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The morning of his fifth marriage anniversary, John woke up alone.
He rolled to Sherlock’s side of the bed, burying his nose in his husband’s pillow and inhaling deeply as a warm smile bloomed on his lips. He could hear Sherlock walking in the kitchen, the faint smell of coffee reaching the bedroom and his stomach gurgled. They had just finished a case the day before, both of them too exhausted to even think about celebrating the arrest in their own way, and John had been expecting some lazy morning sex today to make it up for it. But apparently Sherlock had other plans.
John knew he hadn’t forgotten. Sherlock had surprised him every year with the most brilliant gift (he still thought about their sex marathon day from time to time) and surely, Sherlock had planned today very precisely. John sighed, finding he couldn’t wait to find out. His entire body jumped with surprise when he heard the front door slam closed and he straightened up, “Sherlock?”
No one answered and John was out of bed quickly, slipping on Sherlock’s dressing gown that was resting on the armchair. The flat was deadly quiet. John peered into the bathroom, Sherlock had showered and even shaved. Another of his gowns was on the floor. John frowned and called again, “Sherlock, love, are you here?”
But John had to face it, Sherlock had went out. Maybe he had thought John was still asleep and had gone to get breakfast? No, he had his coffee already, John remembered. Letting out a deep sigh, he went to the sitting room to fetch his phone when he noticed the envelope on his chair. Relief, but also warm happiness ran through him as he hurried to open it.
John,
Today is a special day, and therefore, I have something special for you.
I must warn you, if in any case what you find in the next envelope isn’t something you enjoy, all you need to do is inform me and we won’t have to mention it again.
Happy anniversary,
Love,
Sherlock.
PS: the next envelope is under your pillow.
John felt his stomach twitch in anticipation and he practically ran back to the bedroom. No matter what Sherlock had written, John was certain Sherlock had thought about his gift over and over again, that he had examined all the facts, and wouldn’t offer something he knew John would dislike. Another thrill of excitement ran through him, and John pushed the pillow away, staring at the dark envelope resting on the mattress. He opened it with shaky fingers and pulled out what look like a photograph.
All the air was sucked out of his lungs and his blood rushed to his cock as John stared at the picture. There was no doubt this was Sherlock, despite the head of the person cropped out of the picture. He recognized the two freckles just under his right nipples and the scars near his navel. This was Sherlock, no doubt. John inhaled deeply, feeling his cock pulse under the silk gown, and he let his eyes travel on the lean body in front of him.
Sherlock was kneeling on the bed, their bed, and the picture had been taken so John could perfectly see his bare chest and pelvis. But what mattered most, what made John harden rather quickly, was the pair of panties Sherlock was wearing in the picture. Black, string over each hip and laces that outlined Sherlock’s erect cock barely hidden under the soft underwear. John’s tongue darted out to lick his lower lip as he took in the head of Sherlock’s cock peeking over the dark trim. John could even discern a bead of precome and he felt the irrestible urge to taste.
John realised he was touching himself when a thrill of pleasure ran through his spine and he tugged on his cock lazily. He wondered when Sherlock had taken the picture, where he had bought the panties and how he could have thought John wouldn’t like it. “Oh, god,” John moaned, his thumb sliding over his slit. Sherlock was gorgeous, absolutely breathtaking, and all John needed right now was Sherlock in their bed wearing the exact same lingerie. It didn’t take long for John to let the fantasy take over him and with a few tight strokes, he was coming, his legs giving up on him. He fell on top of the bed, breath ragged, and caught sight of Sherlock’s delicate handwriting on the other side of the photograph.
See you tonight,
Sherlock.
Fuck.
How was he supposed to go through his day knowing exactly what was waiting for him when he came home?
~~
John considered calling Sherlock on four different occasions before going to work but put his phone away each time, knowing the build up was part of Sherlock’s plan. He wasn't sure Sherlock would answer anyway. John was going to have to wait, and the reward, he knew, was going to be delicious.
Still, as he closed the front door behind him (Sherlock’s picture in his jeans pocket), his phone rang with a text alert and John smiled as he read Sherlock’s name.
From: Sherlock
Received at 8:05
I take it you liked the photo. SH
To: Sherlock
Sent at 8:06
You're a very naughty man Sherlock Holmes. I can't wait for my present tonight. Love you.
From: Sherlock
Received at 8:06
Don't think about the photo too much, I need you in full strength tonight. SH
To: Sherlock
Sent at 8:07
Already stained your dressing gown this morning, looking at your lovely panties and thinking about sucking just the head of your gorgeous cock.
