Title: Black Ties
Pairing: John/Sherlock
Word Count: 979
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Written for
defiant_deviant for the
Five Acts Meme.
Summary: Forced to attend one of Mycroft's formal parties, Sherlock finds a new way to entertain himself.
John should have known that his night was destined for trouble long before he and Sherlock left the flat that night.
Firstly, he's going out with Sherlock: nothing ever goes smoothly. Secondly, neither of them want to be attending Mycroft's black-tie event in any case, yet after solving the riddle of a terror plot and saving the country (again) their presence is apparently required. The most vital piece of evidence that he had overlooked, John thinks as Sherlock shoves his hand greedily down the front of John's trousers, had been the covetous way that Sherlock had stared at him while they were getting into their suits.
Half an hour into the party, once they have shaken hands with worryingly important people and after Sherlock has tried to insult every big-wig that tries to schmooze with him, John had found himself pulled into one of the back rooms, slammed back against the wall and kissed incredibly thoroughly by an extremely bored genius.
So he finds himself here, at Sherlock's mercy (and experience has taught John that Sherlock doesn't actually have any) with his trousers open and his stiff cock being fondled with rough determination. Sherlock's mouth descends to his throat and sucks marks there: he's going to have to go back out to the party after this. He has no idea how he will be able to do it without his face igniting from being so red.
Right now, with Sherlock all over him, he doesn't care.
"I don't know why Mycroft insists on making me come to these things," Sherlock whispers in irritation.
John can tell from his tone that he is preparing for a week-long sulking fest; in the interests of London's safety, he opens up Sherlock's trousers for him, hoping that entertaining him for the evening might cheer him up. "Appearances. We did good, didn't we? We deserve recognition."
"They could have sent a letter," Sherlock complains - with considerably less irritation than he had had just seconds ago, now that John's able hand is manipulating his cock. It feels strong and insistent in his hand, and John can't help but wonder how long he's been hard like this; maybe since they left the flat, nursing it all this time, waiting for an appropriate moment to get him alone. The thought makes him groan, eyes shivering, and he feels the twitch of Sherlock's self-satisfied smile against him. "Careful, John. We wouldn't want to attract attention."
John grits his teeth and sucks in air through his nose. His grip on Sherlock's cock becomes a little tighter, a little faster - enough to make him grunt and bite down sharply on his bottom lip as if he can physically hold in any reaction. "Yeah, Sherlock. Careful," John repeats, breathless and far too pleased with himself.
Sherlock looks down at him - and John knows that he does this on purpose, uses his lanky height to intimidate. He's seen him do it to suspects on their cases before, but not to him. He probably knows John better than to try; probably knows that John is a trained soldier and has faced far more intimidating enemies than Sherlock.
None of those enemies had had a secret weapon up their sleeve: Sherlock removes his hand from John's flesh, suddenly and abruptly.
John splutters and swears, far louder than he ought to, and Sherlock hushes him with all the fake-scandal of a school teacher. He reaches for John's thin black tie and loosens it from around his neck. With no consultation, he pulls it up and slots it into John's spluttering mouth instead, reaching around to tie it at the base of John's head. "Much better," he declares - but his eyes don't break contact with John's for a moment, as if waiting to check that this is alright.
For most sane people, it wouldn't be. 'Sane', however, isn't a quality much associated with those who spend any time in Sherlock's orbit.
John nods and they return to how they were, pressed tight against each other with hands pulling each other off. Sherlock's free hand is tracing the tie at the edges of his mouth, feeling the way that it presses into his skin. He soaks in every muffled whimper that comes from John's mouth: "I knew this would come in useful," he says. "This is what I've been thinking of doing since you put it on."
John bites down on the tie in his mouth to stop himself from groaning, but the thought of Sherlock using that big brain of his to fantasise about this is too much for him. He rests his head back against the wall, eyes screwing shut, hand tightening on Sherlock's member, and with a moan that seems to explode from his chest he comes, splattering Sherlock's trousers with his seed.
Sherlock reaches for his hand, covering it with his larger one, and he guides John into giving him what he wants, using John's hand as an instrument as he jerks himself off. John lies passively against the wall and watches, head still spinning, as Sherlock's impassive face twitches and contorts in twisted pleasure. It isn't long before Sherlock comes as well, inside his trousers, completely wrecked.
Sherlock slumps against him, resting his forehead against John's shoulder even if he has to stoop in order to do so. John reaches up to undo the knot himself, seeing as Sherlock seems in no hurry to do so himself, and they rest together for a moment, listening to the chatter of the party going on outside.
"Mycroft has a spare set of clothes for us upstairs," Sherlock says, sounding completely unaffected now that he's pulled himself together.
John doesn't bother to ask exactly how or why his brother knew they would find themselves ruined and in need of spares: when it comes to the Holmes brothers, he has discovered that it is best to give up and simply go with the flow.