WYG (wastingyourgum) wrote,

Fic: Lone Wolf (J/L), Chapter 12

Title: Lone Wolf, Chapter Twelve
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Characters:  D.I. Greg Lestrade, John Watson
Pairings: John/Lestrade
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: explicit m/m sex, strong language
Genre: Slash
Words: ~1930

Summary: March 31st, 2010, John and Greg have some unfinished business...

Note: also available on AO3.

First Chapter: ( Chapter One )
Previous Chapter: ( Chapter Eleven )

Chapter Twelve

March 31st, 2010

Greg parked his car in the drive, got out and walked towards his house, trying to ignore the fact his heart felt like it was beating three hundred times a minute.

He had never found it so hard to concentrate as he had on the drive home. The scent coming from the passenger seat had been begging for his attention. To make it worse, every time he'd glanced over at John, the younger man was grinning infuriatingly, apparently only too aware what effect he was having.

The front door slammed shut behind them.

Greg took his coat off and hung it up in the hall.

John did likewise with his jacket then darted to the bottom of the stairs. He paused with one foot on the bottom step and turned back towards Greg. "You got a downstairs loo?" he asked.

"What? Oh, no, just the bathroom upstairs. Second on the left."

"Ta." John scampered up the stairs - and took the first door on the left.

"No - that's... bugger." Greg pounded up the stairs after him. "That's, umm, that's my room - and I didn't know you'd be coming over so it's a bit..."

He stopped dead in the doorway.

"...messy," Greg finished faintly.

John was sitting on the end of the bed, smiling pleasantly at him. "Looks fine to me." He bounced up and down on the mattress a few times. "Is this memory foam?"

Greg nodded mutely.

"I've always wanted one of these." John kicked his shoes off, hurled himself backwards and landed full length on the bed with his hands behind his head. He wriggled his hips and shoulders, making a John-shaped indentation in the thick duvet.  "God, that's comfy - and plenty of room to stretch out, too. I mean, don't get me wrong, my bed at Baker Street is bliss compared to a cot in a tent but this... this is glorious."

Greg watched him, still trying to reconnect his brain to his vocal cords.

John was on his bed.

John was on his bed - just... lying there, letting his scent seep into the bed linens and gradually fill the room, with his eyes closed, and his lips shining where he'd licked them a moment ago, and his pulse throbbing in his neck, and his chest rising and falling with each breath, and the soft hair under the curve of his stomach just visible where his shirt had pulled free from his trousers, and his...

Oh, Jesus... There was no mistaking the not-so-slight bulge on the left side of John's trousers.

John opened his eyes, sat up and leaned back on his hands. "Going to stand there all night?" he asked.

"Thinking about it." Greg's voice sounded to his own ears like it had dropped an octave in the past five minutes.

John held out his hand. "Come here."

Greg sent desperate messages to his legs to just fucking move, dammit! He lurched stiffly towards the bed and grabbed for John's hand like a drowning man being thrown a lifeline.

John lay back down, pulling on Greg's hand so Greg was forced to climb on top of him. Greg ended up with his hands placed on either side of John's head and his knees either side of John's hips.

John's face split into a wide grin. "Now, where were we?"

Greg closed his eyes. He was starting to feel light-headed. "God, John..."

"Hey - you alright?"

"Yes... No... I feel... dizzy, breathless, like I'm drunk or... like I just ran very fast for a long time... " He opened his eyes again and locked them onto John's. "But I always feel like that around you. I got so used to not feeling anything but you... you didn't even give me a choice. I've held out for so long and you... you just showed up and... destroyed all my defences. That first morning, you came into my office, reeking of sweat and gunpowder and... sheer nerve. I mean the balls on you that morning...  You just didn't care and I... I wasn't ready for it. For you... But I'm... I'm  ready now.... and..." He stopped and drew breath. "I'm rambling, aren't I?"

"Little bit," John agreed. "Let me stop you." He pulled Greg's head down to meet his.

It had only been three days since they'd last been here and with everything that had happened it should have felt like a lifetime, instead it felt like no time had passed at all.

The want came rushing back in a flood that almost left Greg breathless. John's tongue practically fucking his mouth and his hands trying to touch every hair on Greg's head did the rest.

Their kissing started slowly, almost lazily, but quickly grew more heated. Hands which at first were content to hold or stroke now groped and tugged impatiently at clothing as they tussled back and forth. Greg's shirt came off, followed by John's jumper and in very short order they were both naked from the waist up.

Greg shifted his knees back and dropped as much of his weight on top of John as he dared. John wriggled his hips to get more comfortable... and Greg gasped as their cocks came into contact with each other through their clothes. "Oh God, John..."

"Feel that? Feel how hard I am for you?"


John put his hands on Greg's chest and pushed him away slightly so they could focus on each other.

"Greg, if you're going to call a halt again, do it now. I swear, I will hunt you down and kill you if this goes any further and then you leg it again."

"No, no more running," Greg promised.

John hooked his finger into the buckle of Greg's belt and raised his eyebrows in a silent question. When Greg nodded he deftly undid it followed by the button and fly of his trousers.

He rolled over, reversing their positions and then slid backwards down Greg's legs and off the bed. He stood up and pulled off Greg's trousers, leaving him in only boxers and socks.

