Chapter Text
He didn't know why he went to these bloody work fetes. They'd rent an entire place out, boot the staff, open the taps, and drink themselves out in celebration of some major win in a never ending battle of nation on nation, or in this case, nation on crazed non state actor. And there were men dead, which made it a bit of an Irish wake, and a whole mess of stuff that John never kept up with. Work was like a giant skunkworks, and stopping to admire the workings too long usually ended in a demise, career or otherwise. He knew he'd survived a nice, harrowing rescue mission of 007 and a couple other poor bastards off some god fucking forsaken manmade island near India, and that was all he needed to know. It was best to enjoy the free booze, and keep his focus on his area of expertise.
'More suited to administration' had been the pithy summary on one of his appraisals which had been a load of bollocks. John knew they kept him on live missions mainly because of his medical training and the fact it was unusual to have a dead shot and a doctor at the same time. Ridiculous really. Of course, he wasn't even a double o anything.
Still, he wasn't up to jumping off buildings or running on top of moving trains. Apparently the prerequisite was to lack a decent modicum of self-preservation, and the room just shone around Sherlock Holmes as he basked in it. He probably lacked the sheer unbridled ego it took as well, even if he did like it when he worked with the man.
He was a sidekick and if Sherlock was to be believed a woefully inadequate one to be turning up when all the action was nigh on done. John liked to point out that the action was done because he turned up but that fell on deaf ears. The problem was, Sherlock really was that good.
Unbelievably good, even with his injuries. Stoic, too, even if he was moody about it, but stoic when it came down to brass tacks. He was sipping at his lager and watching, half listening to the admiring crowd when someone touched his shoulder.
He startled slightly and looked around. The rehabilitated assistant of their latest nemesis, who reading between the lines was responsible for the mission success. He had been his main patient in the evac and John was frankly surprised to see him up. "You should be sitting down," he blurted out immediately, the epitome of all you shouldn't do in the situation when face with a spy of the opposite number.
"I should be dead, too. I wanted to thank you for that." He'd been shot twice, once to the shoulder, and once skimming the temple in what John wanted to call the closest call he'd seen for a bullet to the head that could've done so much more. "Cheers."
"I can drink to your health at least," John said. "Now please sit down? You've probably got a concussion and bullet wounds aren't like the movies."
"Not the first time I've been shot, you know. Goes with the job." He gestured with his chin towards one of the funny high tables with bars stools around them. "Or are you reluctant to chat with a twice turncoat?"
"Doesn't make it any less painful," John said. "People not talking to you? That doesn't seem right." He was a hero for what he had done. People needed to remember that. Apparently someone had let him out enough to let him spend time with them.
"More like no one knows what to do with me." He had a nice, low, even voice, a bit of a northern accent, and John found himself moving to sit with him. "Not sure myself. Circumstances of it all were weird."
"I think a lot of people find themselves thinking that around Sherlock," John said dryly. He sat himself down. "What are they doing with you the, it is Seb isn't it? That's what you answered to when we were evac-ing."
Covered in blood and completely groggy. It made him wonder what asshole down in medical had probably let him loose for the party, no doubt hoping he'd mix painkillers with alcohol and go out quietly. "Yeah, I go by Seb, Dr. Watson. I think once I've filed enough paperwork, I might get picked up by you lot. Like I said, circumstances with Moriarty were... strange."
"Really? In what way?" Aside from the man being a psychopathic sociopath with a sadistic streak a mile wide.
"I used to be one of you." He gestured towards Sherlock, halfway lifting his nearly empty glass. "And sometimes sacrifices are made. I came over from SAS, I understand that, logically. Viscerally... viscerally, I still have anger management problems that made money a good deal more appealing than god and country."
"Yeah I get that. The army demands a lot one way or another," John agreed. "Let me guess, Sherlock did his mind-reading thing on you."
"Yeah, it was a bit brutal. Felt like a takedown with a therapist. I have to say this place is hiring a better calibre of agent than they used to." He leaned an elbow on the table, and finished his drink, moving casually. "He's done it to you a well?"
