Here's the ninth day's prompt: Against the Wall. Sorry it's been a while since I've posted anything, life has gotten busy again. If we're lucky, this might turn out as another two-for-one day and Day Ten might be posted later today. As always, please let me know what you think. Cheers.


Sherlock had wrapped up the case and returned to London just in time for tea. He lingered at the airport, biding his time before returning to Baker Street. He couldn't go home just yet; Sherlock knew that he'd get distracted by something and would miss John's return from work. That couldn't happen, he had plans for John, so Sherlock spent an hour reacquainting himself with London. Stepping out into London's streets, Sherlock took a deep breath, emitting a pleased hum as the familiar smog filled his lungs. Exhaling, Sherlock admitted that it was good to be home.

John was on edge. He was only half-way through his shift at the clinic, and he was about ready to start humping his chair. After his early morning Skype call with Sherlock, John had done exactly as he'd been asked. He took his time getting ready for work, making sure to be incredibly thorough with his shower. When he was clean, he'd returned to their bed and pushed more lube into his body, making sure he was still stretched enough. With his lover's words still ringing in his ear, John pushed a medium-sized silicone plug into his arse, washed his hands, and pulled on his tight, red pants. He needed all the help keeping the plug in as he could.

At work, John quickly found that he was hypersensitive. The plug kept shifting inside him, kneading against his prostate every time he bent over or turned just so. His hands plunged into his trousers after each patient left, fingers swiping across the base of the plug to measure how slick he was before pressing the plug in as far as it would go. The lube went tacky right around tea time, and John spent his afternoon break locked in the bathroom, trousers pooled around his ankles as he re-slicked the toy and pressed it back in with a muffled groan. Even if Sherlock didn't follow through with the promise to fuck him as soon as he got home, John would be damned if he wasn't properly prepared.

The walk home was agony. John had been half-hard most of the day, cock twitching hopefully in his pants. He did his best to keep a straight face as he walked from work to Angelo's, to the Blue Elephant, to the curry place just around the corner from their flat. By the time he entered Baker Street and tottered up the stairs to pack the food away, John was ready to jump anything that moved. With a groan, he packed away their takeout and thought about Mycroft, thought about war, thought about being shot; anything to make his cock deflate in his trousers.

Sherlock arrived home just after John finished putting away their food, the door to Baker Street banging shut noisily behind him. A moment later, John's head peeked out from their doorway, lust-blown eyes blinking unbelievingly at him. And then, John was flying down the stairs, launching himself at Sherlock, pulling the unsuspecting detective into a needy kiss.

Sherlock's bag clattered to the floor as his hands moved to settle on John's ass, squeezing the supple flesh. John moaned deliciously against him and pressed his body flush against Sherlock's, hands tangling in his curls. It had been far too long since Sherlock had seen John, tasted John, had John, and it was time to fix that. Like a man possessed, Sherlock pulled John impossibly closer, unable to properly get enough. No matter how close they were, how hard they kissed, how frantically they clawed and grappled at each other, Sherlock needed more.

"John," he groaned, breaking the kiss to press their foreheads together. "More. I need more."

"Then take more, Sherlock. Take what you need. God, I've been ready for you all day," John said, thrusting his hips against his lover's.

Sherlock moaned and dove back in, mauling John's mouth with his. Teeth clacked together, hands ripped at clothes, and erections ground frantically together. Sherlock's teeth sunk into John's neck, lips wrapping around skin and sucking, pulling a surprised moan from John's throat.

Clothes were shed at a breakneck pace, buttons popping off and fabric ripping as inch after inch of smooth, hot skin was revealed. Before he could register what was going on, John had been turned around and bent against the wall, Sherlock's hands roaming over his arse. He moaned needily as Sherlock's fingers settled on the base of the plug and twisted it slowly as he pulled it out. John's breath hitched as Sherlock dropped the plug and pressed two fingers back inside John, pumping them slowly. Instantly, his mind started listing the differences between his fingers and Sherlock's. He liked the feel of Sherlock's fingers inside him more.

"God, John. How long have you been ready for me?" Sherlock growled, thrusting his fingers in sharply. "How long have you been wearing that plug, wishing it was my cock instead?"

"Since before work, " John replied, voice breathy and broken. "You told me to, Ah! be ready for you at all times."

Sherlock groaned and bent over to place a kiss on John's neck. "I'm convinced that you will never cease to amaze me, John," he murmured, nipping at the skin.

"Mmm, god, I hope not. Now fuck me, Sherlock. Right now. If you're not inside me in the next thirty seconds, I bloody promise that I'm going to lock myself in our room and bugger myself with the first toy I can find," John huffed, wiggling his hips.

Sherlock's hand came down hard on John's arse, the skin rippling deliciously as it reddened. "Turn around, John. Want to see you when you cum," Sherlock ordered, hands pulling on John's hips.

Eagerly, John turned around, cock bobbing between his thighs as he did. Sherlock cut off any complaints he might have voiced with his lips, kissing John as if he was dying of thirst and John was water.

John gasped when Sherlock's hands dropped to his thighs. His breath hitched when Sherlock pulled one of his legs up to wrap around his waist. John's breath stopped completely when Sherlock pulled the second one up and pressed him securely against the wall in one, fluid motion, his cock rubbing teasingly against John's.

"Hold on tight," Sherlock breathed, nipping at John's earlobe. As soon as he felt John's arms wrap securely around his shoulders, Sherlock dropped one hand to wrap around the base of his erection, taking care to position himself perfectly before he pressed up into John.

