Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/655849.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Sherlock_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Sherlock_Holmes/John_Watson
  Character:
      Sherlock_Holmes, John_Watson
  Additional Tags:
      Teenlock, Oral_Sex, Blowjobs, First_Time, Virgin_Sherlock, competent
      John, Johnlock_-_Freeform, Teen_Angst
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-01-26 Words: 3365
****** Teach Me How ******
by stravaganza
Summary
     “Teach me how to give blowjobs.”
Notes
     My entry for the Grab Bag Challenge. Fill for the prompt: "Don’t do
     it like /that/. Do it like /this/."
     Enjoy!
Sherlock stopped in his steps, hiding behind a shelf of the library, frowning.
He and John were supposed to meet in the successive aisle, that was their usual
spot, but Sherlock had been a bit late. And by the time he arrived, apparently,
John had found himself some company.
They weren’t a couple, like most of the school liked to think and tease them
about, but Sherlock wasn’t exactly unaffected by John. To put it simply, he was
probably in love with his two years senior friend, but had never said anything
to him about it. He was already strange for being in a class frequented by
older people, the last thing he needed was to be labelled as gay, as well. They
could call him that, but he could ignore them as long as they had no proofs.
Not that there was anything wrong with it. God, no. But it was one more step
away from normality, and he hated being teased greatly. So he had buried his
feelings, mostly because John didn’t seem interested. Wasn’tinterested,
Sherlock knew, since he continuously went around finding girls to go out with,
or just to occasionally shag. Sherlock knew this, but he hoped to never witness
it directly.
Apparently, he had ran short of luck as he was forced to hide behind his shelf,
hands trembling around the book he was supposed to return, muffled moans
hitting him like slaps.
“Oh, yes baby, you feel so good,” he heard John say, and squeezed his eyes to
ignore it. To ignore the sting behind his lids and the burn in his throat. The
throb in his heart. He sank to the floor and sat there, curled on himself,
knees uncomfortably pulled close to his chest as he waited for it all to
finish. Sure, he could come back later, but he didn’t want John to go away,
thinking he forgot their meeting.
How long did sex take?, Sherlock wondered whenever he heard one of the
anonymous girl’s shrieks of pleasure, every noise echoed by the silent library
and followed by a low grunt from John. It seemed an eternity before he had to
hide behind a table, hearing the footsteps of the giggling girl move down the
corridor to the front door.
“Call me!” she said in a cheeky voice, and Sherlock could imagine the painfully
pleased grin on John’s face.
“Sure thing,” he called back, just before the echo of the door slamming closed
reverberated in the now empty room, other than for them.
Sherlock was now torn. Should he wait a moment before showing up, so John would
think he entered as the girl exited? Or should he keep hiding, and after all
let John think he had forgotten?
“I know you’re there,” John called, and every Sherlock’s resolution crumbled.
“Just come out, you creepy voyeur.”
If possible, these words hurt just as much as the sex had.
“I’m not a voyeur,” Sherlock huffed, standing and brushing some dust from his
trousers.
“Then why were you sitting there?”
“Why did you decide to wait for me while fucking a girl?” he retorted, storing
his book back in its shelf, brows furrowed.
John rolled his eyes, and Sherlock felt like punching him, but let it go. John
was still rearranging his trousers, and fastening his belt. Sherlock couldn’t
help but follow his eyes, and look as his hands worked just above his crotch.
“So. Why did you want to meet?” John asked, causing Sherlock to look back up.
“I just wanted to hang out,” Sherlock said honestly, and John’s gaze travelled
back to his face with a quirked eyebrow.
“That excuse again?”
“It’s not an excuse.”
“Really?” John asked, sarcastically. “Because last time I checked you were the
most antisocial person I’ve ever known.”
Sherlock huffed again, and crossed his arms. “I still am. Shouldn’t you say
something along the lines of: ‘I’m so flattered that you want to be with me,
Sherlock’?”
John finished trafficking with his belt and laughed, putting his hands in his
pockets. “I am, really! It just seems strange. That’s all.”
Sherlock looked at the table John had most likely screwed the nameless girl on,
and grimaced. On the shiny wooden surface was still lying a used condom,
crumpled up and oozing sexual fluids from both ends. John followed Sherlock’s
eyes and cursed, rummaging through his pockets.
“Fuck, do you have a tissue?” he asked, and Sherlock was already offering him
one before he even finished his sentence.