John was hiding his phone, making sure the woman next to him on the bus couldn’t read his messages as he waited for Sherlock’s answers. Looking out of the window he found himself wondering (again) what he had ever done to deserve Sherlock’s love. He could still remember the years spent believing he would never know the tenderness of Sherlock’s arms around him, never know the soft press of Sherlock’s lips against his own, never know Sherlock’s desperate moans as they made love. John could remember these years all too well and had long ago realised he’d go through all of them again if it meant he could wake up to Sherlock’s warm body next to his every morning.
John felt his phone vibrate in his pocket just as he got off the bus and he waited until he was safely inside his office to open the text.
From: Sherlock
Received at 8:09
Oh John, just you wait. Today will be full of surprises. SH
John licked his lips, resisting the temptation to call Sherlock and tell him he wanted his surprise right now. Instead John got ready for what seemed a long day at work and made sure his phone was on his desk, right in his sight, before calling his first patient in.
In the end, John only had to wait until lunch break to get another peek at his surprise. The envelope was delivered by one of Sherlock’s homeless network, the young girl not saying a word as she dropped the package on his desk and left. John eyed the paper for a long moment, trying to decide if he wanted to go back home to open it just to be safe, but Sherlock had told him he needed to keep his strength. Letting out a shaky laugh, John locked his door and opened the teasing envelope.
“Oh fuck,” he breathed as he pulled out another picture. “God.”
Sherlock was standing in the doorway of their bedroom, completely naked except for dark thigh-high stockings with red laces and a deep red corset, the trim just under Sherlock’s hard nipples. John swallowed with difficulty, finding it suddenly hard to breathe. Sherlock was erect, and somehow, John was certain he had taken this picture the very same day as the first one. John stared at Sherlock’s long, lean legs covered by the stockings and he let one finger trace the upper curve of his lover’s thighs over the picture, hoping he could feel the soft laces.
John felt the first tremor of arousal pool in his groin and he sat down again, eyes not leaving Sherlock’s body. He trailed up Sherlock’s legs and thighs, lingering on his erection and priding himself to know the exact weight, exact taste of Sherlock’s cock. John was assaulted with memories of the first time he had undressed Sherlock, the first time he had kissed the warm skin of his hipbone before closing his hand around Sherlock’s erection. God, the sound he had made, the way his body had shivered and arched under John’s touch. John felt his own body shiver at the memory, and he forced himself to continue his exploration of Sherlock’s present. The corset fit Sherlock perfectly. His sharp hipbones were barely visible, but John knew they were right here, just as he knew the lustful sound Sherlock made every time he bit and licked at them. Sherlock’s body was angled just so the curve of his body highlighted his infinite grace. John bit down his lower lip as his eyes stopped at Sherlock’s nipples, the need to kiss and suck overwhelming him.
“Christ,” he sighed, adjusting himself inside his trousers, “The things you do to me, Sherlock Holmes.”
This time, Sherlock’s face was visible on the picture, and the pure look of hunger in Sherlock’s eyes made John whimper. He could almost feel the piercing stare on himself. Sherlock must have felt unsure, must have wondered if what he was doing would please John, but still, he looked debauched. John wanted to touch, to kiss, to take.
His phone beeped, startling him and John hurried to open the text.
From: Sherlock
Received at 12.34
Remember, you already had your morning wank. SH
“Fuck,” John cursed when he realised his hand was still on his crotch, rubbing his erection through his jeans.
To: Sherlock
Sent at 12:36
You will be the death of me. God, do we really have to wait until tonight? I want you now!
John barely had the time to look back at the photo before Sherlock was replying.
From: Sherlock
Received at 12:36
I got hard just putting the lingerie on, John. I didn’t even had to stroke myself before taking the picture, just picturing your hands on me, undressing me. SH
To: Sherlock
Sent at 12:38
Christ, you’re not helping. Not at all.
From: Sherlock
Received at 12:39
Tonight John. SH
John leant back in his chair, the picture and his phone lying on the desk, and he exhaled deeply. Tonight.
~~
John thought about the two pictures, safely hidden in his pocket, during the entire ride back home. It had became harder and harder to focus as the hours passed, and by the time the last patient had left his office, John was only thinking about Sherlock’s teasing promises. But as he had left the clinic in a hurry, John had realised Sherlock probably wouldn’t be home yet. Still, his legs were bouncing with anticipation and John was already standing by the closed doors when the bus came to a stop near Baker Street.
John was certain he had never walked home so quickly, and he was glad to realise Mrs. Hudson’s flat seemed empty. He planned to make Sherlock scream with pleasure tonight. Just as he was trying to control his breathing before heading up, John heard the distinct sound of footsteps in their flat. He froze, his entire body on alert.
The familiar sound of his phone echoed again.
