Hello, y'all. Many firsts here for me: First gay sex scene, first request. This is a oneshot that had to include Sherlock and Lestrade getting it on in a car (the prompt was conceived after the released clips of Sherlock season 2 with DI Lestrade sitting in a car). It's hot, mature, slightly depressed and most of all frustrated. I hope you like it.

Greg Lestrade glanced at his watch and shifted restlessly on the leather seat, which was strange considering the fact that it was his car and that the seat should feel comfortable by now. But the DI knew full well there was nothing wrong with the car.

The blame lay on this whole damned situation. He didn't like waiting. He didn't like sitting in an expensive car in a dark and empty parking garage located in a shady area of London. And he certainly didn't like how he had let Sherlock decide where they would meet.

He sighed and began to study a stain on the window beside him when something black unexpectedly covered the left window.

"Jesus Christ!" Greg exclaimed, half on the way to draw his weapon he for a shocked moment forgot wasn't there. He unlocked the car so the consulting detective could climb in, in a blur of untamed curls, black wool and tailored trousers.

"Jumpy much, Lestrade?" Sherlock Holmes asked while he cocked an eyebrow and removed his gloves with elegant movements. Greg found his voice and 'lo and behold, it was angry.

"For bloody sake, Sherlock! Was it too much to ask for a short message you were on your way, or even for an audible step against the floor so I knew?"

He clenched and unclenched his hands to rid himself of the frustration.

"What's wrong?"

The question was delivered by a hard, fast voice that left no room for lies or excuses. "I'm stuck in the office for at least five more weeks and I'm already going mad. They wanted me to do paper work for a while since I've been out in the field for far too long!"

The DI ran a hand through his hair that was tinged by grey and sighed miserably.

"Paper cut on your thumb, wrinkled shirt, a loosened tie which implies you feel as if you're being strangled, watering eyes and new lines around your mouth. You hate it there," Sherlock stated as he intensely studied Greg with a piercing gaze.

"I'm best when I'm out there, saving London, doing something that really matters. And then there's…" Greg stopped himself and lowered his head. Naturally Sherlock would get the answer from him one way or another, so he decided to continue on his own while he still had a choice. "And when I'm being supervised eight hours a day it gets difficult to see you as often as I want."

Sherlock said nothing, although he did cock his head and adjusted himself so he was more turned towards the other man.

"They gave the murder to Frederick. So unless another mysterious crime turns up, I'll stay put in my little box, and no, that was not a suggestion you do anything illegal to change that."

"Lestrade, do you have any idea why I chose this particular building for our rendezvous today?" Sherlock asked in a completely different, lighthearted tone.

Greg shrugged.

"There's no CCTV in this parking garage so we can be as visual as we want. Furthermore the building is rumored to be subjected to criminal and violent gangs during nights. Unless my senses deceive me it is day at the moment. We are all alone, thus able to be as loud as we want."

Greg experienced a shiver down his spine and blood flowing in every direction within his body as Sherlock's voice became hushed and soft. With a flushed face, he rolled his head to the side and shared one look with the clever detective.

"Come here," Greg whispered and leaned back as far as possible to make room for Sherlock who with frightening efficiency left his seat and placed himself on top of Greg's thighs and bent his long legs so they could rest on either side of the DI.

"That's better," Sherlock muttered and set to unbutton his coat. When it parted, Greg couldn't contain a groan as a pale, stunning torso was exposed to his famished eyes.

"Are you fucking mad, love! It's freezing outside!" Greg barked but was compelled to stare at the very taut nipples crying for warmth. On their own accord, his hands went around Sherlock's back and guided him closer until the poor nipples were within reach. He went for the left one first, licked a bold line from top to bottom and enjoyed the texture of the cold nub. A reluctant hiss escaped Sherlock and he arched into Lestrade, silently asking for more.

"Naughty boy. You know better than forgetting your shirt like this. You'll pay for it now; when my warm tongue shocks the nipple, makes the nerves burn with pain until you feel something else," Greg mumbled into Sherlock's chest and placed a wet kiss on his sternum before he moved to the other red circle.