"Oh yeah. In our first meeting he didn't even say hello, just pointed out where I had served, that I was a closet adrenalin junkie and my leg injury was psychosomatic," john answered smiling a little. "You get used to a lack of secrets with him around."
"I guessed as much." He set his glass down, and then glanced at John's. "I'll get the next round if you'll tell me your first name, Dr. Watson."
"It's John," he replied. "And if I know him, which I do, you will get bugger all in the way of thanks from him. But hey, you know, thanks for not allowing the apocalypse to happen."
"You're welcome. Hacking banks and assassinating crime bosses, I was okay with. Deploying nuclear arsenals... is too much. Doesn't take a massive backbone to want to stop that." He shifted off of his stool, and good as his word seemed to be headed for the open bar.
John smiled a little as he watched him. He was a fine looking man to his eye at least. He liked the hard lean lines. He wondered absently if Sherlock had tried to seduce him. It was a paradox but Sherlock could act sexy at the click of a finger.
It was all for the job, of course, but it wouldn't have shocked him. He'd seen the man charm women who wouldn't be charmed, and he knew he'd slept with quite a few, though there was some element of myth there. Who *didn't* want to sleep with Sherlock Holmes?
Seb sauntered back, carrying two pints casually, one handed. His shot shoulder was still giving him trouble, or he was being careful of it.
John knew he hadn't been that stoic after his shoulder shot. Certainly not up and about a couple of days afterwards. "Cheers, thanks," he said as Seb joined him. "Got to make the most of the bar."
"Oh yeah. Particularly since they're all celebrating Moriarty's death. There should be a disco ball, he would've appreciated that." He was all smiles at John, taking another sip of his lager as he sat down. "How's field work been for you?"
"Pretty good, when they call for me," John replied. "It's... well, it's usually evacs and rescue missions to be honest. I'm sort of...anti-suave. I have a tendency to wear jumpers."
Most people laughed, and thought John was joking. Or they took it honestly and looked a bit disappointing around the eyes. Seb was smiling, a strangely knowing expression. "It's just a question of how much of a show you're up to putting on. I clean up all right, but I've been known to wear a cardigan with a flannel button down. All those years of the army dressing you."
"Certainly made decisions in the morning easy enough," John agreed. "So SAS...how did you get into that to start with?"
"Naturally good sniper, and an officer. I excelled, and they promoted me over. Then MI6 hired me as an agent, after mil intel supported them on mission." He took a sip of his drink. "And you?"
"Doctor, military doctor, showed an aptitude for running out under fire in risky situations. Wounded, picked up by MI6 before I lost the will to live," he semi-joked. He probably would have gone crazy with normality.
"What war?" It was hard to guess, he supposed, and hard to tell when Seb had left the service, never mind the organization.
"Afghanistan," he replied. He shrugged a little. "I guess most of us ended up in that one, one way or another."
"I was working here by then. And still found myself in country." He looked a little distant and thoughtful as he took another sip. "And that way lies misery. Sorry."
"Didn't mean to bring up bad memories," John said sincerely. It was a dangerous thing to touch on recollections of that time.
The edge of his mouth tugged into a smile again. "It gets hard to avoid. So. You like the work here?"
"I like the field work," John replied. "But I guess in some ways I'm like a...grounding mechanism for someone like Sherlock." He shrugged a little, smiling. "There are worse things to do."
"There are." And Seb had probably done them from that particular tone of voice. The noise level in the place was getting a bit much, and there was a circle of people cheering Sherlock on in what looked like a drinking game sleight of hand. "You want to get in on that?"
"Do you?" John asked. Seb was pleasant company and, well he'd decided to hang around with him one way or another. Sherlock tended to get a little much when he had been drinking.
Sharp and harder to deal with emotionally, and sometimes John just wasn't up to being the man's punching bag. "Best I lay low, given recent events."
"I think I'll hang out with you," John said. "As you've been buying the free drinks." He grinned a little. "I'm not a big party person really."
"I'm a bit under the weather to really get into it, personally,” he grinned. "I once saw an upcoming agent drunkenly challenge M."
