deep crimson, but he didn't reply. He only tensed up – perhaps because he felt the couch shift under the weight of Sherlock putting a knee on it. Dildo at the ready, Sherlock stood behind John, a knee on the couch in between John’s legs to keep his balance.

“Well, I'll be taking that as a yes,” Sherlock hummed. “Now, could you raise your ass a little higher?” He instructed, and, once John shifted in place, continued: “So, as I told you, this won't be easy. I've lubed up the dildo to avoid pain, but, to replicate this as faithfully as possible to the case at hand, minimal preparations are required. In other words, the dildo is going straight in. Any objections?”

John grumbled out something close to a ‘no’ – and Sherlock took that as a green light to keep going. John heaved a breath when Sherlock placed his free hand on his left asscheek, spreading him open to align the tip of the dildo with his ass. The slippery head nudged against his entrance, sending waves of shivers down John’s skin.

“Alright,” Sherlock hummed. “Oh, and one last thing: the safe word is dehydroepiandrosterone.”

“Oh my god, just shove it in alrea– ”

John’s sentence was broken up by a heavy, filthy moan leaving his lips as Sherlock shoved the dildo’s head inside him. John grasped the couch beneath him as his ass shook in pain and his back arched in pleasure. The feeling seeming to be too much for him to handle, his body rocked forward, instinctively trying to get the dildo out, but Sherlock grabbed John’s waist with his free hand to keep him close.

“Ooooooh fuuucghhm – ” John whined out.

Despite his pain, John’s hips twitched upward, rolling into the dildo on his own, begging him to continue. Taking the hint, Sherlock nudged the dildo a little deeper and pulled it back all the way out before sinking it in again, fucking John using only the tip. Moans and pants immediately filled the room, and, in that moment, Sherlock had never felt more thankful for the fact that Mrs. Hudson liked to blast her music at full volume.

Leisurely, Sherlock rocked the tip of the dildo in and out, in and out, with a slow, easy rhythm. He was, at first, silent because he was overtaken with a strange fascination in this new experience. He observed John closely, eagerly, taking mental notes about anything and everything, from the way his legs trembled under his thrusts to the way his nails dug in the couch as he gasped for air to the way beads of sweat trickled down his nape. Sherlock even noticed that every time he would pull the dildo back, he would feel a light, barely-noticeable resistance right before the tip plopped back out; John’s entrance kept clenching and quivering around the dildo in a desperate bid to keep it inside him.

Hearing John let out another heavy, delighted moan as he sank the dildo back in, Sherlock felt a light warmth in his chest. Surprisingly, coming from John, the moans were an oddly pleasing sound to hear. They didn’t turn Sherlock on, but rather, they made him happy on John’s behalf.

The view becoming more familiar, Sherlock broke the silence, “Hmm,” he hummed as he made the dildo’s tip circle in place inside John’s ass. “Well, you’re easy to please. Do you happen to always finish first? Oh – obviously! It all makes sense now; so this is what your last ex – no, wait, the one before the last – this is what she meant when she said you weren’t ‘satisfying her’.”

John’s ears burned in anger. “I said no dedu– ” John tried to complain, but a moan blocked his words.

Amused, Sherlock massaged John’s waist as he sank the dildo a little deeper. He kept the same, teasingly slow rhythm, but he stopped taking it all the way out; John seemed to like it more when it stayed in. So, Sherlock nudged it back up and let it sink deeper, inch by inch, thrust by thrust.

“You know,” Sherlock said, feeling a need to share his thoughts, “the man who died had lesions on his lower back. He was whipped, I don't doubt so, but, standing behind you now, I can't help but think the angle is odd,” he tilted his head and, with the hand that had been holding John's waist, trailed a finger on John's lower back, visualizing the injuries, all while not slowing down in his thrusts with the dildo. “The killer wouldn't have been able to strike here without hitting themselves too, so maybe – ”

“Would you – fuuuaaahck – shut up about that bloody case already?!” John snapped. “You’re supposed to be – nngh – fucking me – focus!”

“Focus?” Sherlock scoffed, slamming the dildo all the way in and teasingly pressing the dildo into John’s ass to quickly and repeatedly nudge the deepest parts of him, creating a rough vibration sensation that seemed to please John quite a lot. “I’m perfectly focused.”

“You're not,” John let out a low, pleased grunt as his toes curled. “People – oooaaahshit – ” he struggled to speak. “Normal people don’t talk abmmmgh – about bloody corpses while they fuck – ”

Sherlock scoffed. “What do they talk about, then? The weather?” he asked, pulling the dildo back up to give John a rapid, lengthy thrust. “You should know by now I’m not one for small talk, John.”

“If you can't – aaaah – talk dirty,” John said, “then jusghhn shut u– ”

“Oh, you want me to talk dirty to you? You want me to call you a good boy?” Sherlock grinned, pressing his hand down John's back as he leaned closer, the resulting deeper thrusts causing John's ass to jiggle under the force of the ball’s impact. “Or are you a bad boy?” He jokingly said, but, noticing John's shiver in delight at the words, he teased on: “Oh, I think you've been such a bad boy, Mr. Watson, such a bad, bad boy.”

“Youunnnngh – ” John bit his lower lip to suppress a moan, turning the sound into a deep growl. “God you – mmh – suck at this – ”

“Your cock twitched when I said ‘bad boy’,” Sherlock pointed out. “Aaand it twitched again, just then.”

