Naughty boys are naughty. Enjoy! ;)


We need you here. –SH

What for? I've got paperwork up to my neck, Sherlock, for your case no less. I DO have a job you know. –GL

It's an emergency. John is in trouble. –SH

I'll be there in 10. –GL

Sherlock's grin was positively sinful as he turned back to the bed and placed the phone on the nightstand, making John feel increasingly nervous despite the light headed feeling of his post orgasmic high. He knew when Sherlock was up to something. His position was already compromised considering he allowed himself to be handcuffed facedown to the bed, hands and feet stretched out to all four corners. John laid panting, recovering from being fucked into the mattress by Sherlock whose long fingers now lightly traced up the back of his legs, drawing out a delicious shiver and leaving goose flesh in their wake.

Sherlock leaned down to whisper in John's ear, his lips brushing the flesh of his earlobe. "I don't have the keys, John."

John looked up into his lover's eyes in surprise. "What? Why would you-?"

"Lestrade is on his way now. He should have a master key to these cuffs. I nicked them off his belt, so they should work."

The easy smile on Sherlock's face did nothing to ease the fear and panic that cut through John's hazy thoughts like a hot knife through butter. He began to pull at his wrists, the now heated metal of the cuffs digging into his skin, not wanting the Detective Inspector to see him in this state. John would never be able to look at him the same way again. This had been Sherlock's plan all along, he was quite sure of it. Humiliation was something that made John rock hard but Lestrade? John groaned loudly and contracted all his limb muscles tugging at the handcuffs to no effect.

The smooth hand on his buttocks calmed him a little and John concentrated on the movement of said hand up his back and down again. "Shhh, quiet John. It's alright. It will all be just fine, I promise you." Sherlock dipped two his fingers into John's ass using his own cum dripping out of it as lubricant eliciting a long, desperate moan while stroking John's prostate.

As quickly as the stimulation was given, Sherlock took it away. John cursed the fact that was getting hard again already. Damn Sherlock for knowing what he likes, he never even had to say, the man just knew. Typical Sherlock. There was no denying the anticipation of Lestrade walking in on them any time now was keeping him on edge, cock straining against the silky sheets. A conversation the two of them had weeks before flashed through his mind; a threesome.

"Yes, John." Sherlock could see that John understood. "Lestrade will be here in a few minutes." Sherlock stated evenly. He rose to look out the window, standing in front of the cool panes of glass naked as ever, unashamed of his lack of clothing. John had turned his head to admire Sherlock's body lit by the street lamps. So confident, sexy and smart and all his. He couldn't help grinning at that even though the man was the reason for the painful, raging hard-on trapped underneath him currently. The detective's lips took the shape of a sly, sly smile as his gaze moved from the street to John splayed out on the bed. That's when John heard it; the door and then the squeak of the step just before the landing.

"Sherlock?" John froze at Lestrade's voice and Sherlock was by his side immediately, stroking his wet hole, coaxing him to relax again. Their eyes met as Lestrade's footsteps sounded through the kitchen and hallway, getting closer and closer to the bedroom. "John?"

"I love you, John. You're so beautiful. You'll always be mine, just know that, ok? You are mine." Sherlock's lips were close to his ear again, his whispers sending shivers all over his body with tiny kisses, his fingers still working him into a writhing mess.

Lestrade burst into the bedroom, gaining a full view of John Watson stretched out in all directions on Sherlock Holmes' bed. His eyes quickly surveyed the room; he had expected danger and this alternative was not originally an option in his mind, even if he did like it. Oh. OH!

"Ah, Gregory, you're here." Sherlock looked up from where his fingers were working at John's ass which had now flushed a satisfying pink colour in embarrassment. "John seems to be in quite the predicament, right John?" John keened loudly in response to a firm stroke to his prostate, his body twisting against his bonds.

Lestrade fell back against the wall in a stupor and gently closed the door with a click, not ever able to go back. Sherlock saw that he was unable to look away from where his fingers entered John, working him open and stretching him wide and she smiled knowingly.

"I see you brought your keys." He indicated Lestrade's pocket with a tilt of his head. When the man nodded that he did have his keys, knowing exactly what was meant by that statement, Sherlock went on. "Leave those on the dresser and come here. John needs some help. The filthy man does love a good cock in his mouth while I fuck him."


I love these three together. teehee