Fic for kestrel337: The Experiment
Title: The Experiment
Recipient: kestrel337
Author: colebaltblue
Characters/Pairings: Sherlock/John/Lestrade
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: explicit sexual content
Word count: 9,000
Summary: Sherlock Holmes decides to conduct a little experiment to see how many times he and his two lovers can orgasm in a 24 hour period. Because science.
Note: MANY thanks to my tireless beta who dealt with all my "I don't know what I'm doing" angst, read my porn over and over again, and offered up ideas when I was running out of them. As for myself, not my usual cup of tea, so I'd like to thank holmestice for once again giving me the opportunity to crack my knuckles a bit and really go for it. And third, thanks to kestrel337 for providing the prompt as it were, really very inspiring, didn't mean for it to inspire in quite this way, but alas, here we are.
Greg Lestrade's phone broke the pre-dawn stillness in Sherlock's bedroom. He groaned in protest at the insistent ringtone he used for calls from the department. Sherlock had mewled in protest as Lestrade had disentangled himself from sheets, blankets, and the sprawled naked limbs of his bed companions.
John Watson awoke briefly when Lestrade had slipped from the bed and offered a few mumbled mostly-asleep words of comfort as Lestrade had quickly dressed in the cool dark of the room. He kissed John softly and rolled his eyes as Sherlock immediately took advantage of his departure to sprawl out over the warm spot he had left behind. The door made barely a sound as it closed behind him.
Sherlock Holmes had successfully wrapped up a case in Europe and was finally home in his own bed for the first time in weeks and planned to take full advantage of that by remaining there as long as possible. He looked at the clock with bleary eyes and nearly protested vocally when he saw the numbers read four-something. But last night had been one of the rare nights when the three of them were all home together and not busy or distracted so they had taken full advantage of it. Hours of sex had left the three of them a snoring and satiated pile of limbs, sweat, and flushed skin shortly before midnight. Just before they had all dropped off to sleep, John had murmured, "I think that might be a new record," in a dazed voice.
Sherlock's brain had fixated on the words, turning them over and over again, keeping him from dropping off to sleep. It had been a new record for a single uninterrupted session, but what had not left Sherlock alone was the thought that it was also a great start to breaking another record, that of the most times in a twenty-four hour period. And perhaps, as a challenge he would attempt to set it without either John or Lestrade catching on. He fell asleep with a smile on his face.
Not one to sleep easily when he had an experiment to conduct, Sherlock waited briefly while John fell back into deep and contented sleep before he reached for his phone and brought up the notes from last night.
He had discovered early on in their relationship that both of his lovers enjoyed what seemed to be a rather short recovery period after sex. It made for exhausting but enjoyable sessions for the three of them together, but it made him wonder just how quick their recovery periods could actually be when truly put to the test. A scientific experiment of sorts, how many times could the three of them come in a single twenty-four hour period.
For a single session, they had managed eight climaxes between the three of them more than once. Last night, Lestrade and Sherlock had enjoyed three each and John had been satisfied with two. John rarely came three times in a single session, but enjoyed morning sex and often was the only one to orgasm if the three of them indulged in "morning after" sex. Sherlock did recall one rather memorable day a few months ago where he and John had enjoyed lazy morning sex after Lestrade went to work and then had convinced Lestrade during his lunch. But that had been it, usually after a night like last night, the three of them wouldn't make a special effort to be together to the day after and Lestrade might even stay the night at his apartment.
But for this little experiment, that would simply be part of the challenge: Sherlock would attempt to bring John, Lestrade, and himself to a record number of orgasms within a 24 hour period all while still going about a normal day. And all the more satisfying if he managed to do it without them catching on. More scientific, he supposed, if his subjects were unaware of the experiment.
Lestrade's call had sounded urgent, but not particularly important and Sherlock figured he'd return mid-morning, annoyed at being awoken and called in so early for something that was wrapped up so quickly. So that left him a little time to catch John up, as it were, and begin his little experiment.
Sherlock set his phone down quietly and rolled over to curl into John's back, sliding a hand from his shoulder down his bare hip. John snuffled in his sleep and arched back into him. Sherlock smiled into John's shoulder before scraping his teeth lightly over the firm muscle and gently tonguing the spot. He could feel John's body slowly wake.
"Sherlock…" John said, half in protest, half with desire. He had worked all last week covering for a doctor on an unexpected family leave at a local general practice while Sherlock had gone with his case. Sherlock knew that Lestrade had been working long hours as well and that while he was gone they had not had much time together. Last night had been the culmination of more than a week of relative abstinence for the three of them and he knew John would be willing if not eager for more.
He gently rocked his hips against John's ass as he slid an arm around them and pulled them firmly together. John let out a heavy breath that was almost a moan and Sherlock bit his shoulder again. He slid his hand down and cupped John's half hard dick in his hand, rolling his fingers and squeezing gently. John bared his neck and rolled slightly on his back, presenting himself.
"Fine," he said, a fond smile in his voice, "but you're doing all the work."
"That can be arranged," Sherlock responded, tugging insistently at John's cock, feeling it swell in his hand. He set up a steady rhythm with his right hand, firm strokes up and down with and pulling twist at the crown. He pressed biting kisses into John's collarbone and murmured encouragement into his neck. John's legs fell open and he began to thrust in earnest up into Sherlock's hand, hips picking up a steady rhythm.
He knew John would come easily from this, and if he timed it right, he could get in this orgasm and one more in the shower before John left for work. He felt John's body tensing as his mouth opened and he cried out softly with his impending orgasm. Sherlock kept his rhythm quick and firm, stroking John's cock and thumbing the moisture leaking from his slit around the head. John moaned, hips stuttering as he came into Sherlock's hand and onto his own belly.
"Not that I'm complaining, but..." he trailed off, but Sherlock understood what he was saying.
"Good thing you can keep up," he responded, letting the challenge enter his voice. He knew that John would hear it, even in his half-awake sleep, and be willing to rise to it. He made a note of the encounter in his phone before falling back asleep beside John.
The sound of the shower coming on woke him a few hours later and he glanced at the clock, just after seven. John would shower, and then eat a quick breakfast and have a cup of coffee before he set off for a half-day shift at the clinic. Sherlock slipped out of bed and padded to the bathroom, pulling and stroking at his cock as he did so. The thought of his experiment and the challenge he had set for himself helped bring his cock from half-hard to full erection by the time he made it into the steamy room. John was soaping himself up as Sherlock opened the shower door and stepped in, crowding him against the wall.
"Sherlock!" he said, half surprised half startled. Sherlock moved aggressively, capturing John's mouth in a firm and deep kiss, allowing his hands to slide over John's body firmly and thoroughly as he pressed his hard cock against his stomach.
"Jesus," John hissed as Sherlock pulled his head back and bit as his neck. "Long week?" Sherlock reached for John's hands and reached for both of their cocks, lining them up and thrusting them together into the warm soaping circle of their joined hands, grunting in reply to his question. He squeezed, encouraging John into full hardness as he moved insistently against him. Making John come again, only a few hours after he had come the last time, which was only a few hours after he had come the multiple times before, while still leaving him eager enough for what Sherlock had planned for the rest of the day meant that a hard fuck would get the best results. John would still be loose and open from the night before requiring little preparation and experience had taught Sherlock that prostate stimulation was John's guarantor for a quick orgasm.
He turned John around and pressed him against the shower wall, nudging his legs apart and pressing his cock into the crease of John's ass.
"Missed you," he mumbled into John's shoulder as he reached for the lube they kept in the shower and quickly spread it over himself and pressed his fingers into John's ass. He was still loose and open from the night before and required minimal preparation. Perfect.
"You must have," John responded. Sentiment wasn't really Sherlock style, but John enjoyed feeling wanted and he was happy to oblige. He thrust into John in one long slow thrust, pinching at his nipple with one hand and pulling at his balls with another. John supported them both with his hands and face pressed into the shower wall. After a few thrusts he found John's prostate and set up a punishing pace, leaving John no time to catch his breath. Although John wasn't one normally to want a hard fast fuck against the shower wall, Sherlock knew that John would appreciate not having to hurry to get to the clinic on time. Leaving him satisfied and not annoyed about getting to work on time would be to his advantage later in the day.
Just a few moments later John was crying, "fuck, fuck, fuck" eyes squeezed shut as his body shuddered and squeezed around Sherlock. Sherlock's cocked throbbed as he followed John over the edge, emptying himself into John as he gripped his hips and rode him through the last of his orgasm. He slipped out as they both caught their breath in the warm spray.
John looked at Sherlock with a wry smile over his shoulder. "You are going to wear me out." Sherlock merely smiled in return and reached for the shampoo. John slipped out of the shower as he was massaging his hair and was gone by the time he got out.
After entering the his observations from the shower fuck, Sherlock dried his hair and slipped back between the sheets naked. If he timed it right, he could be back asleep in time to allow Lestrade to wake him up. A sleepy and willing Sherlock often made for an aggressively eager Lestrade, if past experience was anything to go by.
"Well isn't this quite the sight," Lestrade said as he pulled his tie off and unbuttoned his shirt. Sherlock stretched languidly, feigning a bit more sleepiness than was strictly necessary knowing that it would make it easier to convince Lestrade to join him for a morning quickie.
"Did John go to work?" Lestrade asked as he slipped off his trousers.
Sherlock nodded and lifted a hand up to slide down his chest, pulling the sheet with it until it reached his waist. He allowed the sheets to bunch there, knowing what he looked like, and presenting himself on display to Lestrade.
Lestrade's breathing quickened and he stopped for a moment to observe. Sherlock suppressed a smile as he slipped his hand beneath the sheet and stroked himself slowly. Lestrade enjoyed watching him, and the little show he was putting on would be more than enough to convince him to come back to bed.
Lestrade left his boxer briefs on as he crawled up the bed towards Sherlock and pushed the sheet away from him. He smiled when he saw Sherlock's hand stroking his now hard cock. He sat back on his heels and drew Sherlock's legs up and pushed them open, displaying him to his heated gaze.
"Shall I fuck you good morning?" he asked as he watched Sherlock's hand work his cock. Sherlock bit his lip and nodded arching his back and pressing his cock through his hand slowly. He kept his movements smooth and slow with a touch of eager submission. Lestrade made a soft noise in the back of his throat as he reached for the lube on the night stand.
"Shall I fuck this pretty little ass of yours?" he asked as he drizzled lube on his fingers and pressed them to Sherlock hole. "Shall I push into you, fill you up, make you whimper, make your legs shake, as I fuck into you over and over and over again?"