They both groaned as their bodies joined, arms and legs instinctively clutching each other tighter. Despite wearing the plug all day, John was still so tight around Sherlock, and Sherlock still made John feel impossibly full. They held still for a few long moments, time being measured only by the puffs of their breath, the throbbing of their cocks, and the beating of their hearts.

"John," Sherlock choked out after a minute, his voice roughened with lust. "Can I move?"

"God yes. Fuck me now, Sherlock. I can take it," John replied, wiggling impatiently in Sherlock's embrace.

The grip of John's arse was exquisitely tight around Sherlock's cock. He knew he had to start slowly, lest he cum too soon. Gently, he rocked against John, revelling in the breathy groan John emitted, the sound proof that his lover found pleasure in their coupling.

"Harder, Sherlock. Please. I've been hard all day and I need it, love. Need you. Right now," John begged, doing his best to fuck himself down on Sherlock's length.

With a grunt, Sherlock pulled back, leaving just the tip of his erection inside John, and then he slammed his hips forward, driving all of his length as deep inside John as he could get. He was grateful, he mused in passing, for all of the lube John had pressed inside himself during the day. Without it, Sherlock knew that it would probably sting. Then again, if the obscene moans falling freely from John's lips were anything to go by, the doctor would probably relish a little pain with his pleasure.

"God, Sherlock. Feels so good. Been wanting this all day," John mumbled, allowing his head to fall forward against Sherlock's shoulder.

"Have you, now?" Sherlock purred, hands squeezing John's arse. "Is this as good as your imagined it to be, John?"

"N-no," John panted, biting his lips hard to muffle a groan. "It's so much better. More, Sherlock. More."

Sherlock complied, pistoning his hips, building up a steady rhythm as he entered john over and over. He could feel his lover nearing orgasm, his pleasure so obvious in the way John was clenching sporadically around his cock. It was as if John was trying to squeeze an orgasm out of him. "You're amazing, John," Sherlock moaned softly, leaning in to kiss his lover messily. "Feels amazing."

"So good," John agreed, fingers grappling for leverage on Sherlock's neck, tangling into the soft, short curls on his nape. "I'm close."

Sherlock's hips stuttered as John's fingers tightened in his hair, the action pulling not only his sensitive follicles, but also a deep groan from his throat. "Then cum, John," he growled, slamming inside his lover hard, causing John's head to fly back and knock loudly against the wall.

"Christ, Sherlock. You can't just say things like that," John groaned, clenching hard around his lover's cock. "You're going to make me cum."

"I believe," Sherlock whispered, pausing to nip at John's earlobe. "That that is the point," he finished, punctuating each word with a brutal thrust of his hips.

"Oh god," John puffed. "Jesus Christ."

"You're so beautiful like this, John," Sherlock murmured. "So tight and hot around my cock."

"Fuck, Sherlock. Don't wanna cum yet," John snapped, gulping in large lungfuls of air in an attempt to center himself.

"Why not?" Sherlock asked, pace unrelenting as he bent to suck a mark in John's neck.

"I wanna last longer," John huffed, hands pressing Sherlock's face deeper against his skin.

Sherlock chuckled. "I don't think that's it," he purred. "I think you just want to feel me cum inside you. That's the only reason you haven't orgasmed yet."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," John murmured, a litany of curses falling from his lips in breathy pants. "Sherlock-"

"I'm almost there, John. I'm going to cum inside you, fill you up nice and full. And then we are going to go upstairs and I'm going to bend you over the kitchen table and fuck you again."

"God, Sherlock. Yes," John moaned. "Don't stop. Never stop. Want it so much."

"And after I'm done fucking you on the kitchen table, I'm going to take put a bigger plug inside you and take you to bed," Sherlock growled, teeth sinking into John's neck.

John's hands pulled harshly on Sherlock's curls, hauling his mouth up to meet his, lips mashing against each other as their tongues licked into each other's mouths. The kiss was absolutely filthy, teeth biting at lips, both men trying to gain the upper hand.

"Gonna fill you up, John," Sherlock groaned, hips stuttering as he teetered on the edge. "Cum for me," he barked.

And John did, head banging against the wall again, his channel clenching almost painfully around Sherlock's cock as spurt after spurt of hot cum seemed to burn his insides. His vision went blinding white and fuzzy around the edges as his cock jerked, ropes of white cum smearing messily between their bodies. When he came to, Sherlock was still buried deep inside him, his lover's eyes obscenely dark with want. "Christ, Sherlock," he murmured, voice cracking halfway through. "That was amazing."

Sherlock hummed in agreement and leaned in to kiss him gently. "I'm glad you agree," he murmured, gently guiding John's legs to the floor. Once John was supported properly by the wall, Sherlock slowly eased his flaccid length from his lover, a strangled moan falling from his lips as he saw some of his release ooze down John's upper thighs.

"God, John," he said, stepping back to look his lover from head to toe. "You should never be allowed clothes ever again.

John chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. "If I'm not allowed clothes, then you aren't either," he countered, smiling and winking. "Now I believe you said something about buggering me on the kitchen table?"

Sherlock nodded. "Why yes I did," he replied, bending to pick up his bag. "Come along, John," he said, striding up the stairs in a whirlwind, leaving John to ogle his arse.

With a chuckle, John gathered their clothes and his plug before he followed his lover up to their flat. If he was lucky, maybe he'd convince Sherlock to eat some of their takeaway before the next round.