Fair warning: here we are. There were cries for sex in public. These cries were heard. Also, you know. Sex toys. General depravity. My usual sunday afternoon.

Really, it hadn't occurred to Greg to ask exactly why Sherlock had dragged him into a Harrods on a Sunday afternoon. He'd guessed it was for a case or something. Usually Sherlock got annoyed when he asked too many questions. It was better to just wait for him to explain.

But there didn't appear to be any crime scene or suspicious activity. It just looked like a normal department store.

Sherlock walked to the men's section and Greg followed dutifully, perhaps dragging his feet just a bit. He hadn't slept very much the past week. Even though Sherlock had found a new flat, he'd only half moved in. Greg would never complain about all the sex. Lord knows. But Sherlock liked to keep him up late and he couldn't, in good conscience, call off work because he was thoroughly shagged out.

Greg didn't start to suspect that they were simply out on a normal shopping trip until Sherlock began pulling shirts off the rack. He did so in a rather haphazard manner. Shoving most of the hangers at Greg to hold.

"Um… Sherlock?"

"Yes?" The younger man grunted, in a rather annoyed tone.

"Are we actually just here to buy clothes?"

"Of course not."

"Then why are we here?"

"You'll see."

Greg frowned slightly at that. It certainly looked like they were shopping. In his lethargic mental state, he had a rather difficult time coming up with other reasons why they might be there.

He didn't have too much time to think about it before Sherlock wandered off towards the changing rooms. Greg followed, carrying an armful of silk shirts, and feeling more than a bit out of place. His wife used to do this to him when they first got married. She'd drag him along everywhere. He didn't want to think about how many hours of his life he'd spent in department stores, looking bored and out of place.

They arrived at the changing rooms. Sherlock smiled politely at the thin, rather severe looking woman behind the counter and informed her that he had six shirts to try on. She narrowed her eyes, but gave him a plastic number six and nodded in the right direction.

Sherlock caught hold of Greg's arm and pulled him along.

Greg expected to wait outside the door while Sherlock did… whatever it was he planned on doing here.

But they turned a corner in the hallway and Sherlock tugged him inside a changing cubicle and closed the door behind them. Sherlock crowded Greg up against the wall and before the DI could establish exactly what had happened, Sherlock kissed him. Deep. Slow. Utterly sinful.

Greg let go of the various clothes hangers and they dropped to the ground with a muffled clatter. Sherlock didn't seem to mind in the slightest. He pressed up against Greg a bit closer.

He tasted like menthol cigarettes. He'd switched recently, supposedly because he disliked menthol, and was trying to cut back on his smoking.

He smelled like Greg's aftershave. Like his shampoo. Like the combined scents of Greg's flat had rubbed off on him permanently after their short period of near-constant cohabitation.

Though Greg knew it was silly, it made his heart swell with a strange brand of possessive affection.

He draped his arms around Sherlock's slim waist and lost himself in the moment. In the absolute ridiculousness of what his life had become. After all, he'd never snogged anybody in a Harrods changing room before. And what was life if not for new experiences?

Sherlock slowly trailed his hands down Greg's torso until they rested on his belt buckle. He grinned against Greg's mouth.

"Think we can be quiet?" Sherlock barely whispered.

It clicked into place a few seconds to late. Or rather, Greg had plenty of time to put the brakes on, but they'd already passed the point where he wanted to stop.

"I think I can," Greg grinned, "but you're a bit of a moaner."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows and slid down to his knees. He mouthed at Greg's stiffening cock through the fabric of his trousers. It probably hadn't been the best idea to throw any fuel onto the fire. After all, Sherlock was quite competitive.

But then Sherlock unbuckled Greg's belt, unzipped his trousers and pulled his cock out. Greg found it difficult to care about anything the second his prick slid between Sherlock's lips.

It didn't take long at all for his cock to fully harden. Sherlock let the drool run down his chin, sucking Greg off sloppily. He went slowly enough to both minimize the obscene noises and torture Greg immensely.

The DI bit his lip and fisted a hand in Sherlock's hair. He tried to focus on breathing. On not drowning in the near overwhelming wash of sensation. Sherlock let Greg's cock hit the back of his throat.

Somehow, knowing he couldn't make noise just made it that much more difficult to stay quiet.

