A/N: I want to thank dragontatt for being a very helpful and quick beta.
The case had been a long one; Mycroft had needed someone discreet to put an end to a trafficking ring, and while at first it had seemed like the group's operations had been limited to London, Sherlock had discovered some illicit activities in Darlington. After packing his and John's bag, Sherlock had booked them train tickets and a hotel room, had dragged John out of the surgery, and both men had left London in pursuit of the criminals. After several hours and multiple arrests (courtesy of the Durham Police authorities), John and Sherlock had been dropped off in front of their hotel.
A few minutes later, John was pressed against their hotel room door and had his hands full of consulting detective arse. Said consulting detective was currently trying to unlock the door, but he was distracted by John's neck, which he was currently inspecting meticulously with his tongue. While Sherlock was fumbling with the key, John was rutting helplessly against him, trying to find some friction to appease his aching cock. When finally the door was finally opened, the two men stumbled inside the room. Sherlock closed the door, turned to his companion and looked at him with predatory eyes.
John didn't lose any time, he grabbed Sherlock's neck and pulled him down for a kiss. The kiss was hot and messy, their tongues wrestling with each other while Sherlock was urgently undoing John's belt. In order to facilitate the removal of his trousers, John toed off his shoes, never letting go of Sherlock's mouth and, very soon, he was standing in just his shirt, pants and socks. Deciding Sherlock was still wearing too many pieces of clothing, John eased his jacket off and unbuttoned his shirt clumsily. When Sherlock gently pulled at his lower lip with his teeth, John moaned and hastily started working on Sherlock's trousers. After a few minutes spent fumbling with clothes, both were finally naked and John reluctantly tore himself away from Sherlock to rummage through their bags.
"I found the lube, but not the condoms. Did you put them in your bag or mine?" he asked while looking in the small side pockets. He didn't get an answer, so he looked up at Sherlock and saw that his eyes were wide.
"What's wrong?" John asked.
"I didn't bring the condoms," Sherlock replied, looking horrified.
"You didn't… Why the hell not?"
"I got distracted while packing."
"Bloody hell, Sherlock!" John sighed while running a hand through his hair. He suddenly felt very aware of how ridiculous they looked, both naked and obviously aroused, on the verge of an argument about protection in a hotel room.
"I know we're clean!" Sherlock said while taking a step towards John.
"We are still waiting for the blood test results."
"I don't mind John, at least let me suck you!" Sherlock pleaded and John had to laugh at the desperation he could hear in his voice.
"Are you really that stupid? I'm not letting you suck my cock without a condom! And before you ask, no, I'm not sucking yours!"
For a moment, Sherlock looked disappointed, but soon his eyes lit up and he smiled at John.
"On the bed then – now! And bring the lube," he said and he turned around gracefully, offering John the view of his round and firm arse as he climbed onto the bed.
John didn't need to be told twice, he hurried to the bed, bottle of lube in hand, and threw himself beside Sherlock, who immediately pinned him down and started kissing him again. He took his time, slowly coaxing John's mouth open by running his tongue slowly along his lower lip before licking his way into his mouth. John ran a hand down Sherlock's back, feeling the warm, smooth skin shiver under his fingers. It had been a surprise the first time they had had sex, even in his wildest fantasies (and there had been a lot of wild fantasies), John had never expected Sherlock's skin to be so warm. Right now, it felt like he was lying down under a radiator, except he didn't think radiators could kiss quite so skilfully.
"I need you," Sherlock whispered against his mouth and, as a response, John pulled him closer and slid a finger down the cleft of his arse, teasing his entrance. Sherlock spread his legs, the movement bringing his groin level with John's cock and both men gasped when they made contact. As if moved by the same invisible force, they started thrusting, their cocks slick with precome easily sliding against each other. It felt excruciatingly good; the friction was bliss, but it wasn't enough, they needed more and longed for the tightness of the other's arsehole, but they both knew it wasn't an option on that particular night.
"Pass the lube," Sherlock said, the arousal making his voice even lower than usual.
