A/N: Happy New Year's, readers! Have fun watching Sherlock today!
Day 10: Doggy Style
"Hurry up!" Sherlock shouts.
There's no need for him to shout. John is so close to him that he could whisper and John would hear him clear as day.
"I haven't even gotten my pants off!" John shouts back.
Again, there's absolutely no need to shout.
The reason they're both shouting is because they're drunk. Completely rat arsed drunk. That's what happens when they get invited to not one, but four New Year's Parties. Two parties brought in the London New Year, while the other two were valiantly awaiting the New York New Year. And honestly, they're far too old for that. So it's three in the morning, they're completely smashed, and Sherlock's barely got his trousers shoved to his ankles.
John bites his lip so hard it bleeds. But that's a reasonable reaction to Sherlock's bare bum waving in the air.
Luckily, Sherlock had left the lube on the bed from the night before, or else John probably wouldn't have thought to grab it before sticking his fingers into Sherlock. But he does, so preparation is much easier.
Finally, Sherlock's ready for him, so John lines up and shoves in.
Honestly, it's a wonder they're even having sex right now. Two cocks as drunk as theirs shouldn't be able to perform to their highest ability, but they'd been at the foreplay for hours prior to this (stolen kisses between sips of gin and tonic, a tongue in an ear while riding a lift to the third party, a squeeze between the legs under the table at the fourth party). The point is, once John's in, he kind of forgets what's happening.
Sherlock brings him back to earth quickly, wiggling his hips for John. He moans loudly and continues, finally managing the back-and-forth motion.
John places his hands on Sherlock's hips and watches his cock thrust in and out of Sherlock's arse. He watches mesmerized, unable to move or make any noise.
Sherlock, however, groans loud enough for each of them.
It last longer than they both thought it would. Sherlock eventually shoves back hard enough to snap John out of it, so John begins to thrust wildly instead. Sherlock drops to his elbows, one hand reaching between his legs. John runs his hands up Sherlock's back and stretches completely over Sherlock, never slowly the force of his thrusts.
Sherlock's back arches beautifully when he comes, and John's cock has no choice but to follow suit. He bites Sherlock's shoulder as he does, his teeth breaking the skin and forming a bruise that'll last well over a week.
They collapse onto the bed and catch their breath.
"Shit," John slurs. "I can't even think of my own name."
"It's Sherlock,"Sherlock says.
"That's your name," John informs him.
"Is it?"
John shrugs.
"Well," Sherlock says, "whatever your name is, I love you."
John laughs. "I love you, too."
"Happy New Year."
"Happy New Year, love."