4

Hamish was eight the next time that he nearly caught them.

This time, it was all Sherlock's fault.

Hamish was in the living room watching television and he was completely absorbed in the show. Sherlock was in the kitchen doing an experiment and was completely absorbed in just how horny he was rather than his experiment.

He peeked out and checked that his son was destroying his brain cells with whichever stupid singing animated creature was on the screen. Satisfied that nothing would draw Hamish's attention away from his show, he crept towards the bedroom.

John was in the bathroom brushing his teeth when it happened. Sherlock threw open the door with a feral look in his eyes and turned on the shower to drown out any noise.

John didn't have time to really register that Sherlock was actually in the room when he choked on his toothbrush and moaned as Sherlock swallowed his cock in one swift movement,

"Are you fucking insane?" he whispered as Sherlock bobbed up and down on him, using his fist to stimulate the parts that he couldn't reach. "Hamish-"

Sherlock let go with an obscene pop and said, "John, if you are going to talk while I'm sucking you off, I think that the mood is going to be sufficiently killed. Now kindly shut up and let me finish this." He then plunged back onto John's rapidly hardening length and resumed his work with renewed vigor.

John's head rolled back and in no time he was thrusting into Sherlock's mouth. He stood there, wantonly moaning and panting, one hand petting Sherlock's curls and the other gripping the sink in a feeble attempt to keep himself upright. Sherlock was applying just the right amount of pressure and his sucks lasted just long enough that they were torturous. It had been nearly two weeks since they had made love and John knew that he wasn't going to last much longer. As he steeled himself and did everything he could to make this fantastic blowjob last just a minute longer, their bedroom door opened and-

"Papa! Where did you go?"

John had rarely seen Sherlock move so quickly. He leapt into the shower, fully clothed, and left John achingly hard in the center of their bathroom, boxers around his ankles, flushed, and realizing that his baby boy was about to walk in on him with a stiff one. His mind was working slowly, but he decided that pretending that he was using the bathroom would be his best option in this situation. He hiked up his boxers and stepped over to the toilet doing everything he could to make sure that he held his cock so it was facing down rather than up.

Hamish peeked into the bathroom. "Where's Papa?" he asked.

"He's in the shower. He'll be back out to play with you soon," John managed to get out. "Why don't you go out and finish your show? I'll be out as soon as I finish getting ready."

"Okay, Dad!" Hamish closed the door behind him. John waited until he heard the door to their bedroom close before he ripped open the shower curtain to find Sherlock curled up in a ball on the floor, fully clothed, and palming himself through his trousers.

"You are such a fucking coward," John growled. "There are not words to describe just how much I hate you right now."

"I couldn't think-"

"That is such bullshit," John shot back. He pulled his erection out of his boxers and began stroking himself, aiming it into the shower.

"John. Let me-"

"No, just shut up and let me enjoy this," John moaned. He was close and it wouldn't take him very long to get off. From the looks of it, Sherlock wasn't far off either. He moved to pull his throbbing cock out of his trousers, but John smacked him on the back of his head when that happened. "You're going to come in your pants like a fucking teenager for instigating this, you prick."

Sherlock moaned and nodded obediently. He continued to palm himself and watched as John alternated between strokes and rolling the tip of his delectable dick with the palm of his hand. Soon enough, though, he was thrusting into his hand and was spilling himself onto Sherlock. Sherlock stretched his neck out and did everything he could to catch whatever he could of what John was sending into the shower. As soon as he caught his first drops, though, he choked and stiffened, and John could tell that he was spilling himself in his pants.

Once he had both come down, John turned wordlessly and finished brushing his teeth. Sherlock hadn't made a move to take his clothes off, let alone leave the shower. John knew he was waiting for him to finish what he had been doing when Sherlock had interrupted him with that surprise blowjob. To torment him, John took a bit longer than usual. Once he was done, he reopened the shower curtain and said, "Give me your clothes and get yourself cleaned up."

Sherlock stripped obediently. "John-"

"I swear, if you try to apologize again, I will smash your skull, and I don't mean the one that is currently housing your brain. You're lucky I love you so much."

Sherlock blushed. "Will I be sleeping in our bed then, tonight, or will it be the couch?"

John pretended to ponder this for a few seconds. "Normally you would be on the couch, but I firmly believe in finishing a job if you've already started it, and it would be such a shame to put something this important off until tomorrow night." He bent down and gave his husband a kiss on his wet curls.

"Thank you for your benevolence." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

John chuckled darkly. "I might be benevolent now, but you should see what types of punishment I have in store for you tonight."

Sherlock shuddered. "I think I'm getting hard again."

John was already leaving the bathroom and had a hand on the doorknob. He turned to see his husband, the flush creeping back into his cheeks and his cock rising again. He briefly considered going back and being merciful, but instead he said, "I wouldn't take care of that right now if I were you. That particular offense could land you a few nights on the couch." He then blew a kiss at his husband and closed the door behind him.

Sherlock honestly couldn't say whether or not he still love John in that moment or if he hated him.

A/N: This chapter will be continued in the final chapter where they are able to get their shit sorted before Hamish barges in on them (rude.). Who says close calls can't happen twice in one day?

As always, I own nothing, and apologies for this wretched butchering of the characters.