Sherlock, Sherlock/John, Formal Wear, Sex on/under/against furniture, NoiseciaimpalaSeptember 5 2010, 16:58:55 UTC
John really hadn't wanted to come to this. It hadn't taken Sherlock's deducting skills to figure that out.
But nightmares or no nightmares, John was a good soldier, and so he had put on his military uniform and headed off to the banquet. Sherlock hadn't even asked, just put on a suit and gotten in the taxi with him.
So here they were, seated at a long table, some sort of bird claiming to be pheasant placed in front of them, some sort of man claiming to be important standing up and talking about a war he had never actually seen, and John's shoulders were literally up at his ears with tension.
Sherlock could actually see him yearning for that damn cane.
So he did the only logical thing.
He reached under the table and let his hand rest on John's belt buckle. John froze where he sat, but at least his hand wasn't twitching anymore. Sherlock took this as a good sign.
Sherlock kept his eyes on the lecturer in front of them, nodding at all the appropriate places while undoing John's belt. The zipper was next, and then Sherlock's hand was inside John's pants, cupping the already-hard cock inside.
John stifled a moan, and fought to keep his eyes focused somewhere,anywhere. The man made a gesture to the soldiers at the table, and Sherlock laughed quietly at John's hard-won accomplishment of raising his hand in a thankful gesture.
Sherlock's hand continued to stroke. He could see John's feet twitching under the tablecloth, toes flexed to the ceiling with pleasure. John's lip was actually bleeding slightly from where he had bit it to keep back his moans. Sherlock casually flicked the tip of John's erection with his thumb and that was all it took to finish John off.
John's legs seized under the table, his back pressing against the wooden chair, his hands clenching, his body trembling. "Phantom pain," he gasped out to the staring solider next to him, who nodded in understanding and looked back at the speaker.
"Glad to see you're relaxed now," Sherlock said with a satisfied chuckle, wiping his hand on the underside of the tablecloth.
But nightmares or no nightmares, John was a good soldier, and so he had put on his military uniform and headed off to the banquet. Sherlock hadn't even asked, just put on a suit and gotten in the taxi with him.
So here they were, seated at a long table, some sort of bird claiming to be pheasant placed in front of them, some sort of man claiming to be important standing up and talking about a war he had never actually seen, and John's shoulders were literally up at his ears with tension.
Sherlock could actually see him yearning for that damn cane.
So he did the only logical thing.
He reached under the table and let his hand rest on John's belt buckle. John froze where he sat, but at least his hand wasn't twitching anymore. Sherlock took this as a good sign.
Sherlock kept his eyes on the lecturer in front of them, nodding at all the appropriate places while undoing John's belt. The zipper was next, and then Sherlock's hand was inside John's pants, cupping the already-hard cock inside.
John stifled a moan, and fought to keep his eyes focused somewhere,anywhere. The man made a gesture to the soldiers at the table, and Sherlock laughed quietly at John's hard-won accomplishment of raising his hand in a thankful gesture.
Sherlock's hand continued to stroke. He could see John's feet twitching under the tablecloth, toes flexed to the ceiling with pleasure. John's lip was actually bleeding slightly from where he had bit it to keep back his moans. Sherlock casually flicked the tip of John's erection with his thumb and that was all it took to finish John off.
John's legs seized under the table, his back pressing against the wooden chair, his hands clenching, his body trembling. "Phantom pain," he gasped out to the staring solider next to him, who nodded in understanding and looked back at the speaker.
"Glad to see you're relaxed now," Sherlock said with a satisfied chuckle, wiping his hand on the underside of the tablecloth.
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Thank you! *o*
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