Chapter Four: Club
Author's Note: It's Mycroft's turn to be annoyed :)
Unknown to most of London, there is a very secret, very exclusive, and very gay club located in the heart of the city (the gay part was Sherlock's rambling, John wasn't really listening by then).
Mycroft owned this establishment, had inherited it from his and Sherlock's father. It was a club John recognised as soon as he stepped from the taxi.
'Oh, you can not be serious,' John said as he looked up at the Diogenes Club.
'Yes I can.'
John turned to stare at his partner. 'Sherlock, we... we can't do it here.'
'Why not?'
'It's... you have to be silent!'
'Not in Mycroft's office or one of the strangers rooms... though I think the office will do.'
John groaned as he followed Sherlock to the door. 'How are we even going to get in?'
Once inside, Sherlock flashed a card (one that actually had his name on it, not Mycroft's) and they were led through to a long hallway. There they were left alone and Sherlock, with a smile on his face, pressed a finger to his lips before leading John through the building.
John followed along in silence, catching glimpses of men sitting in leather-backed chairs sipping scotch, wine and champagne. They were all either reading the paper, browsing their phones, or tapping on laptops.
Finally Sherlock came to a stop before a large wooden door and produced another card, this one with "Mycroft Holmes" stamped across the front.
John rolled his eyes, Sherlock smirking as he swiped the card through a keypad and typed something in quickly. The pad turned green and the door opened with a heavy clunk.
As soon as they were inside, door shut, Sherlock said, 'Honestly, his password is "Johnathan".'
John stared at him, not getting it.
Sherlock tutted. 'Johnathan is Lestrade's middle name.'
'Oh, right,' John nodded and turned to look at the room. It was large, as big as their living room back at 221B. There was a desk directly before John, large, wooden, with a green top, a pen holder filled with all manner of writing utensil, a closed laptop, and a number of files. The leather-backed chair was comfortable looking, framed either side by big green plants.
The walls had a few framed pictures, including one of the Queen, as well as some flowers and weird shapes John couldn't make out. There were bookcases in each corner, a flat-screen TV on the right wall, and a large white board on the left covered in what looked like French.
John whistled as he turned around, Sherlock moving straight for the files.
'Boring,' he declared a few minutes later.
'Try the laptop.'
Sherlock tutted again. 'John, my brother would not leave anything important on a laptop here, do use your head.' He fell to sit in the chair and put his legs up, shoes resting on the table. He grinned and looked John over carefully, eyes taking in the doctor completely.
John smirked and put his hands on his hips. 'See something you like?'
'I see everything, John,' Sherlock said softly before smiling, 'and I like everything I see right now.'
John chuckled and crossed the room. 'So...' he said and leaned against the desk. 'What are we doing here?'
Sherlock smirked. 'We are here to have sex.'
'Oh, right, of course we are, mm... why?'
'To get back at my brother and Gregory.'
John groaned. 'Sherlock, can't we just leave it? When is this going to end? If we have sex here, Mycroft and Greg will have sex somewhere else we don't want them to. And then you'll want to do something equally dirty somewhere Mycroft doesn't want you to, and then he and Greg will have sex in our fridge or something, and us in their shower, and... Sherlock, do you get what I'm saying?'
Sherlock was silent 4.6 seconds before asking, 'How could they have sex in our fridge?'
John groaned.
'Honestly, John, I'm curious because it is physically impossible. Are they cutting their limbs off before getting in?'
'Sherlock.'
'Or their heads? That would be much better; Mycroft with the inability to speak would really be excellent.'
'Sherlock, please.'
'Although how they could have sex without heads... well, it's more impossible then without limbs–'
'Sherlock!'
Sherlock smirked and leaned back, fingers coming together beneath his chin. 'I want you to fuck me in this office, John. On the chair, over the desk, against the wall, on the floor...' he trailed off and smiled, 'everywhere.'
John swallowed, trying very hard to push down his arousal. 'Sherlock, be serious.'
'I am serious, John,' his partner replied. 'I'm serious about wanting you to fuck me everywhere in this office.'
'We... we can't!'
'Why not?'
'This is Mycroft's office!'
'Exactly.'
John groaned, rubbed a hand against his eyes. 'Sherlock, this... I mean, you stole his card to get in!'
'He didn't make it very hard, John,' Sherlock tutted. 'And his password?' He rolled his eyes again.
'Sherlock...'
Sherlock stood suddenly and ran a hand down his front, cupping himself through his trousers every third stroke. John gulped. 'John?'
'Huh?' the doctor murmured, tearing his eyes from Sherlock's crotch. 'What?'
Sherlock smirked. 'Are you staring at me, John?'
'Bit hard not to when your hands are all... rubby.'
''Rubby'?' Sherlock chuckled. 'That's not a word.'
