While Sherlock knew that he really should stroke John and try to get him off as well, he was desperately clinging to John while he fucked his lap, and there was really no way that he could let go now.

The need, the desire, the lust, the pressure, the pleasure was all building and growing and swaying, a wave moving towards a crest. At this rate, he wasn't going to last long at all.

But if he couldn't stroke him, he could do other things. He leaned forward and bit and tugged at John's nipples, harder than he normally would but not hard enough to really hurt. He wanted to see John come absolutely untouched, and he had a feeling it could happen.

"Johnnnn." He groaned.