"I think we should have sex," Sherlock announced. Greg nearly choked on the pint he'd been enjoying. Sherlock whacked him on the back a few times, smirking.
"What? Now?!" Greg sputtered, turning to look at his boyfriend sitting beside him in the booth.
"No, not now. I hardly think the patrons of this establishment would be happy to see two men rutting on a table while they are trying to watch a football match." Sherlock looked around the pub in amusement as Greg flushed red.
"I think John might be a bit disconcerted by that, as well. He's been very happy for us and our relationship but I doubt he wants a visual aid." Sherlock looked over at his best friend standing in the crowd by the bar, waiting for the bartender's attention, one eye on the television mounted high on the wall.
Greg was surprised by Sherlock's suggestion. They'd been dating for almost two months but the DI felt the need to take it slowly. He didn't want to rush the younger man physically. He knew how difficult it had been for Sherlock to enter into this relationship, to open himself emotionally. Greg loved him desperately and wanted him to be comfortable with every step they took together.
They had, of course, been physical to a degree. There had been many heavy petting and hot make out sessions that made Greg physically ache with desire. He knew he was being a bit silly. Sherlock had told him of his past sexual exploits and they were surprisingly numerous and varied for a man nicknamed "The Virgin". Sherlock had been with men and women in the past, both when high and sober. It seemed when Sherlock was younger, he took all comers, so to speak.
And Lestrade knew Sherlock wanted him, he'd felt the younger man's hardness press against his hip many times before Greg stopped them from proceeding. They shared a bed on numerous occasions, each waking up with typical morning erections. But when Sherlock attempted to reach for him, Greg always scarpered.
Greg didn't entirely want to admit, even to himself, where his reticence came from. If he were truly being honest, part of him was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Sherlock to remember he didn't do relationships and to say that this was all a mistake. Leaving Greg heartbroken. He knew that was merely his anxiety talking, given how he'd felt when detective first returned from the dead. He also knew that Sherlock since becoming aware of the older man's feelings had been patient, warm, and surprisingly loving in return.
Sherlock looked at his boyfriend (he wasn't fond of the term but 'partner' seemed so informal and 'lover' wasn't yet accurate) as the older man appeared deep in thought. He knew Greg had been reluctant to take their relationship to the next level but Sherlock was determined to wear him down. He didn't take Greg's less than subtle rejections personally although they did bother him. The curly haired man felt it was time to prove to Lestrade that he wasn't going anywhere and to make their relationship a physical one.
He was surprised with how quickly he adjusted to being with the DI romantically. The depth of feeling he possessed for the older man startled him on occasion. But he was genuinely happy and felt the need to reassure Lestrade of his feelings.
He placed his large hand high on Lestrade's thigh and squeezed. Sherlock then leaned over to whisper in his ear. "I want to take you apart with my hands and mouth and tongue until you are a writhing mess beneath me, begging for my cock to plunge deep within you until you come so hard you see stars."
He felt the other man shudder against him. Greg tipped his head back and his adam's apple bobbed up and down. And Sherlock knew he had him.
"God, yes." Greg sighed, melting into the younger man's side.
Sherlock slapped his hand on the table and stood abruptly. "Good, let's go." The other man stood slowly on slightly shaky legs and they exited the booth.
Sherlock called to his blogger still standing by the bar. "Rain check, John! Something's come up!"
Greg snorted with laughter and the two men quickly left the pub, John's puzzled gaze following them.
They went to Lestrade's flat, a conscious choice made by Sherlock for the older man to feel more comfortable. Once in the front hall the door locked behind them, the younger man immediately set about undressing his incredibly attractive (soon-to-be) lover. He unbuttoned half the other man's shirt before simply tugging it up over his head where it promptly got tangled by his wrists.
"Cuffs, Sherlock." Greg whispered as he pressed his lips to the long pale expanse of neck before him, licking and sucking, as his hands wandering into the mass of dark curls. The detective undid the cuffs and pulled the shirt off, tossing it over a lamp. He immediately moved to undo the other man's trousers when Greg grabbed his wrists, stilling his actions.
