"Sh-Sherlock, stop…"
The dark-haired detective, clad in only his underwear, chuckled from his position straddling his doctor. He grinned his crinkly grin, bumped his hips playfully, and then continued chewing softly on John's neck.
Grimy, high-summer London sun seeped through the open window, the bedroom delightfully warm, with dust motes floating in random circuits through the room's dense morning heat. The air was redolent with the heady scent of arousal, mixed with the exhaust fumes and next door's cooked breakfasts from the street outside. Sherlock moved his mouth to John's, nipping teasingly at his bottom lip.
"Stop…I can't…"
"John, shut up and put your tongue in my mouth."
John growled and wriggled, decisively shoving his detective off of him, causing Sherlock to bounce heavily on the bed beside him with a frustrated, baritone mewl.
"Not while he's watching us, I can't, it's…weird!" John complained, glancing down at his own barely-clad body self-consciously, then at the skunk who sat on the dressing table ten feet away, his beady dark eyes fixed expressionlessly on the couple on the bed.
"I want to have sex with you," Sherlock mumbled in a dark voice, clambering to mount John once more. The doctor let out a small, struggled exhale from the sudden and considerable weight of Sherlock's whole body settling on him, before the brunette started gnawing on his bare collarbone.
"Sherlock…can't you…ugh…" John cut off his sentence with a sharp groan as his detective palmed him encouragingly through his boxers.
"Ignore him," Sherlock growled, as he began soothing John with suckling kisses on his jaw.
"NO! Stop it, get him out of here first."
"Don't be ridiculous. You're making this very hard, you know."
"…I can see that," the doctor responded with a knowing smirk, extending one hand to gently grope the brunette's unmistakably, impressively tented underwear.
He was treated to a 'Really, John?' expression in response to his his pun, before Sherlock pulled back and knelt uncertainly beside his partner.
"Just…stick him somewhere else for two minutes," John instructed impatiently.
Sherlock cocked a dubious eyebrow. "Two minutes?"
"Well, we both know you never last very long," the doctor joked, grinning.
Sherlock glared at him, frowning deeply, trying to work out whether that was an insult or not. He made his decision three seconds later, standing with a distinct air of injured irritability, and promptly gathered Keith up in his arms before stalking from the room.
He deposited their pet in the living room, checking he had enough food and water, and then returned to the bedroom with a sulky, belligerent expression on his pale face. Closing the door, he gave his doctor a piercing stare.
"That was rude, John," he announced in a dangerously low voice.
"Come on, you wouldn't know rudeness if it smacked you in the face. Besides, you know I'm right," John teased, as he slowly pulled off his own underwear and lay back with a teasing grin. Sherlock was going to take him, and John liked it rough, therefore an angry Sherlock was entirely conducive to his needs.
The detective's eyes sped very briefly over his doctor's naked body, pupils dilating and eyelids flickering slightly, before he cleared his throat and spoke in a deep voice made of honey and gravel.
"You are in so much trouble, Doctor."
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Just over an hour later, John made yet another desperate attempt to touch himself, laying on his back, Sherlock moving tortuously slowly inside him and rolling his slim white hips with cruel languidness.
The doctor's thighs were sticky from multiple re-applications of lube, his throat was painfully dry and his breaths shallow, and the anguished frown he wore from being refused an orgasm repeatedly was birthing a headache. His features were wet with perspiration, his skin displayed a dark pink bloom of over-worked and unsatisfied exertion.
"Ah ah, I've told you before," the detective reprimanded breathlessly, batting John's damp left hand away from his untouched shaft, and pushing it back against the sheets by John's head, mirroring its partner. He gave it a brief, affectionate squeeze, rolling his thumb over the ring on his finger.
Sherlock swallowed hard, swaying just slightly, as he fixed his hazy gaze on his doctor, who looked wrecked. A drop of sweat from Sherlock's saturated dark hair fell onto his doctor's flushed and over-heated chest, and John flinched, licking his lips.
"Still think I'm too quick?" Sherlock gasped, grinning fiendishly, and giving a short, sharp buck into his doctor.
"Sh…Sherlock, please let me…I can't…" John managed in a croaky voice, eyes closed, his soaked ash-brown hair now the colour of wet sand. There was an audible scrape as the doctors' fingernails raked into the sheets. The detective could see the faint, frantic pulse in the veins of John's knuckles, and it thrilled him.
Sherlock paused his excruciatingly slow movements, rolled his eyes in an expression of mock thoughtfulness, and then replied throatily, "Uummm…No."
John strangled out a tortured whine and tried to shove himself against Sherlock for some relief, for any kind of friction, his damp, forcible hips causing the knackered mattress to squeak loudly.
Sherlock sat back slightly, preventing this action from coming to any kind of satisfactory fruition, his own arms and thighs trembling visibly, and looked down at his doctor, enraptured. John was desperate, his shaft dark and wet and painfully engorged, his thighs twitching jerkily either side of Sherlock's waist.