"Gre-unnnggh! Yes, warm me!" Sherlock suddenly let out and pressed his entire front against Lestrade who had to hold him back by tugging at the coat that still covered the detective's back.

Arousing heat gathered in his lap and he lost his breath when he felt himself begin to grow. In retaliation he lightly bit Sherlock's nipple before he sucked hard. Another gasp slipped from Sherlock's usually controlled lips and he tilted his head back from pure pleasure. Greg saw his chance and dove for the delicious-looking skin on the detective's neck, minding the too sensitive spots he knew would send Sherlock over the edge faster than he intended.

For once, Sherlock's watchful eyes fluttered close and his mouth opened to release a raspy sigh. Greg feasted on the smooth area and started to slowly undulate his hips beneath Sherlock. Something hard grinded against his own hardness and the sensation became almost too much. All of the sudden, Sherlock came back to earth with his brain intact and began to practically tear the buttons from their holes in Greg's striped shirt.

"Let's take this further, shall we?" Greg proposed and received a nod from the detective who bore two red spots on his usually collected face. The cop carefully placed one hand under Sherlock's thigh and opened the door to let out his panting burden.

The cold air hit his face but he welcomed the short respite as it cleared his head from the mists of total abandon. Sherlock had already opened the door to the back seat and gestured at him to get in first.

"No, you go ahead, love," Greg insisted and nudged the tall man through the small, low opening.

Quite ignorant of Sherlock's position, or lack thereof, Greg went inside and pulled the door close. They became entangled in each other with Sherlock sort of on his back and Greg sort of on top, eager arms flailing everywhere in attempt to touch, legs hooking so their ability to move was restricted, loose clothing wrinkling as they still clung to each other.

Greg managed to settle between Sherlock's thighs and covered the detective's mouth with a fierce kiss the very moment he moved his hips and brushed against Sherlock's concealed cock. Sherlock shivered and opened his lips to allow Greg entrance with his greedy tongue. The pulse sped up and Greg's groan was swallowed by Sherlock's mouth when something suddenly clamped down on either side of his hips.

Before he knew it, Sherlock with his long legs locked around him began to struggle to turn them around. But Greg would have nothing of it. "Stay there, my little detective," he hissed and put his hands around his wrists to immobilize him. But Sherlock didn't yield and so they began to wrestle in the backseat of Greg's car.

Soon they both panted, discovered by rushed glances that the window became misty, stole hard kisses from the other's lips, fondled hidden lengths, and tried to maneuver the other to lay on the bottom.

"You've rather lost your strength since you went into the office, Mr. Cop," Sherlock taunted but Greg wiped that smirk from his face by tugging at his wild curls and retorted, "Don't push me, Sherlock."

His whole body shook from barely contained frustration and excitement as he lay on his side with one leg on the floor and the other between the juncture of Sherlock's half-clad legs. Sherlock tsked although his labored breaths betrayed him.

"You're quite the little slave now, aren't you? Doing your paper work like a good boy. Have they tamed you, Lestrade? Are you their bitch?"

Not able to suppress the wave of hatred at his own fate with a flushed detective rubbing against him, Greg lost it.

"Fuck you!" he cried to no-one and everyone and grabbed Sherlock with quick hands, used his entire strength to win over the taller man and managed to turn him around, bring his face down into the leather and secure his wrists behind his back by using well-known tactics. He had taken Sherlock by surprise and before the detective had time to get back up, Greg seated himself on Sherlock's bum and was at last triumphant.

"Who's a bitch now, little Sherlock?" he grinned and used the hand that didn't held Sherlock's wrists to reach behind him and trail the soft skin of the bare thigh, slowly moving his fingers upwards until…

"Greg!"

He chuckled and lifted himself so to be able to remove Sherlock's shorts. The detective lay perfectly still now but buzzed with anticipation. Greg slid backwards, loving the keening sounds from the other man when the fabric of his trousers chafed the skin on the exposed rear. His hands released the caught wrists but then Sherlock wriggled and turned his head.

"No. Hold me," he emitted through clenched teeth and his distress made Greg's own trousers very uncomfortable. He took one hand and pressed down on Sherlock's wrists. A small moan filled the car.

