Quick Sherlock/John/Lestrade pr0n [1/2]
anonymous
October 28 2010, 04:27:40 UTC
Sherlock sat on the edge of John's bed, arms folded haughtily across his silky-shirted chest. When John and Lestrade remained in position at an impasse, Sherlock sighed hopelessly.
"Are you going to get on with it or not?" he said bitingly.
John and Lestrade exchanged looks of devilishness.
"After you, Detective Inspector," John motioned toward Sherlock.
Lestrade smirked and waved his hands frantically in the air. "No, no. You first, Doctor."
Sherlock huffed. He was horny and had no time for these silly games. "If someone doesn't come over here and shag me I may have to--"
John had launched himself at Sherlock, catching him mid-sentence, and kissing him hungrily. The latter unbuttoned his own shirt and let it slide off his shoulders to the ground. Lestrade was already on his knees, removing Sherlock's jeans and undergarments. Then he removed his own clothing and switched places with John so the man could also disrobe.
Lestrade pinned Sherlock down so that his long frame nearly met the length of the duvet, and bit at the man's toned neck until little bruises appeared. John fitted himself next to Sherlock and Lestrade and methodically ran his fingers down Sherlock's torso, admiring the protruding ribcage, then his bony hip, and finally that leg that went on for miles. Under his breath John murmured sweet, sweet words, lauding the figure before him.
After Lestrade made his mark and removed himself from all fours he straddled Sherlock's upper arms, and forced his cock into Sherlock's mouth, who nearly retched. Lestrade undulated his hips to urge him on. Sherlock quickly obliged, his pinkish lips surrounding the circumference of the member and tongue dancing along the edge of the head and causing Lestrade to let out a satisfied growl.
John then straddled Sherlock's thick thighs and took the man into his own mouth. He softly tongued the head, shaft and scrotum--keeping a steady and kind lick of his tongue as he went down the line. Sherlock was hiking his hips upwards, squirming at the warm sensation that was jogging throughout his body.
John and Lestrade both pulled off and jumped off the bed, leaving Sherlock in a chest-heaving, hazy-eyed state.
"W-why did you stop--idiots!" he said breathlessly, shooting angry looks between the two other men.
John garnered lube and squeezed it in his hands. He pulled Lestrade toward him so that they were chest to chest, perspiration to perspiration, slithered a hand toward Lestrade's groin, grabbed his cock and slicked it. He promptly slicked his own and winked at Lestrade, who returned with a smirk.
John pivoted. "Turn around, Sherlock," John barked. Sherlock flipped himself around obediently and stuck his arse high in a lazy downward dog position for easy access. John slipped two, then three of his fingers inside. Sherlock gave a muffled moan into the duvet and bit the wool as John hit his prostrate.
Quick Sherlock/John/Lestrade pr0n [2/2]
anonymous
October 28 2010, 04:28:53 UTC
"Fuck, you're so loose," John said through clenched teeth and removed his fingers. "But don't worry. We can accommodate."
Sherlock rolled over to the side as Lestrade and John threw themselves onto the bed and hooked their legs around each others' waists, throbbing cocks side-to-side. Lestrade grasped both of them and pumped his hand several times, allowing cum to leak out of the tips.
"Oh my god, yes," John said lustfully. "Sherlock!" he urged.
"For god's sake, go on!" Lestrade grunted at Sherlock. Sherlock inverse bridged himself over John and Lestrade, his palms pressed firmly into the duvet and slowly lowered himself down onto the weeping members. He eased his arse up and down. Blood rushed to his head, and his eyes widened in pure delight. A moan escaped rather loudly, and he threw his head back in the throes of ecstasy.
"Holy fuck!" he yelled.
"That's it baby, faster," Lestrade commanded. John was incapable of forming any words at this point and simply grunted in approval.
So Sherlock picked up the pace, his curls furiously bouncing in tandem, and let the two cocks of his friends ease in and out of his arse rapid-fire. Sherlock whimpered embarrassingly and audibly as he was about to pass the brink of orgasm.
John was panting and speechless and Lestrade resorted to mumbling obscentities to himself. It wasn't long before John, then Lestrade, spent themselves inside of Sherlock.
Sherlock, a master at dramatic exits, couldn't take the fullness, the heat and the lust any longer. He howled and came vehemently over the edge of the bed and onto the floor.
A few meditative moments later, John and Lestrade were out of the bed and dressed.
"Pleasure doing business with you, Dr. Watson," Lestrade said, amused. He held out his hand.
"Please. The pleasure was all mine," he shook the DI's hand.
"Hey! What the hell did you think this was, a job? " Sherlock's angry voice floated from behind John.
