College AU (James Moriarty/Sherlock Holmes/John Watson MD) (warning: drug use, smut)

John had been looking at his beer and when he noticed Sherlock was about to get to the cocaine again, it was too late to do anything.
"Fuck, Sherlock. Fuck." he protested, but he could not move that Sherlock was over him, giggling in hysterics.

He bumped his head on the mattress and took in a deep breath. "No more, Sherlock, no more," he said, biting his tongue not to tell him he did not like him when he was this happy.
Maybe he just wasn't drunk enough.

"I choose truth," he said, deciding to be safe, his hands trying to keep Sherlock still, no grinding, thank you, he thought vaguely. There probably wasn't much Sherlock didn't know already though.

Sherlock took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself down, then took up his old position sat up next to John on the bed, their shoulders touching. He grabbed himself a fresh beer, shaking his head.

"I really can't believe I just did that."

He took a swig. "OK, so you want truth. Let me think." He knew that the object of the truth part of the game was to ask a question the other person felt embarrassed or awkward to answer, so Sherlock racked his brains for something...he thought about the kinds of questions he would find difficult and assumed it would be the same for John.

"OK OK I've got one," he said, before pausing for dramatic effect. "Have you ever...had sex?"

John wanted to feel amused by the dare, but the idea he was responsible for Sherlock resorting to cocaine was definitely dampening his mood. Even in his tipsy state.

He looked at him in disbelief at the question, he wanted to laugh, but then he figured if Sherlock had asked that, it had to be a rather touchy subject. Could it be that this guy was a virgin?

"Yes, well... I've had sex many times," he admitted, and looked at the side. "I am not that promiscuous though..."

"Truth or dare?" he asked after a while, finishing the last beer. Damn it.

Many times? Clearly John was a lot more experienced in that area than he was. Maybe he could ask him about it? Not now though, he though. Later, perhaps. For now it was his turn, and he had to decide whether to pick truth or dare. He didn't think his nerves could handle another wild dare like last time, and seeing as John had just had a 'truth' it seemed only right.

"Um...I'll have truth please." he said.

John thought about it, he didn't want to ask too much of him, but he was oh so curious of Sherlock's mind. Could he really be as innocent as he seemed to be?

"What is the dirtiest thought you have ever had? Dirty as in sexually dirty," he said, and blinked a bit when turning around he realized Sherlock was rather close on his side.
Ah, talking about dirty thoughts...

Sherlock blushed, and buried his head into John's shoulder hoping he wouldn't see. Sexual thoughts were rarely in Sherlock's mind...he just didn't have time to think about things like that, he wasn't interested in things like that...but that didn't mean he hadn't thought about it ever. But could he really say it?

"It's um..." he began nervously. "I don't often...when I...earlier when...I mean...." He couldn't think of the best way to begin his sentence. He didn't want to back out of the truth, but wasn't sure whether he could get his lips round the words either.

"I'm not sure you'll want to know." he finally said.

Damn Sherlock, with that cute blush, John couldn't help but reach out to mess the other's hair a bit. They were soft, and he wished he could touch them more.
"It's all fine, you can tell me," he said with a grin. "I won't tell anyone, it's a secret between you and me," he muttered reassuringly.

And yes, he did want to know, so much, he didn't say that out loud though, he hoped it didn't show too much on his face either.

Oh God, oh God, could he really tell him? Sherlock writhed around, hiding his head and buried it into the pillow next to John's shoulder. He felt a little sick and took a couple of deep breaths to steady himself. It's all fine, John had said. It'll be OK.

"I..." he began, then faltered again. Just say it quickly, get it over with. "I wondered what you looked like without your clothes on." The words rushed out and he put his hands up over the back of his head, pushing his face further down into the pillow, not wanting to see John's reaction.

John's eyebrow shot up in surprise, and he looked at Sherlock's nervous fit. On one hand he wondered when this had happened, but on the other, he didn't really think it was that big of a deal. It didn't say much about Sherlock's sexuality either. "That's hardly dirty, Sherlock... it could be put down to simple curiosity," he muttered, and stroked the top his head again, trying to be reassuring.

"You could always dare me to take my clothes off," he joked, that was quite a dirty thought, he reckoned and opened the vodka bottle, took a long sip and grimaced. Ew.