“Ta.”  John picked it up and cleaned the table before wrapping the tissue
around the knotted condom.
“There is something I want to do, actually,” Sherlock said suddenly, without
even know why, thinking his hopes were going to be tossed away just like the
condom he had just watched disappear beyond the rim of the nearest bin.
“Uh, really? What is it?” John asked, with a curious smile.
“Teach me how to give blowjobs.”
Sherlock’s voice hadn’t faltered as he made his request, and that alone, to
him, was amazing. He looked at John, who was probably waiting for him to call
it off, but when a laugh or reassuring words of a joke didn’t follow, his half
smile died on his lips and he frowned, looking at Sherlock just as seriously
before clearing his throat.
“I’ve never given a blowjob.”
“But you’ve received several.”
“I didn’t know you were actually gay.”
“I don’t know what I am. I just want to learn.”
“Why?”
“I want you to teach me.”
John licked his lips, knowing Sherlock well enough to know that was as much of
an explanation he was going to get. He sighed, licked his lips again, and
nodded, finally, letting his eyes waltz around the room for a moment before
setting them back on the tall teenager, nodding.
“Alright, yes. Fine. Fine, I’ll teach you.”
Sherlock smiled, knowing he had probably let a bit too much known to John, but
as long as his friend seemed not to care, neither did he.
---
They went to John’s house, which was closer, and the walk back there wasn’t as
silent as Sherlock had dreaded. John was, if anything, far more cheerful than
usual, in that often annoying way that told Sherlock John was getting laid.
This time it was a tad less annoying because Sherlock knew John was getting
laid with him, but still it didn’t make him feel less jealous.
John was always like that, with anyone. It always meant that he didn’t care
that much about the person he was about to shag, and that he was unlikely to
see them again. Sherlock hoped that wasn’t his case, and that it only meant he
wasn’t going to see him like that again. He could live with sucking John off
only once in his life. No big deal, as long as they were still friends.
When they arrived, no one was home. Typical, with Harry away to college and
John’s parents working themselves ill to grant their children an education.
John surely wanted to make them proud, while Harriet seemed more interested in
the collegial parties on Saturday nights.
Sherlock left his bag on the narrow hallway that constituted the entry, while
John took his own upstairs, to his bedroom. They entered the small room with
unusual silence, and Sherlock stood in the doorway as he watched John rest his
bag on the stool neatly tucked under the desk, which was filled with textbooks,
pens, and flying pieces of paper that threatened to get scattered everywhere at
every opening of the window right in front of the table.
“So,” John said, and paused for a moment. He turned back and looked at
Sherlock, scratching the back of his head before repeating. “… So.”
For being older, sometimes Sherlock thought that John still acted like a child.
He didn’t seem nervous, rather he seemed not to know how to approach the
subject. The younger boy sighed and said curtly: “How do I suck you off?”
If John seemed to blush, he didn’t let it through in his voice. He simply sat
on the bed and grabbed a small pillow, tossing it between his feet on the
ground. “Get on your knees, here.”
Sherlock nodded and obeyed, placing himself where John had indicated. When he
looked up, the shorter boy was staring at him intently, and Sherlock flushed at
the pleasure of being the subject of that kind of stare on John’s part. But
after a moment of protracted silence, he grew a bit awkward and fidgeted on the
spot, looking up and down John’s body, then up and down his own, then glanced
to the side and back to John, then to the side, then back to John, eyes
restless.
“What?” he finally asked when John didn’t seem to be intentioned to speak.
John gave a small smile and shook his head, raising one hand to run his fingers
through Sherlock’s hair. “Nothing, just… It’s nice to see you listen to me
without complaining.”
Sherlock’s still reddened cheeks remained of a rosy colour, and he huffed and
rolled his eyes. “This is hardly my area, I need directions. Or I wouldn’t be
here in the first place…” he muttered.
John nodded. “So, are you… Gay?”
Sherlock pursed his lips. “In a way. I don’t have particular sexual needs, but
when I do I tend to think of men, yes.”
“And you’re a virgin? Like, ‘I’ve never seen neither a penis nor a vagina up
close’ virgin?”
Sherlock knew what John was thinking. All the rumours were right. All the
teasing Sherlock had to endure and John defended him from, they had a concrete
base. John doubted Sherlock had actually told anyone, but it must have been
hard for Sherlock being surrounded by people who didn’t like him and who teased
him for all his secrets, knowing them without knowing, just a stroke of
insulting luck.