Sherlock pulled back and laved his tounge against the underside of the glans. Greg coughed to hide the tiny groan that escaped.

Greg pulled up on Sherlock's hair sharply. Not enough to really hurt. But enough to get the point across. Sherlock pulled back all the way and looked up at Greg with a little glint in his eye. He smirked and got back on his feet.

He leaned against Greg so he could whisper in his ear.

"Would you like to know what I did before we came here?" He asked breathlessly.

"What?"

Sherlock unzipped his trousers and let them slide down around his thighs. He took Greg's hand and guided Greg's fingers until they slid between his arse cheeks. Greg trailed downwards, along the rather familiar path, until he encountered something different.

Something plastic, and slick around the edges.

The base of an anal plug?

"What a filthy boy," Greg murmured, "did you get yourself ready for me?"

"I thought we might economize a bit on time. After all, people usually don't take half an hour to try on a few shirts."

Greg ran his finger around the rim of Sherlock's arsehole. The younger man squirmed slightly. The DI took a moment to marvel at the fact that Sherlock had managed to walk normally on their short stroll through the store.

Then he grasped the flared base of the plug and tugged gently.

Sherlock's head fell to Greg's shoulder. He started panting, but the noise mostly got muffled in the fabric of Greg's jacket.

The plug was wide but not very long. Sherlock's body clenched around it, but eventually released it without too much of a fuss. Greg wasn't particularly sure what to do with the thing once he got it out, so he tossed it in the far corner.

He slid his fingers between Sherlock's arse cheeks once again to tease at his fluttering hole. Sherlock jerked against him, accidentally rubbing their cocks together. Greg suppressed a groan.

Greg slid two fingers inside Sherlock easily. He was slick, stretched, so fucking ready. Sherlock dug into his blazer pocket and produced another packet of lube. He tore it open with his teeth, squeezed it onto his hand and smeared it onto Greg's prick.

"How do you want me?" He murmured.

"Hands against the wall."

Sherlock turned around and braced himself against the opposite wall, arse out, legs spread. Greg stood behind him, one hand wrapped around Sherlock's bony hip. He positioned his cock and sank into Sherlock slowly.

God. It was fucking perfect. Sherlock let out a tiny gasp as Greg slid all the way in. They stood perfectly still for a few moments. Just breathing in synch with each other.

Greg withdrew ever so slightly, before thrusting back in.

The DI's belt buckle clinked with the motion. He bit his lip as he pulled the belt off. He pondered tossing it aside, but settled instead for looping it around Sherlock's neck and pulling it tight.

He obviously caught the younger man a bit off guard. Sherlock jumped slightly. But then Greg tugged the belt just a bit tighter. Enough to put some pressure on Sherlock's windpipe, but not enough to cut off his air supply entirely.

Sherlock pushed back against his cock pointedly.

Greg established a slow rhythm. He kept one hand on Sherlock's hip, while he kept up the steady pressure on the belt. Sherlock met his motions haphazardly. Trying to get him to go faster.

Greg let the belt go slack for a few moments, only to pull it tight again. Tight enough to keep Sherlock from breathing.

He counted to twenty before letting it go loose.

Sherlock panted as quietly as he could.

Part of Greg certainly wanted to hear him moan and carry on the way he usually did. He could almost feel the tension in Sherlock's body. He could sense the effort of holding all those noises in.

Then again, getting kicked out of a Harrods, and being arrested for lewdness weren't really at the top of his list in terms of things he wanted to happen. Hell, it could ruin his career. A DI getting caught having sex in public…

But then Sherlock shifted, straightened up just a bit, and pushed back against Greg more firmly. A small, choked sound escaped his lips.

Greg burned up from the inside out. He nipped at Sherlock's neck and started to pick up speed.

"Yes," Sherlock whispered, "fuck."

"Shhhh. Do you want us to get caught?" Greg breathed against his ear.

No response.

"I bet you do," Greg continued, in the same barely audible tone. "You filthy little slut. I bet you'd love it. I bet we'd make the papers. It'd be a huge public scandal."

Sherlock turned his head to press a quick kiss against Greg's cheek. "Then they'd all know I'm yours, Sir."

Something lurched inside Greg's stomach. Jesus. He pulled the belt tight again, choking Sherlock just so he could get a minute to collect himself. He counted to thirty this time. When he let the leather slack again, Sherlock wobbled. Greg held onto him. Kept him upright. Never stopped his steady thrusts.

