"This disaster is entirely your fault."
"Really John, I think you are exaggerating just a bit."
"We're in a cage in the middle of an underground sex club, stark naked, and you think I'm exaggerating?"
Sherlock didn't seem fazed by their lack of clothes (this was the man who wore a sheet to Buckingham Palace), only taking a moment to tests the handcuffs that had his wrists shackled behind his back and connected to the top of the cage by a length of chain, "I was referring to your suggestion that this is all my fault."
John, fortunately enough, was not bound in any way, "You're the one who decided to break in." He muttered, examining Sherlock's chains. The chain was short enough that Sherlock couldn't sit on the floor of the cage, nor could he kneel with without bending over. It was a rig that had obviously been used before.
"And you decided to follow me."
"Sherlock, I-"
It was then that the stage lights of the club were turned on their cage, filling the cage with white light. John could hear the murmurs of the crowded club, all leering at them.
"It would seem," Sherlock breathed, "That it is our turn to perform. And, judging by the tender flesh in the crook of my left arm my sudden elevated heart rate, I've been given something to ensure I am compliant."
John could see it now: the light sheen of sweat on Sherlock's brow, the dilation of his pupils, "They drugged you."
"I just said that, John, do keep up." Sherlock swallowed sluggishly, "And if we fail to give a good show, we may very well end up like the victims found in the Thames."
It had been those blasted murders that had led them to this club in the first place, "Alright," John whispered, "What do you need me to do?"
Sherlock gave him an even look, "Considering the fact I'm the one chained in the presenting position, I'm to assume I'm to be the bitch in this exhibition. So please John, do bugger me before they kill us."
Leave it to Sherlock to be clinical about a "fuck or die" situation. No pressure or anything.
John took a deep breath, making his way over to Sherlock, "Just let me know if you need me to do anything or if I'm hurting you." He murmured, taking in Sherlock's appearance.
Already he could see Sherlock's usual control slipping, his lips were parted ever so slightly, tongue slipping out to wet them every so often, and his pale cheeks had the faintest hints of flush on them. With a deep breath, John leaned in, kissing Sherlock deeply.
Considering the fact he had never kissed a man before, John had to operate on the assumption that it was very much the same as kissing a woman. So he started soft, getting used to Sherlock's lips before moving on to more aggressive tactics. Sherlock's bottom lip was plump and supple under John's teeth as he bit and pulled on the tender flesh. Exactly like a woman.
The breathy gasp that sounded from Sherlock, while light and effeminate in comparison to Sherlock's voice, was still deep and rough enough to break John from his thoughts, "John…" Sherlock gasped, "What are you doing?"
"It's called foreplay, Sherlock." John muttered, "I have to get us in the mood, not to mention put on a show, don't I?"
He could hear the murmurs of the club's onlookers, appraising their looks and their kiss. John knew from watching too many porn films, that kissing was hardly enough to keep an audience entertained. So he moved to Sherlock's neck, kissing and biting at the pale column of flesh there. Being so close, he could feel the tremor moving beneath the consulting detective's skin. It was when John nibbled at Sherlock's collarbone that he got another gasp.
"John," Sherlock's voice cracked a bit, "How are you doing that?"
While John didn't answer Sherlock, instead opting to kiss his way to Sherlock's chest, the innocent question struck a chord with him. Sherlock really had no clue how sex worked, at least not sex with another person. He was losing his virginity in front of a crowd.
But damnit, John was going to make sure it was the best damn sex Sherlock might ever have.
John licked a pale pink nipple while teasing the other one with his hand. He was used to being able to hold plump breasts in his hands while he did this, but John found he didn't mind the smooth muscle of Sherlock's chest, nor did he mind the breathy pant coming from Sherlock, too husky to belong to any woman.
Then John noticed the very familiar, though still very foreign, piece of anatomy between Sherlock's legs. Bloody hell, he looked ready to burst. John had to pause for a moment. He'd never dealt with another man's junk before…but if it kept them both from taking a swim in the Thames…
He breathed a puff of warm air onto the head of Sherlock's penis, already dripping with precum. The result was a shudder and a high keening sound from Sherlock. That was certainly a new one. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound… John took a deep breath before licking the length, from base to tip, even sparing a moment to tease the slit at the tip. The taste was bitter and musky, but it wasn't the worse thing John had encountered.
Especially if it resulting in Sherlock Holmes mewing and moaning the way he was. John had been expecting the instinctual thrust of Sherlock's hips, and kept a firm grip on them to keep from choking. While he was willing to suck him off, deep throating was not on the agenda.
Sherlock's moans were intelligible as John sucked and licked his penis, and for that, John was grateful. It drowned out the sounds of the crowd watching them, watching him. But John could still feel when coins and bills landed against him.
They were throwing bloody money at him while he was sucking off his best friend.
With a pop, John let Sherlock's cock fall from his mouth.
"Please John…" Sherlock breathed, his voice hoarse, "Don't stop…I beg of you…"
When they got out of this, and John swore they would get out of this mess, he would make sure Sherlock hadn't been harmed too extensively. Because anything that reduced Sherlock Holmes to begging was a terrible fate to suffer for the consulting detective.
"It's going to be alright, Sherlock." John ran a hand down Sherlock's side, hoping to sooth the strung out genius. But Sherlock was shaking so bad, it was a miracle his legs could still support him. Right then, best get this over with.