"...Oh god, really?" John tried to get his head around that. "What happened?"
"He was exiled to the Southeast Asia station for a number of years before returning home." The voice behind them startled John more than he wanted to admit, though he saw M almost as soon as he started talking. The new M, just the last couple of years, a hardnosed technical official, and John was never sure what to make of the man. "Dr. Watson. Seb."
"Ah, M." Seb twisted a little and raised his glass in acknowledgement. "This is a bit low brow for you."
"I believe in mingling," M replied without even a twitch of amusement. John personally believed he had had his sense of humour surgically removed as a prerequisite for the job. It was probably stuffed and mounted somewhere.
As the prior M had been and the M before that likely. They gave up names and identities, but so did everyone, and when they died the real name went up on the memorial wall. Sherlock wielded his name and his number like a weapon, but most of them didn't.
"This table isn't mingling quality, M." He gestured towards 007. "The party's that way."
"You mean Sherlock holding court," M replied. "He does so like to be the centre of attention."
"You can say that again," John said under his breath. "Other agents were involved."
"Look at it this way, John. When it comes time for someone to take the fall for an entire mission where other agents were involved, it'll still be him at the center of attention." He finished his drink off, watching John and not M.
"Him? He's untouchable at the moment," John said and shrugged only a little embarrassed that he was heard. That was free drink for you. "He's too smart to get caught out." He did admire Sherlock, a great deal in fact but every operation was down to more than one man.
"No one is too smart to get caught out." Seb cleaned his throat, glancing sideways at M, who was quiet and looking thoughtful. Or withdrawn. There was a cheer from the crowd gathered around Sherlock, laughing.
He definitely did not need a barely tolerated sidekick hanging around. "I suppose that is true...otherwise he wouldn't need rescuing," John replied with a faint smile.
"He'd be out there on a paddle boat on his own," Seb agreed, mouth quirking again. M moved on, without a word, but John still felt his presence a little, oddly chilling as he forged into the gathered crowd. "And it would be hand built and solar powered. Somehow."
John gave a huff of a surprised laugh. "Yes, some gadget and a sweet wrapper or something." He looked around. Yes they were all on their way to being completely rat-arsed.
Seb was eyeing his pint as if he was weighing whether to get another one or not. "I'm going to try a shitty old pickup line, and you can hold it against me or not, but... your place or mine?"
John was surprised and not a little flattered. "Do you have a place?"
"I think I've railroaded my way to full access of the infirmary bathroom," he smirked a little, "but no, not really."
"Sounds very romantic," John joked. Well, obviously the attraction was mutual. "If you're up for it we can try mine such as it is."
He was mostly sure the man wasn't on any kind of house arrest, or containment, given that he'd shown up to the fete apparently unescorted. M hadn't seemed concerned. "Better than watching idolatry and drinking games."
"Well I'm not going to say no," John said lightly. "If nothing else it'll be a break from here. C'mon, it's not far but we'll get a taxi."
And they could save energy for, well, whatever your place or mine specifically entailed. John hoped it involved a good shaving, but he'd take anything just then, and Seb's expression was bright and alert as he shifted off of the barstool. "Then lead the way. I'm afraid I don't know my way around London like I used to."
They slipped out of the party, and John tried not be faintly stunned and just a little smug that Seb was interested in him rather than Mr 'double o' suave himself. It wasn't like he would be making a convincing pitch at him or anything because of all the people in the room he was probably the one with the least access to anything interesting.
He stitched people up, and mostly he found out vaguely non useful personal secrets, nothing worthy of a mission, nothing worth shaking out of someone. Once they were outside the bar, Seb snaked an arm around John and leaned in for a kiss.
He was a little surprised but after the initial surprise, leaned into it. It really had been too long since he'd been out with a guy.
It was a good kiss, a little desperate but sparking something definitely. It left a warm feeling that spread from his chest down, and that was all John needed as he pulled back a little and tried to hail a taxi.
It was slightly difficult to concentrate. Everything was rushing to attention away from his brain but he managed it, garbling out his address that was only a ten minute tube stop away really.