Sherlock moaned softly and shuddered. "Yes," he said, softly. "Please."
"I'll fuck you with my pants still on," Lestrade said as he pulled his cock out and spread lube over it. He scooted up, pushing Sherlock's legs up and out, encouraging him to curl his back and present his ass. Like John, he was still loose and open from the night before and took Lestrade's cock in with one long smooth stroke. He cried out again at the feeling of being almost over full, right on the edge of pain, as Lestrade thrust shallowly before pulling almost all the way out and pushing roughly back home. Lestrade fucked him hard and fast, coming with a cry of his own. He pulled out after catching his breath and sucked Sherlock hard and deep until he came down his throat. They both collapsed on the bed, breathing hard, bodies flushed from the sex.
Sherlock made a soft sound and carded his fingers through Lestrade's hair. He could feel Lestrade smile against his thigh. Then he furrowed his brow and sniffed.
"Did you bring me breakfast?" he asked.
Lestrade snorted. "No, I bought myself breakfast, but since you were so good, I'll share it with you after my shower. I just came home to see you, but I have a few errands to run this morning." Lestrade got up and patted Sherlock on the hip. "I'll be right out, don't eat it all before I'm back."
Lestrade stepped into the bathroom and closed the door. When Sherlock heard the shower come on he sat and reached for his phone. Four each for Lestrade and John, five for him. He wondered if he could get to eight each before tonight when his twenty-four hours would be up.
Lestrade had shared half of his breakfast sandwich with Sherlock and made him coffee before he left for his errands with a kiss. It didn't take long after the door and shut downstairs before Sherlock had come up with a plan for that afternoon. It would be easier if he kept them all roughly around the same number of orgasms at roughly the same time period throughout the day, it'd certainly make their evening when he'd have to squeeze, possibly quite literally, the last few out of his partners in order to set this record, if he could ensure they all had at least one, possibly two more throughout the day. He fetched John's laptop.
It didn't take him long to get it set up. Sherlock settled in on the couch with the laptop in front of him and got to work. After a moment he was sufficiently hard, and set the laptop to record. He unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down off his hips, pulling his cock out and biting his lip while he looked directly into the camera. Although Lestrade had more of the voyeur streak, John would appreciate this personal porn show a bit more. And if Sherlock's timing was right, John would would drag Lestrade along with him.
He jacked himself thoroughly, taking his time. Playing it up for the camera, moaning, letting his pleasure show on his face, playing with his nipples, his balls, stroking his cock two handed. When it was over, he stopped the recording and cleaned himself up. A few more minutes and he had the laptop set to send him a text when the video was watched and the video set to repeat until stopped. And another few clicks and he set up the camera to turn on remotely to a direct feed to his phone. John wouldn't be happy if he found out, but it'd allow him to at least observe when John watched the video and whether or not Lestrade joined in. For science.
He left the laptop on the bed in the bedroom and the toys and lube out from last night. Hopefully that would be enough of a clue for John. In the meantime, he had a few things to take care of himself, experiments that he left running down at the lab he borrowed at the university and a few contacts he needed to touch base with after being out of town for a week.
It was a few hours later, mid afternoon, when his phone beeped with a message that John had started the video. Sherlock was alone in the lab, but he slipped his headphones in and set the phone next to his microscope with the feed on and continued to work. John stopped the video after just a moment and left the room. But he came back a few minutes later, changed, obviously been to his room, and the kitchen, and was now carrying a cup of tea. Really, a cup of tea and a pair of casual bottoms to sit down and watch one of his partners jerk himself off, Sherlock thought. John really could be the epitome of lazy in his sex.
John watched the video through twice and then spent another twenty minutes looking through porn videos online, but still not having a wank. Sherlock caught him checking his phone a few times and realized he was waiting for Lestrade. After a few more minutes, John's phone chimed again with his text alert, and he smiled and queued up Sherlock's video. Lestrade must be almost home.
"Sherlock left us a present." John said. Sherlock picked his phone up and made himself comfortable on his chair to watch.
"Did he now?" Lestrade asked, and came and leaned over John to get a better look at the screen. Sherlock's phone beeped as John pushed play on his video. They both watched it, half smiles playing across their lips, for a few minutes. Sherlock was getting a little sick of hearing himself moan. Lestrade removed his jacket and his shirt and took off his belt, sitting behind John on the bed in his undershirt and trousers and leaned in and put his chin on John's shoulder. John turned his head a little and kissed him, reaching for his arms and drawing them around himself. It was cute, sweet, and not quite what Sherlock was looking for from the two of them if this was supposed to go the way it needed to. The video looped.
Lestrade turned his head to kiss John's neck as he kept his eyes on the video. His hands went to John's hips, fingers splayed. John's head tipped back and melted into Lestrade.
"What do you want?" Lestrade asked as he watched Sherlock tug at his balls and twist his hand around the crown of his dick.
"I want-" John cut himself off with a moan as Lestrade pressed the heel of his hand against the bulge in his pants. "I want," he tried again. "I want you to fuck me," he finally breathed out, turning his sigh into a moan when Lestrade cupped his balls and squeezed. John moved the laptop to the bedside table, giving Sherlock a rather better view than he could've hoped for. Sherlock watched as John and Lestrade slowly stripped each other, with smiles, and murmurs, and kisses, licks, and caresses. They ended up on their sides, Lestrade behind John as they both faced the laptop.
Lestrade pulled John's leg back and over his hip, opening John and encouraging him to sink back on his cock and set the pace himself. They fucked slowly, Lestrade holding John, eyes on the laptop, hands stroking John's chest, hips, legs, and brushing gently against his dick. Sherlock smiled and he tamped down on his own desires. It was sweet, nothing like the rough fuck that he had enjoyed from Lestrade earlier, or from the quick and dirty fuck he had given John in the shower. John's eyes fluttered closed and he gave himself over to Lestrade's care. John wasn't so much a bottom as he happily gave himself over to his partner, his pleasure coming from the pleasure they took in his body.
Lestrade, however, was alpha through and through and it was what originally had gotten him invited into Sherlock and John's bed in the first place. He had looked at them one evening with burning eyes when Sherlock stroked John's hip lazily while they entertained a small group at their flat after the conclusion of a particularly trying case. It was a possessive look, although he didn't have any reason whatsoever to be giving it. Sherlock had caught it though and used his deductions about exactly what that look was about to play a little game with Lestrade all evening.
Catching Lestrade alone in the kitchen he upped the ante a bit, playing off of the subtle teasing and taunting from the evening and using carefully calculated body language to make it clear to Lestrade he was his for the taking. Lestrade had looked to the other room, clearly thinking of John. Sherlock hooked a finger in the waist of his trousers and drew him in. "He won't mind," he said, tipping his head to the side and just barely parting his lips in a clear invitation to kiss him.
"I mind." Lestrade had answered and moved to step back.
Sherlock followed him, crowding him against the kitchen counter. "Perhaps I should have been more clear," he said. "John would absolutely not mind as long as he could come too. Which is something that I highly doubt you'd mind."
Lestrade froze and Sherlock could practically hear the thought turn over in his head. He bit his lips, then licked them and stared directly at Lestrade's before looking back up into his eyes. Lestrade and surged up and captured Sherlock's mouth in a powerful and rough kiss. His hands landed on Sherlock's hips and grabbed them, pulling him in tight against his own as his teeth bit down on his bottom lip. John walked in and froze in the doorway, head tipped, face expressionless. Sherlock broke the kiss and looked over his shoulder at John, leaning into Lestrade who froze at the sight of John. Sherlock ran his hands up Lestrade's arms and around his neck before he could panic and tilted his head towards John, offering. John gave him an almost imperceptible nod.
"At least wait until everyone else is gone," he said before he turned and walked out of the kitchen and started sending everyone else home. Lestrade had followed him out to the sitting room and said his goodbyes as Sherlock had gone into his bedroom to change the sheets and dig a box of condoms out. Then he slipped back into the kitchen to observe John and Lestrade.
Lestrade stood awkwardly by the fireplace as he watched John usher the last guest out the door and close it behind them. He locked it and turned back to look at Lestrade. He rolled his eyes before smirking and shrugging his shoulders in a gesture that seemed to say, 'I'm game if you are.'
"John," Lestrade said, stepping towards him. "I don't want," he stopped, unsure of what he was supposed to say. "I've been down this road before," he said, starting again, and stepping forward until he was within reaching distance of John, although he kept his hands at his side. "If you're doing it for him, this won't work out for any of us."
John huffed a laugh. "I'm not doing this for him, Greg." He reached forward and caught Lestrade's hand in his and pulled him in, tipping his head up for a kiss. It was a comfortable and easy kiss, as if they had kissed a thousand times before. They were both smiling. John tipped his head towards where Sherlock was standing. Lestrade smiled and nodded, leaning in to kiss John again.
They had fucked that night, all three of them in a tangle on Sherlock's bed. The next morning was surprisingly comfortable, John and Lestrade sharing coffee in the kitchen before they kissed goodbye and slipped out the door to work, leaving Sherlock asleep in the bed. A few months in, Lestrade had mentioned that he wasn't seeing anyone else and John had suggested that they could forego condoms if they were exclusive with each other. Sherlock had agreed and that was that.
John and Lestrade had always been a bit more tender with each other, prone to kisses and caresses and the casual affection that Sherlock found exhausting. He had banished them from his room more than once when he was deep in a case and his brain too occupied to think about sex let alone affection. He was glad for Lestrade for John's sake at those times. And when he was done with his case and looking for a quick fuck to satisfy the biological urges he had been denying himself, Lestrade or John or both were always there and obliging.
John provided a sort of companionship to Lestrade, a chance to unwind and be normal after the demands of his job. If all he had to come home to was Sherlock, they would've killed each other within a matter of weeks. But John was there to watch telly with him, or go to the pub, or even just be a warm body to curl up with. Just as he was there for Sherlock when he was giddy with excitement over a case, eager to end a chase through London with a fuck against their door.
Sherlock watched as John rocked back onto Lestrade's thick cock. They kept up a steady rhythm, as John's moans grew more pronounced and louder and Lestrade whispered encouragement into his ear. He could hear his own moans over theirs, coming from his video, and as he reached his own climax he saw their eyes riveted to his video as they fucked themselves to climax. He smiled. Perfect.