"Hey, love. Slow down. We've got all night." Sherlock looked into the warm chocolate brown eyes of the man he cared for deeply and took a deep, steadying breath.
"Very true and I made you a promise I intend to keep." The two men kissed softly, lovingly, before it ignited into something more desperate and heated. Sherlock broke away to growl, "Bed. Now." They fumbled their way to Greg's bedroom, parting only to shed the rest of their clothes along the way.
When they were both in just their pants, Sherlock levered them around and shoved Greg onto the mattress. He crawled onto the bed and spent a moment just gazing reverently at the man spread out beside him.
"You are so beautiful, Greg. I don't know what I did to deserve you but I'm never letting you go," Sherlock murmured, levering his body down and laving kisses and licks on Lestrade's chest and shoulders. A blush spread across the other man's cheeks and he beamed before moaning loudly when Sherlock bit down on a particularly sensitive spot.
The detective slowly made his way down the older man's body, kissing and sucking dark marks across his chest. He buried his nose in the line of hair below Lestrade's navel, inhaling his scent. He angled his head downward so his breath ghosted over the DI's cock, making it twitch and precome to start leaking from the tip.
He ducked down and swiped his tongue along the slit, tasting Greg's arousal and finding it delectable, wanting to sink down until his nose rested against the salt and pepper curls at the base of his thick shaft. But no, Sherlock promised to take Lestrade apart and he felt the need to tease a bit further.
He slithered further down the bed, chuckling darkly at the disappointed huff of breath from above him as he avoided further contact with his lover's groin. He rested between Greg's knees and mouthed at his upper thighs, sucking and biting. His lover would be riddled with marks and love bites by the time Sherlock was through.
He skirted the older man's groin again and worked his way back up Lestrade's body, slowly. He took each nipple in his mouth in turn, suckling and biting. He ground his erection against Greg's thighs, savoring the way his lover trembled in response.
Sherlock made his way back down the older man's strong chest. He grabbed a pillow and with one hand tapped Lestrade's hips. The DI obligingly raised them and Sherlock shoved the pillow under him. He licked a stripe up Lestrade's hard, red cock before swirling his tongue around the tip, flicking at the slit and licking away the precome. The older man twitched and arched his hips up. Sherlock pressed a hand against his hip and held him down before swallowing the older man's cock down to the root, suppressing his gag reflex.
Lestrade half shouted and tossed his head back and forth, muttering a stream of curses and pleas. Sherlock hummed around his cock and swallowed. The sensation of his lover's mouth around Greg's throbbing cock was almost too much for him. He wasn't going to last if this kept up.
"Christ, Sherlock, your mouth! Please. Don't ever stop. Oh God! So warm, so hot. I love you. Please! Oh God, I'm gonna —" Lestrade's words were cut off when Sherlock pulled off his cock abruptly and circled his long musician's fingers around the base, stemming his rising orgasm. The DI moaned in discontent.
Sherlock kept his hand at the base of Lestrade's arousal and lowered his head further, licking at his perineum.
"Fuck, Sherlock. Bleeding Christ." Lestrade had never been this turned on before. Sherlock was true to his word, he was breaking him down and turning him into a whimpering mess. It was incredible and he never wanted it to end.
Sherlock circled his lover's entrance with his tongue, fluttering and probing. Lestrade twitched in response, held firmly in place by Sherlock. He felt Sherlock easing him open with his tongue, relaxing the ring of muscle surrounding his hole. He spread his legs further in encouragement and Sherlock pressed his tongue inside. If the younger man hadn't been gripping the base of his cock so firmly, Greg would have come right then.
The detective spent a few more tortuous moments working his lover open before pulling up and away, draping himself half atop the older man. Greg turned to look at him through eyes clouded with lust.
"I'm clean. I got tested the week after we began seeing each other. You had a physical the month before and your results show you are also clean." Sherlock stated, matter of factly.
