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August 2011
30

Smut from Baker Street!

I know somebody requested some Sherlocksmut. I have to say that I had been wanting it too, but since anyone else wrote it, I cracked my knuckles and thought: “well, this is my chance!”.

I apologise in advance for any typos :)

You arrive to the 221B of Baker Street in a rush, since the rain is pouring heavily and you forgot your umbrella. How clever of you.

Finally, the stupid lock gives in; you get into the flat and climb up the stairs. When you enter the living room, the rain is the only sound that you can hear. You glance at the rack and see his coat there, so you shrug off your jacket and get into the kitchen. And there is your flatmate, Sherlock, fumbling with lots of test tubes and pipettes, dropping unknown liquids to the kitchen table and looking through a microscope, writing some notes on a pocket notebook.

He’s such a strange guy, but you both manage to pay the rent and that’s what counts. Although he seems to be elusive, rude and merciless, you get along with him since you met.

You stand in the doorway and clear your throat. Nothing.

“Um, hello” you say.

“Hi. You took your time” he says without looking at you.

“Yes” you respond, approaching him and spinning around. “I forgot my umbrella. See?”

“Hm” he draws his attention back to the microscope after a quick glance at your wet clothes.

“I think I’m just going to have a shower and then I’ll make tea. Do you want some?” you ask as you walk towards the hallway.

“No, thanks. Working” Sherlock says.

You roll your eyes and go to the bathroom. You close the door and start to undress in front of the mirror, wondering if Sherlock does ever stop working. If he had more spare time, if he wasn’t “married to his work” –as he once told you–, maybe you could try to have something with him. Because he’s amazing and, truth be told, really handsome.

 

After a steamy and hot shower, you wrap a towel around your body and enter the kitchen.

“I thought my pyjamas were in the dryer…” you say, frowning and looking for them.

“They were. I brought them back to your room” Sherlock says.

You’re about to say thanks when you accidentally notice the hard-on fighting against the tightness of his trousers.

“Um… Sherlock…” you whisper, not knowing whether to tell him or not.

“I know. I’ve been painfully aroused for the last seventy-eight minutes” he cuts you, and then looks up and scrutinises your face. He frowns when you blush and look away. “Is anything wrong?” he asks.

“Well, not at all, but I am embarrassed, and you’re not, so… I don’t…” you mumble, scratching the nape of your neck. You gulp. “Is there a reason for… you know…?”

“My erection?” he finishes. You nod, completely embarrassed now, as he stands up and it becomes more evident. “It’s perfectly natural.”

“Okay, it’s okay, I think I…” you begin, but he approaches you and studies your face very closely, blatantly invading your personal space. You’re trapped between his body and the counter. You look away again, your cheeks deeply flushed as you’re trying to avoid the piercing look in his eyes. His erection presses against your hip.

“Oh, I see” he smiles after some seconds. “Would you help me with this?”

“Sorry?” you turn your head to face him. His mouth is just a few millimetres away from yours when he whispers softly:

“I know you want to suck me off.”

You feel paralysed when you notice the slight tremble of his voice. His lips reach your mouth and press against it, his tongue searching yours playfully and his hands wrapping around your waist. The pressure of his arousal against your hip grows harder as your fingers run through his dark and silky curls.

You push him and shift position so that he’s now against the counter. He pulls a half smile and places his hands on your shoulders, bringing you on your knees in front of him. Now that you’re facing his crotch, you can tell he’s really hard. You bite your lip and look up at him as your hands run up his thighs, your thumbs rubbing their insides. A quiet moan escapes Sherlock’s lips.

“Please” he whimpers.

You’ve never seen him talking like that. No, not talking—begging. You lick your lips, your hands trembling in anticipation as they undo his belt and zipper, making his trousers fall around his ankles. Sherlock can’t wait any more and grabs your hair, crushing your face to the damp patch of his boxers. You answer by mouthing at his erection through the fabric, but soon it becomes not enough and you pull down his underwear until it joins the trousers.

Sherlock hisses and throws his head back when his arousal is finally released from all the pressure. You find yourself surprised—you hadn’t expected him to be that big, but you lean over and place a soft kiss on the tip. You lick down his shaft, smearing the pre-cum already oozed as your hands hold him still by his hips. Sherlock tries to buck against you, but you don’t let him.

Finally, you swirl your tongue around the head of his cock and then you take him into your mouth slowly, until your nose is rubbing his underbelly. He moans again and looks down at you, panting, his pupils dilated widely. His hand tightens in your hair when you slowly pull back with a ‘pop’ sound. He pushes you forward again and you increase the rhythm, feeling that you’re getting really, really wet.

“Oh fuck, FUCK” he growls. “I’m going to… I’m…”

You shift velocities, from fast to slow, and make your tongue and right hand work together as you bring Sherlock over the edge. You’re getting wetter and wetter each time his cock slams against the back of your throat. Your eyes meet and your eyebrows lift in a wanton gesture, daring him to come. Sherlock grips the edge of the counter with one hand and your hair with the other and a low grunt escapes him as he spurts his release inside your mouth.

You lick him clean and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. He tastes delightful. Sherlock grabs your towel, tossing it to the floor, and pulls you up for a fierce kiss in which he groans inside your mouth when he tastes himself. His hand snakes down your stomach to the wetness between your thighs. He chuckles.

“I think we need to do something here too” he says, lifting your arse and making you sit on the counter. “I’m feeling generous today.”

“Ouch!” you yelp. It’s cold and you’ve bumped your head with the cupboard.

Sherlock puts his trousers back on and makes you lie back, spreading your legs. He leans over and kisses your underbelly, his tongue playing in your navel.

“So do you want me to suck your cunt?” he says slowly, making it sound incredibly obscene with his deep voice.

You bite your lip.

“Yes.”

He lets out a satisfied sound and licks your clit once, tentatively. He looks up at you again.

“Do you want to know what made me so hard?” you moan like a puppy in response. “I was thinking about you. I couldn’t concentrate in anything else” he licks again and you arch your back. “And it’s not usual, I tell you, but you’ve successfully fulfilled my expectations” he closes his mouth around your clit and sucks. You moan as his hands hold you down by your thigh and hip.

“Oh, Sher—Sherlock” you hiss.

He swirls his tongue around your clit and then presses it against your entrance, slightly humming when he tastes you.

“Hm. Interesting” he mumbles, more to himself than to you.

You throw your head back as you feel the gentle scrape of teeth on your clit and two of his long phalanges sliding into you. Once they’re buried knuckle-deep, Sherlock sucks again and moves them slowly.

This is too much. You close your eyes, overwhelmed by the lewdness of his stare. He growls and twists his wrist, his fingers moving eagerly and suddenly finding your G spot. You wail in pleasure, hoping Mrs Hudson is not at home tonight.

Sherlock’s fingers and mouth make a perfect combination, and he has you helplessly coming onto his hand, bucking your hips to him and screaming profanity in all possible kinds of language. He pulls back and puts his fingers into his mouth, licking them as if they were a delicious mouthful. Then he kisses you again, letting you taste yourself.

“God” you pant, trying to catch your breath. “Where… where did you learn to do that?”

“Actually, this has been the first time” he says, and sits back on his chair in front of the microscope. He wipes his hand with a tissue and you see that the lewd look he had in his eyes has totally vanished now. “But I’ve been planning how to do it for seventy-eight minutes.”

You get off the counter and your lower back aches when you bend down to pick up the towel.

“Well, I hope we can do it again… someday” you say.

“Hm” he murmurs, not paying much attention. “Can you please pass me my phone?”

“Where is it?”

“Jacket.”

#fic   #submission