From: Sherlock
Received at 16:59
Coming up? SH
John climbed the stairs two by two, his heart pounding in his ears and his breath already short. The sitting room was empty when he came in, throwing his jacket on the sofa and heading directly for the bedroom. The door was slightly open, and John heard movement behind it. He stopped, closing his eyes for a few seconds. Sherlock Holmes, his husband, was waiting on the other side. Sherlock Holmes, wearing only lingerie for their anniversary.
John pushed the door open, a rush of love taking all the place inside his chest.
“Oh god, Sherlock,” John breathed as he took in Sherlock, sitting on his heels on their bed, his eyes finding John’s immediately and pinning him in place.
“Happy anniversary,” Sherlock said, his voice deep and already betraying his arousal, “Husband.”
John opened his mouth to reply but his response died in his throat, turning into a low growl, as Sherlock raised himself onto his knees. Pink. Panties and bra. There was flanel all around the panties trim and John was certain he could discern white bees all over it. Sherlock’s cock was still entirely covered by the underwear, but John could see he was getting hard already and soon the panties wouldn’t be able to contain his erection.
“Why don’t you get undressed,” Sherlock said, a small smile on his lips and John realised he was still nervous about all this. He removed his jeans and pants first, making sure Sherlock could see just how much he was aroused already, just how much he loved him, like this. He grinned at Sherlock when he heard him inhale sharply, and made aquick work of his jumper and shirt. He stood, entirely naked, in front of Sherlock and waited. He watched as Sherlock’s hands clenched by his sides, his cock definitely harder now. “John, I-”
John didn’t let him finish his sentence, taking the few steps separating him from the bed and kneeling in front of him, crashing their mouths together. Sherlock hummed in surprise and immediately melted under John’s lips. John made sure not to press their bodies together yet, keeping a minimum distance between them as he thread his fingers through Sherlock’s curls. He licked and sucked and bit at Sherlock’s lips, Sherlock’s own hands now roaming all over his bare chest.
“John”, he moaned when they parted, “Touch me.”
John smirked, “You teased me all day,” he said, kissing down Sherlock’s chin and jaw, keeping his hands secured in his hair, “my turn now.”
Sherlock’s entire body shivered as John pulled away, just enough to stare at him again. There were definitely bees on the bra too, and John licked his lips. He wanted to touch, oh, how he wanted right now, but he forced himself to only look. The bra looked like the corset Sherlock had wore on the second photograph, no fabric covering his nipples, and John felt the same urge to touch as earlier. He knew he wouldn’t last long, but resisted for another minute, simply blowing on the hard nub and enjoying the way Sherlock’s nails digged into his back at the feeling.
“John, please.”
Sherlock pulled him closer, his hips thrusting forward to meet him, but John made sure to remain out of reach, “I intend to make you so hard your cock won’t fit inside your delicious panties,” John whispered and before Sherlock could say anything, he trapped one nipple between his lips and sucked.
“Oh, John!”
John ravished both of Sherlock’s nipples for several minutes, kissing and sucking on each of them until Sherlock was all but thrusting into the empty space between them. Not able to resist any longer, John let his fingers trail down Sherlock’s nape and back until he found the soft fabric of the bra. He caressed it, making its way to the front as he pulled away, watching. Sherlock’s chest was rising rapidly, and John teased both nipples with his thumbs, “Fuck, Sherlock, this is amazing.”
“I- oh god, I wasn’t sure you’d like it,” Sherlock breathed, arching into John’s touch.
“How could I not,” John replied, glancing down at Sherlock’s cock now peeking over the trim, “You are breathtaking, absolutely beautiful. When I saw that first picture, god, I barely had to stroke myself before I was coming just by the look of you.”
“I was hoping,” Sherlock said in a breath.
“I’m so very glad you did,” John said, fingers sliding down Sherlock’s chest and stomach, “so very glad.”Sherlock’s entire body arched when John traced the slit of his cock with one finger, beads of precome already pearling and he brought the finger to his mouth, staring into Sherlock’s eyes. “Tell me, love, what do you want?”
Sherlock’s eyes fluttered closed as he moaned, “You, I want you.”
“Oh, you’re getting me for sure,” John smirked, “I’m going to fuck you with these panties hanging around your thighs.”
“Yes, please,” Sherlock whimpered, seeking John’s fingers again.
“But first,” John said, “I want you on your hands on knees.”
Sherlock’s eyes snapped open, filled with arousal, and he leant in for a kiss before complying quickly. John remained on his knees, starring as Sherlock settled in front of him, arse in the air. The panties were too short, the lower curve of his arse was completely exposed, and John was certain he hadn’t seen anything more arousing in his life. He leant in, biting at the soft flesh and Sherlock cried out. John kissed over his cleft, lips finding the fabric of the panties and he mouthed over them all the way up to Sherlock’s lower back. He placed his hands on Sherlock’s hips and raised his body so his now aching cock would slide against the panties.
