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John looked at himself in the mirror. Strange, being back in uniform, even if it was only for a case. He smoothed the front of his dress coat, ignoring the medals he’d been given for his service. The door opened behind him. “John…”
Sherlock stopped mid-sentence and met John’s eyes in the mirror. John hid a grin and stood a little straighter. He should have figured the Great Detective would have a uniform kink. Suddenly, John was very glad they’d already started sleeping together. He made one small adjustment, pleased with the look in Sherlock’s eyes as the uniform shifted and settled. “Are you going to be able to focus on the case?”
Sherlock barely shifted. John suspected nobody else would have notice he’d moved. “Of course, are you ready?”
John gave a crisp nod and turned sharply on a heel, well aware of Sherlock watching him with predator eyes. “Let’s get this over with, then.”
**
A short time later John was barging back into the flat, ignoring Sherlock trailing behind him. “That was completely unnecessary,” he growled, taking his cap off.
“I don’t know what you mean, that was splendid. The private gave me exactly what was needed.”
“You didn’t need me dressed like this, for that. You’re lucky I even still have this in storage.” He moved to unbutton his jacket, but then Sherlock’s hand was there, stilling him.
John looked up at him. “Sit down!” he barked.
Sherlock never sat down so fast in his life.
John regarded him and put the cap back on, pacing around Sherlock. His body was still, for the moment, but his eyes watched John, the desire obvious. “I know exactly why you did this.” John stopped and faced Sherlock, standing at parade rest with his hands behind his back. “You already know I’m a soldier, you just wanted to get me back in this uniform. And don’t deny it.”
“You are acting as though I would cater to base instincts. Desire is simply a matter of chemistry. I…”
“Strip.” Ordered John, cutting him off.
The scarf was off in an instant. “When I return you will be naked and on your knees,” said John as he turned and headed to his room.
Once there, John took a few deep breaths, calming himself. He knew exactly what Sherlock wanted. Opening the same case that had held his uniform, he pulled out the last item. Swagger sticks were far out of fashion, but he’d bought it on a whim. The rattan stick was just about half a meter in length with metal on either end. He tested its weight in his hands, then tucked it under one arm, adjusted his cap and strolled back out to the front room.
Sherlock’s face was studying the floor, but John didn’t miss how his cock twitched when he came back out. Some tells even Sherlock Holmes couldn’t keep under control. He had his hands behind his back, one hand holding the other slender wrist. They’d been sleeping together a few weeks now, but John hadn’t really taken the time to appreciate Sherlock in the nude; most of their assignations had been in the wee hours of the morning, quick and dirty and all about getting off or keeping John’s nightmares away. In this position Sherlock was almost like a Greek statue. He had several ideas on how to make that statue move.
Tapping the swagger stick against his hand, John stepped forward. He used it to raise Sherlock’s chin, making him look up and meet his eyes. They were already dilated, confirming for John what his manhood was already telling him. John did his best to keep his face expressionless, but he couldn’t help his tongue darting out to wet his suddenly dry lips. He ran the swagger stick down Sherlock’s chest, watching his face.
“What would you have me do, Captain?” asked Sherlock, shifting imperceptibly again.
That was the game he wanted to play, then. “Hands and knees.” John stepped back to give him room, noticing Sherlock made sure he had plenty of room behind him. He walked behind, dragging the swagger stick along Sherlock’s back until he reached the curve of his ass. Before he could change his mind he raised his hand and brought the stick down with an audible crack, pulling at the last moment to keep from hurting him too badly.
Sherlock jerked and cried out as red bloomed on that porcelain white bottom. John brought it down again and one more time, switching to the other side. He was surprised himself at the erection tenting his pants; spanking had never been one of his kinks. Then again, neither had been any man before Sherlock. And the sight of Sherlock, panting, back arched, all but begging for more, would probably give the pope a hard on. He struck Sherlock one more time to make the strokes even and stopped, panting himself.
“Up on the couch,” he ordered, though this time the order didn’t come out nearly so gruff. Sherlock hurried to obey, resting his arms on the back of the couch, cocking his ass at John in a way calculated to bring the fastest reaction. Setting down the swagger stick, John stepped over and ran his bare hands along the sensitive skin. Sherlock moaned and John smiled despite himself. He pulled the lube out of his pocket and coated his fingers before getting to work on Sherlock.
Nothing turned John on faster than seeing Sherlock letting go. His head dropped to his arms and he moaned again, rocking back on John’s fingers. John opened his own flies, then reached around to take Sherlock’s erection in hand. “Do you want me to fuck you, Sherlock?”
There was a full body shiver. “Yes,” he said, more quietly then his bodies reaction would seem to indicate. But John knew that was practically a scream for him. He removed his fingers and quickly lubed himself up, glad he knew they were both clean as he pressed himself forward.
There was a moan of John’s own as he felt Sherlock warm and wet and tight around him. He pulled nearly out, then pressed in, deeper, harder, before settling into a hard rhythm, one hand still around Sherlock, the other one gripping his hip tightly. To his surprise, Sherlock keened, clearly loving the way John had taken control, and perhaps the rough feeling of the uniform against his sensitive bottom.
Sherlock came with a shout, John a few moments after, pounding a few more strokes into him. Breathing hard, he pulled out, half-noticing that he’d have to have this uniform cleaned. Discreetly. Sherlock raised his head and looked back at him. A smile twitched on John’s face and he offered his sticky hand to him. “Clean that off, then.”
Obeying, Sherlock watched him with those intense eyes, still blown by lust. Finally John took his hand back. He reached up and took his cap off, placing it on Sherlock’s mop of curls. He gave a nod. “Next time, just ask.”