#iwtv#interview with the vampire#assad zaman#the vampire armand
seen from Singapore
seen from Armenia
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from Armenia
seen from South Korea
seen from Singapore
seen from Singapore
seen from Maldives
seen from Qatar
seen from Qatar
seen from Finland
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from Qatar
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from Armenia
seen from Italy
seen from United States
In which Sherlock has an interesting physical reaction to compliments and John discovers it.
Mob!AU - Boss!John bought the first night of virgin!Sherlock who works as a rentboy in Miss Adler's brothel.
When Sherlock learns what John "Three Continents" Watson's army nickname is for, he realizes he's got the perfect opportunity for a first-hand experiment in physical passion from the one person he can actually stand to be touched by. John thinks there might be a bit more to it than that.
(Part of my "John and Sherlock's Kinky First Times" series of shorts, all revolving around the same basic theme of "John and Sherlock get sexy for the first time and also discover some kinky stuff about each other.")
Sherlock's never had an orgasm before. John crafts a solution.
"I forgot how badly I wanted to fuck your mind.”
In which there’s a rimming disaster, Sherlock depilates his butt, everything goes very, very wrong and groceries are mistreated. This fic contains hair removal creme in a butthole, ice lollies in a butthole and John Watson's penis in a butthole. You have been warned. (Complete crack, written for a prompt on the Kink Meme, based on online reviews for a hair removal creme. Link inside.)
“I am familiar with the clitoris.”
She smiled. “Then you’re already doing better than some of the blokes I’ve slept with. Do you want to kiss me?”
“Not especially.”
“Well, what do you want, you incredibly odd man?”
Sherlock and Fem!John have sex in an alley.
This story is too short to need any more of a summary.
There was no sleeping that night. And not due to the awkward stammering in the stacks of the library. Or the phrasing of what felt as a sudden dismissal. All Sherlock could think about was John's gaze on his neck, lips, reddening cheeks. How heated he felt under that gaze, how alone when John left. He was itching with desperation to not just be looked at but also touched. It was juvenile fantasy. But he was alone in his bedroom, it was past midnight, and he could indulge. He imagined John's hand reaching to touch his cheek, his fingers brushing his lips. He buried his head into the pillow and groaned. Could John ever see him like that, ever want him?