Two hours later Sherlock rose from his lab table and stretched. He had a text on his phone from John, requesting Indian takeout for dinner with his and Lestrade's order. Sherlock sent a quick reply. John and Lestrade wouldn't necessarily be eager to start anything when he got home, but after a few hour break from their afternoon sex, he could encourage them to a few more orgasms. He could do it. Surprise was out, he had done that this morning, and so was porn, that had been that afternoon. He had until he arrived home with dinner to come up with another idea.
He let himself into his flat an hour later, slightly damp from London's evening rain, carrying a take out container from an Indian place near the university that he knew to be an old favorite of John's. He could hear John's tv on upstairs in his room, the only place there was one, set the food down in the kitchen, and stripped out of his outwear before heading upstairs.
John and Lestrade were laying side by side on John's bed and Sherlock paused in the doorway and grinned at them. They both looked up at him and smiled in reply. He stepped forward and crawled up the bottom of the bed to lay in between them, arm thrown across John, and legs tangled with Lestrade's. Both of them shifted slightly to accommodate him, and he felt John's fingers slip into his hair and rub his scalp gently while Lestrade's found their way up under the hem of his shirt and stroked his skin at his waist. Sherlock snuffled and rubbed his face against John's shoulder.
"How was your day, dear?" John asked, a wry note in his voice as he watched the telly.
"Productive." Sherlock replied.
John grinned. "Experiments going well?"
Sherlock nodded.
They all three lay there comfortably for a bit.
"Did you bring home dinner?" John asked after the program they had been watching ended and before the next one began. Sherlock nodded and slid his hand down to John's thigh.
"I suppose we should eat," Lestrade said softly, but no one moved.
Sherlock began stroking John more purposefully, strokes might seem casual but were meant to arouse. With John half paying attention to the telly and half asleep, he probably wouldn't catch on to what Sherlock was doing until he was halfway convinced to go along with it already. He nudged his hips back into Lestrade's side gently, encouraging him just a bit subtly as well. It took a few more minutes before John sighed and shifted his hips slightly, an unconscious signal that he was at least somewhat interested in where this was going.
Sherlock sat up and turned to look at both of them, he caught John's brief surprise before arousal took over and he looked at Sherlock questioningly. Sherlock leaned forward and kissed John thoroughly before sitting up again and leaning over to kiss Lestrade with the same enthusiasm.
"I thought we were going to eat dinner?" John asked.
Sherlock shook his head.
"This first, then dinner," he said, reaching for Lestrade instead of John. He slid a hand up Lestrade's thigh towards the gentle swell of his groin. He cupped his hand over Lestrade's penis and massaged gently as he felt it growing more firm in his hand. John watched for a moment before he caught Sherlock's chin and pulled him in for another kiss. Sherlock didn't stop stroking Lestrade and could feel his interest grow as he watched Sherlock and John kiss beside him. When he felt Lestrade's hips shift under his hand and his interest grow from merely intrigued to definitely paying attention now he shifted and moved to kiss him, his other hand going to John's lap as he shifted his weight back to balance. He felt Lestrade's smile through his kiss.
"Not that I want you to go away again, Sherlock," John said as he watched Sherlock and Lestrade kiss, "but if this is what you come back like…"
Lestrade murmured his agreement and moved one hand to join Sherlock's as it massaged John's cock through his jeans and the other to cup Sherlock's jaw and hold him. When Sherlock broke this kiss to sit back and stroke at both of their cocks Lestrade smiled and winked at Sherlock before leaning over to kiss John. Sherlock watched as they kissed.
He reached for Lestrade first, pulling at the elastic waist of the running bottoms he wore until his cock popped free and slapped against his belly. He hissed in protest, but Sherlock bent down and swallowed it whole and it turned into a gasp of pleasure. Sherlock looked up to see John and Lestrade kissing as he worked Lestrade's cock in his mouth. John was moaning softly as Sherlock and Lestrade worked his cock with joined hands. He stopped and watched them for a moment before encouraging Lestrade to move down the bed. When he was laying on his back, Sherlock helped John strip out of his bottoms and waited while John crawled up and straddled Lestrade's face. Watching, he timed it perfectly and sank back down on Lestrade's cock with his mouth right as John sunk into Lestrade's.
Sherlock worked Lestrade's cock, allowing his spit to slide down and soak his fingers before he slid them back and circled his hole. Lestrade moaned and he heard John's answering gasp as he felt it on his cock. Sherlock pulled off and watched John's ass flex as he fucked Lestrade's mouth. He licked up Lestrade's cock and circled the head with his tongue. But he could tell that Lestrade was too busy paying attention to John than to truly appreciate what Sherlock was doing. So he upped the game.
He slid his hands under Lestrade's ass and pulled up, roughly nudging his legs open and presing his ass cheeks open. Then with no more warning he dipped his head and pressed his tongue firmly to Lestrade's hole. Lestrade jerked in surprise and answering John's yelp had just a tinge of pain to it. Sherlock could see John shift as he grabbed Lestrade's head roughly with his hands, one hand in his hair, and one on his jaw as he and pulled it back, opening his throat, before plunging in hard and fucking Lestrade's mouth with short sharp jerks. It was only a moment before Lestrade's body began to quake and quiver, his orgasm coming fast and hard, his hole flexing around Sherlock's tongue and head held fast by John.
John and Lestrade came nearly simultaneously, John with a loud shout and a string of expletives and Lestrade with a moan smothered around John's cock, shooting all over his own belly. John pulled off Lestrade and half collapsed next to him, breathing hard. He looked at Sherlock whose tongue still fluttering at Lestrade's hole and hand still milking his cock. He reached forward and caught some of his own semen where it had dribbled out of Lestrade's mouth when he had been unable to swallow it all. John smeared his thumb through the mess cooling on Lestrade's belly and looked at Sherlock. He leaned forward and grabbed Sherlock's hair, pulling him up off Lestrade with one hand and reaching forward with his other, a mix of his and Lestrade's semen on his thumb. He pressed it into Sherlock's mouth, past his swollen red lips. Sherlock sucked it in and fluttered his tongue against it.
John nodded once and grabbed Sherlock's jaw with both hands and yanked him. Sherlock nearly tumbled into John, caught off balance before he felt Lestrade's hands on his hips, steading him. Lestrade guided him up to straddle his stomach and encouraged him to rock against his sweat and semen slicked belly. He pressed Sherlock's cock down into the mess and Sherlock leaned forward, biting at John's neck while he rubbed himself off against Lestrade. He tried to pull back to gasp, but John tightened his fingers and held him in place, face buried in John's neck. Sherlock whimpered and pulled his hips back just enough to get his hand around his cock to jerk himself hard as he came on Lestrade's belly, his hips still held firm in Lestrade's grasp. Sherlock yanked his head away from John's grasp and gasped for breath. John gave him a slow dangerous smile and Sherlock looked down to see Lestrade's dark eyes hungrily watching them.
"Dinner, then?" Sherlock asked, swallowing thickly. He knew that look John was giving him. He was formulating Plans for later and Sherlock was in grave danger of losing complete control of this experiment. Lestrade rolled over and sat up, reaching for one of Sherlock's discarded shirts on his bedroom floor to mop up his stomach, oblivious to the moment.
John got up as well and pulled on a pair of new bottoms and ran his hands through his hair. As he came around the bed, Lestrade caught him by the waist and pulled him in tight against him, nuzzling into his neck and saying something Sherlock couldn't quite catch. He huffed at their display of casual affection and rolled his eyes. John looked at him and rolled his eyes right back as he made a show of cuddling into Lestrade and murmuring an answer before kissing him softly. He turned to leave the bedroom, but Lestrade caught him again, and wrapped his arms around him from behind, stumbling out the bedroom door and down the stair still plastered to John's back.
Sherlock dove for his phone.
When he came down to the kitchen a few minutes later, he saw Lestrade crowding John at the kitchen table and John laughing and playfully pushing at him while he dished up their lukewarm food. He rolled his eyes and stepped around them, making a show of annoyance as he went into his bedroom to change into his pyjamas, a pair of soft flannel bottoms and a worn t-shirt. He came back out and leaned against the refridgerator and watched them. Lestrade was often cuddly after sex and when they were all in bed together, Sherlock enjoyed the way that he'd wrap himself around the two of them, tucking in legs, chins, heads, arms, elbows, feet, and hands until they were all just so. Then he'd stroke gently at Sherlock's back, hip, arm, leg, or whatever body part he could reach and nuzzle gently against any exposed skin. But he couldn't seem to tolerate that kind of contact when they were in the sitting room, kitchen, or really anywhere else. John was happy to be cuddled by Lestrade, in the bedroom or out and Sherlock couldn't help but smile at the picture of sweet domesticity his two lovers presented. He stepped up to the table to grab his plate of food, preferring to eat now rather than to wait for it to be heated.
Sherlock took his food into the sitting room and curled in a tight ball in what he thought of as his chair, balancing his plate on his knees. Lestrade came in carrying his and John's plates and John balanced drinks for all of them. They all settled into easy conversation about their day, Sherlock's recent trip, John's work at the clinic, and Lestrade's case.
It wasn't long after they finished before Sherlock started eyeing them carefully. If he was going manage to complete his experiment, they would all have to get to bed soon. But looking at Lestrade's comfortable sprawl and John's sleepy relaxed posture he knew he needed to get them moving now. John's hand moved to Lestrade's thigh and squeezed and they both looked at each other before John turned to Sherlock and raised an eyebrow. He tipped his head back in the direction of Sherlock's room.
Sherlock's eyes narrowed at John's suspiciously intuitive response to his thoughts, but he had scientific goals for the evening, recent activities notwithstanding. He nodded in response.
John got up and pulled Lestrade up with him and knelt to pick up the dishes.
"Well go get started while you do the washing up, Sherlock." He said, airily. "Don't be long." Sherlock sighed, but knew it wouldn't be worth arguing. The last time he had done so, there had been consequences and a repeat of that wouldn't help him at all tonight. He watched John pull Lestrade into Sherlock's bedroom.
He finished the washing up in record time and went into his room, half hard with the thought of what John and Lestrade were up to in there. He stopped in the doorway.
Lestrade was sitting on the edge of the bed, legs splayed wide as John knelt between them, both were naked, and John's hands were clasped behind his back as his head bobbed on Lestrade's cock. Lestrade's hands were in his hair, encouraging him on, but his eyes were firmly on Sherlock's.