He just didn't want to go on the tube. Hated the tube, got inside and thought of everything that could go wrong at every stop, of everything their own people could or might someday do to the tube. They slid into the back, and Seb started kissing him again right away.
"A bit eager are we?" John murmured kissing back. He didn't mind, but people were rarely overcome with passion when they met him.
"Mmm, sometimes it's just nice to meet someone and it's not to fucking get a leg over." Which was a compliment, John supposed.
"Yeah, wouldn't get you much there," John murmured even as they carried on kissing. He tried to remember not to grip any of the injury sites he remembered treating.
He'd passed the man on to other surgeons almost immediately, so it wasn't as if he were a patient ethics violation waiting to happen, and John could just... Relax and enjoy that there was a lean, muscled, handsome man who was pressing him into the backseat of the taxi, kissing over to his earlobe. "That's good...” he murmured. "Fuck, Seb, save a bit for my place.” It wouldn't be long but right now it felt an eternity away.
He exhaled, more a sound and a faint scrape of teeth against his earlobe. "You taste good. And competency is sexy."
"What medical shouting at people?" John asked half joking.
He laughed, smiling as he pulled back a little. "Given that I'm still here, yeah, apparently it worked?"
"We get special training in shouting complete rubbish that sounds technical you know," he murmured as he leaned in to taste Seb's neck. He could taste a little antiseptic lingering
"I knew I missed out on something interesting that they taught the med types. Must go well with the acronym training we got in the army." He exhaled in a thoughtful noise, and glanced up to the rearview mirror as if remembering there was some poor bugger driving the taxi.
"Nearly there," John said noting his look. "As we appear to be cutting to the chase. Not that I'm objecting."
"We can slow things down a bit." He seemed to be trying to gauge John's response, and maybe the guy was just horny. Hell, it had been a while for John as well, so there was no reason to *not* go full tilt.
"I'm really not objecting," John replied backing his words up with an assault on Seb's neck. "If you're not."
"Oh, I want to do things to you that're probably more athletic than I'm feeling," Seb offered, sliding a hand underneath of John's coat. The taxi coasted to a stop, and they were probably the first but not the last overly amorous fare the man was going to get for the night. It was still early.
John tossed the man some money and hastily got out fumbling for his keys. It was a nice enough place considering. "Just in here,” he said unnecessarily but his mind was already in overdrive about what Seb might be thinking.
It was up a flight of stairs, but every step John took, hitched as it was, he as wondering what he might have left out that would be weird, or what someone would judge when they saw. He didn't bring people back often enough to keep it up all the time...
They were barely inside with the light on when Seb started kissing him, though, so maybe he needed to worry less about his housekeeping.
It turned very hot and heavy very rapidly. Fingers under clothes, seeking skin. Jostling for position, gripping at each other, lips tasting skin here, there everywhere. He liked having an active partner, and liked getting out of his clothes in a comfortable hurry. Seb was tall, taller than him, and he could feel it as he was backed up further into the room.
He got his hand up the side of Seb's shirt, fingers on warm skin running over what felt like scar tissue instead of the smooth muscle he was expecting. It made for a feel he liked, even recognised from his own injuries although Seb had more than his share. They were randomly moving around shedding clothing all over, more interested in the contents than what they were getting rid of. His focus was solely on the man, the feel of him, the scent of him, his need. It felt good to be wanted -- not with whatever expectations his last girlfriend usually had, but just wanted, raw, pure want, even if he was half sure any decent bloke with a pulse might've done just then. He could smell antiseptic, and the lingering familiar smells of the infirmary as Seb leaned into John, pushed him up against his hallway wall while he kissed at his neck, bent into him. He needed to turn a light on when they got to the bedroom or they were going to trip over something.
Or the fact that as soon as the light came up Seb reached over and turned it off. "Sorry, don't want this to turn into a charity match."
“Just wanna get to the bed without breaking our necks," John. "Hope you can see in the dark." What the hell, they could trip over stuff.