"Well...you're definitely a piece of work," Lestrade said. He laughed and John joined in. Sherlock sulked like a petulant child and hid himself underneath the covers.
END
(Wow. Cheesy last line. Soooorry. :D. I hope someone else fills this too! We need better moar S/L/J).
"Are you going to get on with it or not?" he said bitingly.
John and Lestrade exchanged looks of devilishness.
"After you, Detective Inspector," John motioned toward Sherlock.
Lestrade smirked and waved his hands frantically in the air. "No, no. You first, Doctor."
Sherlock huffed. He was horny and had no time for these silly games. "If someone doesn't come over here and shag me I may have to--"
John had launched himself at Sherlock, catching him mid-sentence, and kissing him hungrily. The latter unbuttoned his own shirt and let it slide off his shoulders to the ground. Lestrade was already on his knees, removing Sherlock's jeans and undergarments. Then he removed his own clothing and switched places with John so the man could also disrobe.
Lestrade pinned Sherlock down so that his long frame nearly met the length of the duvet, and bit at the man's toned neck until little bruises appeared. John fitted himself next to Sherlock and Lestrade and methodically ran his fingers down Sherlock's torso, admiring the protruding ribcage, then his bony hip, and finally that leg that went on for miles. Under his breath John murmured sweet, sweet words, lauding the figure before him.
After Lestrade made his mark and removed himself from all fours he straddled Sherlock's upper arms, and forced his cock into Sherlock's mouth, who nearly retched. Lestrade undulated his hips to urge him on. Sherlock quickly obliged, his pinkish lips surrounding the circumference of the member and tongue dancing along the edge of the head and causing Lestrade to let out a satisfied growl.
John then straddled Sherlock's thick thighs and took the man into his own mouth. He softly tongued the head, shaft and scrotum--keeping a steady and kind lick of his tongue as he went down the line. Sherlock was hiking his hips upwards, squirming at the warm sensation that was jogging throughout his body.
John and Lestrade both pulled off and jumped off the bed, leaving Sherlock in a chest-heaving, hazy-eyed state.
"W-why did you stop--idiots!" he said breathlessly, shooting angry looks between the two other men.
John garnered lube and squeezed it in his hands. He pulled Lestrade toward him so that they were chest to chest, perspiration to perspiration, slithered a hand toward Lestrade's groin, grabbed his cock and slicked it. He promptly slicked his own and winked at Lestrade, who returned with a smirk.
John pivoted. "Turn around, Sherlock," John barked. Sherlock flipped himself around obediently and stuck his arse high in a lazy downward dog position for easy access. John slipped two, then three of his fingers inside. Sherlock gave a muffled moan into the duvet and bit the wool as John hit his prostrate.
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Sherlock rolled over to the side as Lestrade and John threw themselves onto the bed and hooked their legs around each others' waists, throbbing cocks side-to-side. Lestrade grasped both of them and pumped his hand several times, allowing cum to leak out of the tips.
"Oh my god, yes," John said lustfully. "Sherlock!" he urged.
"For god's sake, go on!" Lestrade grunted at Sherlock. Sherlock inverse bridged himself over John and Lestrade, his palms pressed firmly into the duvet and slowly lowered himself down onto the weeping members. He eased his arse up and down. Blood rushed to his head, and his eyes widened in pure delight. A moan escaped rather loudly, and he threw his head back in the throes of ecstasy.
"Holy fuck!" he yelled.
"That's it baby, faster," Lestrade commanded. John was incapable of forming any words at this point and simply grunted in approval.
So Sherlock picked up the pace, his curls furiously bouncing in tandem, and let the two cocks of his friends ease in and out of his arse rapid-fire. Sherlock whimpered embarrassingly and audibly as he was about to pass the brink of orgasm.
John was panting and speechless and Lestrade resorted to mumbling obscentities to himself. It wasn't long before John, then Lestrade, spent themselves inside of Sherlock.
Sherlock, a master at dramatic exits, couldn't take the fullness, the heat and the lust any longer. He howled and came vehemently over the edge of the bed and onto the floor.
A few meditative moments later, John and Lestrade were out of the bed and dressed.
"Pleasure doing business with you, Dr. Watson," Lestrade said, amused. He held out his hand.
"Please. The pleasure was all mine," he shook the DI's hand.
"Hey! What the hell did you think this was, a job? " Sherlock's angry voice floated from behind John.
"Well...you're definitely a piece of work," Lestrade said. He laughed and John joined in. Sherlock sulked like a petulant child and hid himself underneath the covers.
END
(Wow. Cheesy last line. Soooorry. :D. I hope someone else fills this too! We need better moar S/L/J).
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And I love that ending. HEE!!!
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