He looked up at Sherlock as he moved his tongue, stroking, teasing, tasting. John swallowed and kept moving his hand along the length not in his throat. Even as Sherlock fucked and took. He thrived on it.

To be used like this. John moaned, unable to stop himself. His own cock ached and pressed against the form flattering trousers he wore. He could feel himself leaking, soaking into the fabric.