"Is everything all right in there?" A high-pitched female voice drifted from the other side of the door.

Greg froze.

Shit.

"Yep, fine," he replied, as soon as he found his breath. His voice came out rushed and just a bit frantic.

"Can I get anything for you?"

Sherlock, apparently miffed that Greg had stopped moving began to roll his hips and fuck himself on Greg's cock. The DI let out a long steadying breath.

"No, thank you."

He bit his lip to keep from groaning. He didn't hear any footsteps. He couldn't really over the carpeting. He just thanked god that the door went all the way to the ground. If the woman standing on the other side had been able to see the two pairs of feet, they would have been done for.

One of Sherlock's hands dropped from its place on the wall to wrap around his own cock. It didn't even look like Sherlock was still breathing. His motions became a bit more fevered. Must be getting close.

Oh god.

Greg couldn't stop. Sherlock's every motion was heaven. So hot and tight…

A sharp intake of breath. Sherlock clenched down around Greg. The DI clapped a hand over Sherlock's mouth to keep in any nosie that he couldn't contain. The younger man shivered. All but falling back into Greg as he came.

It was entirely too much to handle. The contractions of Sherlock's muscles. The adrenaline rush. The very real possibility of being caught. Greg couldn't hold out a second longer. The heat that had been writhing inside him bubbled to the surface. The tension released. He bit down on Sherlock's neck at the last second to contain the noise.

The pleasure coursed through him like an electric shock as he came into Sherlock's arse.

They stayed still for a minute. Trying to catch their breath. Greg's cock began to soften. He slid out of Sherlock and tucked himself back into his trousers. They were quite a sight. Sherlock hair had gotten slightly frizzy. His usually pristine suit looked rumpled. Greg's clothes were no better.

Greg gathered up the shirts he'd dropped on the floor and hung them. Sherlock pulled a few tissues out of his pocket and cleaned himself up as best he could. He started to pull up his trousers, but Greg stopped him.

"Hold on there," the DI said in a low voice as a lazy grin began to spread across his face. "I think we're forgetting something."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed slightly and he opened his mouth, probably to say something petulant. Greg just nodded towards the corner of the room. Sherlock followed his gaze to the anal plug lying in the corner.

The younger man let out a barely audible sound. High pitched and choked off. He licked his lips and nodded. Greg didn't even have to give the order. Sherlock got back into position with his hands against the wall all by himself.

Greg bent and grabbed the plug. The plastic still felt slick. Good.

He pressed the tapered end of the black plastic against Sherlock's arsehole. The younger man let out a few long breaths. His body gave easily. The plug began to slide in, gradually forcing Sherlock's muscles to stretch around it.

Even though he'd just come, a pang of arousal shot through Greg's body.

The plug slid all the way in. Sherlock straightened up, wincing slightly, and zipped up his trousers.

They exited the changing room. Thankfully, the woman was no longer standing directly outside the door. She glowered at them as they returned the shirts, but said nothing. They walked out of the Harrods freely, though Sherlock's gait was a bit awkward.

They stood outside on the curb, trying to hail a cab. Greg leaned close.

"How's it feel to have my come sealed inside you like that?"

Sherlock shuddered visibly. "It's very nice, Sir."

"I think we should add some more when we get home, don't you?"

"Please."

And just like that, Sherlock planted a quick kiss on Greg's lips. Right there, in the middle of the street. Like it was natural. Instinctive. The second the younger man pulled away, he looked a bit shocked. As if he hadn't thought it through.

Greg couldn't do much but grin like an idiot.

Somehow they'd fallen into a strange balance of sweet domesticity and utter twisted perversion.

He wouldn't trade it for anything.

I know. I know. I went two whole weeks without updating. Pretty much, University started back up again and I needed a week to have a panic attack about all the work before I settled back into the swing of things.

Also my band had a show and they kept screaming at me to come to practice. So between work, school, and the rock and roll lifestyle, I haven't actually been at my house that much.

So there you have it.

I can't promise for certain that these updates will happen weekly. But know that if I miss a week here or there, it doesn't mean that I plan to stop forever.

I love all of you. I love this ship. We shall sail happily into the smutty sunset together.

xoxo