For a brief moment, John wondered how on earth he was going to…perform. Only to realize a moment later that he was just as hard as Sherlock. He had gotten hard from sucking off his best friend. And he didn't have the excuse of being drugged.
In the corner of the cage, John noticed a crate of devious looking sex toys. He only cringed more as he began to dive through it, looking for something to help Sherlock. Gags, whips, dildos (no need for a fake dick when you've got a real one between your legs), vibrators, cock rings… No, John wouldn't use any of those…not for Sherlock's first time. It was bad enough the genius was chained up.
Then, the doctor found what he was looking for: a bottle of commercial lubricant. He might have to rape Sherlock in front of a club, but he was not going to hurt him any more than he was already.
Squeezing a large amount onto his fingers, John carefully examined the tight ring of muscle between Sherlock's cheeks. It's just like giving a prostate exam, He told himself (except prostate exams don't involve cherry scented lubricants…or chains…).
Sherlock was tight around his finger. Tight and hot. John flushed as if he hadn't been running red hot from the get go, "Relax…you need to relax or this will hurt."
He half expected Sherlock to retort with some comment about the male anatomy and understanding of how the sphincter worked, but instead, Sherlock only nodded repeatedly, mouth gaping open as he panted. John returned to his work of stretching Sherlock, squeezing in a second finger and scissoring them until the muscle relaxed enough for a third. By now, Sherlock was whimpering. John bit his lip, using his medical expertise to find that one spot and—
As John stimulated Sherlock's prostate, Sherlock let out a raw scream, back arching so far that the chains above him rattled. For a moment, John feared he had hurt his friend, until Sherlock's wanton chanting hit his ears, "Please John, again! Again, again, again…"
Unable to help himself, John did it again, with similar results. And, judging by the amount of money thrown at the cage, the audience enjoyed it.
Well bugger them, John thought sourly, withdrawing his fingers and pouring more lubricant onto his hand (he would never be able to smell cherries the same way again). He hesitated before lathering his own cock with the lube, suddenly reveling in the sensations he realized he had been going without the entire ordeal. With a gulp, he positioned himself behind Sherlock, laying a hand on the genius's hip.
Sherlock strained his neck to look back at John, eyes dark and cheeks and lips a bright cherry red (now John would never be able to look at cherries the same way again). His lips, John realized, were red from being bitten until they bled. "John…" He whispered, "…I trust you."
It was that trust, more than anything else, that sent John over the edge. He was slow and deliberate sliding into Sherlock, going inch by inch into the consulting detective until he was almost completely sheathed, then withdrew nearly all the way before snapping his hips forward, sliding home into Sherlock's tight heat.
Home. As twisted as it sounded, that's the only way John could describe it. He tried to keep his thrusts slow at first, to get Sherlock used to the sensation, but he had denied himself too long. And Sherlock wasn't helping, rocking himself back to meet John's thrusts. John was spiraling out of control, slamming harder, faster, deeper than he ever had with any of his girlfriends.
He knew he was getting close, every sensation was sending him over the edge. Who knows, maybe he had been drugged… It was all John could do to keep himself in control as his orgasm ripped through him, filling Sherlock with semen. Belatedly, he realized he should have warned Sherlock, but he hadn't exactly been thinking coherently.
Suddenly exhausted from no doubt a mixture of the fast sex and the crash of his adrenalin high, John lazily reached around Sherlock to bring the genius to completion.
Only to find Sherlock was completely flaccid. John briefly wondered if he was that bad of a shag. It was then John noticed the splatters of white semen on the floor of the cage (not to mention Sherlock's chest).
John didn't pay attention to the applause of the crowd as he slid out of Sherlock, nor did he notice when the lights had gone to the next cage "exhibition."
He was only concerned with Sherlock. "I didn't hurt you did I?"
Sherlock looked dazed, staring into the distance, "Brilliant…" he whispered.
John blinked, "Excuse me?"
That snapped Sherlock out of his blissed out state, "I mean, er, no, I'm fine John."
Sherlock Holmes does not use "er" John knew from experience. But now wasn't the time, "Well, that's good then... I'd hate to be a bad experience for you…"
Sherlock shook his head, "I understand now…" the dark look in his eyes was gone, replaced by the bright, clear look Sherlock got when he had made a brilliant discovery.
"Er, sorry?" John raised an eyebrow, "Understand what now?"
Sherlock looked at him, "What all the fuss is about this sex nonsense. Or rather, not so much nonsense, now is it?" He was grinning, "I'm nearly high from endorphins! This is better than the cocaine…I should have discovered this sooner…and you!"
John cleared his throat, "Me?" He really should have expected Sherlock to get giddy during the case, even after being deflowered for other people's entertainment.
"Yes, you, you bloody brilliant idiot!" Sherlock was panting again, "This explains all those women going after you! They somehow knew you were so…so…oh blast it, what's the word? Never mind, you're perfect…And now, you're mine. No one else can have you."
John opened his mouth to protest (even if he wasn't sure what he protesting), then sighed. "Of course, Sherlock. Now why don't we get you out of those chains, get dressed, and get the hell out of this creepy place?"
Sherlock nodded, "Of course. Lestrade is most likely waiting for us to call him in to raid this club. But first…we really should collect that money. That's nearly two months rent right there."
Well, there's my first attempt at smut! Let me know what you think! I'm actually tempted to write this from Sherlock's POV...should I?