John exhaled, the familiar weight of the SIG against his palm reassuring. He listened, counted to three and then whipped around the corner, gun held out before him. There was no one there. He nodded his head to indicate it was clear.
Sherlock moved past him, one hand brushing against his lower back, and motioned for John to follow as he started down the corridor. The building seemed to be deserted; they'd neither seen nor heard anything to indicate anyone else was there.
They cautiously approached the battered metal door at the end of the corridor. Sherlock touched the lever and looked back at him. John nodded his agreement and Sherlock pressed it downwards. The door creaked ominously on its hinges and they both cringed, but nothing happened. John went through first, gun once again at the ready, Sherlock close behind him. They were standing in a large storage facility, shelves stacked to the ceilings with boxes, most labeled with Chinese characters. The light filtered in through narrow windows near the high ceiling, casting nearly-opaque beams through the dust in the air. It was silent, oppressively so.
"Mother fucker," John whispered, awed by the sheer size of the place. "I think we've found it."
"This way." Sherlock tugged his elbow once before starting down the center aisle.
"What are you doing?" John hissed, jogging after him.
"Looking for something." Sherlock scanned the shelves as he walked, seemingly unconcerned that the gang of smugglers they'd been tracking for weeks could be lurking behind any corner, ready to shoot them, or worse. "Aha!" He started down one of the narrow aisles.
John shook his head in frustration and followed, senses on high alert. The brick wall at the end of the aisle had a series of metal rungs bolted into it; they ascended a good thirty feet. Sherlock looked around once more before starting to climb. John swore softly before tucking the SIG into the waist of his jeans and following. There was an empty spot on one of the very top shelves, and Sherlock climbed onto it. He gestured for John to follow. The shelf was too low for them to sit upright on and not quite wide enough for two people to lie side by side. John rolled his eyes when he realized Sherlock had stretched out on his back in such a way that John could only lie on top of him.
"What are you doing?"
Sherlock opened his mouth to respond, but there was a clanging sound across the warehouse, followed by voices.
John slid on top of Sherlock, his heart pounding. "Shit." He reached behind him to pull the gun from his jeans and hold it in a defensive position. He looked out into the dim warehouse but couldn't yet see anything.
"Shhhh." Sherlock shifted beneath him, as if he couldn't quite get comfortable.
"Will you please--" John began, and then felt an erection pressing against his thigh. It was another moment before he realized Sherlock was grinding against him ever so slightly. He turned his head to look at his face. "Are you mad?"
Sherlock grinned in response, then leaned up to kiss him. John allowed it for a moment before pulling away and pressing his face against Sherlock's shoulder. The sound of voices grew closer and John realized with a start that he recognized them.
"Is that… Greg?"
"Yes." Sherlock's lips were against his neck now, just below his ear. "I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate us sneaking into his crime scene like this, disturbing the evidence."
John raised his head and stared down at Sherlock. "What about the case? The smugglers?"
"Lestrade texted me last night. They received an unexpected tip and arrested the ringleaders, then seized this warehouse."
"Then why are we…?" John blinked at him. "You dragged me all the way down here for a shag, didn't you?"
Sherlock grinned. "They're to begin cataloguing the contraband at the other end, so as long as we're quiet we've got a good half hour."
"You… oh my God." John pressed his face against Sherlock's chest to stifle his urge to scream. "Please tell me you didn't tell Greg about this."
"Where would be the fun in that?" One of Sherlock's hands wriggled between them and unfastened the snap of John's jeans. "I've always wondered if it's possible for you to come quietly with your cock in my mouth."
"Not bloody likely." John groaned as Sherlock's fingers found his prick and teased it to hardness. He ought to refuse to cooperate on principle, rather than reward this sort of behavior. But hell, they were here. Why not? "I hope to hell Anderson isn't here, because I will never fucking hear the end of it." He set the SIG on top of a nearby box and lifted his head to kiss Sherlock. He drew his tongue out enough to suck on it lightly and felt Sherlock melt beneath him. "So what would you like to do?"
"I thought I made it clear that I want your cock in my mouth," Sherlock said against his lips.
John grinned. "As heavenly as that sounds, I'm not sure we have enough space up here."
Sherlock made a vague gesture with his free hand. "No, but we could--"
"Ah, of course. Just let me--" John pushed himself up enough to make the awkward turn possible, and settled on his side facing the other direction. He struggled with the fastening of Sherlock's trousers in the dim light and simultaneously lifted his hips to allow Sherlock to push his jeans down a bit. He'd barely got Sherlock's pants out of the way before he felt a warm mouth close around his cock. Oh God.
It had only been a few months, and for a man who hadn't had sex for more than a decade, Sherlock had proved quite enthusiastic about making up for lost time. He was remarkably unembarrassed about telling John what he wanted, not self-conscious about his body or the various ways pleasure could be wrung from it. As for himself, John was frankly surprised at how quickly he'd got past the initial weirdness of having sex with a man. He certainly hadn't expected to enjoy giving head quite so much as he enjoyed getting it, if not more.
Sherlock's mouth worked his cock with long sucking strokes, not a lot of tongue just yet -- he going for a slow burn, apparently. John had worked out early on that Sherlock preferred a less direct approach than he himself did, so he licked and teased a bit, sliding his tongue under the foreskin and probing the slit before finally taking the glans into his mouth. Sherlock hummed around his cock when he slid slowly to the base, his nose almost brushing Sherlock's balls before his gag reflex kicked in and he had to back off. He couldn't quite reach the spots Sherlock liked him to work with his tongue, so he settled for mirroring Sherlock's movements instead, bobbing his head with long strokes and sucking gently at the head, pulling the foreskin up with his lips at the top.
