Jealous? {John, Sherlock, Irene}

John thought about it, quickly. Quickly for him at least.

He crossed his arms over his chest.

"I am not convinced at all," he said and sat down on the couch next to Sherlock.

"Maybe you should do more convincing," he suggested, his eyes hiding from Sherlock's gaze, embarrassed.

That could mean several things. It could mean that John would like him to deny it verbally again, although Sherlock failed, ultimately, to see the use of that.
It could also mean that John would like another kiss.
Judging from how the other man's ears had gone red and how close he was sitting, Sherlock decided from his rather limited experience that the latter was the case.
There might also have been a small amount of personal want involved.
He turned--awkward angle, this--and leaned in, tipping John's head back to kiss him again.
...He was kissing John Watson.
He liked it rather a lot.

John's throat went dry when Sherlock leaned closer.
It was probably a bad idea, Sherlock was his friend, but at the same time he found himself wanting this more than anything else.

He wanted to do this, he wanted to return the kiss, he wanted to remember what it felt like to kiss this brilliant human being.

So he closed his eyes, he leaned closer, he let his fingers graze down the other's jaw, while he returned the soft pressure, parting his lips just slightly to take in a bit more of his taste.

...And John Watson was kissing him back.
Well, if this wasn't unexpected.
Funny how these things turned out.
He slipped his tongue between the other man's lips--hope I'm doing this right--and gently probed the inside of his mouth, thinking all the while that John tasted rather like that jam he was forever at.

((...I couldn't not mention jam))

Irene groaned a little when she tried to turn over. God, this hurts
...
And then she heard a bang. Probably against the wall.
Tall steps following and two flops of the sofa.
Followed by murmured voices.
She recognized the sounds like no other and sighted.
"Oh my boys. I am glad I visited you."

John couldn't help the smile when he felt Sherlock's tongue slip in his mouth. God, yes, he thought, welcoming him and letting their mouths attach completely.

He had never dreamed this would happen at all.
It had always been just his imagination running free.

His hand buried in Sherlock's hair, and he instinctively pulled him closer.
He didn't want this to stop, he really wasn't convinced yet.

Sherlock's superior height made it easy to bend John over backwards to press him into the couch. The hand the doctor had tangled in his hair was oddly compliant with this, even seeming to drag him down a bit. He wasn't totally sure where one was supposed to put their hands during an activity such as this, but he thought that for John he quite liked the one in his hair. Their legs hung over the edge of the couch--in increasingly awkward positions and everywhere their bodies were touching seemed to emit sparks.
"John." He breathed between kisses, "John."

((Oh god I'm not going to be very good at this take mercy on me xD))

John was rather flushed by then, his eyes half-lidded, but he pulled away. He had to force himself to do it, but his will was strong, somehow.
"Sherlock, wait," he muttered, placing his hands on the detective's shoulders.

"I am convinced," he said with a frown. "But... I... this isn't exactly what friends do... I am afraid it will changed things quite a bit..." he muttered, truly concerned.


((it doesn't have to end in smut if you don't want to <3 ))

"Yes." Sherlock replied, aware that his voice had gained an odd quality, "I'm aware this is outside the bounds of friendship." He was equally aware that that was certainly what he wanted. He bent to kiss John's neck, only to be pushed away again.
"Honestly, Sherlock, you have to think about it."
"I've thought about it." Did John not want this? Was he going too fast? Doing it wrong? It wasn't as though he had too much experience.

((I'll give it a go. Just stop me if it gets awkwardly bad. I'm having a go at MorMor smut as well in the other tab but I'm perpetually in a state of 'I'm doing this wrong', so just ignore me. RPing is kind of new.))

John tried not to think about how distracting it was to have Sherlock's lips on his neck.
"You've thought about it... okay... good... and what was your conclusion?" he asked, the grip on his shoulders tightening, he was truly trying to focus.

"I am not particularly comfortable about being your sexual experiment, you know..."


((I just don't want to corrupt you >> but alright, maybe just careful about not moving my character as well? ^^ ))

"Let's see if you can guess my conclusion," Sherlock breathed, face still buried in the doctor's neck, "and you're not an experiment."

((ACK sorrysorrysorry. My other friends do that in their RPs and I kind of thought that was normal. I'll edit it out if you'd like, I am so abjectly apologetic honestly))
((I told you I was new at this. xD *facepalm*))

"And what am I then?" he breathed out, his eyes unfocused, there were chills of pleasure running down his spine and he had no idea what to do.
He wanted to give in, he wanted to touch Sherlock back, to lose himself in his scent and warmth, but it was important that he knew what to expect from this, because the line between friendship and falling in love with Sherlock had never felt so thin.


