FicWad

John had been born Johanna, though he had always hated the name. He had become John- become himself- at twenty one years old. His old friends left him. His new friends didn't know. The army, to say the least, was a fuckton of confusion and questions and awkward trips to his bunk for when he had to change. But he got through it (//he// got through it. Never got tired of saying that). The hormones had worked, the haircut, the breast surgery. Except of course... the bottom. The bottom, the space between his thighs, the 'her' of him was ignored, acknowledged only when he needed to release tension or address a problem. No problems so far, but tension? Plenty of it. John had always dated girls. It warded off a bit more confusion if he stuck to the traditional male route. But he'd always had a thing for men as well. He joked to himself it was the woman in him coming out. He joked, because he didn't know what else to do. So he ignored men, and hounded after women, like a good stereotypical alpha male. But lately, Sherlock--- well, just Sherlock. The way he moved, the way he talked, the way he pressed up against John, the way he whispered his name. Just- //Sherlock//. But John had kept quiet. Telling Sherlock would have been a disaster. So he kept his affections to himself and, as such, took it out on himself as well. Like now. He was pressing his fingers to her, thinking of Sherlock doing the same, of Sherlock's tongue repeating the movement. Sighing softly, he moved farther down. Sherlock would be so beautiful below him... He was glad the man was out, doing business somewhere else. Or . . . was he? So occupied in his daydream, he didn't hear the surprisingly quiet footsteps coming up the stairs where he lay in his room, pants around his ankles, moaning a soft, "Sherlock . . . Fuck . . ."
Sherlock knocked softly on the door. "Um John are you okay?" He asked awkwardly
John's eyes flew open and he sat up hurriedly, ripping his hand away from the space between his thighs and trying to shove on his pants. "Uh-- fine, Sherlock!" He called out nervously, "Just fine!"
"You sure?" Sherlock asked again reaching for the door handle.
"//Fine//!" John exclaimed, tugging his pants on.
You: "John don't lie to me." Sherlock said as he opened the door and walked in
John stood in the middle of the room, frozen in place, a thick blush still on his cheeks. "Uh..."
"John what's wrong? Wait are you blushing?" Sherlock asked walking towards him "John?..." Sherlock trailed off staring intently at John.
John bit his bottom lip, straightening up and meeting the other's eyes. "Go away." He murmured.
"Why?" Sherlock asked, Hurt flashing through his features before he quickly covered it up with his usual cold gaze.
"I'm-- not dressed properly," he muttered, turning away, hoping Sherlock would not notice the lack of bulge in his pants. "Let me get dressed."
"Not until you tell me whats wrong," Sherlock stated moving closer to John.
"I'm //fine//," John repeated, stepping away from the other. "Leave me."
"John don't lie to me," Sherlock said a little more aggressively then he meant
"I'm //not//," John repeated, not liking how close Sherlock was getting.
Sherlock continued to move closer to John while making eye contact with him. "Stop lying. I can tell when you lie to me," Sherlock stated a little anger creeping into his voice.
"I'm not lying," John snapped, turning his head to glare at the other as he reached for his trousers on the end of the bed. "Now... get out. I have to dress."
"You always were a horrible liar John," Sherlock snapped back standing in front of John
John gulped, grabbing his trousers and pulling them close to his body.
"John," Sherlock said more forcefully.
The ex-soldier didn't answer, moving to slide one leg into the trouser.
Sherlock grabbed John's arm stopping it from moving
John's head whipped around to glare at the other. "Let go."
"No," Sherlock's grip tightened on John's arm
John bit his bottom lip and after a moment, gave a tug, trying to get the other to let go of him. "Let go!" He repeated
"No! Now tell me what is wrong with you!" Sherlock almost screamed at John
"Nothing!" John shouted, giving another firm tug.
Sherlock let go of John's arm and grabbed John's shoulders pulling him closer.
John stumbled, grabbing Sherlock's wrists and spinning around, pinning him down to the bed. "Don't," he hissed, "Touch. Me."
Sherlock obviously shocked by John's actions let out a small "No," before getting his composure back and glaring at John trying to break free of the iron grip holding him to the bed.
John applied pressure, pressing Sherlock further into the mattress. "You do not get to touch me with my permission." He snarled.
"Says who?" Sherlock snarled back still trying to break free.
"//Me//." He hissed.
"You? Why should I listen to you?" Sherlock let out a cold laugh.
John growled and slid off the other, trying to finish putting on his trousers. "Get out of my room."
"No!" Sherlock said getting up and pushing John up against the wall. "Now tell me!" Sherlock said venomously
"There's nothing to tell!" John shouted, struggling in the other's grasp, "Jesus Christ, just let go of me!"
"No I will not! I don't like being lied to!" Sherlock growled
"And I don't like being held down!" John snapped, "God- please just--" Sherlock was close. Really close. If you got any closer...
"Then just tell me!" Sherlock yelled not even realizing how close they were.
"Sherlock..." John whispered weakly. Don't get closer, he prayed silently, please. Don't get closer.
"Yes John?" Sherlock asked calming down a bit but not moving away or letting go of John.
The blonde swallowed thickly. "Please move away."
"No not until you answer me," Sherlock stated again
John bit his bottom lip, glancing down at his groin quickly before back up at the other.
Sherlock followed John's gaze and then back up a little looking confused "John?....." he asked trailing off
"Please just go away." John muttered. "I don't want to talk about it."
"John?" Sherlock asked again still looking confused. "I don't understand.....," He said looking at John
"You don't have to. Move. Please."
"John please tell me whats going on?"
John gave one more glance down below. "I don't want to."
"It might help you," Sherlock stated walking back towards John.
"Sherlock just..." John tugged his shirt downwards, trying to cover his groin. "Just leave it."
"No John," Sherlock said moving to stand right in front of him
John didn't looked up from where he was glancing down, not replying.
Sherlock grabbed John's face and forced him to look at him
John swallowed thickly, grip on his shirt tightening. "Don't do this," he whispered.
"Do what?" Sherlock asked staring into John's eyes
John wet his tongue with his lips. "Whatever you're about to do."
"You mean this?" Sherlock asked before closing the distance between them and pressing his lips to john's.