John stretched until he could grab the small bottle on the nightstand table and he gave the bottle to Sherlock, wondering what he had in mind.
"On your side," Sherlock ordered and John turned, letting the taller man spoon him.
Behind him, John could hear the bottle of lube being opened and the wet sound of the liquid being squirted out. Then, he hissed in surprise when the cold jelly was spread between his thighs. He didn't even have time to ask what Sherlock was doing, he felt the hot flesh of his cock pressing at the seam between his legs. He spread them slightly, allowing Sherlock's cock to slide in between and for a few seconds, all John could think about was how well they fitted together; like two pieces of a very dirty puzzle. Then, Sherlock took hold of John's cock with his slick hand and his mind went blank.
Sherlock had his right arm over John's waist and his hand had a firm grasp of his hard cock. His chest was pressed firmly to the smaller man's back and his mouth was close enough to his ear to be tickled by the blond hair, now damp with sweat. When he started moving his hips, he mimicked the movement with his hand on John's cock, a slow dance of push and pull that made both of them gasp at the intensity of the sensation. The heat around Sherlock's cock was exquisite; John was alternating between squeezing and releasing his thigh muscles, and, very soon, precome added a whole new kind of slickness to the velvety skin inside John's strong thighs. Sherlock's thrusts were getting more and more frantic, so were his strokes, and John was now moaning lustfully, his hips bucking instinctively to meet Sherlock's hand.
It was John who felt it first: the increased burning sensation in his thighs, the shivers running up and down his spine, the tightness and fullness of his balls, the contractions in his lower abdomen, and the spasms in his cock. Then, with a loud cry, he came, splattering his stomach and Sherlock's hand with come. His eyes rolled back as pleasure rushed through his whole body and, for a few seconds, all he was aware of was the pleasant tingling in his groin and his own – very loud – heartbeat. Then, other sensations started registering, all of them Sherlock: his warm panting breath on his temple, the hand on his stomach (seemingly unaware of the mess he was making), his burning cock between his thighs, the coarse pubic hair against his skin and the small mewling noises he was making.
John was slowly falling into post orgasmic bliss, but he started squeezing his thighs again in order to provide more stimulation for Sherlock who, John had deduced, was very close to coming. Then, he grabbed the taller man's hand - the semen covered one that was still splayed on his stomach – and brought it up to his mouth until he could suck on the slick fingers, tasting himself. Sherlock groaned and thrust more violently while John sucked harder, his teeth very gently grazing the skin. When he was about to come, Sherlock pressed his groin as tightly as he could against John's thighs and stilled. Then, he let out a loud moan that almost sounded like a sob and John felt Sherlock's warm release dripping onto his thighs. He let go Sherlock's fingers and opened his legs in order not to over stimulate him, then rolled on his back, wincing when he lay down on the wet spot.
Sherlock lay panting sprawled partly on top of John. His eyes were closed, but his smile was wide and soon his chest was shaking with silent laughter. John turned his head to look at him quizzically; Sherlock rarely started laughing on his own and it had never happened after sex.
"What's wrong with you?"
"I hadn't done that since uni," he answered, still laughing.
"I've never done that, actually," John said and Sherlock propped himself up on an elbow to look at him.
"You have to. There's something deliciously naughty about it," Sherlock said and there was a mischievous glimmering in his eyes that usually meant he was up to no good.
"We'll have to try it again sometime, then," John replied.
"Now?" Sherlock asked, still smiling.
"Sherlock, I'm 37! The odds of me falling asleep are a lot greater than those of me having another erection tonight," John protested, but Sherlock continued to smile.
"Is that a challenge?" he asked while waggling his eyebrows and John had to laugh at the perfect imitation of the lewd gesture, which Sherlock immediately interpreted as agreement. Immediately, he was back on top of John and was licking his way down his chest hungrily.
"Oh, hell…" John groaned before putting his hands on Sherlock's hips, his fingers caressing the soft skin. There wasn't enough willpower in the world to compete with Sherlock's stubbornness.