'Well you're doing it,' John huffed, eyes once more falling below his partner's belt.
Slowly, Sherlock slipped from his shoes before taking his belt in both hands. John was practically drooling as Sherlock slipped the leather free before undoing his trousers. He let them pool on the floor and stepped from the quickly, now clad in only dark purple boxers.
'Oh God, you're wearing them.'
Sherlock smiled. 'They match my purple shirt you're so fond of.
'Uh... uh huh,' John managed. Not the most intelligent thing he had ever said, no, but Sherlock was just standing there... in purple silk boxers!
Slowly, Sherlock pulled down his boxers until he was just standing there, in Mycroft's office, half-naked and hard.
'Jesus,' John groaned.
'Mm?' Sherlock murmured, stroking his cock. 'John, I think I need some help here.'
'Is... is that so?' John said, wetting his lips.
'Yes,' Sherlock nodded, back to stroking his erection. 'Please do help me.'
John suddenly didn't care that they were in Mycroft's office, or about this stupid war he and Sherlock had going. He just needed to wrap his lips around Sherlock's cock right then and there.
He sank to his knees on the plush carpet, pulling Sherlock forward by the hips. Sherlock moaned as John's tongue trailed along his cock, lapping at the underside before licking the head. Sherlock fisted his hands in John's hair, drawing him closer.
'John... please...'
John continued to lick and rub his lips up and down Sherlock's shaft, kissing at his testicles before sucking one into his mouth. He palmed the hot flesh as he did, shuffling forward on his knees and making Sherlock back into the desk.
Sherlock leaned against the wood heavily as John finally took him in his mouth, tongue twirling around the head and licking pre-come away. He moaned as he did, bobbing up and down as he took more and more of Sherlock into his mouth.
'John,' Sherlock moaned, pulling his boyfriend closer and closer, burying his cock down John's throat. The doctor choked but adjusted his sucking accordingly, breathing through his nose as he sucked back on his boyfriend.
John would never tire of the feel of Sherlock's cock in his mouth; shaft hot and heavy as it slid against his tongue, length stretching his mouth, pre-come trickling down his throat.
'I'm... John, I c-can't...' he trailed off and thrust harder, now fucking John's mouth with abandon. John just went with it, closing his eyes and letting himself focus completely on Sherlock's cock, on his grunts and groans and fingers tight in his hair.
Sherlock came suddenly, emptying himself down John's throat, the doctor sucking it all down and licking him clean.
Sherlock slumped against the desk, breathing heavily and blinking through his orgasmic haze. John pulled himself up and grabbed Sherlock, kissing him quickly and heatedly.
'Enjoy yourself?' he asked.
'Yes,' Sherlock nodded.
'Well I'm not done yet.' The commanding tone had Sherlock shivering, more so when he was turned and pushed into the desk. 'I'm gonna fuck you until you come again,' John whispered into Sherlock's ear, the consulting detective moaning. 'Do you think Mycroft has lube in his desk?'
'B-bottom drawer,' Sherlock said.
John grinned and leaned down to open the bottom drawer, making sure to brush his arm against Sherlock's arse. Sherlock moaned as John stood, finding a bottle of lube and some other... things he would very much like to ignore. He popped the cap and slathered his cock, not caring when gel dripped onto the floor.
He positioned himself at Sherlock's entrance, one hand on his hip, the other on the desk. He pushed in quickly, Sherlock cursing and thrusting back. John set up a quick rhythm, swallowed again and again by his boyfriend's tight hole.
'Fuck, Sherlock,' he moaned, skin slapping against skin loudly as he fucked Sherlock hard.
'John... God, John, John, John.'
John grunted and held Sherlock's hips tightly, thrusting in and out of his tight passage. Sherlock just cussed and bent over the desk, rutting against John as the doctor hit his prostate.
'J-John...' he murmured a minute later.
John knew that voice; Sherlock was close to getting hard again. He pulled Sherlock back and the consulting detective yelped as he tipped back. John fell to sit in Mycroft's chair, hauling Sherlock atop him without slipping out.
Sherlock began pulling himself up and down, fucking himself on John's cock. He moaned and shuddered, gripping his own thighs as John pushed up.
They continued for a few minutes before Sherlock's groans grew louder, more needy. He began fisting his half-hard cock, trying to push himself towards another orgasm.
'Not yet, love,' John said between grunts, forcing his cock into Sherlock over and over again. 'I still gotta fuck you... against the wall... the floor... you can come... then... hear me?'
'Yes,' Sherlock nodded, closing his eyes as John hit his prostate again. 'Yes, John, yes!'
John dug his fingers into Sherlock's hips, knowing he'd leave bruises and not caring in the slightest. He buried his face in Sherlock's back, kissing at his jacket before moving to pull it off. Sherlock let him, groaning when John finally sank his teeth into his shoulder.