Sherlock watched and palmed his cock. Lestrade let go of John's hair and tapped at his shoulders and John immediately released his hands, one hand going to Lestrade's cock, and the other one between his legs to tug at his balls, Lestrade leaned back on his arms and turned his attention to John's blow job. Sherlock watched as Lestrade's hips started flexing up into John's mouth and he caught John's moan of pleasure. Then Lestrade leaned on one elbow and brought his other hand back to John's head and ran his fingers through his hair, encouraging him on as he bit his lip. Sherlock could see the muscles in his stomach flex and flutter as his orgasm approached. Then Lestrade threw his head back and groaned loudly as he came in John's mouth. John pulled off and wiped his chin with his hand and looked up at Lestrade.
Lestrade smiled at him and leaned forward to kiss him softly before helping him stand up and lay down on his back on the bed. He then looked at Sherlock.
"Want to fuck me while I return the favor to John?" he asked. Sherlock nodded walked into the room before stripped quickly. Lestrade positioned himself on the bed, head over John's groin, weight on his elbows and ass in the air. Sherlock grabbed the bottle of lube and crawled up the end of the bed on his knees. He dribbled the lube down Lestrade's ass crack and pressed a finger in as Lestrade started in on John.
Sherlock focused on Lestrade. It wasn't often that Lestrade asked to get fucked, but when he did, he was always an eager and enthusiastic bottom. Sherlock pressed two fingers in and found his prostate. Lestrade grunted and pressed back against him, focus divided between his mouth on John's cock and Sherlock's fingers in his ass. Sherlock stretched him with three fingers and watched him suck John's cock for a minute before he reached down and lubed himself up.
He lined up and sank into Lestrade an inch at a time. Lestrade's tight ass taking him slowly but eagerly. He sank all the way to his balls before he pulled out almost all the way before slowing sinking in again. Sherlock set a slow rhythm as he watched Lestrade's shoulders flex as he sucked John and simultaneously worked himself on Sherlock's cock. It wasn't long before he realized though that this wasn't going to work. For any of them. Lestrade was too focused on sucking John down to enjoy being fucked by Sherlock. And without Lestrade's attention on him, Sherlock knew that an orgasm would be a long time coming, if at all. And John would end up with a sub par blow job. Sherlock pulled out and was annoyed to see it took Lestrade a moment to stop what he was doing and look back over his shoulder.
When he had his attention, Sherlock grabbed Lestrade's hips and yanked him back into his lap and down onto his cock hard, thrusting up firmly. Lestrade cried out. John watched them, not looking too put out by the ending of his blow job. John picked up a gentle rhythm on his cock with his own hand. Sherlock bit his lip in concentration and held Lestrade's hips firmly, guiding him as he thrust up firmly. He ran his hands up Lestrade's chest, holding him and pinching his nipples.
"Watch John," he all but growled in Lestrade's ear. Then Sherlock looked at John who was watching them with dark eyes and wanking slowly. Lestrade groaned.
"Touch yourself, show John how hot he is by getting hard again after just blowing your load down his throat," Sherlock demanded as he thrust hard into Lestrade. Lestrade groaned again and Sherlock could feel his hand working himself hard as he watched John while Sherlock fucked him hard. It didn't take long before Sherlock was coming hard. He pushed Lestrade down so he was on all fours on the bed, next to John.
"Your turn, John," Sherlock said in a sing-song voice. John scrambled up and took up position behind Lestrade while Sherlock lay down to watch. John thrust into Lestrade in short sharp thrusts until he was buried, then he set up a punishing pace. Hips snapping, balls swinging, thighs slapping. Lestrade panted and collapsed onto his elbow, head smashed into the pillow, eyes glazed over and mouth open with his ass up in the air, hand still working his cock furiously. John knocked his hand out of the way and took over, pushing Lestrade's cock into his own hand with the force of this thrusts from behind.
Lestrade and John collapsed in a heap a few minutes later, John crying out in completion and shaking with the force of his orgasm, Lestrade crying out in frustration as he slowly humped the bed, turned on, hard, and leaking all over again but unable to come again yet. He mewled into the bed beside Sherlock, fucked to the point of need and want, but unable to do anything about it. John lay there panting on the other side of him, trying to control his breathing.
"Sherlock," John said. It was a request and a plea.
Sherlock encouraged Lestrade to roll over and once he was on his back, grabbed his cock and lowered himself down onto it, rocking slowly and comfortably. Lestrade cried out and tried to thrust up into Sherlock, but Sherlock placed a warning hand on his chest and kept his movements slow and steady. He carefully fucked himself on Lestrade's cock, keeping Lestrade hard and wanting, but not building towards an orgasm, not yet. They had all come so many times already, that if he tried hard and fast again, they would all just end up frustrated and unable to orgasm. He could keep this up for hours if he wanted - that might prove to be an interesting experiment he could try next, in a few days, when they had all recovered from this one, to see how long he could keep John and Lestrade hard but without coming, he thought. He smiled and circled his hips, drawing a cry out from Lestrade.
Sherlock lay forward on Lestrade's chest, nuzzling into his neck, letting Lestrade take over thrusting duties for a few minutes. Their positions meant that Lestrade could only thrust shallowly, cock barely moving in him, teasing more than it satisfied. He lay there, grunting softly with every thrust and eyed John who was looking like he was beginning to recover.
Sherlock was exhausted and it was oh so sweet just to be fucked like this, little motions, that would allow the two of them to lay here for a long while yet. Sherlock shifted his hips slightly so his own hardening cock could press against Lestrade's sweat soaked stomach. The angle and friction would bring him to orgasm eventually on their own, he realized to his surprise. He gripped the bedsheets beside Lestrade's head, fingers clenching and unclenching.
"John," Lestrade breathed underneath him. "John," he moaned again. Sherlock pushed himself and looked down at Lestrade in confusion. He was riding, Lestrade, not John, so why was he moaning his name and not Sherlock's. Lestrade was looking at John, face flushed and glistening with sweat. His pupils were blown wide, lips bitten red and swollen. He looked seriously fucked. His hands went to Sherlock's hips and stroked down them.
"John, please," he said one more time and Sherlock could see John nod out of the corner of his eye. Lestrade looked up at Sherlock and reached up to stroke his face before he pulled him down for a long slow kiss.
He broke the kiss to whisper, "that's it baby, just like that."
"Like what?" Sherlock finally asked as he felt John move off the bed and then come crawling back up behind him. He felt John's hands on his body, long soothing strokes, petting, gentling, as Lestrade slowly stopped moving under him.
Lestrade looked up at him. "Is it alright if John fucks you too?"
Sherlock searched Lestrade's face wondering if he was understanding correctly. His brain didn't seem to be working quite as normally did.
"You mean?" he asked, breathlessly, unsure, but strangely turned on by the idea. Lestrade nodded.
"Only if you want to, you don't have to, but we'd like to try it if you're willing."
John spoke up in a quiet voice behind him, hands still soothing over his back and flank.
"Only if you want to, we'll go slow and stop if you're uncomfortable, but I'd really love to try it."
Sherlock thought about it for a moment before carefully nodding.
"What should I do?"
Lestrade grinned and pulled him in for a gentle kiss, cupping his jaw gently.
"Just this, just lay here and breathe. Let John do all the work."
Sherlock felt John fingers at his ass, stroking around the spot where he was joined with Lestrade. Lestrade kept up soothing strokes on his head and neck and upper back, anywhere he could reach and started murmuring softly to Sherlock. Words of encouragement, telling him how beautiful he was, how sexy, that he was a good boy, how hot he made him, the words didn't matter, but the soothing cadence did.
He felt John nudge up behind him and position himself. He stiffened slightly anticipation, but John stopped and stroked him until he relaxed again. It hurt when John started slowly pressing in, but he kept up the soothing strokes on his back, pressing against his lower back if he started to tighten up too much. Lestrade kept murmuring, encouraging him to relax. It burned and Sherlock felt full, over full, stretched tight, and unable to move. He was losing track of time as John slowly and carefully worked himself all the way in.
But he could tell when it happened because everthing stopped for a moment. There was a roaring in his ears and he felt hot and tight and like he was on fire. He came back to himself to feel John's soothing strokes and to hear him whispering in his ear that he was all right, that he was in control, that this was about him and that he could move when he felt like it, otherwise they'd all just stay there just like that. Then Lestrade was cupping his head and kissing him, featherlight kisses all over his face while Sherlock just gasped and breathed hot open mouth breaths.
He flexed his hips experimentally and cried out in surprise. It was the most fucking amazing thing he had ever felt. The shift of two dicks inside of him, the way he knew that John was pressed tight up against Lestrade the two of them sharing him, in Sherlock, possessing him, the way they took pleasure from each other, but wrapped themselves around him, around Sherlock. It was so gloriously perfect. He felt surrounded and filled up completely, like he didn't know where he ended and John and Lestrade began.
He flexed again, and keened. He dimly heard Lestrade's moans of pleasure and John's whispered litany of "fuck, fuck, fuck, oh fuck, oh god fuck, fuck."
None of them could really thrust, but if Sherlock took it slow and careful, he could flex and shift just enough to feel them all move against each other. He heard himself begging, moaning please over and over and over again, unsure of what he was asking for. John seemed to know and reached around to grab Sherlock's cock.
Sherlock screamed aloud at the first swipe of John's thumb over the swollen leaking hot head. He felt John's teeth sink into his shoulder and yelled again. Then Lestrade gave an experimental shallow thrust and he was lost. It was too much, the feeling was just too much and he was reduced to nothing but millions upon millions nerve endings firing at once.
When he came back to himself he was on his side, curled up against Lestrade's body, wrapped around him, and completely surrounded by John at his back. John was whispering to him over and over, words that didn't make sense, as he shook and shuddered and seemed completely not in control over his own body.
He eventually started making out words. They were telling him that was amazing, that he had never come so hard, or looked so wrecked, that he had done such a good job, that he was amazing, that he was the best they had ever had. He smiled and they stopped.
"Sherlock?" Lestrade asked.
"Oh fuck," was all he could respond with. John chuckled behind him.
"Yeah," he breathed against Sherlock's back. Lestrade nodded in response.
Sherlock awoke a few hours later, they were all still tangled up, sticking from come and lube everywhere, hot but comfortable. He tried to sit up and was surprised to find his arms were still shaking, his body still wrecked from what was surely the most spectacular orgasm of his entire life. He leaned over an unconscious Lestrade and reached for his phone to enter in the most recent results from his experiment.