Seb nuzzled at his neck, and looped an arm around his waist, still walking him backwards. John felt a shoe under his foot, but deftly nudged it away. "I see well enough. Sometimes, you're just not in the mood to explain your scars..."
"I did see them before," John replied just about managing to stay up right as he tried to ease in the direction of the bedroom, hoping there was still enough lube left.
"Some of them. I'm a little fucked up and self-conscious about them," Seb murmured, squeezing John's left asscheek as they finally reached the bed.
"Not going to worry me," John said. "I kinda like this rugged look." And the strength and something that spoke to his need to fix things.
It was part of what made working with Sherlock bearable, that there would be things to fix and clean up after and he was useful. It was a horrible aspect of himself to be aware of, but the psych screening at work had made it abundantly clear.
Sebastian laughed as they manuevered onto the mattress. "If you're sure..."
It was always nicer to have sex in the light.
"Get over here and soon we'll be too busy to give a fuck about anything," John replied as he made sure they tumbled onto the bed.
Seb fumbled the bedside light on, and then leaned back in to pin John down against the mattress, mouth to mouth and oh, Christ, yes, body to body felt damned good naked.
He was lost then to the need to kiss and touch and feeling fire leap to the surface of his skin. John ached with the surge of arousal that made him desperate. He *wanted*, and it felt good to give in to it, to have a gorgeous man kneeling over him, kissing his way down John's stomach as if he'd already decided what he wanted to do.
John grinned. "Got a plan have we?" he asked admiring Seb's lean muscles.
"Take the edge off, and maybe we can just fool around for a while and I can enjoy you." He pressed a kiss against John's stomach. Lovely, lovely lean muscles, even with the pale hard lines and gauges of scar tissue that ran over his shoulder, and down his back, all the way down, shit. "I like your build."
"Yours is amazing," John said appreciatively. "I like that plan.” It was a brilliant plan, and amazing plan and he just wanted to touch and feel.
He was stupidly tipsy, he decided, massaging his hands over the man's shoulders as Sebastian kissed a spot on his hip that made his balls ache.
The tightness in the muscles was evident and he wanted to knead at it. Later because he really was going to go off like a teenager at this rate. It had been a long time really.
Stupidly long, particularly given how often Sherlock got laid. He curled his fingers, brushed the back of Seb's neck and got an unexpected moan as the man cupped his balls.
Back of the neck was a trigger point. He grinned and teased at that area deliberately, seeing if he could get a few more moans and groans. The stroking seemed to be working, and Seb shifted down further, tucking his legs up under him so as to not fall off the bed as he leaned in and kissed the side of John's dick.
"Oh my fucking god," John said and groaned. "This is going to be embarrassingly short."
He sat up a little still petting at Seb. "We're grown men. No one has to be impressed here..." He looked up at John, caught his eyes, and the closed his mouth around the head of John's cock.
It made him gasp feeling impossibly hot. "God, yes..." He put fingers in Seb's hair.
There was no point in pretending to be more suave than he was, and it let him relax, leg muscles clenching as he rocked up a little and Seb responded by sucking him in deeper, letting John fuck his mouth slowly.
It was amazing and he was a little less restrained than he should have been, pushing up into Seb's mouth instinctively. He needed more and pushed for it, swearing mentally he was going to repay the favour. It wouldn't be a hardship to do, given how Sebastian was sucking, firm and slow and lazy, and favouring one arm as he leaned into him. So John somehow wasn't expecting the fingers curling behind his balls.
"Oh my god!" He nearly swallowed his tongue. "Fuck, Seb, I could come right now."
The slow lazy stroke against his perineum made him twist, rocking his hips desperately as Seb kept sucking.
"Definitely gonna..." He couldn't help the burn, the push of need. He was getting sucked off by a really sexy agent, and that was his fantasy life right there coming true. He made a whimpering noise and climaxed almost uncontrollably like he was a fucking teenager.
It was almost shameful, getting off like that, that fast. Seb didn't seem to care, swallowing and pulling back to kiss at John's hip lazily. The skin on his shoulder looked like it had been grafted, once upon a time. "Was it good for you?"