"Beautiful, John. Give…give me my phone," Sherlock panted.
John blinked dizzily, groaning in disbelief. "What?"
"Phone. Give. Now."
John extended one shaking, slippery hand to the phone on the table, and handed it to his detective.
Licking his cupid's-bow lips indulgently, Sherlock took a photo of John, then bit his lip at seeing the resulting image.
"Beautiful," he repeated.
"Sherlock, please…I have to…please," John seethed, brow crinkled in pain.
Sherlock eyed him hungrily, more than ready for his own release at this point. "You ready?"
The doctor swallowed thickly and nodded, exhaling sharply.
"Hold on tight," he murmured, guiding John's left hand to finally take hold of himself. The doctor complied eagerly, sobbing in relief as he began to frantically fist his shaft, head tilting back sharply and tendons standing out on his deeply-flushed throat, a delicious bead of sweat resting between his collarbones.
Sherlock grinned wolfishly, leant down to lap up the tempting hot droplet, and then gritted his teeth as he pulled back, re-adjusted his wet hands underneath John's hips, and began to pound into his doctor as violently as he could, the headboard banging deafeningly against the wall, mattress screeching. With a feral growl of effort, Sherlock increased his pace, the sharp smack of wet skin on skin maddeningly glorious and deafening.
Watching John fist himself madly, his hand a slick, wet blur, Sherlock began to chant with every thrust as his own orgasm surged threateningly.
"Come…come…come…John…come, please…it's time…"
With a few strangled, high-pitched gasps, John's jaw tightened, his face contorted into a visage of agony, and he arched violently as he came, his expression like that of a demon being exorcised, his resulting yell unholy.
Sherlock bared his teeth in a viciously triumphant grin at taking on the challenge of holding on to John's wildly struggling, heavy, wet hips, his ears ringing with his doctor's coarse, unrestrained sobs as his orgasms' aftershocks throbbed through him. Digging his fingernails deeply into John's backside, he threw his head back, forcing out a piercing shout as he climaxed, followed instantly by a loud, wheezy laugh of delight as he rocked out his climax inside his doctor, shivering with pleasure as John finally stilled and gasped beneath him.
"Oh, John…oh, FUCK!" Sherlock exclaimed deliriously, licking his plump lips and rocking away the tremulous last waves of his orgasm, blinking sweat from his eyes, and finally easing the last little thrusts of his aching hips.
The detective let out a massive, gusty exhale as he pulled out gently, eyeing John appreciatively.
"Oh John…look what you made," he sighed happily, swiping a long, pale finger through the large amount of semen on his doctor's stomach, taking a swift taste, and then groaning in pleasure at seeing it in John's soaked hair and on his cheek and chin as well.
John was shattered, heaving for breath, and lay prone, unaware of his own ejaculate on his face and ruined hair. He let Sherlock lean over him, reeking of sweat and heat and sex, feeling the detective kiss and suck at his scalp and jaw hungrily. The doctor could feel his own thighs and stomach quivering faintly with exertion, and he let out an immense, shaky sigh.
His detective settled his hot, heavy, wet weight upon him, and kissed him hard on the mouth, their tongues swiftly mating, quick and rough and inelegant. Sherlock's near-black, sweat-soaked curls dripped every few seconds, his flushed skin burned. John pulled back briefly.
"Oh…S-" John choked a little, then coughed, swallowed and tried again. "Sherl…you are amazing."
When Sherlock grinned and seized his mouth again and let out a happy little hum, he translated the response as, 'I know.'
When the exhausted post-coital snogging ended a minute later, Sherlock grinned down at John with exultation, his face crinkled in a huge, honest, delighted grin, his eyes bright and playful even as he was still getting his breath back, his skin still deeply flushed and wet.
"Marry me."
"I'm already marrying you, you daft twat," John replied fondly, mussing his detective's wet and wilted curls.
Sherlock grinned wider, then groaned pleasurably, and promptly collapsed onto his doctor, sighing languorously and practically steaming with exertion.
"Sherl…get off me," John laughed breathlessly, stroking Sherlock's still-pulsing biceps. "Besides, you can't sleep now, it's only 11am."
"…Can sleep if I want," came the muffled mumble.
"At least move then, you great lump," John chuckled.
Sherlock rolled off of his doctor obediently, eyes lightly closed, his damp body limp, and a silly smile on his sculptured face.
John stood up on fiercely protesting legs, and groaned, heading to the bedroom door in order to go and make some rejuvenating tea. He paused on the threshold to glance back at the shagged-out detective.
"I love you."
Sherlock's crinkly, tired smile widened and he nodded vaguely, an expression of utter bliss on his face.
John took that as 'I love you too.'
Cockblocker Keith … sounds like a wrestler :P
The beginning of this chapter stemmed partly from my own irrational discomfort about getting undressed when one of my pets is in the same room XD
And yeah, sorry, that was pure shagging :D