It was gorgeous and slow, and he felt like he could go for hours like this, stretched out along on a thick ribbon of pleasure, not really close to orgasm but not yet needing it either. After a good five minutes his jaw was aching and he pulled off, still working Sherlock's dick with his hand. Sherlock released him and twisted away to wriggle his trousers down further. He reached for John's hand and tugged before carefully turning onto his other side, his back to John.
John blinked at him for a moment before realizing what he had in mind. He turned himself back around as quietly as he could and spooned against him from behind. The voices of the police were scattered, though it was hard to pick out the individuals with the sound echoed around them. No one was right below them, at any rate.
"Do you have--"
"Here." A small tube and a condom packet were pressed into his hand.
"Do you need--?"
"No. Just--"
"Right." John grinned. He rolled the condom on himself and slicked it with lube, then squeezed out a bit more and generously covered the head of his cock. Sherlock pressed back against him, already greedy for it, and John had to force himself to go slow. This was something he'd also been surprised by; he'd always assumed anal sex was a sort of inferior third cousin to vaginal intercourse, but no -- it was glorious and hot in its own way, completely different.
"Ohhhh," Sherlock said as John pressed into him, "stop right there."
John exhaled into Sherlock's hair, the head of his prick just inside Sherlock's body, stretching him open. He worked his hips back and forth a bit, massaging the sensitive stretch of skin just inside, something that always made Sherlock whimper.
"God, that's fucking fantastic."
John licked the shell of his ear. "That's fantastic fucking."
"Ever so humble, you. But--".
John pressed in further, unable to resist any longer. They hadn't had sex in this position before, so he expected it would take a bit of work to find the right angle.
"Oh God… right there, like that, just…" Sherlock stuffed a fist into his mouth.
Apparently it was their lucky day.
Everything about the position and the location was awkward and moderately uncomfortable, but John had to admit that it was quite possibly the hottest sex they'd ever had. He hadn't even known Sherlock had a public sex kink. He added it to the mental list of Things That Turn Sherlock On, which was already quite long.
Sherlock's arm moved, pulling at his own prick, and John had to struggle not to be selfish and just fuck him, take what he needed from the slide of his cock into Sherlock's body. He could already feel the tension in his balls, already quite close to the point that he couldn't hang on much longer.
"Are you close?" he whispered, his teeth clenched. "Because I'm so fucking close, I just--"
Sherlock's hand worked faster and his breathing sped up. "Tell me."
"You feel so good," John whispered against his ear. "God, your arse is perfect, so hot and tight and I just want to pound my cock into you."
"Do it."
He couldn't move much faster; there wasn't space and he was slightly worried that they were making too much noise as it was. He settled for quick, shallow thrusts, trying to find the right angle again. "Tonight I'm going to bend you over the sofa and lick your arsehole until you come from it. God, you'll still be loose from this and I'll be able to fuck you with my tongue, get it so deep inside you."
"Jesus, John…" Sherlock's sensitivity to dirty talk had been another pleasant surprise, one John found he enjoyed as well.
"And then I'll come in your mouth, and you--"
He felt Sherlock's body clench around him in waves, saw his hand stop as he squeezed his prick and whimpered against his fist. John exhaled and let his movements become erratic as he found the angle that worked best for him, felt the tightening in his balls as his orgasm began and pushed through him, up, out, white hot. He clamped his mouth shut and managed to stay silent through it, then pressed his sweaty forehead into the back of Sherlock's neck.
"Oh God, that was amazing." Sherlock was still panting. "I knew this was a brilliant idea."
John shivered and tightened his arms around Sherlock's body. "I assume you also have a brilliant plan for getting out of here without getting caught by the Met?"
"Of course I do. Get dressed."
John pulled out with a wince and had a moment's pause about the disposal of the condom. He wadded it up and tucked it into a nearby open box, hoping to hell someone he particularly disliked was the one to find it.
They wriggled their clothes back on and listened to the sounds of the police working below, growing closer to their hiding spot. John felt a twinge of excitement at the thought of what they'd done, at the possibility of getting caught. He wasn't averse to trying it again sometime, though he wasn't sure he should admit that to Sherlock just yet. The man's creativity knew few bounds.
He turned to see that Sherlock had pulled his phone from his pocket and was propped up on one elbow, texting rapidly. He stared at the screen for a moment and then John heard the soft buzz of the phone vibrating with a new text alert. Sherlock's eyes darted over the screen and one corner of his mouth turned up slightly. He switched the phone off and slipped it back into his pocket.
"All right, we can go."
John gaped at him. "Oh God. You didn't arrange this with Greg, did you?"
"Yes. Well, I didn't tell him we were having a shag up here. I said we were doing some sensitive data collection and needed not to be disturbed."
John winced. "Surely he didn't buy that."
"He pretended to, which is good enough." Sherlock grinned and gestured towards the ladder. "After you."
"You're a complete git, you know that?"
"Good thing I'm such a fantastic shag, then."
John rolled his eyes, but couldn't stop himself from smiling just a bit. "That generally does make up for it."
They made their way down the ladder and snuck out of the warehouse while the police apparently pretended not to notice their presence. John wasn't sure he'd be able to look Greg in the eye any time soon.
They walked down the street for a good five minutes before they hit the main road and managed to hail a taxi. Sherlock settled against him in the back seat, pressing their thighs together. John smiled at him and there it was again, that flutter of something in his chest that would have completely freaked him out a month ago. But now it seemed oddly okay.
'Friends with benefits', they'd agreed. It might be time to talk about revising that a bit. He looked out the window and smiled.
FIN
Author's Chapter Notes:
Seriously, this is basically a PWP set in the same universe. No redeeming value whatsoever. Enjoy! :-D