"You saw my results?" Greg asked, struggling and failing to sound indignant. Sherlock simply raised an eyebrow in response.
"Wha-? What are you saying, Sherlock?"
Sherlock sighed. "I'm going to presume your brain is merely moving at a slower pace than usual due to my thorough ministrations, because ordinarily I believe you would easily follow what I am suggesting." He slowly stroked Greg's cock, thumb swiping over the precome at the tip. The other man arched his hips into the touch, groaning.
Sherlock leaned over and rested his lips on the shell of Greg's ear. "I'm saying I want to feel you pulsing around me without a thin layer of latex. I'm saying I want you to feel when I come deep inside you. I'm saying I want to see my come trickle out of you after I pull out, sated and satisfied. I'm saying I'm about to fuck you blind and I'm not going to wear a condom doing so."
Lestrade shuddered at his words. "Yeah, alright." He breathed and went to roll over onto his stomach.
"No," Sherlock stilled his movement, placing his lean body over the DI's sturdier one. "Like this, I want to see your face as you feel me sliding inside you. I want to swallow your moans with my mouth and see what your face looks like when you come."
"Jesus, you are going to be the death of me." Greg muttered, writhing beneath him.
"No Greg," Sherlock said seriously, "you've become the life of me."
Lestrade gazed up at him with such love and affection in his gaze that Sherlock felt it warm him like the sun. He leaned down and kissed his lover, pouring all the affection and care into the kiss that he couldn't seem to say with words.
Breaking away, breathing heavily, Sherlock leaned over to the nightstand and grabbed the lube there. The time for teasing had past. He slicked up the fingers of one hand then circled Lestrade's fluttering pink hole with one finger. He bent to kiss the other man as he breached the tight ring of muscle with his index finger. He swallowed Lestrade's moans and sighs with his mouth and slowly worked his finger in and out of his lover's hot, tight entrance before adding a second, scissored his fingers.
He moved his mouth along the DI's strong jaw, peppering kisses and enjoying the feel of stubble against his lips before attaching his mouth to the sensitive skin beneath Lestrade's ear. As he mouthed a dark mark into his salty flesh he worked a third finger inside Greg, slowily working him open and preparing him for his cock. Sherlock was not overly endowed but he wasn't small and he wanted this experience to be nothing but pleasurable for Lestrade and took time to massage his entrance with his fingers.
After a few moments fucking himself on Sherlock's fingers, Lestrade grunted, "Fuck, Sherlock, please! I need to feel you inside me now. Please, please! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me…"
Sherlock grinned as he removed his fingers, "Well who am I to deny someone when he begs so prettily?" He put more lube on his hands and slicked up his aching cock generously.
He arranged himself above the other man and pressed the head of his cock against his lover's opening.
"Yes!" Greg breathed and lifted his hips to encourage Sherlock to enter him. "Please," he pleaded. Sherlock shifted and they both moaned as the detective worked his way inside slowly. When his hips were flush against Lestrade's ass, Sherlock stilled and savored the feel of his lover's tight, slick channel.
Lestrade rolled his hips beneath Sherlock and heard the other man suck in a sharp breath. Sherlock immediately pulled his hips back until his cock was almost out of Greg before slowly pushing back inside. He set a languid pace, moving his hips rhythmically, holding himself up on his elbows and looking down at the man beneath him.
Greg met his lover's gaze and was taken aback at the depth of feeling revealed in Sherlock's ever changing eyes. He felt his heart clench as he realized this was Sherlock making love to him.
He felt tears prick his eyes but he couldn't look away. A frown ghosted across Sherlock's face and he leaned down to press a soft kiss on Greg's lips as he continued to slowly thrust in and out.
Lestrade parted his lips and slid his tongue into the younger man's warm mouth. He coaxed his lover's tongue into an erotic dance with his own and wrapped both arms around Sherlock's broad shoulders, pulling him closer. The movement trapped the DI's cock between their sweaty flesh, the glorious slide of skin causing Lestrade to moan into Sherlock's mouth.