He stared blearily at his notes, brain not quite working. Before typing carefully:
Recipient: kestrel337
Author: colebaltblue
Characters/Pairings: Sherlock/John/Lestrade
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: explicit sexual content
Word count: 9,000
Summary: Sherlock Holmes decides to conduct a little experiment to see how many times he and his two lovers can orgasm in a 24 hour period. Because science.
Note: MANY thanks to my tireless beta who dealt with all my "I don't know what I'm doing" angst, read my porn over and over again, and offered up ideas when I was running out of them. As for myself, not my usual cup of tea, so I'd like to thank holmestice for once again giving me the opportunity to crack my knuckles a bit and really go for it. And third, thanks to kestrel337 for providing the prompt as it were, really very inspiring, didn't mean for it to inspire in quite this way, but alas, here we are.
Greg Lestrade's phone broke the pre-dawn stillness in Sherlock's bedroom. He groaned in protest at the insistent ringtone he used for calls from the department. Sherlock had mewled in protest as Lestrade had disentangled himself from sheets, blankets, and the sprawled naked limbs of his bed companions.
John Watson awoke briefly when Lestrade had slipped from the bed and offered a few mumbled mostly-asleep words of comfort as Lestrade had quickly dressed in the cool dark of the room. He kissed John softly and rolled his eyes as Sherlock immediately took advantage of his departure to sprawl out over the warm spot he had left behind. The door made barely a sound as it closed behind him.
Sherlock Holmes had successfully wrapped up a case in Europe and was finally home in his own bed for the first time in weeks and planned to take full advantage of that by remaining there as long as possible. He looked at the clock with bleary eyes and nearly protested vocally when he saw the numbers read four-something. But last night had been one of the rare nights when the three of them were all home together and not busy or distracted so they had taken full advantage of it. Hours of sex had left the three of them a snoring and satiated pile of limbs, sweat, and flushed skin shortly before midnight. Just before they had all dropped off to sleep, John had murmured, "I think that might be a new record," in a dazed voice.
Sherlock's brain had fixated on the words, turning them over and over again, keeping him from dropping off to sleep. It had been a new record for a single uninterrupted session, but what had not left Sherlock alone was the thought that it was also a great start to breaking another record, that of the most times in a twenty-four hour period. And perhaps, as a challenge he would attempt to set it without either John or Lestrade catching on. He fell asleep with a smile on his face.
Not one to sleep easily when he had an experiment to conduct, Sherlock waited briefly while John fell back into deep and contented sleep before he reached for his phone and brought up the notes from last night.
He had discovered early on in their relationship that both of his lovers enjoyed what seemed to be a rather short recovery period after sex. It made for exhausting but enjoyable sessions for the three of them together, but it made him wonder just how quick their recovery periods could actually be when truly put to the test. A scientific experiment of sorts, how many times could the three of them come in a single twenty-four hour period.
For a single session, they had managed eight climaxes between the three of them more than once. Last night, Lestrade and Sherlock had enjoyed three each and John had been satisfied with two. John rarely came three times in a single session, but enjoyed morning sex and often was the only one to orgasm if the three of them indulged in "morning after" sex. Sherlock did recall one rather memorable day a few months ago where he and John had enjoyed lazy morning sex after Lestrade went to work and then had convinced Lestrade during his lunch. But that had been it, usually after a night like last night, the three of them wouldn't make a special effort to be together to the day after and Lestrade might even stay the night at his apartment.
But for this little experiment, that would simply be part of the challenge: Sherlock would attempt to bring John, Lestrade, and himself to a record number of orgasms within a 24 hour period all while still going about a normal day. And all the more satisfying if he managed to do it without them catching on. More scientific, he supposed, if his subjects were unaware of the experiment.
Lestrade's call had sounded urgent, but not particularly important and Sherlock figured he'd return mid-morning, annoyed at being awoken and called in so early for something that was wrapped up so quickly. So that left him a little time to catch John up, as it were, and begin his little experiment.
Sherlock set his phone down quietly and rolled over to curl into John's back, sliding a hand from his shoulder down his bare hip. John snuffled in his sleep and arched back into him. Sherlock smiled into John's shoulder before scraping his teeth lightly over the firm muscle and gently tonguing the spot. He could feel John's body slowly wake.
"Sherlock…" John said, half in protest, half with desire. He had worked all last week covering for a doctor on an unexpected family leave at a local general practice while Sherlock had gone with his case. Sherlock knew that Lestrade had been working long hours as well and that while he was gone they had not had much time together. Last night had been the culmination of more than a week of relative abstinence for the three of them and he knew John would be willing if not eager for more.
He gently rocked his hips against John's ass as he slid an arm around them and pulled them firmly together. John let out a heavy breath that was almost a moan and Sherlock bit his shoulder again. He slid his hand down and cupped John's half hard dick in his hand, rolling his fingers and squeezing gently. John bared his neck and rolled slightly on his back, presenting himself.
"Fine," he said, a fond smile in his voice, "but you're doing all the work."
"That can be arranged," Sherlock responded, tugging insistently at John's cock, feeling it swell in his hand. He set up a steady rhythm with his right hand, firm strokes up and down with and pulling twist at the crown. He pressed biting kisses into John's collarbone and murmured encouragement into his neck. John's legs fell open and he began to thrust in earnest up into Sherlock's hand, hips picking up a steady rhythm.
He knew John would come easily from this, and if he timed it right, he could get in this orgasm and one more in the shower before John left for work. He felt John's body tensing as his mouth opened and he cried out softly with his impending orgasm. Sherlock kept his rhythm quick and firm, stroking John's cock and thumbing the moisture leaking from his slit around the head. John moaned, hips stuttering as he came into Sherlock's hand and onto his own belly.
"Not that I'm complaining, but..." he trailed off, but Sherlock understood what he was saying.
"Good thing you can keep up," he responded, letting the challenge enter his voice. He knew that John would hear it, even in his half-awake sleep, and be willing to rise to it. He made a note of the encounter in his phone before falling back asleep beside John.
The sound of the shower coming on woke him a few hours later and he glanced at the clock, just after seven. John would shower, and then eat a quick breakfast and have a cup of coffee before he set off for a half-day shift at the clinic. Sherlock slipped out of bed and padded to the bathroom, pulling and stroking at his cock as he did so. The thought of his experiment and the challenge he had set for himself helped bring his cock from half-hard to full erection by the time he made it into the steamy room. John was soaping himself up as Sherlock opened the shower door and stepped in, crowding him against the wall.
"Sherlock!" he said, half surprised half startled. Sherlock moved aggressively, capturing John's mouth in a firm and deep kiss, allowing his hands to slide over John's body firmly and thoroughly as he pressed his hard cock against his stomach.
"Jesus," John hissed as Sherlock pulled his head back and bit as his neck. "Long week?" Sherlock reached for John's hands and reached for both of their cocks, lining them up and thrusting them together into the warm soaping circle of their joined hands, grunting in reply to his question. He squeezed, encouraging John into full hardness as he moved insistently against him. Making John come again, only a few hours after he had come the last time, which was only a few hours after he had come the multiple times before, while still leaving him eager enough for what Sherlock had planned for the rest of the day meant that a hard fuck would get the best results. John would still be loose and open from the night before requiring little preparation and experience had taught Sherlock that prostate stimulation was John's guarantor for a quick orgasm.
He turned John around and pressed him against the shower wall, nudging his legs apart and pressing his cock into the crease of John's ass.
"Missed you," he mumbled into John's shoulder as he reached for the lube they kept in the shower and quickly spread it over himself and pressed his fingers into John's ass. He was still loose and open from the night before and required minimal preparation. Perfect.
"You must have," John responded. Sentiment wasn't really Sherlock style, but John enjoyed feeling wanted and he was happy to oblige. He thrust into John in one long slow thrust, pinching at his nipple with one hand and pulling at his balls with another. John supported them both with his hands and face pressed into the shower wall. After a few thrusts he found John's prostate and set up a punishing pace, leaving John no time to catch his breath. Although John wasn't one normally to want a hard fast fuck against the shower wall, Sherlock knew that John would appreciate not having to hurry to get to the clinic on time. Leaving him satisfied and not annoyed about getting to work on time would be to his advantage later in the day.
Just a few moments later John was crying, "fuck, fuck, fuck" eyes squeezed shut as his body shuddered and squeezed around Sherlock. Sherlock's cocked throbbed as he followed John over the edge, emptying himself into John as he gripped his hips and rode him through the last of his orgasm. He slipped out as they both caught their breath in the warm spray.
John looked at Sherlock with a wry smile over his shoulder. "You are going to wear me out." Sherlock merely smiled in return and reached for the shampoo. John slipped out of the shower as he was massaging his hair and was gone by the time he got out.
After entering the his observations from the shower fuck, Sherlock dried his hair and slipped back between the sheets naked. If he timed it right, he could be back asleep in time to allow Lestrade to wake him up. A sleepy and willing Sherlock often made for an aggressively eager Lestrade, if past experience was anything to go by.
"Well isn't this quite the sight," Lestrade said as he pulled his tie off and unbuttoned his shirt. Sherlock stretched languidly, feigning a bit more sleepiness than was strictly necessary knowing that it would make it easier to convince Lestrade to join him for a morning quickie.
"Did John go to work?" Lestrade asked as he slipped off his trousers.
Sherlock nodded and lifted a hand up to slide down his chest, pulling the sheet with it until it reached his waist. He allowed the sheets to bunch there, knowing what he looked like, and presenting himself on display to Lestrade.
Lestrade's breathing quickened and he stopped for a moment to observe. Sherlock suppressed a smile as he slipped his hand beneath the sheet and stroked himself slowly. Lestrade enjoyed watching him, and the little show he was putting on would be more than enough to convince him to come back to bed.
Lestrade left his boxer briefs on as he crawled up the bed towards Sherlock and pushed the sheet away from him. He smiled when he saw Sherlock's hand stroking his now hard cock. He sat back on his heels and drew Sherlock's legs up and pushed them open, displaying him to his heated gaze.
"Shall I fuck you good morning?" he asked as he watched Sherlock's hand work his cock. Sherlock bit his lip and nodded arching his back and pressing his cock through his hand slowly. He kept his movements smooth and slow with a touch of eager submission. Lestrade made a soft noise in the back of his throat as he reached for the lube on the night stand.
"Shall I fuck this pretty little ass of yours?" he asked as he drizzled lube on his fingers and pressed them to Sherlock hole. "Shall I push into you, fill you up, make you whimper, make your legs shake, as I fuck into you over and over and over again?"
