Fair waring: feelings? What are those? Plot gets in the way of porn. I've been drinking Bacardi and coffee all afternoon. So this is pure smut. Here. Have some sex toys and double penetration.

"Oh fuck," Sherlock groaned.

The younger man's ankles were cuffed to the legs of Greg's kitchen table. His hands weren't tied, but he'd been holding on to the edges of the table top as instructed. He was sprawled completely, naked skin pressed against the polished wood, arse in the air—stretched around a twenty centimeter long flesh colored-dildo.

Greg smiled and pushed the plastic cock in a bit deeper. They'd been at this for a good half an hour. Sherlock had brought his toy box over. Greg had started with the smallest dildo he could find and they'd slowly worked their way up.

Sherlock trembled. Every breath he took sounded a bit shaky.

Greg fucked Sherlock slowly, moving the dildo in and out—more than a bit mesmerized by the way the younger man's body accepted the intrusion without much hesitance. They'd never really tested Sherlock's limits this way.

Or at least, Greg hadn't personally. Sherlock owned dildos that were almost comically large, so obviously he could take them.

Greg doubted he'd be brave, or patient enough to work their way up to the biggest one in the box. But it was still fun to see how far they could go.

"Are you ready for the next one?" The DI asked in the calmest voice he could manage.

Sherlock grunted. Close enough to a yes.

Greg withdrew the current dildo slowly and rooted around in the box for the next size up. On an impulse, he selected a sleek black one, that wasn't necessarily longer, but more than a few shades wider.

He slid three fingers into Sherlock, mostly because he couldn't resist. His hole was slick. Almost sloppy with the amount of lube Greg had used. Greg lingered in the wonderful silky heat for a minute, gently scissoring is fingers. Sherlock was already loose. He could take a cock so easily.

God. Greg wanted to drop his trousers and fuck Sherlock senseless. He wouldn't have to be gentle. Not at this stage.

But he took a few deep breaths. Steadied himself. He withdrew his fingers and nudged the tip of the new toy at Sherlock's entrance.

He pushed it in slowly and Sherlock let out a long wail.

Yep. The neighbors definitely would have heard that. Greg shrugged it off. What did he care?

"You all right?" He asked once he got the toy about halfway in.

No response.

"Sherlock?" He tapped the younger man on the arse.

"Uh… yes… just… it's a bit hard to focus."

"Are you in pain?"

"Not exactly."

Greg drew the dildo out a bit, and shoved it further in. Steady, shallow motions. He had Sherlock moaning and panting in no time at all.

The younger man let go of his grip on the table and Greg stopped abruptly. He didn't even have to give the order. Sherlock grasped the edges of the wood again after a few moments.

Greg held the dildo in place with one hand and stared circling the rim of Sherlock's stretched hole with the other. Just his index finger. Sherlock made a low, guttural sound, but gave no protest. Gently, carefully, Greg nudged his finger inside Sherlock, along with the dildo. Sherlock gasped. That was all.

It was a tight fit. Greg squirmed his finger a bit and the younger man shuddered.

"God," Greg said breathlessly, "do you think you could take two cocks?"

"Do you really want the answer to that question?"

"What? You've done it before?"

"Yes," Sherlock muttered, "but it's been a while."

Greg probably should have had some sort of reaction to such an admission—at least, a reaction other than arousal. But he found it difficult to think clearly when Sherlock was naked. Much less when they'd been building up to a wild session of fucking.

He started moving the dildo while he kept his finger still. Sherlock pushed back as much as he could—still chained to the table.

"Want to try it?" Sherlock panted.

"What?" Greg shook himself.

"I don't think I could do it with this one. But I could probably take your cock and one of the smaller ones."

A pang of heat raced underneath Greg's skin. "Really?"

"If it's too much, I'll tell you."

Greg bit his lip. He didn't want to hurt Sherlock. It would be easy to get carried away in the moment. But… god. When else was he going to do something like this?

He'd just have to go very, very slowly.

Greg carefully withdrew the dildo and set it aside. He picked up one of the ones they'd used earlier. Much slimmer, and shorter. Only about twelve centimeters long, and perhaps as wide as two knuckles. He unzipped his trousers and pulled his cock out. Even though Sherlock was already a slick mess—Greg lubed up a bit more. Just to be safe.

He positioned himself, holding the dildo on top of his cock. The nervous anticipation skittered thorough him. He pressed up against Sherlock's hole, but didn't push in just yet. He stayed still for a few moments, to let Sherlock prepare for the intrusion.

Then he began with a gentle pressure. Just nudging against Sherlock's entrance. The younger man took a few long, deep breaths, and pushed back slightly. Nothing happened.

Greg pushed forward a bit more insistently. Ready to stop if Sherlock said so. But then Sherlock's body gave.

The tip of Greg's cock slid inside him, along with the dildo. He stopped. Waited. Sherlock gripped the table so hard his knuckles turned white. He went completely still—didn't even breathe. Greg slowly ran a hand down the other man's back, in what he hoped was a soothing manner.

"All right?" He asked.

Sherlock nodded.

"Are you sure you don't want me to stop?"

Sherlock shook his head.