John tasted silk and warmth and pulled the collar aside to get at the sweet skin beneath. He kissed along Sherlock's neck and shoulder before licking at the pale skin, loving the loud moans Sherlock was now making.
'J-John... I... s-soon...'
John pushed up immediately, wrapping his arms around Sherlock's waist and pulling him towards the wall. Sherlock went with him, groaning when John forced him against the wall, never once leaving Sherlock's tight hole.
Sherlock pulled his legs apart and placed both hands on the wall, pushing his arse into John as the doctor continued to fuck him.
'Fuck, John, more!' he begged, eyes shut, lips pulled wide in a silent groan.
John just fucked him harder, spreading Sherlock's cheeks to watch his cock disappear into his boyfriend's body. 'God, you have no idea how fucking amazing you look.'
'Uhh,' Sherlock moaned, dropping his head and rolling his hips to meet each of John's thrusts.
'So fucking amazing, just standing there, begging for my cock,' John continued. He shifted to grab Sherlock's prick, stroking in long, slow movements, Sherlock groaning louder. 'Right here, in a public office, you filthy little man.'
'N-not l-little,' Sherlock stuttered, swearing loudly when John began thrusting to hit his prostate.
'What was that?' John asked, panting at the strain of continuing his pace.
'I'm l-little,' Sherlock managed. 'Whatever you s-say...'
'How close are you, Sherlock?' John hissed. 'Do you want me to stop?'
'No,' Sherlock shook his head.
'Sorry?'
'No!' Sherlock shouted. 'No, please, no! Keep g-going, John, please!'
John grinned, knowing Sherlock was close when he started saying please. He withdrew completely and Sherlock groaned, turning to glare at him with lust-blown eyes.
John got to his knees, pulling Sherlock down. He kissed him hard and fast, Sherlock grunting into his mouth as John forced him onto his back. He pushed in swiftly, Sherlock shouting cusses as John wrapped a warm hand around his cock.
'I want you to come again,' John demanded. 'All over that pretty shirt of yours. Do it, Sherlock.'
Sherlock groaned.
'I'm waiting,' John said and snapped his hips quickly.
'J-John.'
'Now!'
A few more tugs, a few quick thrusts, and Sherlock was spilling across his silk shirt, swearing and arching his back off the floor. He tightened around John, pulling the doctor over the edge and into his own climax. He grunted and his thrusts faltered as he leaked into Sherlock, letting his head drop and swearing.
Finally John managed to pull out and rolled onto his back, panting heavily and staring at the ceiling. He was feeling thoroughly wiped after fucking Sherlock in four different positions. He turned his head to look at Sherlock.
'Hey.'
'Mm?' Sherlock mumbled softly.
'You okay?'
'Y-yeah,' Sherlock swallowed before nodding. 'Fine.'
John smiled. 'Did I tire you out?'
'Yes,' Sherlock admitted.
With a chuckle, John drew Sherlock in for a soft kiss, Sherlock's lips swollen from chomping down with his own teeth.
'I love you,' John said, 'even with this stupid competition you've created.'
Sherlock smiled. 'I love you too, John. And thank you.'
'For what?'
'For fucking me on the desk, the chair, the floor, the wa–' He was cut off when John kissed him again and decided that that was far better then talking.
{oOo}
Mycroft and Greg were about to order when Mycroft's BlackBerry buzzed. Greg groaned and Mycroft shot him an apologetic look before pulling out his phone to find a new text.
Johnathan– S
Mycroft swore and leaned back in his seat.
'Myc?' Greg asked, looking across the table.
Mycroft looked up at him before turning his BlackBerry so Greg could read the message.
'Johnathan?'
'Your middle name.'
Greg smiled. 'Yeah, I know. But why is Sherlock texting it to you?'
Mycroft scowled. 'Because clearly he stole my keycard, deduced my password, got into my office at the Diogenes club, and had sex with John there.'
Greg paused, eyes running over Mycroft. Suddenly he said, 'Your password's my middle name?'
'That's what you're focusing on?'
Greg smiled. 'It's sweet.'
'Gregory,' Mycroft scowled.
'It is, very sweet,' Greg said and grabbed Mycroft's hand, rubbing a thumb along his knuckles. 'Seriously. What else do you use my name for? Missile launch codes? Doomsday timers? Huh, come on, tell us.'
Mycroft tutted but there was a smile pulling at his lips. 'Greg, be serious.'
'I am. If the world's gonna end because of you I at least wanna try and save the entire earth.'
'I'll get Sherlock back for this,' Mycroft said, already contemplating revenge.
Greg just smiled and said, 'They'd build massive statues of me.'
'Gregory,' Mycroft sighed.
'Ten feet tall!'
Mycroft chuckled and Greg grinned.