When John understood that Sherlock’s silence was going to last, he sighed and
nodded, catching his tongue between his teeth for a short moment before
muttering: “Right.”
Then John moved his hand away from Sherlock’s hair, as if surprised it was
still sitting there, letting his fingertips brush the taller teenager’s
cheekbones so lightly that it caused the other boy to shiver. He then took a
sharp breath and blinked several times, before nodding to himself again.
“You should start by opening my trousers, and pulling my pants down,” John
stated, and Sherlock wasted no time. Once the deed was done, he looked up
expectantly, waiting for instruction, but not after having observed John’s half
hard cock. It already seemed quite big, and Sherlock knew it would only grow
thicker with hardness. “Now you should touch me… With your hand. Just, take it.
Carefully.”
“I know how to handle a penis, John. I do happen to have one,” Sherlock
muttered with an annoyed upwards glance to John, and the boy giggled somewhat
nervously, cheeks flushed.
“Yes, well, then… Touch me like you touch yourself.”
Sherlock raised an eyebrow at John’s request, but nodded nevertheless. When he
looked down though, he frowned and tilted hi head to the side. No, the angle
was wrong. He stood and walked to the other side of the bed, sitting close to
John before shifting so his legs were resting at his sides; he pulled John
closer and spread his legs with his hands, stroking his clothed thighs gently
before letting his right hand travel up to his crotch.
He had huge hands, John noticed as he looked transfixed at the scene, until he
felt that very hand wrap around him. The palm could nearly cover the whole of
his length, John thought, and had he had enough breath he would have probably
giggled hysterically again. But instead Sherlock moved his hand in a slow
pumping movement, and John moaned, completely hard in seconds.
Sherlock took the aroused noise like a very good sign. He kept pumping gently,
nose nuzzling against the back of John’s head for a moment, just enough to
memorise the softness of the blonde hair and its sweet scent. Sherlock peered
from over John’s shoulder, pressing him closer to himself and sighing against
the back of his ear when their bodies pressed against one another, back to
chest, causing him the wish to sink his teeth in that fragile expanse of
cartilage that was the shell of his ear.
But he didn’t, and kept moving his hand up and down along John until he had to
close his eyes to avoid a raging erection of his own, thanking his self-
control, not really helped by the way John thrashed around, rubbing their
bodies together, or the small whispers of pleasure that escaped the boy’s thin,
kissable lips.
He didn’t stop until he felt John’s hand on his wrist, halting his movements.
“You’re good at handjobs, we’ve confirmed that,” John said in a shaky voice.
“But if you don’t get started on the blowjob I’m going to come like this, and
there won’t be much to suck later.”
Sherlock smiled and nodded, nose brushing behind John’s ear. “Should I get back
on my knees, then?” he asked seriously, and felt John shudder. God.
“Yes. Yes, you should.” John’s voice seemed even shakier, and he exhaled a long
breath as Sherlock moved from behind him. Probably he had made him feel uneasy…
“God, how much time do you spend wanking?” John asked with a small laugh,
running a hand in his hair, right were Sherlock’s nose had been buried.
“Not much, to be honest. I do it twice, at most.”
“Twice a day?!”
“Twice a month,” Sherlock replied with a huff.
“Oh.” A slightly heavy silence fell between them, and they looked at each other
until Sherlock’s gaze travelled down his chest, and the boy licked his lips
when it reached John’s erection.
That seemed to make John snap out of his trance, because he once again said:
“Right,” with an air of finality to it.
“Alright, now wrap your hand around me again… J-just enough to keep me in
place,” John instructed, voice faltering as Sherlock’s hand came in contact
with his hard length promptly.
Sherlock gave a few more pumps, and his eyes widened in fascination as a bead
of precome started to ooze from the head of John’s cock, and he leaned in to
observe it. He had never had the occasion to look this closely to himself,
after all. Curiously, almost mindlessly, he didn’t wait for John’s instruction
and leaned forward, the tip of his tongue licking the bead away with a
satisfied hum: the taste was similar to his own, but sweeter, probably due to
the lack of spermatozoa in John’s seed which was caused by copious amounts of
sex and masturbation. He himself was saltier, for the exact opposite reason.
Sherlock licked John again, pumping his hand to stimulate the production of
more precome, and kept licking at the tip almost eagerly, momentarily forgotten
of what he was supposed to be doing and to whom.