"Can you talk?"

"Ugh," he groaned.

Greg waited, even though it was difficult. He wanted to shove forward, fuck Sherlock hard and fast. But he didn't move until Sherlock's breathing reached a realm closer to normal. Until he relaxed a bit.

He slid forward just a bit before pausing again. He waited until Sherlock rocked his hips back, in a wordless request for more. They went on in a torturously slow fashion until both Greg and the dildo were almost completely seated inside Sherlock's wonderful arse.

"How's it feel?" Greg asked in a slightly strained voice.

"Just… move."

Greg grasped the base of his cock, along with the dildo, and rolled his hips. Sherlock made a small choked sound.

"Does it hurt?"

"If you ask me one more question, we're done with this. I'm fine just—god—just fuck me."

Well, Greg wasn't one to argue with somebody while his cock was inside them. So he began to thrust at a measured, careful pace. It was an odd sensation—Sherlock's muscles trying to clutch around him as well as the piece of plastic. He wanted some sort of verbal reassurance that Sherlock was, in fact, all right.

All he got were a series of low, rumbling moans. Almost a continuous sound. Sherlock writhed on the table top. Pushing back against Greg's cock, and rutting against the polished wood in a fluid stream of motion.

Greg didn't dare pick up speed. For one thing, the dildo was difficult to keep a firm hold on. He'd slicked it up with so much lube, his grip kept slipping. For another, Greg was a bit nervous about actually breaking Sherlock. As much as they liked to flirt with the edge, he didn't want to be responsible for any permanent damage.

Their languid pace didn't seem to matter so much. Sherlock's volume steadily increased until he was almost shouting. Greg watched as the long, lean lines of the younger man's body began to tense.

"Oh god," Sherlock barely gritted the words out, "oh fuck."

Greg felt the first spasm. Sherlock cried out, shuddering as his body clenched around the intrusion. The DI stopped moving. The spikes of pleasure shot through him as Sherlock came. Just watching it, feeling it pushed Greg right up to the edge as well. But he didn't quite go over.

"Pull out," Sherlock murmured. "Can't take it anymore."

Greg obeyed wordlessly, withdrawing along with the dildo. He couldn't help but stare at Sherlock's stretched out, slick hole. It fluttered. Clenching and relaxing.

The DI's erection still throbbed. He began to stroke himself, just drinking in the sight of Sherlock's fantastic body. He was already fairly close. It wouldn't take very much.

He grabbed a handful of Sherlock's arse and spread his cheeks apart. He lined the head of his cock right up against Sherlock's hole, but didn't push inside again. He stroked himself rapidly.

"I'm still going to come inside you." Greg fisted his cock just a bit faster. Sherlock angled his hips upward ever so slightly.

"Do it. I want it."

Greg felt the heat build inside him. The roiling tension. He surrendered to it. Crested on the wave and let it wash through him. The pleasure pulsed across his frayed nerve endings as he emptied himself into Sherlock's slick hole.

He felt a bit hazy. It was almost difficult to stay standing for a moment. He grabbed Sherlock's hip to steady himself. The younger man seemed quite content to stay sprawled across the table, lying in a puddle of his own ejaculate.

Greg's come started to dribble back out of Sherlock's body, down his inner thigh. On an impulse, the older man trailed a finger between Sherlock's arse cheeks and pushed the viscous liquid back inside him. Sherlock moaned.

"You're fucking filthy," Greg murmured reverently.

He knew Sherlock was probably sore. But he still squirmed his finger experimentally. Perhaps just to see what would happen. The younger man didn't tell him to stop.

Sherlock's arse just felt so exquisitely slick and sloppy. Greg's come mingled with the lube to reach a near perfect consistency.

When the DI withdrew his finger, some of the mixture began to escape again. This time, he resisted the urge to push it back in, and simply watched it dribble slowly out of Sherlock's abused hole.

Eventually he unlocked Sherlock's ankle cuffs and helped him into a standing position. The younger man slumped against him, like he couldn't stay up on his own. Greg wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist and walked them both over to the couch, where they collapsed. Greg sitting up. Sherlock sprawled out over him.

"I think we could try a bigger one next time," Sherlock said with a perfectly placid expression.

"Are you serious?" Greg snorted.

"Why would a joke about such a thing?" Sherlock maintained a serious face for about thirty seconds before the corners of his mouth quirked upwards. "I'm going to be walking bow-legged for days."

"Yeah, sorry about that."

"Don't apologize. It's glorious."

Greg smiled, trailing his fingers over the sticky skin on Sherlock's abdomen. In a little bit, perhaps they'd clean up and eat some dinner. Of course, the table would need a bit of cleaning too before he could eat off it again.

Greg found that he didn't mind in the slightest. They'd christened almost every piece of furniture in his flat, and it had been more than worth it every single time.

I don't even know anymore. I've been awake since 4:30 this morning. I hate opening at work. I have no idea what's real. The only solution is to drink more and chain smoke while watching cat videos. Cat videos make everything warm-fluffy.

These author's notes are becoming a catalogue of my slow mental breakdown.

Ah well. See you next week darlings.

xoxo