"Seriously. I haven't come that quickly since I was eighteen," he said controlling his breathing. "It's not like I've even done anything yet."
He chuckled, and shifted up to kiss his way back up along John's side, fingers stretching out over John's stomach. "We have time, right? Nowhere to be until, the morning."
"Mm, yeah." John pulled him in close. "I want to unknot your back and neck. Especially your neck, you make great noises when I touch there.
He pressed lazy kisses against John's mouth and jaw, still tasting like lager and a little like semen now. Just a hint of musk there against John's own lips. "If you promise to watch the bullet wound, I could do with a massage..." There were ridges and dips under his fingers, tense muscles and scarred skin. Yeah, someone had done a number on Seb at some point, two or three times.
"Oh I can do that...” John murmured. He wanted to learn his body. "Lie down, face down...I've got some oil around here somewhere." He used it on his own leg when it was stiff.
Just then, his leg was the only thing that was stiff, but he needed time to recover before he could come around again. Sebastian shifted, and stretched out beside John, smiling still. "This is very luxurious."
"Make sure you don't stress the shoulder," he ordered and found the oil, warming a little in his hands. Then he started to work it in, little by little, kneading gently to start with at the skin and tissue that crackled with trapped lactic acid.
He stretched his shoulder carefully, looking over his shoulder at John. It all felt very good under his fingertips, warm and multi-textured. "Mmmhm. Christ you have good hands."
"I should hope so," John murmured. "Surgeons hands. Your neck is a mess. This will hurt a bit." He pressed in hard, manipulating muscle and tissue.
He exhaled in a shudder, and stretched his hands at his sides. "Christ. I haven't had a massage in about a decade."
"No one has touched you like this?" John was amazed at that. Who could pass up wanting to touch him all over? "Your spine is crunchy too."
"Yeah, circumstances." He laid his head down again, and closed his eyes. "Presumed dead, on the run.... Doesn't leave a lot of room for massages."
"Just relax," John said. "You don't have to go anywhere." He didn't want him to. He wanted him relaxed and wanting to stay.
John was buzzed and comfortable and intent on what he was doing, rubbing and pressing slow circles at muscles that cracked and popped slowly. "Mmmhm, I'm relaxed. God this is good."
"I intend to take a bit of time over it," John replied leaning down to kiss his neck.
He got the shudder he wanted, and Sebastian shifted his legs a little restlessly. "Christ, I think I've been missing out on this..."
"I like to feel you," John said. "Under my fingers...your skin. Not just you back. I want to massage all over your body. "
"Uhnm, am I being set up?" He laughed, looking over his shoulder at John again. "I'm a fucking mess."
"Set up? Set up to carry on what you were doing earlier and then some." John answered. "Erotic massage is an art and… you are very sexy."
Nothing but the truth. Maybe he could massage his cock. There was a one night stand, after all, and then there was enjoying himself slowly and sort of seeing where things headed. Sebastian laughed, quiet and slow, pressing his face against John's sheets as he flexed his shoulders. "You're going to turn me into putty."
"Not all of you I hope," John grinned deliberately working down over his ass and thighs.
There were scars there, but fewer -- more deliberate seeming, and it wasn't off-putting, more curious and sad. He shifted a leg, squirming as John's fingers touched him. "Ticklish."
"Really? I'll remember that." He compensated with more pressure so it wouldn't be ticklish and then said. "Can I do your front as well?"
He didn't answer, just shifted and started to turn over, a luxurious sprawl that belied the fact that his muscles were tense. "I assure you that, despite appearances, everything works."
"Counting on it," John said but still moved up to work on his chest, opting to straddle over him to lean into the motions.
"Uhm." He exhaled in a slow laugh, and lifted his hands to touch John's side. "Bloody hell, I like that. You feel good on me..."
"Mmm.” John deliberately leaned forwards as he massaged so he could rub and slide a little against Seb's skin. "Like this?"
"Like that." He shifted his hips, and John could feel the man's erection against his arsecheek. His hand wandered back, fingers teasing at John's spine. "God you're solid."
