Sky-high Shagging

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fan Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Exactly what it says on the tin; John and Sherlock make whoopee up in the sky in a hot air balloon. Basically porn without plot.

Submitted: August 19, 2017

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Submitted: August 19, 2017

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Work Text:

On a brilliantly sunny August afternoon, John Watson and Sherlock Holmes were on their way to do something special.
Something that John had never done before and that Sherlock hadn't taken part in for a number of years; a hot air balloon ride.

Sherlock had borrowed a car off of Mycroft and had driven them both outside of London to a field where the hot air balloon had been prepped for them.
A man wearing dark sunglasses and a t-shirt with a prairie dog printed on the front of it welcomed them.
"She's all ready to go whenever you are." The man, who's name turned out to be Jason, told them in a friendly Canadian tone.
Sherlock thanked and paid the man, before grabbing a picnic lunch that he'd packed that morning and getting into the basket.
John seemed a touch hesitant. Sure, he wanted to give this a try, but it would be quite high up.
Not that he had a fear of heights... Or did he? He wasn't overly certain right then.
"Come on, John, you'll be perfectly safe." Sherlock encouraged him, and Jason gave him a genial smack on the back.
"He's right, you'll be fine, man." Jason assured John, who wasn't thrilled with the hearty blow he'd just received. "It's a great way to travel, eh."
John raised a brow, but took a breath and went ahead with getting in as well.
Sherlock gave him a small grin, an idea forming in his sharp mind.

 

Sherlock had proven to be excellent at controlling the balloon, and had gotten it soaring upwards towards the fluffy white clouds with ease.
It wasn't long before they were rather high up, and John's stomach was in loose knots.
This was different than flying in an airplane, it seemed riskier.
"Relax, John." Sherlock said, stepping over to him.
John cleared his throat. "Shouldn't you, um, shouldn't you be at the controls?" He asked, a tinge of worry in his tone.
Sherlock didn't seem at all concerned about that.
"No, there's no need for it right now." He replied, locking eyes with John.
The corners of his soft mouth turned upwards, and John understood precisely what that meant.
He knew the look on Sherlock's face well; it was a subtle look that conveyed that he intended to initiate sexual antics.
It had taken John slightly by surprise that Sherlock had ultimately proven to be the dominant one in this way. He knew what he wanted and took it.
Of course, Sherlock would only take what he was permitted, he had never been forceful in a way that had been uncomfortable to John.
"Oh, no, not all the way up here." John told Sherlock firmly, getting a clear picture of how they would be found should the balloon fail to stay in the air.
John didn't intend for his corpse to be found in such a way.
"Just a kiss, then." Sherlock suggested, knowing that John would easily cave if he did things just right. John had always been so easy to manipulate when Sherlock wanted to.
John's mind knew better than to agree, but his body... Well, he wanted to make wild, passionate love at that moment as much as Sherlock did, but it felt sort of dangerous.
Then again, perhaps that was an attractive facet of the situation.
They'd only had sex back home at the flat, though it was still early on in their newly changed relationship with one another.
Perhaps it was time for something a little different.

Sherlock had read this on John's handsome face and had leaned in, pressing their lips together.
Their mouths opened, tongues dancing intertwined as Sherlock's hands began to slide down John's chest and down his torso.
After a slow tour downwards, his left hand slid down and undid John's button and fly, before finding and latching onto the firm cock that was now begging for attention.
Sherlock nibbled John's lower lip, as his thumb made circles on the glans.
John's eyes closed as he leaned against a wall of the basket.
Sherlock watched John's face closely as he began to give John a painfully slow but incredibly enjoyable handjob.
John blew out a breath as the pleasure began to rise. None of his past lovers had ever been able to please him like this. But then, Sherlock was so tuned in to what he craved due to his skill of reading people that it was an easy thing to accomplish.
John's breathing became ever so slightly ragged, and he began to emit small groans of delighted impatience as his orgasm began to approach.
But, before he could come, Sherlock stopped and excused himself to take a check on the balloon.
Not that he had needed to, he only did this to tease John.
He adored teasing John, it was such fun!
Sherlock spent a good five minutes 'studying' the flame, before turning his attention back to John whose expression was pleading.

Once he had been sure that Sherlock was done checking on whatever it was, he had decided to take charge.
"Take your trousers off." He ordered, in the manner he would have used back in his army days.
Sherlock loved it when army John would come out to play.
He obliged.
John came over and pulled down Sherlock's pants, the thick erection bobbing slightly as it sprang up and out from under the green cotton fabric.
"Balls to the wall, if you please." John instructed, becoming impatient. He was painfully hard by now and he needed release more than anything else.
Sherlock did so, and John slid his hand up and down his cock a couple of times to distribute the precum that had been leaking.
He positioned himself, and using a hand to guide, he eased himself into Sherlock's tight arse with an almost primal moan.
The squeezing heat was nearly overwhelming, and John quite nearly burst then and there.
He had to take a moment to adjust to even breathe properly, let alone move.

As Sherlock looked down at the tiny trees and the cattle in the fields below, at London in the distance, John began to gently thrust.
Sherlock bit his lip, arching his back so that John hit the sweet spot just right.
This was turning out to be even better than he had imagined it going in his mind.
Soon, John had picked up the pace and had become rough in his handling of Sherlock; his fingers dug into the slim hips, his nails biting in and causing some pain. John was slamming in so hard that Sherlock lost his breath.
It was wonderful, and Sherlock wouldn't have had it any other way.
As Sherlock felt that delicious rush of sexual intensity storm through his body, John spilled his seed inside of him as he let out the usual string of profanity punctuated with Sherlock's name.

Afterwards, the pair of them lay on the floor of the basket, the sun drying the sweat from their bodies.
"I love you, Sherlock." John admitted, having been woking up the nerve to say the words.
He knew that Sherlock must have realised this, but saying it was important.
Sherlock gave a lopsided grin. "I know." He replied, sounding very content. "I love you, too, John."


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