A/N: Greetings yet again everyone! Iwas getting ready for sleeping and I remembered I hadn't posted this day's chapter of the story! I apologize, and once more greet all my Followers, Favoriters, and Reviewers! :D

Darn it. Two minutes after midnight. That means I owe you all another chapter . . .

Thank you all for your kind words and encouragement!

I just want to remind you once again, that this is an 'M' class story, which means sex, and it is slash, which, in this case, is sex between two lovely fictional males.

Two lovely fictional males that don't belong to me, nor am I making any kind of money off this.

S/W/S/W

Maybe this was going to be a Danger Night.

John had watched with mounting frustration as his friend struggled with himself and fought within his mind to keep control of the situation. However, he also knew that they had lost control of anything that had happened to them in the last fifteen minutes . . . gods, had it really only been fifteen minutes . . . since they had been forced to retreat to the lobby of the 'hotel'. From then on their fates had been sealed, so to speak, and there was nothing more to be done about it except to continue.

John had seen the self-loathing that had flashed through Sherlock's mind as he briefly looked up, and that was it as far as he was concerned.

John was not going to allow his friend to hate himself for something they really had no control over, and decided that even though he had no experience with men, he did have experience with sex, and damned if he was going to let his friend lose himself in his own mind; a mind which was clearly far too involved in what was happening.

So, was there something he could do to make Sherlock let go? He decided an experiment of his own would not be out of order in the situation and he was going to see if anything he could do would make his friend lose his famous restraint.

He almost did a fist pump when he moved his hips and Sherlock, of all people, had started shaking and his eyes glazed over in desire. However, John watched Sherlock's eyes suddenly focus on his scar and he scowled as the pleasure started to drain out of them, even as he recognized the intense focus as Sherlock obviously regained his control over his body, especially if the sudden softening in his orifice was anything to go by.

No way was John going to allow that, and he moved his hands. If there had been a female over him, he would have explored her upper body several times over by now with his hands, his mouth, and whatever else he'd wanted, and he'd never had any complaints. So, if he touched Sherlock . . .

OH GODS, YES!

Sherlock immediately went rock hard and his pupils blew open so suddenly it was amazing the man hadn't gone blind!

He! Simple, plain, ordinary John Watson, was causing the most focused, intelligent, most in-control man he'd ever known to be able to lose himself to what Sherlock had previously described as a 'necessary evil of society meant for procreation that had caused more wars and murders than religion', and a burst of pure power and pride flared through him.

Oh yes. He was going to make sure that Sherlock felt every sexual emotion he could wring out of him, and he was going to make the genius lose himself in it even if it was just this once and if it took fucking his damn brain as well as his body to do it!

"Screw you, Mycroft and you Irene Adler, and even you too, Sherlock," John thought as he spoke to Sherlock's mind with his words and Sherlock's body with his own at the exact same time. By the time he was done with him, Sherlock wouldn't be alarmed at sex, he would be begging for it, no matter how many times he protested he didn't beg . . . and it would be John who made him do it.

With that powerfully and dangerously addicting thought, he thrust upward AND tightened himself around Sherlock as his fingers focused on Sherlock's obviously sensitive chest. The detective, oh so obviously against his better judgment and control, suddenly arched backward with a jerk and a loud outcry. His hips thrust forward, and John's lower torso rose to meet him as Sherlock gripped his thighs in a bruising grip and yanked him onto himself.

Oh. Not a bit good.

John realized he had to slow down as he gazed at the dark look of self-hatred and burgeoning depression that Sherlock wore. He had to make it seem like it was still Sherlock in control of the situation, if only to save the man his pride and ego. Just because John wanted to break the man in bed, did not mean he was willing to break the man, and sex had a strange way of weakening strong people, even as it strengthened weak ones.

A weak Sherlock was not something he wanted to contemplate. The man already had enough problems with being a misunderstood, misdiagnosed genius and drug addict, and John hardly wanted to be the one who pushed him back into the needle.

John panted and slowly drew his arms over the man's shaking shoulders up to his neck, and Sherlock couldn't help but raise his eyes. "If they come in here, you are still too easy to recognize. Down here," John pointed to his chest and neck. "Your head will block my face and my hands can block yours."

Yes! Logic!

Something Sherlock could hold onto before he shattered into a million pieces, and he grasped the thin thread of it and pulled himself back into some semblance of control. However, it would mean touching all of John, and he wasn't sure he could do that and still remain strong . . . still remain someone he recognized . . . especially if John used that voice again . . . that dominating voice that for some reason made his stomach clench and his toes curl.

Thank goodness John hadn't been aware of that!

However, the doctor's logic about being recognized was strong, and, with his arms still trembling, but nowhere near what they had been, he lowered himself down, until he lay over John's body. He inhaled John's scent, and as what he intellectually knew were pheromones that were invisible and nothing but mere chemistry invaded his Self, he was suddenly almost hyper-aware of the unfamiliar hardness that was trapped between their bodies. Without warning, John turned Sherlock's head slightly to the side and pressed their faces together until their lips met.

"Realism," he whispered into Sherlock's mouth, and thrust up, into Sherlock's body.