(XD it's okay! you don't have to change it, it makes sense to my John as well if he said that, so it can stay like this ^^ just a point for the future~))

"You're my only friend." Sherlock replied, unsure what else to say.
'I love you'?
From everything he'd read and heard, it would be too soon to say that.
'I've been watching you for months and months and I like everything I see'?
Probably that would put John off--it was a pain caring if you put someone off. He didn't usually.
This whole thing was turning out to be far harder than he'd thought. He'd really just like to continue brushing John's neck with his lips, he was finding that rather pleasant.

((Still, sorry. 'M an idiot.))

John shivered under the attention of Sherlock's lips, his hand instinctively burying itself in his dark hair, pulling a bit in frustration. "My friends usually don't do what you are doing to me," he pointed out, his hand moving to settle on the other's hip.
He was giving in, he couldn't help it.

((no worries~ <3))

"I don't know what friends usually do." Sherlock pointed out, continuing to gently mouth John's neck. "This is what I want to do." He continued. John's hand in his hair felt nice, soft pressure reassuring.

((Mother of short replies, I am so good at this *facepalm*))

John swallowed hard, his hands were moving of their own volition, finding their way to the hem of Sherlock's shirt and tugging a bit.
No, no, no, he thought, tensing up again, he couldn't do this.

"What is it exactly that you want?" he asked, hands fisting the fabric of his shirt, but still for now.


(Don't so hard on yourself~~ it's all good~~))

"This," Sherlock said, "You."
John's hands were gone from his hair. A thought occurred to him.
Perhaps John would rather he stop.

"If you ended up regretting this after," he started, and tugged Sherlock's shirt out of his trousers, hands then sliding under the fabric, venturing on his back. "I swear I will kill you."

Sherlock's eyes rolled closed. John's hands were cold on his back, but pleasant.
"And I swear that I will in no way regret anything." He whispered in John's ear.

John groaned, hands spreading on the other's back, stealing the warmth. The skin was smooth and soft, he loved it.

He pressed Sherlock close against his chest, looking for his lips again, and kissing him like there was no tomorrow.

John's body on his was a very...stimulating feeling. The doctor was short and compact in all the same ways and places that Sherlock was long and lanky--but the size difference hardly seemed to be mattering. Seven inches between them, but John's lips reached his as easily as if they were of the same height--probably helped along by the way Sherlock was leaning into him, the detective's left hand digging into the couch next to John, propping him up.

((Can I have a request for you at some point? I've always wanted to see where John traces letters onto Sherlock's back in a message and Sherlock knows what they say.))
((stupid idea? XD))

John groaned in the kiss, lust was rushing in his veins, making him mad, making him want so much more. Everything he had kept secret till that moment, his most hidden thoughts about Sherlock, they were now free and guiding his every movement.

"Sherlock," he whispered, trying to undo his shirt, he needed it off, now. "Get naked, will you?" he urged him.


((I think it's a lovely idea actually <3 how about in the aftermath, when they are all relaxed and half naked? Seems like a perfect moment for a sweet message~))

Sherlock blinked, pausing for an instant, then he pulled back from John to fumble with the buttons on his shirt, watching the doctor do the same and feeling very awkward indeed--because how was he supposed to get back to the position he'd been in? Who would initiate the next kiss, was that up to him, or would John? He cursed his frankly repulsive lack of experience in this area--which he was determined to neither voice nor give away--and pushed aside unfamiliar worries.
His lips met the side of John's jaw as the other man struggled to finish unbuttoning his shirt, creeping up the side of his face, frantically pressing tiny kisses to his skin.

((I hope I can actually do this. xDDD If I have to call a stop I'm going to feel like a moron. Don't be surprised if the writing gradually declines in quality.))

John's rationality was completely lost by then, he was going on autopilot, his body following pure instincts. The one that told him just how perfect Sherlock was for him, regardless of the fact he was born a man as well.

"Sherlock," he moaned his name, a smile on his lips for the soft kisses.
His arm wrapped around the other's thin waist and he dragged him to lay on the sofa as he kissed him again, their naked chests finally touching.


((Don't worry, it might not seem like it, but I enjoy the romance more than the smut, so we can stop the smut whenever you feel like, you can have them get interrupted, or we can gliss over it... RPing is about writing the things you want, I would hate it if it was uncomfortable for you!))

Sherlock kept his eyes open as they kissed again--John's were closed and his face looked peaceful, though concentrated. The detective's eyes flicked over his friend's features, taking in every pore and line for a second until his attention was ripped away by the feel of John's chest on his and the fact that his hands had any number of places that they could go.

((I am at least giving it a shot. I'm going to do this someday and I might as well nut up or shut up.))
((Tell me if you want me to change the way I'm playing Sherlock, by the way. I know you wanted him not to be asexual!sherlock or virgin!sherlock, but I think I've done the latter because I can't believe that he would have been involved with someone before. xD))