Sherlock moaned softly and shuddered. "Yes," he said, softly. "Please."
"I'll fuck you with my pants still on," Lestrade said as he pulled his cock out and spread lube over it. He scooted up, pushing Sherlock's legs up and out, encouraging him to curl his back and present his ass. Like John, he was still loose and open from the night before and took Lestrade's cock in with one long smooth stroke. He cried out again at the feeling of being almost over full, right on the edge of pain, as Lestrade thrust shallowly before pulling almost all the way out and pushing roughly back home. Lestrade fucked him hard and fast, coming with a cry of his own. He pulled out after catching his breath and sucked Sherlock hard and deep until he came down his throat. They both collapsed on the bed, breathing hard, bodies flushed from the sex.
Sherlock made a soft sound and carded his fingers through Lestrade's hair. He could feel Lestrade smile against his thigh. Then he furrowed his brow and sniffed.
"Did you bring me breakfast?" he asked.
Lestrade snorted. "No, I bought myself breakfast, but since you were so good, I'll share it with you after my shower. I just came home to see you, but I have a few errands to run this morning." Lestrade got up and patted Sherlock on the hip. "I'll be right out, don't eat it all before I'm back."
Lestrade stepped into the bathroom and closed the door. When Sherlock heard the shower come on he sat and reached for his phone. Four each for Lestrade and John, five for him. He wondered if he could get to eight each before tonight when his twenty-four hours would be up.
Lestrade had shared half of his breakfast sandwich with Sherlock and made him coffee before he left for his errands with a kiss. It didn't take long after the door and shut downstairs before Sherlock had come up with a plan for that afternoon. It would be easier if he kept them all roughly around the same number of orgasms at roughly the same time period throughout the day, it'd certainly make their evening when he'd have to squeeze, possibly quite literally, the last few out of his partners in order to set this record, if he could ensure they all had at least one, possibly two more throughout the day. He fetched John's laptop.
It didn't take him long to get it set up. Sherlock settled in on the couch with the laptop in front of him and got to work. After a moment he was sufficiently hard, and set the laptop to record. He unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down off his hips, pulling his cock out and biting his lip while he looked directly into the camera. Although Lestrade had more of the voyeur streak, John would appreciate this personal porn show a bit more. And if Sherlock's timing was right, John would would drag Lestrade along with him.
He jacked himself thoroughly, taking his time. Playing it up for the camera, moaning, letting his pleasure show on his face, playing with his nipples, his balls, stroking his cock two handed. When it was over, he stopped the recording and cleaned himself up. A few more minutes and he had the laptop set to send him a text when the video was watched and the video set to repeat until stopped. And another few clicks and he set up the camera to turn on remotely to a direct feed to his phone. John wouldn't be happy if he found out, but it'd allow him to at least observe when John watched the video and whether or not Lestrade joined in. For science.
He left the laptop on the bed in the bedroom and the toys and lube out from last night. Hopefully that would be enough of a clue for John. In the meantime, he had a few things to take care of himself, experiments that he left running down at the lab he borrowed at the university and a few contacts he needed to touch base with after being out of town for a week.
It was a few hours later, mid afternoon, when his phone beeped with a message that John had started the video. Sherlock was alone in the lab, but he slipped his headphones in and set the phone next to his microscope with the feed on and continued to work. John stopped the video after just a moment and left the room. But he came back a few minutes later, changed, obviously been to his room, and the kitchen, and was now carrying a cup of tea. Really, a cup of tea and a pair of casual bottoms to sit down and watch one of his partners jerk himself off, Sherlock thought. John really could be the epitome of lazy in his sex.
John watched the video through twice and then spent another twenty minutes looking through porn videos online, but still not having a wank. Sherlock caught him checking his phone a few times and realized he was waiting for Lestrade. After a few more minutes, John's phone chimed again with his text alert, and he smiled and queued up Sherlock's video. Lestrade must be almost home.
"Sherlock left us a present." John said. Sherlock picked his phone up and made himself comfortable on his chair to watch.
"Did he now?" Lestrade asked, and came and leaned over John to get a better look at the screen. Sherlock's phone beeped as John pushed play on his video. They both watched it, half smiles playing across their lips, for a few minutes. Sherlock was getting a little sick of hearing himself moan. Lestrade removed his jacket and his shirt and took off his belt, sitting behind John on the bed in his undershirt and trousers and leaned in and put his chin on John's shoulder. John turned his head a little and kissed him, reaching for his arms and drawing them around himself. It was cute, sweet, and not quite what Sherlock was looking for from the two of them if this was supposed to go the way it needed to. The video looped.
Lestrade turned his head to kiss John's neck as he kept his eyes on the video. His hands went to John's hips, fingers splayed. John's head tipped back and melted into Lestrade.
"What do you want?" Lestrade asked as he watched Sherlock tug at his balls and twist his hand around the crown of his dick.
"I want-" John cut himself off with a moan as Lestrade pressed the heel of his hand against the bulge in his pants. "I want," he tried again. "I want you to fuck me," he finally breathed out, turning his sigh into a moan when Lestrade cupped his balls and squeezed. John moved the laptop to the bedside table, giving Sherlock a rather better view than he could've hoped for. Sherlock watched as John and Lestrade slowly stripped each other, with smiles, and murmurs, and kisses, licks, and caresses. They ended up on their sides, Lestrade behind John as they both faced the laptop.
Lestrade pulled John's leg back and over his hip, opening John and encouraging him to sink back on his cock and set the pace himself. They fucked slowly, Lestrade holding John, eyes on the laptop, hands stroking John's chest, hips, legs, and brushing gently against his dick. Sherlock smiled and he tamped down on his own desires. It was sweet, nothing like the rough fuck that he had enjoyed from Lestrade earlier, or from the quick and dirty fuck he had given John in the shower. John's eyes fluttered closed and he gave himself over to Lestrade's care. John wasn't so much a bottom as he happily gave himself over to his partner, his pleasure coming from the pleasure they took in his body.
Lestrade, however, was alpha through and through and it was what originally had gotten him invited into Sherlock and John's bed in the first place. He had looked at them one evening with burning eyes when Sherlock stroked John's hip lazily while they entertained a small group at their flat after the conclusion of a particularly trying case. It was a possessive look, although he didn't have any reason whatsoever to be giving it. Sherlock had caught it though and used his deductions about exactly what that look was about to play a little game with Lestrade all evening.
Catching Lestrade alone in the kitchen he upped the ante a bit, playing off of the subtle teasing and taunting from the evening and using carefully calculated body language to make it clear to Lestrade he was his for the taking. Lestrade had looked to the other room, clearly thinking of John. Sherlock hooked a finger in the waist of his trousers and drew him in. "He won't mind," he said, tipping his head to the side and just barely parting his lips in a clear invitation to kiss him.
"I mind." Lestrade had answered and moved to step back.
Sherlock followed him, crowding him against the kitchen counter. "Perhaps I should have been more clear," he said. "John would absolutely not mind as long as he could come too. Which is something that I highly doubt you'd mind."
Lestrade froze and Sherlock could practically hear the thought turn over in his head. He bit his lips, then licked them and stared directly at Lestrade's before looking back up into his eyes. Lestrade and surged up and captured Sherlock's mouth in a powerful and rough kiss. His hands landed on Sherlock's hips and grabbed them, pulling him in tight against his own as his teeth bit down on his bottom lip. John walked in and froze in the doorway, head tipped, face expressionless. Sherlock broke the kiss and looked over his shoulder at John, leaning into Lestrade who froze at the sight of John. Sherlock ran his hands up Lestrade's arms and around his neck before he could panic and tilted his head towards John, offering. John gave him an almost imperceptible nod.
"At least wait until everyone else is gone," he said before he turned and walked out of the kitchen and started sending everyone else home. Lestrade had followed him out to the sitting room and said his goodbyes as Sherlock had gone into his bedroom to change the sheets and dig a box of condoms out. Then he slipped back into the kitchen to observe John and Lestrade.
Lestrade stood awkwardly by the fireplace as he watched John usher the last guest out the door and close it behind them. He locked it and turned back to look at Lestrade. He rolled his eyes before smirking and shrugging his shoulders in a gesture that seemed to say, 'I'm game if you are.'
"John," Lestrade said, stepping towards him. "I don't want," he stopped, unsure of what he was supposed to say. "I've been down this road before," he said, starting again, and stepping forward until he was within reaching distance of John, although he kept his hands at his side. "If you're doing it for him, this won't work out for any of us."
John huffed a laugh. "I'm not doing this for him, Greg." He reached forward and caught Lestrade's hand in his and pulled him in, tipping his head up for a kiss. It was a comfortable and easy kiss, as if they had kissed a thousand times before. They were both smiling. John tipped his head towards where Sherlock was standing. Lestrade smiled and nodded, leaning in to kiss John again.
They had fucked that night, all three of them in a tangle on Sherlock's bed. The next morning was surprisingly comfortable, John and Lestrade sharing coffee in the kitchen before they kissed goodbye and slipped out the door to work, leaving Sherlock asleep in the bed. A few months in, Lestrade had mentioned that he wasn't seeing anyone else and John had suggested that they could forego condoms if they were exclusive with each other. Sherlock had agreed and that was that.
John and Lestrade had always been a bit more tender with each other, prone to kisses and caresses and the casual affection that Sherlock found exhausting. He had banished them from his room more than once when he was deep in a case and his brain too occupied to think about sex let alone affection. He was glad for Lestrade for John's sake at those times. And when he was done with his case and looking for a quick fuck to satisfy the biological urges he had been denying himself, Lestrade or John or both were always there and obliging.
John provided a sort of companionship to Lestrade, a chance to unwind and be normal after the demands of his job. If all he had to come home to was Sherlock, they would've killed each other within a matter of weeks. But John was there to watch telly with him, or go to the pub, or even just be a warm body to curl up with. Just as he was there for Sherlock when he was giddy with excitement over a case, eager to end a chase through London with a fuck against their door.
Sherlock watched as John rocked back onto Lestrade's thick cock. They kept up a steady rhythm, as John's moans grew more pronounced and louder and Lestrade whispered encouragement into his ear. He could hear his own moans over theirs, coming from his video, and as he reached his own climax he saw their eyes riveted to his video as they fucked themselves to climax. He smiled. Perfect.