“Wait, wait, Sher-loohck…” John moaned, threading his fingers in Sherlock’s
hair. The younger boy immediately snapped his head to attention, frowning.
“Don’t do it like that. Do it like this.”
With that, John put his hand over Sherlock’s, moving it down so the foreskin
would be pulled aside and Sherlock’s tongue could reach his glans. Sherlock
nodded in comprehension, and glanced up to see that John was keeping his bottom
lip tightly pulled between his teeth. Keeping his eyes turned upwards, Sherlock
once again let his tongue peer out to lick the head of his cock, and John let
go of his lip to gasp silently, eyelids drooping over dilated pupils.
John nodded encouragingly and pushed Sherlock’s head forward gently; the
younger boy kept his mouth open so that John could slip his shaft directly into
it, and he looked with growing interest as John hissed in pleasure, his lips
now nearly closed.
Sherlock let himself be directed for a while, glad John seemed to enjoy the
warm wetness of his mouth, but soon picked up his own rhythm, bobbing his head
up and down for a while, observing John’s reactions. He enjoyed the way he was
being stared at by his best friend, and liked the feeling of hard flesh between
his lips more than he thought he would; it was comforting knowing that John
trusted him enough to let him do this.
Then he stopped, John’s shaft halfway into his mouth when he tried to suck on
it, gently at first and then more harshly. The effect on John was immediate: he
gasped loudly, and the hand still in Sherlock’s hair tightened suddenly,
pulling at the curly locks. Sherlock repeated the motion one, two, three times,
all the while massaging what wasn’t in his mouth with his hand.
His other hand moved hesitantly to fondle John’s balls, not sure that was
something people were supposed to do during blowjobs, but John’s trembling
voice inciting him to “Yes, yes, suck ‘em…” told him it wasn’t a bad thing. He
obeyed, pulling away from his cock with a slurping sound, lips tight around the
hot flesh.
Sherlock groaned and ducked his head, licking a long stripe down John’s
erection before taking his testicles in his mouth, both at the same time,
sucking gently and tracing the thin skin between them with his tongue.
John cried out and lolled his head back, eyes rolling into the back of his
head. He would have been worried hadn’t it been for his: “Oh, yes, fuck, so
good…” that kept him going, hand masturbating John again.
He kept this on until John pulled him by the hair off and back up, and Sherlock
ran his tongue again along his cock, wanting to study it and feel every ridge
of the cold spit covered length. When he swirled his tongue against the tip
again to wipe some gathered precome away, John shuddered.
“I’m close… You should consider moving unless you want me coming down your
throat.”
Sherlock looked at his best friend, and told himself that occasions like this
happen only once in a lifetime. And so he simply pulled him back in his mouth,
as far as he could manage, feeling a few pubic hairs tickling the very tip of
his nose. He moaned at the thought, and John yelped at the same time, pulling
Sherlock’s hair harshly and doing what he had threatened to, coming right where
he was, deeply seated in Sherlock’s throat with a scream of the boy’s name.
Sherlock gasped through his nose, and pulled away quickly, sputtering a bit. He
hadn’t expected to feel his airways completely obstructed, but that wasn’t as
unpleasant as he had thought, the bitter yet sweet tang of John’s come burning
in the back of his throat.
When he looked up, John had fallen backwards on the bed, and was panting just
as heavily as he was. He grinned, and stood on wobbling legs, kneeling next to
him on the bed and looking expectantly at John for his judgment.
“Was it my impression or you shouted my name?” he said, smugly.
John laughed, and shook his head, running a hand on his forehead and in his
hair, a thin shin of sweat covering the golden skin.
“I did, didn’t I? God, it was. Just. The best. The best blowjob I’ve ever
received,” he declared, and Sherlock beamed.
“Was it really?” he asked, and really, his ego had never been more inflated.
“Yes! Girls are too harsh, when they can be bothered to suck you off. They
think ‘the quicker, the better’, because the only thing they want is to get you
hard to shag you.”
Sherlock raised an eyebrow and huffed. “It wasn’t unpleasant. I wouldn’t mind
doing it again.”
John smiled at his rough voice, their breath now even, and reached up to rest
his hand on the back of his neck. As he pulled him down, Sherlock followed
without hesitation, eyes slightly wide with stupor as John kissed his lips
lightly.
“Good, because I have so many things I still need to teach you…”
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