Title: Pinball Wizard
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Rating: Explicit
Length: 500
Content Notes: Sherlock/John, first time, PWP, hand job, songfic ("Pinball Wizard" by The Who)
Summary: Sherlock doesn't play the violin when he's thinking.
Author's Note: For my 1_million_words bingo square: The Wizard.


Sherlock’s hand twisted over the head of John’s cock.

“Oh, God, yes,” moaned John. His hips bucked, pushing his cock through Sherlock’s tight fist.

Four metal legs swayed and creaked with their movements. John leaned in and gripped Sherlock by the shoulders, closing the distance between their mouths.

They kissed again and again as Sherlock’s hand moved up and down John’s shaft.

“Anybody ever tell you that you’ve got a supple wrist?” teased John with a breathy chuckle.

“No,” said Sherlock. “I’m told usually told my mouth looks quite fetching around one’s cock.”

“Oh, God, yes, please,” begged John when Sherlock’s hand drifted lower to cup his balls. Then he cleared his throat and tried to weed out the strain in his voice. “I’ll have to take their word for it, on the other, I mean.”

“Not for long.”

“Jesus Christ.” John gripped the back of Sherlock’s head with two hands and slammed their lips together. Sherlock’s fondling grew rougher.

“Crazy flipper fingers, eh?” John said when their lips parted.

“Just wait until they’re inside you.”

John bent his head to bite the ridge of Sherlock’s shoulder through the fabric of his shirt, stifling a whimper.

“Like that?” whispered Sherlock.

John heard the smirk in his tone, but was far, far too gone to care. “Love it,” he confessed.

“Lucky for you I’m a wizard with balls.”

John snorted, then he felt the pad of one finger seeking his frenulum. He lifted his hips higher off the glass and gripped Sherlock tighter. “Yeah, baby—“ His body froze. “Oh, God. I’m sorry. Just slipped out. I won’t—“

“It’s fine, John,” said Sherlock, brushing his lips across John’s temple. “Fine.” His hand went to the small of John’s back, like he was ushering him through a door.

John melted at the touch. “Been thinking about this, well, not this,” he said, glancing down, “but you since I hobbled into the lab at Barts.”

“Thirty-seven hours, fifty-two minutes and five seconds ago. But who’s counting?” said Sherlock a twitch of a soft smile on his lips.

“Yeah, God, that mouth,” said John, thickly, cradling Sherlock’s cheek in his hand so that he could brush his thumb across Sherlock’s plump bottom. “Gorgeous.”

Sherlock gripped John’s cock anew, and John gasped.

“Oh, wait, baby, slow down. Just a second. I have to tell you something, when we first met I didn’t hear you right. I thought you said you played the violin when you’re thinking.”

Sherlock laughed. “This is much better. No distractions.” He rocked their bodies together.

John looked down at the machine on which he was perched. “You’re going to teach me about this, yeah?”

“Sure.” Sherlock punctuated each phrase with a stroke of John’s cock, eliciting a throaty groan with every ministration. “Holes and saucers. Spinners and rollovers. Kickers and slingshots.”

“Christ, that mouth of yours makes everything sound filthy. Even pinball.”

“Ready for the slam tilt?” asked Sherlock, grinning as he sped up his pace.

“Oh, God, yes.”