They had met in the pub just an hour ago. John spotted him across the room and to be fair he wasn't exactly hard to miss going by the state of his hair and the rather shocking get up he had on. Leather jacket, torn jeans, and a shirt made of fishnets with a mop of messy spiked hair that looked like it hadn't been washed in days. Still, John had found himself captivated by the kid's bright eyes and it wasn't long until John offered to buy him a few drinks.
Sherlock was the kid's name, at least that's what he had claimed it was, but John wasn't up to debate whether that was true or not. He wasn't looking for commitment or love and neither was Sherlock. The little punk had made his intentions quite clear as he spoke swiftly of what he wanted John to do to him. John had to resist the urge to ravish the punk every time he watched Sherlock's throat contract behind his choker when he took a drink.
John wasn't sure how many pints they both downed before staggering out of the pub. Sherlock grabbed John by his jumper, dragging him into the nearest nondescript alley and pulling him in to assault his mouth. Sherlock invaded John's mouth with his tongue, tasting the alcohol that had stained it and getting intoxicated all over again. John kissed back just hard, shoving Sherlock up against a brick wall as they scrambled to distribute dominance equally.
Sherlock grinded against John shamelessly, getting the other man hot and bothered by this alone. Sherlock's mouth drops down to John's neck to bite and suck viciously on the skin just below the convex of his jaw line. John's arousal was hair trigger by this point and if he didn't stick his cock somewhere preferably moist sometime soon, he might come in his pants. And he really doesn't need that.
John's heavy hands search blindly outwards, mapping out Sherlock's fishnet clad abdomen before finding the buckle on his belt. It took John a moment to undo the studded belt holding Sherlock's tattered jeans up because he was too drunk and far too giddy to get his hands to stop shaking. He moans, twisting under Sherlock's mouth and the near painful suction of lips and teeth.
Sherlock made an indignant little huff as he parted from John, getting frustrated with John's pathetic fumbling. He freed himself from his trousers before doing the same for John, seeing as how he was too drunk to do it. John moaned when the night air hit his heated skin, making him twitch reflexively as Sherlock promptly turns around and braces his hands against the brick wall to stuck his ass out.
He certainly doesn't waste any time, does he? John thinks idly.
"I don't have-" John begins to drunkenly slur, but his train of thought is disrupted by Sherlock's outburst.
"Left pocket..." Sherlock drones, getting bored already and on the verge just cutting his losses. "Now are you going to talk all night or are you going to fuck me?"
John steps in closer, sliding his hand inside the left pocket of Sherlock's worn leather jacket that makes various clinking noises. He retrieves the foil packet, practically ripping the prophylactic free from it's wrapper so he can roll it down the length of his cock. John groans from the motion and bites his bottom lip as Sherlock taps his booted foot impatiently, as if to tell John to hurry up already.
At first John thought it was cute that Sherlock wanted him to hurry but then he realized the young punk wasn't bluffing. John placed a hand on one of Sherlock's hips to signify he was ready, using his free hand to grip the base of his cock and line it up with Sherlock's more than eager entrance. John pushed forward a few times but had no success in entering Sherlock. He couldn't see straight enough, not to mention there was a distinct lack of light illuminating the alley.
Sherlock sighs heavily, standing up straight to reach behind him, grabbing John by his cock and pointing him in the right direction. The tip nudges against the resistance of Sherlock's body, demanding entry. Sherlock relaxes his muscles, taking John inch for inch almost too fluidly to be true. The young punk doesn't make a peep as John settles fully inside him, stretching him to his limits.
"Am I going to have to fuck myself on your cock as well?" Sherlock berates, mocking John for his incompetence as a result from drinking too much.
John rolls his eyes, hating the way how bossy this kid is being and yet wondering how he could sustain such dexterity while intoxicated where John couldn't. Either way, John is going to relish the sounds Sherlock will make when he fucks him into the wall properly. Sherlock pushes back against John's groin and it's all the incentive he needs to proceed.