John's fingers angrily dug into the couch. Smirking, Sherlock whispered out a teasing ‘you like being punished, bad boy?’ to excite John some more.

“Just – shut up,” John snapped, his tone too embarrassed and aroused to sound truly mad. “Sherlock – Please just – shut the hell up and keep fucking me – ”

Sherlock let out a tiny, friendly laugh. Who knew John could be so needy? “If you so beg,” he said.

John’s moans drowned out his words. Sherlock continued, tilting his head to try to watch John’s expression twist and crunch under the pleasure of the dildo’s pounding, analyzing every slight reaction, deducing every slight preference. Sherlock teased and experimented with different speeds, strengths, and lengths of thrusts, and quickly enough he realized John really liked it rough. So, fueling the moans, stimulating his deepest enjoyments to satisfaction, Sherlock yanked the dildo all the way out again to dive it back down in to the hilt in decisive, hard thrusts. He kept the long, violent strides, and settled for a pace so quick his arm began to ache with effort. The couch, too, struggled to keep up; it started creaking under the weight of John’s body rocking to the rhythm of the dildo’s ceaseless pushing into his ass, the sound as erotic as John’s moans if not more.

“Sherlock – ”

Sherlock blinked in surprise when John called out his name through his moans. He had imagined – assumed – John would soon start yearning for one of his exes and would let their name slip out. But this? He hadn’t expected this at all. And Sherlock would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t find it delightful to hear John moaning his name like this.

Motivated to hear it again, Sherlock put his whole body into the motion of his thrusts, pounding John so hard John struggled to keep himself upright. His knees trembled with a need to stay in position, his ass red and spent, his back arching as he cried out Sherlock’s name.

“Close?” Sherlock purred into John’s ear. “You have to tell me when you are.”

John gasped to find the air needed to reply. “I’m not,” he spoke through a heavy grunt, his ears turning red with effort.

Sherlock let out a scoff; John was lying through his teeth. “You are,” he teased and quietly placed a cup beneath him on the couch, carefully aligning it with where John was most likely going to blow. “You're so close, you naughty, naughty boy.”

“Sherl– ” John tried to groan in frustration at the same time as he moaned, creating an angry yet lewd grunt-like whine.

“Here,” Sherlock said, “let me help.”

Saying so, Sherlock leaned closer and reached out his free hand to jack John off at the same time as he fucked his ass. John, not expecting the touch at all, shuddered uncontrollably when his fingers wrapped around his hot and swollen cock – and Sherlock barely had time to give him a pump and a half before John, blissed out of his mind, was sent toppling over the edge.

“God – Sherlock – !”

With a final, rough thrust to his ass, John exploded into a toe-curling orgasm. His entire body tensed up and reeled as he ejaculated a heavy, pulsating load, his cum shooting straight into the plastic cup Sherlock had placed on the couch.

Perfect.

With a satisfied smile on his lips, Sherlock quickly took the dildo out of John – the removal making a wet and messy sound as his ass was left gaping and twitching in the air – and picked up the cum-cup. As John trembled through pants in the background, Sherlock went over to the table, stopped the timer, and jotted down some quick notes. Nodding, he wrote ‘Sample #1’ on the plastic cup and reset the timer.

“Fancy some tea?” Sherlock offered, timer in one hand and dildo in the other. “Or are you ready for another round right away?”

John, absolutely collapsed on the sofa, seemed too lost in his spinning world of bliss to understand Sherlock’s words for a moment. “… Other… round?” he repeated through heavy pants. “… What…?”

Sherlock offered him a smile as he wiped the dildo clean and grabbed the lube again. “Oh, yes, forgot to mention,” he said. “I need at least five samples to draw conclusive results. I will, of course, take more if you would allow it. The closer the samples are to one another, the better. And, well, with your current pace,” he added, glancing down at John’s results, “we should be done before 9.”

Realizing what he had gotten himself into, John let out a powerless whine as he buried his face in the armrest. “Five… Jesus…” he groaned. “Fine – just – keep going,” he said, his muffled voice weak yet incredibly needy. “And – no breaks.”

Sherlock could have sworn he heard the faintest of ‘please’ follow John’s words.

“Enjoying this, aren’t you?” Sherlock teasingly asked.

John grumbled out an abrupt ‘no’ into the armrest – but the inviting raising of his ass and the needy twitching of his cock made the word a clear and unmistakable lie. And hearing it, Sherlock couldn’t help but smile fondly. Although he knew he would never feel what John felt, Sherlock was happy he got to share this moment with him – and he was overjoyed to know John could drown in ecstasy under his touch.

“John Watson, you are one terrible liar,” Sherlock said. “If you like this so much, we could – ” he abruptly paused, catching his thoughts just before they left him as words. Realizing he was about to offer they do this again, he frowned heavily. He would have never in a million years expected to want this again. Yet he wanted to keep pleasing John. He really really did. Not for lust or arousal. But just for the sake of hearing John happy. “Well… if ever you, uh, ever feel pent-up, and Grindr isn’t pleasing you,” he awkwardly cleared his throat, “I could… be of service? I mean, not me – the dildo would – you understand – ” Sherlock stumbled over his words, “and you – uh – you could consider it payback, for helping me out this time?”

The words floated in the air and seemed to stun John. He stayed frozen for so long Sherlock thought he might have passed out. But, eventually, John tilted his blushed face to the side to look over at him. There was a glare in his eyes, but it was softened by a flicker of happiness – a genuine consideration for his offer.

“Just put it back in my ass before I change my mind.”