Sherlock rolled his hips and his cock glanced against Lestrade's sweet spot with every thrust. The older man bucked against him and pressed his blunt nails into the firm muscles of Sherlock's upper back causing the detective to quicken his pace.
He slid one hand between them and grasped Greg's throbbing member, stroking it in time with each slap of his hips. After a few moments, Lestrade gasped out his name and came in his lover's fist, come splashing against both their stomachs.
The sensation of Greg's tight passage clenching around his cock sent Sherlock toppling over the edge. He grunted Lestrade's name and bit his neck, shuddering as he pulsed his release deep inside, collapsing on top of his lover bonelessly.
After a few moments he slid out and rolled onto his side, grabbing blindly on the floor until he found a shirt which he used to clean himself and Greg. He tossed the clothing aside and pulled Greg against him until his back was flush with his chest.
Lestrade sighed sleepily and tilted his head to kiss Sherlock's hand where it was tucked under the DI's chin. "That… was amazing."
Sherlock hummed in agreement, pulling the covers over their cooling bodies and they both quickly fell asleep.
…..
When they woke the next morning, Greg staggered into the bathroom. He used the loo then hopped in the shower. He was just washing the shampoo from his hair when suddenly the water went cold.
"Oi!" he shouted. The shower door opened and Sherlock appeared behind him.
"Wasn't awake yet. Didn't think not to flush." Sherlock mumbled, pressing up against Lestrade's body.
The water returned to a lovely hot temperature and Greg rinsed the rest of the shampoo from his hair. He grabbed the bottle and with a bit of wrangling, got Sherlock under the spray. He was working the suds gently through his lover's thick mop of hair when Sherlock winced.
Greg immediately stilled his hands. "What?"
"Nothing. I just have a scar there that's still a bit sensitive. That's all. Keep going, it feels marvelous." Sherlock bowed his head towards the other man.
Greg shrugged and continues to gently massage Sherlock's head. Greg knows there's a story there but decides not to press the issue. If Sherlock feels like sharing, he will. Greg is patient. He can wait.
The older man can't help but notice that Sherlock refuses to turn his back to him. He isn't quite sure how to broach the subject of the scars that covered the majority of the detective's back. Scars Lestrade knows he didn't have when 'died.' They'd both had to patch each other up on occasion before they had John Watson as a doctor in residence. He knew Sherlock's back didn't used to look like that. He put a pin in that for now and the rest of the shower is spent with loving caresses and languid kisses.
They towel dried in the bedroom and Greg wrapped a towel around his waist before digging in his wardrobe for his spare dressing gown which he then tossed to Sherlock. He pulled on his own dressing gown and tossed the towel in the laundry.
"Tea and toast sound good?" He called over his shoulder as he wandered out to the kitchen. Sherlock was still ruffling his hair with a towel but grunted what sounded like an affirmative response.
They ate their breakfast standing side by side in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, arms brushing with each movement. It was as though neither man could stand to be out of the other's reach.
After the dishes were rinsed, Greg took Sherlock's hand and pulled him back to the bedroom. He let his dressing gown drop from his body as he wrestled with the tie on Sherlock's.
When they were both naked, he gently pushed Sherlock so that he was standing by the bed but stopped him from getting atop it. Sherlock looked at him with a puzzled expression on his handsome face.
Lestrade traced his fingers up the detective's arms, trailing random patterns on his soft skin. "You are the beautiful one, Sherlock. You look as though you were carved by Michelangelo. The light that shines from your eyes is nearly blinding and I feel I will never get enough of looking at you." Sherlock's cheeks took on a pink hue that spread down his neck and across the top of his chest. He reached for Lestrade to kiss him but Greg stopped him with a hand to his chest.