"I do still have to do the PT," John murmured though Seb's muscles were definitely better defined. He roamed downwards a little. "Going for a couple tonight because I can massage you in a way that well make you explode but I really want some of that cock."
He watched the man process it, watched the flush of red on his face and the way his eyes lit up when he carefully rocked his hips up. "Fuck, I want to see you stretched out on top of me."
"Decisions, decisions..." John grinned. "What would you like for starters? A hand job to end all hand job or me riding you like a champion?"
"I'd rather not disappoint you if my stamina fails me. That riding me like a champion sounds pretty tempting." He stretched his fingers out against John's back, teasing lower slowly.
"Pretty tempting from here too," John replied. He leg would make him pay but what the hell. He'd toss the lube on the bed and fumbled around for it before handing it to Seb. "I could do this myself, but...”
"No, no, that's the waste of a good opportunity..." He popped the top off of the lube, making a show of smearing it on his fingers. "Just a slightly different massage."
"Yeah," and it was hard to believe he barely knew the man he was encouraging to get that intimate with him.
It had been a long time since he'd gotten really well fucked, and there was no harm in a one night stand. Not when the man sliding his fingers up his ass was moving slowly, circling one slick finger against his hole. "Condoms?"
"Somewhere on the bed." Oh god that felt good. He had come already but things felt very good.
Sensitive and just ready for it, the slow press of a finger into him, Sebastian smiling like a wolf as he slid his other hand up to toy with John's nipples. His teeth were very white and perfectly spaced, odd. "You're lovely flushed."
He took a breath as he felt that entrance and then made a soft moan. "It's been a while."
"Mmm, same. But you never forget how it works..." He leaned up, kissed John's stomach. It was an awkward position, but it distracted him from the slow thrust in and back out.
"I hope not. Mm. I'm getting impatient to get on you," John said truthfully enough.
He liked the other man's reactions, the way he was obviously turned on, and delighted at the same time. And John could relax, blame the booze, and be bloody shameless about wanting to get fucked. The press of a second finger made him groan and rock into it. "Soon enough."
"Can't be soon enough," he breathed again. "I'm going to ride you slow and easy to start with, twist a little because if you've never had that you've missed that, but I'm going to drive you crazy with it until you want to godamn pound me into the mattress."
"That's a mean thing to do to man whose shoulder was shot," Sebastian laughed.
"Really?" John tried to look innocent. "You mean you don't want me to? Well then. We could just sit around having a cup of tea."
"Only if it’s a body shot." He curled his fingers, stroking John's insides slowly. "Christ, look at you..." Hard again already, and that felt pretty good.
"Mm. I must be ready now," he half begged. "Please?" He squirmed a little.
He felt the slow withdrawal of fingers, of Seb settling down against the mattress again while he cast about for the condoms John had grabbed. There was that aching moment of emptiness to feel, before the other man tore the foil wrapper with the edge of those pristine teeth, and thumbed the condom out. "Oh, you're going to enjoy this."
"I'm hoping you will too," he said smiling. Finally, this looked like it was going to actually happen
For once, Sherlock Holmes, bloody professional cockblock, wasn't getting in the way. Sebastian reached down between them, fumbled for a moment, and then John felt the slow slick pressure of being breached.
It was fucking fantastic, though he went both ways with topping and bottoming, he was very much enjoying this. Slow luxurious push upwards, Seb settling fingers at his hips once he was in deep enough. His face was flushed, half exertion, half want, and John liked putting a look of want on someone's face. "Slow enough?"
"Oh yeah...” He felt the stretching, the feel of it. He pushed himself down settling in, half lidding his eyes at the sensation.
It burned, and it ached, and it pooled in his balls and his stomach, adding heat to the fire to move more, move faster, never mind that he'd already come once. His leg was going to kill him, but when Seb thrust up, he thrust down to meet him, working himself hard onto the other man as his thick dick spread John.
It was wonderfully satisfying and the endorphins were kicking in making movement easier and he started a slow easier rocking motion with a hip twist he'd learned some time ago.
