Work Text:
"I think that was the best sex of my life."
"Mmmm. I agree. But you've said that several times before."
"Well, this time was even better."
"Thank you."
"Hey. Team effort. But yes, also, thank you."
"...You're welcome?"
"You. Are a ridiculous man. Shove over, I've only got room for one leg."
"Honestly, John, that's not entirely encouraging."
"I'm not encouraging. I'm insisting. Move."
"Fine. But that's not what I meant."
"Hmm?"
"If every time we have sex is the best sex of your life, it only follows that the previous sex was inferior in some way."
"Just take a compliment, you berk."
"Comparison without a baseline is meaningless. You can't have been having progressively better sex with me unless your previous sexual history was appalling."
"Maybe it was."
"That doesn't make sense. You wouldn't have had so much sex if you hadn't enjoyed it enough to repeat the act over and over."
"Oi, you calling me a slapper, then?"
"If the continent fits..."
"Dick. Call it practice, then. You can't get good at something unless you work at it."
"Oh god."
"What?"
"Nothing. Just reminded me of something. So ... what was the worst sexual experience you've had?"
"Worst how? Worst partner, worst position, worst decision, worst orgasm?"
"Whatever comes to mind. Apparently, you have a rich catalogue to choose from."
"Unfortunately I do. Well, the first thing that comes to mind is the Chili Oil Incident."
"That ... does not sound appealing."
"It was not. I was sixteen, and I'd been fooling around with my girlfriend, Shannon, for almost six months. We'd gone from second base to third base and we were definitely heading to home. So neither of us knew what we were doing except that we really, really wanted to keep doing it. And then Shan heard about these warming lubes that were just coming out, and she wanted to try one, but neither of us wanted to go to the chemist's to just pick up lube. I think I'd've died of embarrassment, and Shan didn't want anyone to see her buying it. So she told me she'd just nick the chili oil from her mum's pantry and we could try that and see if we liked it."
"Go on."
"Well, long story short, we'd been snogging for an hour and we'd finally got all of our clothes off and Shan was lying there in front of me and I thought to myself, this is it. So we poured a little of the oil onto our hands and started to wank each other off. Maybe even go all the way, who knew? And at first it did feel good - that was the oil. And then came the burning. It was like my dick was on fire, and Shan wasn't faring much better. That certainly put paid to our plans for the evening, I can tell you that much."
"What happened then?"
"She never spoke to me again."
"Really?"
"No, of course not - I didn't grow up in a sitcom. Shan and me had a good laugh and then spent the rest of the night standing in the shower with our bits slathered in yogurt. Couldn't look each other in the eye without giggling for a week. We broke up three months later when she fell out of love with me. Don't look like that. It can happen, especially when you're young."
"I don't want to fall out of love with you."
"Well, good, me neither. We'll just have to keep working at it."
"Yes."
"Yes. So, my turn now. Give. What was your worst sexual experience?"
"Violin recital."
"That is either going to be a very disturbing story or a very boring one."
"Definitely the former. I was fifteen, and I'd been practicing for months for a violin recital at one of the community halls. One of the pieces I was playing was the Devil's Trill Sonata, which is an extremely complicated piece. A beautiful piece, too, but full of rapid gruelling double-stop trills. I had a recording of Itzhak Perlman playing it that I listened to over and over, every night, to get the rhythms into my brain."
"Yeah, not seeing the sexual connection here, Sherlock."
"Every night. I was fifteen. I was also masturbating on a somewhat desperately frequent basis."
"Oh no."
"So when the concert came, and I was stood in front of all of those people, and I began to play, I triggered an unfortunate Pavlovian association within myself."
"Oh god."
"And the worst part was that I had to keep playing through the entire thing, with my cock making an enormous tent in my dress trousers."
"Enormous is right. Oh god."
"And I could see that Mummy and Dad were in the front row, and they were incredibly embarrassed for me - they thought it was just an unfortunate side effect of puberty. But I could tell that Mycroft knew exactly what was going on. That fat smirking toad."
"No. No. Stop. I can't."
"Mycroft later made it his ring tone."
"He did NOT!"
"He did. For five years. Stop laughing."
"I can't. I'm dying. I need air."
"I didn't laugh at you."
"My story wasn't as funny."
"Yes it was. It involved you with your cock on fire."
"And covered in yogurt."
"And covered in yogurt."
"All right, we both had awful early sexual experiences. So you see, I was right. The baseline was terrible so everything from then on can only improve. So, shall we see if we can top the last time?"
"I don't think I could even get hard right now. This conversation has been entirely humiliating."
"Bet you half a pot of yogurt that I can fix that. Hand me my laptop."
"Why?"
"You'll see. Just pulling up YouTube. There we go."
"You didn't."
"I did. You're right, it really is a lovely piece. Is it working?"
"No."
"Really?"
"....No."
"Excellent. Come here."