John tangles a hand in Sherlock's messy hair, gripping and twisting it roughly for leverage as he starts to fuck the punk shallowly. He may have been able to suppress the pain on the initial entry but Sherlock was unable to contain the barrage of moans that followed soon after. John needed help finding Sherlock's entrance but once inside the tight channel, John was guided by animal instinct.
Sherlock's head was bowed back, exposing the pale column of his neck for John to eye possessively. His hips ground into Sherlock's, impaling the young man deeply and making him gasp with completion. Sherlock hitches his hips up marginally so that each shallow stab inwards presses against his prostate at just the right angle. Sherlock pushes back as far as he can, trying to get more of John inside him, and getting frustrated when it's just not enough.
"Come on, give it to me!" Sherlock whines petulantly, swallowing past his uneven pants.
John presses in close after a particularly hard thrust, shoving Sherlock further into the dirty brick wall so that the young punk has to turn his face to one side. John curls an arm around Sherlock's waist to hold his body a certain way so he can pound into him fast and repetitiously. Sherlock makes a choked up noise and if anyone happened to walk by they'd certainly hear the two coupling as they make deep animalistic noises.
The hand in Sherlock's spiked hair twists and pulls, putting it into further disarray as John yanks his head back. John dips his head down, taking his time to kiss behind Sherlock's ear before trailing downward to sink his teeth into that tempting column of flesh just between his ear and choker that begs to be marked him. Sherlock makes noises of approval, squirming almost playfully, as John marks his pale skin with teeth marks that bloom crimson.
John's hips hitch up ever so slightly and it's the perfect angle to push all the right buttons within Sherlock, sending the young man careening into ecstasy. Sherlock's cock twitches twice before finally spilling over without so much as a touch, racking his body in waves. He comes hard against the brick wall, painting it in ropes of white that mingle with dirt and grime. John grunts into his ear when Sherlock's muscles contract around his cock, squeezing all sensation out of him as Sherlock jerks and shakes against him.
He releases Sherlock's hair and uses both of his hands to grip those slender hips, thrusting fast and shallow into the tightness of Sherlock's hot passage, intent on finding completion as well. The sound of skin snapping against skin is apparent in the night air and it makes John flush knowing that anyone could be listening. With that finally thought and the sound of Sherlock's deep shaky timbre coming down from his orgasm, John gasps as he thrusts deep one last time into the tight space of Sherlock's body.
His cock pulses with every tremor as it pumps jet after jet into the prophylactic separating John from Sherlock. It's a crying shame he can't mark the inside of Sherlock with his come as well, but that's what you get when you hook up with a random kid at a pub. John's cock still twitches even long after the fact, slowing down each time before finally stopping.
He pulls out of Sherlock slowly, making the latter hiss because now is the time when the pain becomes apparent and starts to really set in. Sherlock feels thoroughly used and he can not suppress the deep chuckle of satisfaction as he straightens to pull his trousers back up, feeling the pain of John's invasion.
The condom is discarded carelessly to the already filthy ground and John barely has time to do up his trousers before Sherlock kisses him deeply again. It's just as fierce as their first kiss and it leaves John reeling as Sherlock tongues and bites at his lips. It's almost painful when they part, though not awkward, but bittersweet in the sense that this is the only time this will happen and they will never see each other again.
"See you around, John," Sherlock vows, walking away without another word and leaving John at a loss for them.
John figures that's alright, after all that's how life works, but the way Sherlock clicks his teeth as he winks at John almost feels like a promise. John watches the retreating slender form covered in torn jeans and leather disappear down the alley towards the pub they met at briefly. John has the notion of seeing if Sherlock is waiting for him just around the corner. Before John can stop his lead heavy feet, he can feel himself staggering out onto the main road and rounding the corner.
But, much to John's chagrin, Sherlock isn't there.