He leaned over and ran his hands up the tops of Greg's thighs. "Fuck, Greg, you are gorgeous, d'you know that?"

"I told you, John - I'm not going anywhere; you can stop with the smooth talk."

John laughed. "You idiot. I'm just telling you what I see - and what I see is fucking spectacular."

John reached for the growing bulge in Greg's boxer shorts but Greg grabbed his wrist and stopped him.

"Condoms! Shit - I don't have any."

John reached into his back pocket. "I do. Total tart, remember?" He tossed a small foil packet to Greg. "Do you want me to wear one as well? I am clean, for what it's worth - though you should never just take somebody's word for it."

"Umm, no, that's OK. I trust you - plus I don't think you can actually give me anything anyway."

"Oh yeah - your insane super-immune system. OK, you open that while I get the rest of my kit off."

Greg tore open the foil, glad of something else to concentrate on other than the curve of John's arse as he tugged down his trousers and pants and bent over.

"Sure I've got some lube here somewhere...." John picked up his trousers and rummaged around in the pockets before producing another small packet. "Aha!"

Greg took out the condom and then swore as he realised he still had his boxer shorts on - not that his erection wasn't making an impressive effort to escape them without any assistance at all.

John laughed and carefully took the condom from him, allowing Greg to lift his hips, push his boxers down his legs and kick them off onto the floor. He laid back with his hands by his sides, nervously clutching at the duvet he was lying on top of.

"Ready?" John asked.

"Yeah - I better put that on now though," Greg reminded him.

"Allow me." As he spoke John climbed up onto the bed and straddled Greg's lower legs. He carefully rolled the start of the condom over the head of Greg's cock then, with the filthiest grin Greg had ever seen, he leaned over, placed his mouth over the tip and slowly rolled the rest of the condom down Greg's length using his mouth.

"Jesus fuck," Greg cursed.

John hummed appreciatively before he slowly drew his lips back with a soft pop. "OK?"

"Y-yes, very," Greg said breathlessly. "Thank you," he added, almost as an afterthought.

John chuckled as he circled the base of Greg's cock with his thumb and forefinger and guided it to his lips again. He swirled his tongue over and around Greg's cock, slowly moving his head back and forth in time with the movement of his fingers.

Even through the latex it felt amazing. Greg put his hand on John's head but he couldn't decide if he wanted to pull John's head away because it was too much or grab his hair and start fucking the back of his throat. He settled for gently pushing his fingertips through the hair around John's ears.

"God, John... that... that feels... fuck... that feels so good."

John smiled and pulled away again. "Good. It's meant to."

"Shouldn't... shouldn't I be doing something for you?"

"You're doing it. You're letting me show you what you've been missing."

He leaned over and kissed his way up Greg's body to his mouth, sprawling across him so his naked erection rubbed tantalisingly against Greg's protected one.

"But don't worry - you're about to do plenty. Here." John reached for the packet of lube, tore it open and squeezed a generous amount out onto Greg's hand. He covered Greg's hand with his and guided it to where their bodies met.  "Yeah, just like that..." He showed Greg how to gently squeeze and stroke both their cocks at the same time, coating them in the slippery liquid.

"Christ, John." Greg groaned as John leaned over to start nibbling and flicking at Greg's nipples with his tongue. He grabbed the back of John's hair with his free hand and dragged him back up to kiss him again, this time much more aggressively.

John grunted with pleasure and tipped his head back, exposing his neck for Greg to attack, which he did with great enthusiasm, sucking vivid marks into John's pale skin as his large hand pressed their cocks together. Greg's free hand latched onto John's hip, fingers digging into the soft flesh, pulling him closer with each thrust.

John put his hands either side of Greg's head, locked his elbows and braced himself, knees spread obscenely wide to allow him to practically sit in Greg's lap. "Been wanting your hands on me for ages, " John confessed in harsh gasps. "Want them on me.. and in me... "

He locked eyes with Greg. "Want you in me."

"God, yes. Just show me how."

"Later," John promised. "Going to do everything with you, Greg."

Greg's movements became more frantic and less co-ordinated as John's words and the mental images they provoked overwhelmed him. He gripped harder, thrust faster...

"Oh Jesus, John... Jesus.. I... Fuck.. fuck.. FUCK!"

Greg's hips bucked so hard he almost threw John off. He groaned and thrust upward a few more times as his climax ripped through him before collapsing back onto the bed.

"Oh... Oh god... shit..." Greg let his eyes close and his head fall back as he relaxed.

"Fuck - you're beautiful when you come," John swore.

Greg opened his eyes again.

John stared down at him intently, biting his lip. His hand was tugging harder and harder at his cock until suddenly he went absolutely still. He closed his eyes and his cock jerked in his hand. Several thick white spurts of come landed on Greg's stomach and chest. "Fuck.. Oh fuck... yeah..."

He opened his eyes again and grinned down at Greg.

John's skin was pink and flushed, his hair was damp with sweat and either plastered to his head or sticking up in all sorts of directions - Greg thought he hadn't seen anyone so gorgeous in his whole life...

Chapter Thirteen )

Tags: char: lestrade, char: watson, fandom: sherlock, fic, fic: lone wolf, pair: john/lestrade, rating: nc17
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