With the free one, Greg roughly pulled down his trousers and boxers to rest around his knees but kept his drenched shirt and jacket on. From the pocket he drew a small tube and unscrewed the cork with his mouth. As if he heard what was going on, Sherlock spread his legs as far as he could and even lifted his bum.

"Oh, God," Greg croaked and filled his hand with some of the substance. He moved the palm between the buttocks and gently rimmed the pink hole.

"Uunnghhh! You…! You've done…," a muffled whimper escaped from Sherlock as Greg inserted one finger and relished the hot pressure around his coated digit.

"Yes, my little consulting detective; I had plenty of time to warm the lube before you showed up. Do you like how it feels?" Greg mumbled and bent down to bite Sherlock's ear fondly. Another hitched wail after he entered the hole with two fingers.

Greg licked his lips and sat up straight. It was time for release. He removed his fingers, tried to drown out Sherlock's repetitive moans while he placed his swollen cock right at the entrance, and thrust.

The pleasure was blinding, almost hurtful but so wonderful. He squeezed his way into Sherlock and dug his fingers into the naked hip, knowing he would leave bruises. During this, Sherlock trashed his head in every direction, screamed and wrigged his bum, meeting Greg's every move.

"Fuck! So nice and tight. You're so warm," Greg exclaimed and held his breath before he began to pound in and out.

"Greg! More! I want you more!" It was possible his ears hurt when the cry spread in the small space but Greg's only concern was to fuck Sherlock Holmes until he begged for mercy. He angled his hips and repeated the procedure.

"Ooohhhh! Oh, God! Yes…" Sherlock hissed and his arms flexed helplessly under the DI's grip.

"Feel me in you, little detective. Hitting your spot because you're so good. My little consulting detective."

Greg began to move faster, thrusting harder into Sherlock who writhed against the clammy leather, gasping for air. Quite in contrast to his lower body's pace and intensity, Greg buried his face in the ruffled curls and nuzzled the back of the neck planting sweet kisses, feeling every tiny shudder that ran through the man beneath him. Tingles had started to appear in his lower abdomen, urging him to reach for an end.

"Greg!" Sherlock groaned and the strained tone made Greg understand that Sherlock was there. He shoved his hand in under the hip and found Sherlock's dripping, neglected cock. He palmed it and slid back.

"My consulting detective," he groaned and thrust in an accurate angle. Sherlock tensed, sobbed and began to helplessly cramp everywhere while he spilled all over Greg's palm.

"I'm… I'm coming!" Greg shouted and lost the little control he had left. He was reduced to a sweating, panting, moaning creature claiming its victim until the explosion of ecstasy declined and he returned to reality. He inhaled heavily and licked a salty drop from the delicate skin on Sherlock's shoulder blade.

The detective trembled as Greg gingerly pulled out his spent length and tucked up his underwear and trousers. The pale body was a fascinating vision as always before his eyes and he gazed upon it, intent on memorizing every curve and angle of Sherlock's back to savor for later when he was alone and hungry for more he was unable to get. He patted the small of the back and began to button his shirt while removing himself from Sherlock's thighs.

"Come on, love. My lunch break is almost over," Greg emitted, aware that he now had shattered their small bubble of freedom and intimacy. Sherlock shook his head like an insubordinate child and hid his face in the leather. Greg sighed and began to trace patterns on Sherlock's red bum, softly caressing it to make Sherlock feel better.

"This cannot go on. I won't accept to live like this only because those idiots on the Yard come up with stupid ideas," Sherlock said from under the curls. It became quiet. Greg didn't have a comforting answer.

"What do you say if I share my very revealing clues on this murder Frederick the dimwit never will pick up himself? Then you could tell them you've worked it out and be rewarded by getting out of the office."

His fingers stopped moving in circles. "That…that would be sly, dishonest and downright ingenious," Greg said haltingly and at once it felt like air filled his lungs instead of lead.

"Sherlock," he started when the other man's torso rose up and his lips connected with Greg's. "You were about to thank me. But believe me, I'm doing this entirely for selfish reasons," Sherlock smiled against his mouth and Greg actually chuckled into the kiss in the expensive car in the empty parking garage.

What is your judgement? Review and tell me what you think, please. ;)