"But it's not just that you are gorgeous. I love your mind, your brilliant, amazing mind. I know it's not been easy for you over the years, being such a genius, but when I see how you've grown and changed since we first met… You take my breath away. I love you. I know it's not easy for you to speak about your emotions and I want you to know, I will never pressure you to say anything you are not comfortable with. I can tell how you feel about me by the way you look at me and how I feel when I'm in your arms."
Sherlock's eyes shimmered with unshed tears and again he reached to draw Greg closer. Again, the older man stopped him. Sherlock frowned.
"There's one more thing I want to say to you right now, love. I know you are human. So very human and I know you are breakable. "No… look at me, please." Sherlock flinched and averted his eyes. Greg placed a gentle hand under his chin and drew the younger man's gaze back to his.
"Listen to me. I know you were hurt badly during your time away. You tried to keep me from seeing your back just now in the shower but I already saw it last night. I saw your scars." Lestrade gripped both Sherlock's wrists as he attempted to back away.
"Hey, I saw them, you don't have to hide anything from me. Not that, not anything. But especially not these scars. I think they are beautiful." Sherlock's head shot up with an incredulous look on his face, but Greg pressed on. "They are beautiful because they are a symbol of all that you sacrificed to save those you care about. They are a part of you now and I love all of you."
Tears were slowly flowing down Sherlock's cheeks and Greg drew him into a loving embrace, wrapping himself around the thinner man and gently rocking him back and forth as he wept into Lestrade's shoulder.
Sherlock mumbled something. "What's that, my love?" Greg whispered into his ear.
The younger man pulled back slightly and looked into Lestrade's warm brown eyes.
"I truly don't deserve you. The things I had to do. The things that were done to me. It was an ugly, horrible time. I wouldn't want you to become tainted by any part of that. That's why I didn't want you to see my scars."
"I meant what I said, Sherlock. You never have to hide anything from me. Ever." Lestrade led Sherlock to the bed and guided him to lie down on his side. Greg crawled onto the bed behind him and laid flush against his scarred back. "Let's just sleep some more, yeah?"
Sherlock nodded and pulled Lestrade's arm around him and held his hand by his heart. They soon fell into a restful sleep, wrapped in each other's embrace.
Greg woke before Sherlock. A glance at the clock confirmed they'd only been asleep for about two hours. He looked at the amazing man held in his arms and again thanked a God he's not sure he believes in anymore that he is lucky enough to know him the way he does.
He pressed his face against his lover's hairline, nosing at the soft curls there before lightly running his lips down his neck towards his upper back. Sherlock sighed and shifted a bit but remained asleep. Lestrade moved slightly to gain better access before peppering soft kisses and gentle licks on the scars crisscrossing Sherlock's upper back. He continued on in this manner, worshipping the detective's body and the marks the younger man bore that proved his devotion to those he loved.
Lestrade could tell immediately when Sherlock awoke. He tensed noticeably when he realized what the DI was doing. "…Lestrade, what…" Sherlock's voice was thick with sleep and emotion.
Oh, he was 'Lestrade' now, Sherlock was definitely ill at ease. The detective had made a concentrated effort to start referring to him as 'Greg' when they interacted personally but the older man knew for years he'd been solely 'Lestrade' and that in Sherlock's mind that was his name. Honestly he didn't care anymore what Sherlock called him, he knew where Sherlock's heart lay. Heck, he'd been referred to by his last name for so long, in so many circles, he answered to Lestrade no matter the setting.
"Hush Sherlock, I've got you. Let me show you how much I love you and the marks you bear." Greg spoke softly directly against a particularly nasty scar on Sherlock's shoulder blade, a knife wound from the looks of it, before moving further down to lave his tongue against what he would bet money were whip marks.
As Greg persisted in his gentle ministrations, kissing every scar and mark his lips touched, he could feel the tension and strain melt from Sherlock's body. He folded his arms and pillowed his head on them, giving Greg free reign to continue lavishing him with affection. Lestrade felt as though his heart would burst at the trust his lover was showing in him. He vowed to never let him down, to prove to the younger man how worthy he was of love, his love.