It was a big relief to Sherlock to feel John's presence still next to him on the bed. He'd honestly expected him to get up and walk out. He looked up cautiously from his hiding position in the pillow, then rolled onto his back.

"You don't think I'm weird then? It's just...I noticed you had muscular arms and then I was wondering whether the rest of you was muscly too and then I thought it must be because of your army training and then - " Sherlock stopped himself, realising he was talking too fast and too much, and just processing for the first time what John had said. Dare him to take his clothes off? Well, at least then he'd know whether his deductions had been correct or not.

"Right then," he said slowly. "I dare you. To....take your clothes off. I mean...just so I can see if I was right about you."

"No, you aren't weird," he said, and laughed a bit as the other shared his train of thought. Wow, then Sherlock did think about him a bit, didn't he? He liked that.

His head felt rather dizzy by then, but he understood the dare quite well and his eyes widened. He had been joking!
"A-all of my clothes?" he asked, looking at himself. "It's rather cold here," he said with an embarrassed grin.

Sherlock sat up on the bed, now feeling terrible for having pushed John into doing something he clearly didn't want to.

"No it's OK," he insisted. "You don't have to. I...I was just being stupid. I think I must be drunk or something because I keep wanting to...I keep thinking about...." he trailed off, unable to finish. "Anyway I'm sorry."

"A dare is a dare, Sherlock. I am not backing out of it," he said and sat up straighter on the bed, he took off his jumper in a quick movement. There was a thin tank top under it, and he looked at Sherlock in question, did he want him to go on?

"What is it that you keep thinking about?" he asked curiously, he felt his head go dizzy, the alcohol finally getting to him. "I am quite tipsy myself..."

Sherlock sat up straight, shocked and surprised that John was going ahead with the dare after all, but also quite pleased. He really did want to see his body, although he wasn't exactly sure why. He was proved correct when John removed his jumper - he had great muscles, and he was interested to see how toned his stomach and pectorals would be, so nodded a slight encouagement to remove the vest.

He looked away again embarrassed when John asked him what it was he kept thinking about. Surely he couldn't tell him, could he? He grabbed the bottle of vodka and took a swig, grimacing at the sharp taste. John was sticking to the dare so it was only right that Sherlock told the truth.

"I'm not sure why...." he began slowly. "But I keep thinking rude things...um...kind of...well...kind of about you." It felt a bit of a relief to say it to be honest. At least now they could laugh about it and move on.

John took off his vest as well when Sherlock nodded, shivering a bit for the cold once he was done.
His hands then went to his belt, should he? He shrugged, a dare is a dare, he told himself again, before wriggling around on the bed to slid his trousers off.
He pushed them off the bed.

He stopped then, he reckoned pants were not included?

He took the bottle back and sipped some of the vodka, almost choking on it when he heard Sherlock's words.
"Rude things?" he asked, Sherlock wanted to insult him? It didn't make sense, Sherlock had to mean something else. "What do you mean? I said something wrong?"

Sherlock could hardly take his eyes off John as he removed his vest and trousers...all he could do was sit and stare, his eyes wide and his mouth dry. Eventually he felt he had to tear his eyes away in case John became too self conscious. He kept getting the overwhelming urge to reach out and touch John's body. He knew it was wrong and crazy but he couldn't help himself. No wonder he hardly touched alcohol if this was what it did to him, he thought. He felt like he was sweating. That was probably the coke, he told himself. Right now he felt like having some more. It was only John's obvious disapproval that stopped him.

Sherlock wrung his hands in embarrassment. He thought John would have understood what he meant. "I mean like..." he ran a hand through his hair. God this was difficult. "Like....kind of...um...y'know...." Clearly John didn't know. "Kind of like...sexual things."

John crossed his legs on the bed and looked at him, rather surprised by the words: "Sexual things, you say? I wouldn't say that's rude... it's rather flattering really," he said with a tentative smile.

He was not sure what to do, "Are they about things you would like to do to me? Or things you would like me to do to you?" he asked, swallowing hard.

He looked into his eyes: "I choose dare next," he whispered, his voice low. He had no idea whether it was his turn or not, but he wanted something, something more.