“Yes,” Sherlock panted, “Yes, please.”
John rocked against him, the fabric soft against his erection and if he pushed just enough, it slipped between Sherlock’s arse cheeks, making the man shudder with want. “First,” John said, already breathless, “I want to give you my own present.” He pulled back just a little and lowered his head again, pushing the panties to the side so he could part Sherlock’s cheeks.
Sherlock inhaled sharply and John smiled widely before kissing at Sherlock’s arsehole, “Oh, god, John!”
John wasted no time, knowing very well they had all night to take it slow, and feeling already too close to coming. He kissed and sucked at Sherlock’s hole, tongue pushing in lightly at first, enjoying the way Sherlock’s legs began to shake with need, before beginning to truly fuck Sherlock with his tongue. He knew just how much Sherlock loved it, just how close it could bring him, and John closed his hand over Sherlock’s erection. He made sure to only stroke Sherlock over the panties, fumbling with his balls and letting his fingers come dangerously close to his entrance.
“John, John.”
Sherlock was all but whimpering with need now, his hips rocking back on John’s face. He was close, so very close. John pushed his tongue inside him one last time before replacing it with two fingers. He knew how to prepare Sherlock perfectly now, and in moment like this, he knew his husband wouldn’t wait any more time than necessary.
“Fuck, Sherlock, the things you made me do,” John groaned, twisting his fingers so he could brush Sherlock’s prostate, “I almost touched myself in my office today. I wouldn’t have cared. I was so hard, just looking at you, imagining I was touching you, tasting you, fucking you.”
“John, please, more,” Sherlock gasped, thrusting back on his fingers and John hurried to add another. Just as he was thinking about getting the lube, Sherlock threw a bottle at his feet, “Hurry.”
John let out a small laugh, using his free hand to lube himself. He leant down to kiss Sherlock’s arse over the panties once more before hooking his finger under the trim and pulling them down Sherlock’s arse and thighs. He pushed them down until there were resting just above Sherlock’s knees, his cock pulsing inside his hand as he stared down at the sight in front of him.
“God, Sherlock, I love you so much.”
Sherlock let out a whine as John guided the head of his cock against his arsehole, “Lo- love you.”
John thrust all the way in, both of their moans echoing in the room, and he pulled back only to push in again sharply. Sherlock had lowered his head on the pillow now, and the angle was perfect for John to hit his prostate with every thrust. They fell into a rhythmic pace, their slamming together in the most obscene sounds, and John ran his fingers up and down Sherlock’s thighs. Each time his fingers found the soft panties, stretched around Sherlock’s legs, John was reminded that Sherlock had done this for him. He had trusted John enough to let him see this part of him, to let him share this fantasy.
“Fuck, oh fuck, Sherlock, you feel so good.”
“John, please, I need-“
Sherlock’s back arched as John drove into him with force, one hand coming to close around Sherlock’s cock. He let Sherlock fuck his fist with each one of his own thrusts, and already Sherlock was shaking with the first signs of orgasm. John increased his pace, all but pounding into him now, and soon Sherlock’s entire body clenched around him as he came all over the sheets and John’s fingers.
“John,” he moaned, still rocking back on John’s cock through his orgasm, “Oh god, John.”
“Yes, yes, fuck,” John growled, pulling Sherlock up against his chest as he continued to fuck him, both hands splayed over his husband’s chest, feeling the trim of the bra and kissing Sherlock’s neck as his orgasm overtook him, pulsing inside Sherlock. They remained still for several seconds, Sherlock’s breathing ragged and John still ravishing his neck. “Brilliant,” he panted, “absolutely brilliant.”
Sherlock turned his head to look at him, a warm smile on his lips, “I rather think so too, yes.” John laughed before kissing him, undulating his hips until he had to pull out to avoid over sensitivity. They both collapsed on the bed, Sherlock rolling on his side so he could rest his head on John’s chest, and he let out a long sigh.
“Do you have any more?” John asked after a moment, pushing Sherlock’s panties down his legs with one foot.
“Hmm, I do.” Sherlock looked up at him, “You really liked them?”
“I thought it was obvious by now,” John smiled, kissing the tip of his nose.
Sherlock remained silent, still looking at him, and John made sure his love for this extraordinary man was showing on his face.
“You make me happy, John,” Sherlock finally said, “So very happy.”
John felt a familiar warmth spread through his chest and he leant down to kiss Sherlock softly, “Happy anniversary, love.”