Once Greg felt he had kissed or caressed every scar he could reach, he stretched out beside Sherlock, lying face to face. Sherlock looked at him as though he was an unsolvable puzzle.
The detective leaned over and kissed Lestrade, swiping his tongue along the seam of his lips until they parted for him. He licked his way into the older man's mouth and Lestrade swore he could feel the emotion pouring from Sherlock into him through this kiss.
Sherlock shifted suddenly and Lestrade found himself on his back beneath the younger man. "You are amazing, Greg. I didn't realize… I never knew… I could feel…" A look of consternation passed across his handsome face and the older man knew he was struggling to find the right words. When would he learn that there were no right words? That everything he did spoke louder than any mere words he could say.
Perhaps he was starting to understand because he stopped attempting to talk and buried his face in the nook of the older man's neck, kissing and suckling the sensitive skin there.
He slowly made his way down Lestrade's body kissing and reddening the marks he'd put there the night before. Beneath him, he could feel his lover tremble and hear the sharp inhalations of breath when he sucked on a particularly dark bruise.
He lifted his head to check on the older man, "Too much?"
"Uh-un, no, good." Greg rasped. Sherlock lowered his head and apparently found a very ticklish spot because Lestrade giggled and tried to squirm away from his touch. The detective made a mental note of the spot before chuckling and proceeding further south.
Lestrade's erection lay swollen and red against his stomach and Sherlock took the opportunity to grasp it and swallow the thick shaft down to the root.
"Holy mother of fucking God!" Lestrade shouted and jerked his hips up. Sherlock pulled up and swirled his tongue around the tip before hollowing his cheeks and sucking on the older man's cock like an ice lolly.
"Oh God, oh God. Sherlock. Fuck. Jesus." Greg continued to babble as Sherlock sucked his cock. The younger man pulled off reluctantly before reaching over and grabbing the lube.
"My dear Greg, I'm going to fuck you know. I assure you, I look forward to you fucking me and putting your delicious cock in my arse at some point but for now I seem to have a slight obsession with the feel of my cock balls deep in your arse.I trust you are amenable with this course of events?" Sherlock slicked his hand and circled his fingers around Lestrade's tight entrance.
"Jesus Christ, Sherlock, who would've guessed the mouth on you? The things you say. God. Your voice is like an auditory orgasm. Fuck yes, I'm amenable!"
Sherlock proceeded to plunge his fingers in Greg's hole and work him open. He was still a bit loose from the night before so Sherlock quickly applied lube to his cock and sunk deep inside.
"God, you feel like you're made to take my cock. You're so hot and tight. Next time, I'm going to have you on all fours so I can watch my cock plunge in your greedy hole over and over." Sherlock snapped his hips and Greg braced his hands against the headboard.
"Bloody hell, where'd you learn to talk like that? They teach you that at your fancy public school?" Greg gasped out, raising his hips to meet Sherlock's thrusts.
The younger man swiveled his hips and Lestrade moaned as he felt his prostate being stimulated. Sherlock leaned down to claim his mouth in a bruising kiss before whispering in Greg's ear. "Oh my darling, you have no idea the things they taught at my public school. But if you're very good, I'll be happy to show you again and again."
Sherlock kept up a punishing pace and all too quickly Lestrade felt his balls draw up and he orgasmed untouched, his cock splashing hot come between them. A half dozen strokes later and Sherlock came with a loud curse. He managed to lever himself to the side and collapsed beside the older man.
Lestrade knew he should find something to clean up with, but at that moment he was too shagged out and blissful to care. Sherlock reached down and dragged a sheet over their sweat slicked and come stained bodies. Greg turned to kiss his lover, aiming for his cheek but instead placing a sloppy kiss directly on his ear. Sherlock chuckled softly and tilted his head to rest dark brown curls against the silver strands of the older man.
"I love you." Lestrade said, grabbing Sherlock's hand and twining their fingers together.
The detective hummed. "I know."