Well, at least they'd finally got the matter cleared up. Sherlock wasn't sure exactly what to do next. He'd never really had any sexual thoughts before...or if he had, he'd pushed them to the back of his mind and told himself he didn't have time for trivial things like that. But now...maybe he was starting to feel a little different, and even if it was just the booze and the drugs making him lose his inhibitions, even if, in the morning, he'd feel ashamed and idiotic, at the immediate moment he wanted...well...he didn't know what he wanted, but all he could think about was wanting to be closer to John somehow.

He licked his dry lips and tried his best to answer John's question. "I'm not sure. I just feel like....it sounds so utterly stupid but...like I want to be...close to you. I mean....physically. I....I'm sorry. Do you dare me...or should I dare you? I can't remember whose turn it is."

John's heart was beating way too fast to be healthy, he couldn't help wanting the same. He wanted to be close, and he wanted to touch Sherlock.

The rest of the words confused him, for a moment he did not remember what he had said at all. Too much alcohol.
"Mm, I have no idea... but I would like to dare you to take your clothes off, it'd be only fair..." he pointed out, eyes moving on him somehow hopeful. "And then we can talk about getting closer..."

Sherlock gulped, his heart racing...did John want the same thing too? Surely not...He was certain John would think he was weird and sick for saying those things...But then...maybe not.

"I suppose it is only fair." Sherlock laughed nervously. Then, "I have to tell you I've never...no one's ever seen me without my clothes before so...umm..." He fumbled at the buttons on his shirt, starting at the bottom and working his way to the top, slowly revealing his pale bare skin underneath. Once he'd undone all the buttons, he slowly slipped it off his shoulders and dropped it onto the floor, feeling the cool air on his naked flesh, suddenly self conscious of his skinnier frame when compared to John's toned body.

His hands were shaking as he undid the button on his trousers. He hesitated slightly, then grabbed the bottle of vodka, drank some back for confidence and let his trousers fall to the floor. He stepped out of them with a giggle.

"There. Now we're equal," he grinned at John. This was kind of fun.

John was staring, and he couldn't help the small tent that rose in his pants.
Good gracious, Sherlock was gorgeous.
"You are beautiful," he confessed out loud, licking his lips. He felt like such a pervert, but he was too turned on to care.

"C-can I... Can I touch you?" he asked, swallowing hard, he needed to do something.

Sherlock could feel the excitement rising in his chest as he realised John was interested in him....in fact, John couldn't take his eyes off him. He'd never had anyone pay him attention in that way before, it was a good feeling.

He took a couple of nervous steps towards John. They were face to face, standing at the foot of the bed, their bodies almost touching, but not quite. Sherlock could feel John's warm breath gently tickling his face as he spoke.

"Um...yes I...I think I'd like that." He closed his eyes, and prepared himself for John's touch...not knowing what to expect.

A grin passed his lips for a moment, then it disappeared when he realized he had no idea where to begin.

He reached out his hand, fingers hesitant as they touched Sherlock's hand.
He waited for him to protest, but when nothing came, his slid his fingers up, to the inside of his elbow and to his shoulder.

"You are so pale..." he whispered, his palm on his chest then, grazing over his nipple and then to the side.

He cupped Sherlock's hip and pulled him against his chest, looking into his eyes.
"Am I dreaming this?" he whispered, a few centimeters from his lips.

Sherlock let out a small moan as John's fingers gently played around his chest. Each touch made him shiver slightly, sending a chill down the back of his spine. His eyelids fluttered as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. God, taht felt so good.

As John grabbed him and pulled him closer, Sherlock opened his eyes again to stare down into John's. He'd never been attracted to anyone before but he realised very quickly that this man was different. There was something unique about him that Sherlock found irresistable. His brother always made fun of him because he was still a virgin and at that moment he decided maybe he could finally put a stop to all that. This felt fine. This felt right.

"Um...no you're not dreaming," he mumbled. "At least...I hope not." Sherlock moved his head a little closer and pressed his lips clumsily against John's.

John hoped it was real. It had to be real. Because he knew that he'd never forget the sweet feeling that spread in his chest when he saw Sherlock lean in to kiss him, he could never forget the softness of his lips, the way he tasted when he kissed him back.

He wrapped his arms around the other's waist, pulling him close and deepening the kiss, following an instinct he had no idea he could feel.
There was vodka on Sherlock's tongue, but he knew he probably tasted the same.

He groaned softly, keeping him close, leading the kiss and melting into it.