It helped to get around a bit, helped him learn new things, new tricks, and the look on the other man's face as he thrust counterpoint to that was priceless, breathless as his hands flexed and he leaned up to try and change their positions, hauling John in closer without pulling out of him. "Fuck, fuck..."
"Oh god, yeah...” He was staring at Seb now, the look on his face that was somehow smoothed away of anxiety and stress and made him look almost boyish. It was startling in his difference and John just wanted to keep seeing that as he rocked and slid, and twisted and pushed while still in that close grip.
Seb scooted them back, closer to the headboard, and it worked better, gave John more leverage to work with, gave them both leverage, as the other man leaned back against the headboard and started to thrust harder up into him. "Uhn, hold on, I'm almost..."
"Yeah, do it," he groaned. "Harder. Need it." He wasn't going to come himself but he was enjoying the build.
Slow and he could feel when the man beneath him hit that particular edge, when he lost his control and just started to *move*, desperate fast rocking up into John, hands everywhere, gripping hard at him.
That as a hell of a turn on. It was raw and needy and none of the spy studied smooth seduction. It was just honest need and desire fucking him hard and him thrusting back to match the movements.
No practice, just hard losing of control, and he kissed at John's neck, breathing hard. Then he seized up, went tense and gave a few last thrusts. "Fuck, fuck, sorry..."
John sprawled forward panting a little. "Fuck...what you sorry for?" he managed dazed.
"Wanted to get you to come again." He chuckled a little, still holding tightly to John.
"Time for that later," John said. What the hell, he was a "cuddler" and he didn't care. He pretty much wrapped himself around Seb.
There was no sense on trying to cling to some kind of overrated dignity when the other man had his cock still up his ass. Seb sighed against his skin. "Well, perhaps we can do that cup of tea in the meantime, too."
"In a bit," John replied feeling comfortable and warm lying on top of Seb. "You're comfortable."
"I've been told I make an excellent mattress." And his cheekbone felt hard enough to cut something, as he nuzzled in against John. "Do you work in the morning?"
"Not tomorrow," John said feeling a bit drowsy. "Otherwise I wouldn't have been drinking." Too easy to have alcohol still in the blood.
He knew that, knew it and stuck to it by a rule. "I suspect they'll want me back in the morning. Still, quite a bit of time." With one big hand idling down his back to toy at the edge of John's asshole, where his cock was just starting to go soft.
"Eh, it's not like they don't know where you are," John said. "I'm sure half of them would have seen us leave."
He hummed assent, tracing the edge of John's asshole before he started to pull out. "Still, you probably don't want them to come looking for me. Gets messy, they might suspect you're a hostage or something, I don't know. I'll spare you the broken glass and leave at a reasonable time in the morning."
"I feel oddly mellow about being your hostage," John replied smiling into Seb's skin. "Maybe it's a kink."
He nipped gently at the man's neck, and heard the answering sigh. "You realise I was number two with SPECTRE."
"Yeah, I know," John said seriously. "But you could have pushed the button and damned the world. There's not an Agent out there pure as snow, it's useless to pretend that. This is a bloody business and both sides get covered in arterial spray one way or another. But you chose at the right point."
He made a quietly impressed noise, sliding his fingers back up along John's spine, leaving him empty but still very close. "Thought it best to check."
It meant something that he had wanted that too. "Don't worry about it. I'm not completely oblivious. People just think I am."
"Mmm, oblivious the wrong word. Calm is better. Non-pulsed. Unshakable." He scooted down a little, pulling John with him. He did make an excellent mattress. "How big is your shower?"
"Big enough for two," John replied with a little smile. "We can try that in a bit."
Considering the man had been one of the most fear in their community, this was all surprisingly easy and John was pretty sure not how most agents dealt with their opposite numbers. But that was why he wasn't usually out there running an op. It was turning into a pretty good thing after all.
"Big enough for two," John replied with a little smile. "We can try that in a bit."
Considering the man had been one of the most feared in their community, this was all surprisingly easy and John was pretty sure not how most agents dealt with their opposite numbers. But that was why he wasn't usually out there running an op. It was turning into a pretty good thing after all.
And even better if he could turn it into a regular thing.