Two hours later Sherlock rose from his lab table and stretched. He had a text on his phone from John, requesting Indian takeout for dinner with his and Lestrade's order. Sherlock sent a quick reply. John and Lestrade wouldn't necessarily be eager to start anything when he got home, but after a few hour break from their afternoon sex, he could encourage them to a few more orgasms. He could do it. Surprise was out, he had done that this morning, and so was porn, that had been that afternoon. He had until he arrived home with dinner to come up with another idea.
He let himself into his flat an hour later, slightly damp from London's evening rain, carrying a take out container from an Indian place near the university that he knew to be an old favorite of John's. He could hear John's tv on upstairs in his room, the only place there was one, set the food down in the kitchen, and stripped out of his outwear before heading upstairs.
John and Lestrade were laying side by side on John's bed and Sherlock paused in the doorway and grinned at them. They both looked up at him and smiled in reply. He stepped forward and crawled up the bottom of the bed to lay in between them, arm thrown across John, and legs tangled with Lestrade's. Both of them shifted slightly to accommodate him, and he felt John's fingers slip into his hair and rub his scalp gently while Lestrade's found their way up under the hem of his shirt and stroked his skin at his waist. Sherlock snuffled and rubbed his face against John's shoulder.
"How was your day, dear?" John asked, a wry note in his voice as he watched the telly.
"Productive." Sherlock replied.
John grinned. "Experiments going well?"
Sherlock nodded.
They all three lay there comfortably for a bit.
"Did you bring home dinner?" John asked after the program they had been watching ended and before the next one began. Sherlock nodded and slid his hand down to John's thigh.
"I suppose we should eat," Lestrade said softly, but no one moved.
Sherlock began stroking John more purposefully, strokes might seem casual but were meant to arouse. With John half paying attention to the telly and half asleep, he probably wouldn't catch on to what Sherlock was doing until he was halfway convinced to go along with it already. He nudged his hips back into Lestrade's side gently, encouraging him just a bit subtly as well. It took a few more minutes before John sighed and shifted his hips slightly, an unconscious signal that he was at least somewhat interested in where this was going.
Sherlock sat up and turned to look at both of them, he caught John's brief surprise before arousal took over and he looked at Sherlock questioningly. Sherlock leaned forward and kissed John thoroughly before sitting up again and leaning over to kiss Lestrade with the same enthusiasm.
"I thought we were going to eat dinner?" John asked.
Sherlock shook his head.
"This first, then dinner," he said, reaching for Lestrade instead of John. He slid a hand up Lestrade's thigh towards the gentle swell of his groin. He cupped his hand over Lestrade's penis and massaged gently as he felt it growing more firm in his hand. John watched for a moment before he caught Sherlock's chin and pulled him in for another kiss. Sherlock didn't stop stroking Lestrade and could feel his interest grow as he watched Sherlock and John kiss beside him. When he felt Lestrade's hips shift under his hand and his interest grow from merely intrigued to definitely paying attention now he shifted and moved to kiss him, his other hand going to John's lap as he shifted his weight back to balance. He felt Lestrade's smile through his kiss.
"Not that I want you to go away again, Sherlock," John said as he watched Sherlock and Lestrade kiss, "but if this is what you come back like…"
Lestrade murmured his agreement and moved one hand to join Sherlock's as it massaged John's cock through his jeans and the other to cup Sherlock's jaw and hold him. When Sherlock broke this kiss to sit back and stroke at both of their cocks Lestrade smiled and winked at Sherlock before leaning over to kiss John. Sherlock watched as they kissed.
He reached for Lestrade first, pulling at the elastic waist of the running bottoms he wore until his cock popped free and slapped against his belly. He hissed in protest, but Sherlock bent down and swallowed it whole and it turned into a gasp of pleasure. Sherlock looked up to see John and Lestrade kissing as he worked Lestrade's cock in his mouth. John was moaning softly as Sherlock and Lestrade worked his cock with joined hands. He stopped and watched them for a moment before encouraging Lestrade to move down the bed. When he was laying on his back, Sherlock helped John strip out of his bottoms and waited while John crawled up and straddled Lestrade's face. Watching, he timed it perfectly and sank back down on Lestrade's cock with his mouth right as John sunk into Lestrade's.
Sherlock worked Lestrade's cock, allowing his spit to slide down and soak his fingers before he slid them back and circled his hole. Lestrade moaned and he heard John's answering gasp as he felt it on his cock. Sherlock pulled off and watched John's ass flex as he fucked Lestrade's mouth. He licked up Lestrade's cock and circled the head with his tongue. But he could tell that Lestrade was too busy paying attention to John than to truly appreciate what Sherlock was doing. So he upped the game.
He slid his hands under Lestrade's ass and pulled up, roughly nudging his legs open and presing his ass cheeks open. Then with no more warning he dipped his head and pressed his tongue firmly to Lestrade's hole. Lestrade jerked in surprise and answering John's yelp had just a tinge of pain to it. Sherlock could see John shift as he grabbed Lestrade's head roughly with his hands, one hand in his hair, and one on his jaw as he and pulled it back, opening his throat, before plunging in hard and fucking Lestrade's mouth with short sharp jerks. It was only a moment before Lestrade's body began to quake and quiver, his orgasm coming fast and hard, his hole flexing around Sherlock's tongue and head held fast by John.
John and Lestrade came nearly simultaneously, John with a loud shout and a string of expletives and Lestrade with a moan smothered around John's cock, shooting all over his own belly. John pulled off Lestrade and half collapsed next to him, breathing hard. He looked at Sherlock whose tongue still fluttering at Lestrade's hole and hand still milking his cock. He reached forward and caught some of his own semen where it had dribbled out of Lestrade's mouth when he had been unable to swallow it all. John smeared his thumb through the mess cooling on Lestrade's belly and looked at Sherlock. He leaned forward and grabbed Sherlock's hair, pulling him up off Lestrade with one hand and reaching forward with his other, a mix of his and Lestrade's semen on his thumb. He pressed it into Sherlock's mouth, past his swollen red lips. Sherlock sucked it in and fluttered his tongue against it.
John nodded once and grabbed Sherlock's jaw with both hands and yanked him. Sherlock nearly tumbled into John, caught off balance before he felt Lestrade's hands on his hips, steading him. Lestrade guided him up to straddle his stomach and encouraged him to rock against his sweat and semen slicked belly. He pressed Sherlock's cock down into the mess and Sherlock leaned forward, biting at John's neck while he rubbed himself off against Lestrade. He tried to pull back to gasp, but John tightened his fingers and held him in place, face buried in John's neck. Sherlock whimpered and pulled his hips back just enough to get his hand around his cock to jerk himself hard as he came on Lestrade's belly, his hips still held firm in Lestrade's grasp. Sherlock yanked his head away from John's grasp and gasped for breath. John gave him a slow dangerous smile and Sherlock looked down to see Lestrade's dark eyes hungrily watching them.
"Dinner, then?" Sherlock asked, swallowing thickly. He knew that look John was giving him. He was formulating Plans for later and Sherlock was in grave danger of losing complete control of this experiment. Lestrade rolled over and sat up, reaching for one of Sherlock's discarded shirts on his bedroom floor to mop up his stomach, oblivious to the moment.
John got up as well and pulled on a pair of new bottoms and ran his hands through his hair. As he came around the bed, Lestrade caught him by the waist and pulled him in tight against him, nuzzling into his neck and saying something Sherlock couldn't quite catch. He huffed at their display of casual affection and rolled his eyes. John looked at him and rolled his eyes right back as he made a show of cuddling into Lestrade and murmuring an answer before kissing him softly. He turned to leave the bedroom, but Lestrade caught him again, and wrapped his arms around him from behind, stumbling out the bedroom door and down the stair still plastered to John's back.
Sherlock dove for his phone.
When he came down to the kitchen a few minutes later, he saw Lestrade crowding John at the kitchen table and John laughing and playfully pushing at him while he dished up their lukewarm food. He rolled his eyes and stepped around them, making a show of annoyance as he went into his bedroom to change into his pyjamas, a pair of soft flannel bottoms and a worn t-shirt. He came back out and leaned against the refridgerator and watched them. Lestrade was often cuddly after sex and when they were all in bed together, Sherlock enjoyed the way that he'd wrap himself around the two of them, tucking in legs, chins, heads, arms, elbows, feet, and hands until they were all just so. Then he'd stroke gently at Sherlock's back, hip, arm, leg, or whatever body part he could reach and nuzzle gently against any exposed skin. But he couldn't seem to tolerate that kind of contact when they were in the sitting room, kitchen, or really anywhere else. John was happy to be cuddled by Lestrade, in the bedroom or out and Sherlock couldn't help but smile at the picture of sweet domesticity his two lovers presented. He stepped up to the table to grab his plate of food, preferring to eat now rather than to wait for it to be heated.
Sherlock took his food into the sitting room and curled in a tight ball in what he thought of as his chair, balancing his plate on his knees. Lestrade came in carrying his and John's plates and John balanced drinks for all of them. They all settled into easy conversation about their day, Sherlock's recent trip, John's work at the clinic, and Lestrade's case.
It wasn't long after they finished before Sherlock started eyeing them carefully. If he was going manage to complete his experiment, they would all have to get to bed soon. But looking at Lestrade's comfortable sprawl and John's sleepy relaxed posture he knew he needed to get them moving now. John's hand moved to Lestrade's thigh and squeezed and they both looked at each other before John turned to Sherlock and raised an eyebrow. He tipped his head back in the direction of Sherlock's room.
Sherlock's eyes narrowed at John's suspiciously intuitive response to his thoughts, but he had scientific goals for the evening, recent activities notwithstanding. He nodded in response.
John got up and pulled Lestrade up with him and knelt to pick up the dishes.
"Well go get started while you do the washing up, Sherlock." He said, airily. "Don't be long." Sherlock sighed, but knew it wouldn't be worth arguing. The last time he had done so, there had been consequences and a repeat of that wouldn't help him at all tonight. He watched John pull Lestrade into Sherlock's bedroom.
He finished the washing up in record time and went into his room, half hard with the thought of what John and Lestrade were up to in there. He stopped in the doorway.
Lestrade was sitting on the edge of the bed, legs splayed wide as John knelt between them, both were naked, and John's hands were clasped behind his back as his head bobbed on Lestrade's cock. Lestrade's hands were in his hair, encouraging him on, but his eyes were firmly on Sherlock's.
