Sherlock groaned at the removal of John's fingers. No matter how many times they do this, how many times John stretches him and then pulls out his fingers, and Sherlock knows something good is coming afterwards, it still makes him feel hollow and empty.

"Nnnng.." Watching John fellate the dragon dildo was much more arousing than it should have been. He knew he wasn't even open enough for John, much less the larger dragon dildo, and this was going to hurt.

A lot.

And he didn't even fucking care. He wanted it anyways, craved it like a drowning man craves air.

Eagerly, Sherlock got off the bed, his cock jutting out proudly in front of him- flushed and leaking- and walked over to the dildo. It was intimidating. He had only taken it once before and it had left him gaping and sore and walking funny for a couple of days.

But he didn't hesitate. He took some lube- no way he'd do this raw- and almost soaked the dildo in it. He was gonna need all the help he could get. While he slathered the lube on, he stroked it, with one hand, then two, acting like he was trying to jerk it off.

When the dildo was ready, Sherlock straddled the chair and looked over to John, and then started slowly, every so slowly, to move down, and let just the tip slip in.

"Ahhhh... fuuuuuuck..." Even the tip was wide, pointed but flared, and it stretched him from the very start.