Sherlock watched and palmed his cock. Lestrade let go of John's hair and tapped at his shoulders and John immediately released his hands, one hand going to Lestrade's cock, and the other one between his legs to tug at his balls, Lestrade leaned back on his arms and turned his attention to John's blow job. Sherlock watched as Lestrade's hips started flexing up into John's mouth and he caught John's moan of pleasure. Then Lestrade leaned on one elbow and brought his other hand back to John's head and ran his fingers through his hair, encouraging him on as he bit his lip. Sherlock could see the muscles in his stomach flex and flutter as his orgasm approached. Then Lestrade threw his head back and groaned loudly as he came in John's mouth. John pulled off and wiped his chin with his hand and looked up at Lestrade.
Lestrade smiled at him and leaned forward to kiss him softly before helping him stand up and lay down on his back on the bed. He then looked at Sherlock.
"Want to fuck me while I return the favor to John?" he asked. Sherlock nodded walked into the room before stripped quickly. Lestrade positioned himself on the bed, head over John's groin, weight on his elbows and ass in the air. Sherlock grabbed the bottle of lube and crawled up the end of the bed on his knees. He dribbled the lube down Lestrade's ass crack and pressed a finger in as Lestrade started in on John.
Sherlock focused on Lestrade. It wasn't often that Lestrade asked to get fucked, but when he did, he was always an eager and enthusiastic bottom. Sherlock pressed two fingers in and found his prostate. Lestrade grunted and pressed back against him, focus divided between his mouth on John's cock and Sherlock's fingers in his ass. Sherlock stretched him with three fingers and watched him suck John's cock for a minute before he reached down and lubed himself up.
He lined up and sank into Lestrade an inch at a time. Lestrade's tight ass taking him slowly but eagerly. He sank all the way to his balls before he pulled out almost all the way before slowing sinking in again. Sherlock set a slow rhythm as he watched Lestrade's shoulders flex as he sucked John and simultaneously worked himself on Sherlock's cock. It wasn't long before he realized though that this wasn't going to work. For any of them. Lestrade was too focused on sucking John down to enjoy being fucked by Sherlock. And without Lestrade's attention on him, Sherlock knew that an orgasm would be a long time coming, if at all. And John would end up with a sub par blow job. Sherlock pulled out and was annoyed to see it took Lestrade a moment to stop what he was doing and look back over his shoulder.
When he had his attention, Sherlock grabbed Lestrade's hips and yanked him back into his lap and down onto his cock hard, thrusting up firmly. Lestrade cried out. John watched them, not looking too put out by the ending of his blow job. John picked up a gentle rhythm on his cock with his own hand. Sherlock bit his lip in concentration and held Lestrade's hips firmly, guiding him as he thrust up firmly. He ran his hands up Lestrade's chest, holding him and pinching his nipples.
"Watch John," he all but growled in Lestrade's ear. Then Sherlock looked at John who was watching them with dark eyes and wanking slowly. Lestrade groaned.
"Touch yourself, show John how hot he is by getting hard again after just blowing your load down his throat," Sherlock demanded as he thrust hard into Lestrade. Lestrade groaned again and Sherlock could feel his hand working himself hard as he watched John while Sherlock fucked him hard. It didn't take long before Sherlock was coming hard. He pushed Lestrade down so he was on all fours on the bed, next to John.
"Your turn, John," Sherlock said in a sing-song voice. John scrambled up and took up position behind Lestrade while Sherlock lay down to watch. John thrust into Lestrade in short sharp thrusts until he was buried, then he set up a punishing pace. Hips snapping, balls swinging, thighs slapping. Lestrade panted and collapsed onto his elbow, head smashed into the pillow, eyes glazed over and mouth open with his ass up in the air, hand still working his cock furiously. John knocked his hand out of the way and took over, pushing Lestrade's cock into his own hand with the force of this thrusts from behind.
Lestrade and John collapsed in a heap a few minutes later, John crying out in completion and shaking with the force of his orgasm, Lestrade crying out in frustration as he slowly humped the bed, turned on, hard, and leaking all over again but unable to come again yet. He mewled into the bed beside Sherlock, fucked to the point of need and want, but unable to do anything about it. John lay there panting on the other side of him, trying to control his breathing.
"Sherlock," John said. It was a request and a plea.
Sherlock encouraged Lestrade to roll over and once he was on his back, grabbed his cock and lowered himself down onto it, rocking slowly and comfortably. Lestrade cried out and tried to thrust up into Sherlock, but Sherlock placed a warning hand on his chest and kept his movements slow and steady. He carefully fucked himself on Lestrade's cock, keeping Lestrade hard and wanting, but not building towards an orgasm, not yet. They had all come so many times already, that if he tried hard and fast again, they would all just end up frustrated and unable to orgasm. He could keep this up for hours if he wanted - that might prove to be an interesting experiment he could try next, in a few days, when they had all recovered from this one, to see how long he could keep John and Lestrade hard but without coming, he thought. He smiled and circled his hips, drawing a cry out from Lestrade.
Sherlock lay forward on Lestrade's chest, nuzzling into his neck, letting Lestrade take over thrusting duties for a few minutes. Their positions meant that Lestrade could only thrust shallowly, cock barely moving in him, teasing more than it satisfied. He lay there, grunting softly with every thrust and eyed John who was looking like he was beginning to recover.
Sherlock was exhausted and it was oh so sweet just to be fucked like this, little motions, that would allow the two of them to lay here for a long while yet. Sherlock shifted his hips slightly so his own hardening cock could press against Lestrade's sweat soaked stomach. The angle and friction would bring him to orgasm eventually on their own, he realized to his surprise. He gripped the bedsheets beside Lestrade's head, fingers clenching and unclenching.
"John," Lestrade breathed underneath him. "John," he moaned again. Sherlock pushed himself and looked down at Lestrade in confusion. He was riding, Lestrade, not John, so why was he moaning his name and not Sherlock's. Lestrade was looking at John, face flushed and glistening with sweat. His pupils were blown wide, lips bitten red and swollen. He looked seriously fucked. His hands went to Sherlock's hips and stroked down them.
"John, please," he said one more time and Sherlock could see John nod out of the corner of his eye. Lestrade looked up at Sherlock and reached up to stroke his face before he pulled him down for a long slow kiss.
He broke the kiss to whisper, "that's it baby, just like that."
"Like what?" Sherlock finally asked as he felt John move off the bed and then come crawling back up behind him. He felt John's hands on his body, long soothing strokes, petting, gentling, as Lestrade slowly stopped moving under him.
Lestrade looked up at him. "Is it alright if John fucks you too?"
Sherlock searched Lestrade's face wondering if he was understanding correctly. His brain didn't seem to be working quite as normally did.
"You mean?" he asked, breathlessly, unsure, but strangely turned on by the idea. Lestrade nodded.
"Only if you want to, you don't have to, but we'd like to try it if you're willing."
John spoke up in a quiet voice behind him, hands still soothing over his back and flank.
"Only if you want to, we'll go slow and stop if you're uncomfortable, but I'd really love to try it."
Sherlock thought about it for a moment before carefully nodding.
"What should I do?"
Lestrade grinned and pulled him in for a gentle kiss, cupping his jaw gently.
"Just this, just lay here and breathe. Let John do all the work."
Sherlock felt John fingers at his ass, stroking around the spot where he was joined with Lestrade. Lestrade kept up soothing strokes on his head and neck and upper back, anywhere he could reach and started murmuring softly to Sherlock. Words of encouragement, telling him how beautiful he was, how sexy, that he was a good boy, how hot he made him, the words didn't matter, but the soothing cadence did.
He felt John nudge up behind him and position himself. He stiffened slightly anticipation, but John stopped and stroked him until he relaxed again. It hurt when John started slowly pressing in, but he kept up the soothing strokes on his back, pressing against his lower back if he started to tighten up too much. Lestrade kept murmuring, encouraging him to relax. It burned and Sherlock felt full, over full, stretched tight, and unable to move. He was losing track of time as John slowly and carefully worked himself all the way in.
But he could tell when it happened because everthing stopped for a moment. There was a roaring in his ears and he felt hot and tight and like he was on fire. He came back to himself to feel John's soothing strokes and to hear him whispering in his ear that he was all right, that he was in control, that this was about him and that he could move when he felt like it, otherwise they'd all just stay there just like that. Then Lestrade was cupping his head and kissing him, featherlight kisses all over his face while Sherlock just gasped and breathed hot open mouth breaths.
He flexed his hips experimentally and cried out in surprise. It was the most fucking amazing thing he had ever felt. The shift of two dicks inside of him, the way he knew that John was pressed tight up against Lestrade the two of them sharing him, in Sherlock, possessing him, the way they took pleasure from each other, but wrapped themselves around him, around Sherlock. It was so gloriously perfect. He felt surrounded and filled up completely, like he didn't know where he ended and John and Lestrade began.
He flexed again, and keened. He dimly heard Lestrade's moans of pleasure and John's whispered litany of "fuck, fuck, fuck, oh fuck, oh god fuck, fuck."
None of them could really thrust, but if Sherlock took it slow and careful, he could flex and shift just enough to feel them all move against each other. He heard himself begging, moaning please over and over and over again, unsure of what he was asking for. John seemed to know and reached around to grab Sherlock's cock.
Sherlock screamed aloud at the first swipe of John's thumb over the swollen leaking hot head. He felt John's teeth sink into his shoulder and yelled again. Then Lestrade gave an experimental shallow thrust and he was lost. It was too much, the feeling was just too much and he was reduced to nothing but millions upon millions nerve endings firing at once.
When he came back to himself he was on his side, curled up against Lestrade's body, wrapped around him, and completely surrounded by John at his back. John was whispering to him over and over, words that didn't make sense, as he shook and shuddered and seemed completely not in control over his own body.
He eventually started making out words. They were telling him that was amazing, that he had never come so hard, or looked so wrecked, that he had done such a good job, that he was amazing, that he was the best they had ever had. He smiled and they stopped.
"Sherlock?" Lestrade asked.
"Oh fuck," was all he could respond with. John chuckled behind him.
"Yeah," he breathed against Sherlock's back. Lestrade nodded in response.
Sherlock awoke a few hours later, they were all still tangled up, sticking from come and lube everywhere, hot but comfortable. He tried to sit up and was surprised to find his arms were still shaking, his body still wrecked from what was surely the most spectacular orgasm of his entire life. He leaned over an unconscious Lestrade and reached for his phone to enter in the most recent results from his experiment.
He stared blearily at his notes, brain not quite working. Before typing carefully: