A/N: Warning for anal sex and rimming, but really is there any other way to do it?

Sometimes they have late nights. There are criminals that won't just stand still, won't just let them take him or her into custody, won't just stop running.

Tonight is one of those nights and sadly Sherlock is the fastest man on the police force (he's not even on the police force so that really says something). He keeps up with the guy and eventually does catch him, of course he does catch him in an alley after jumping off the second story of a building.

It's not a long jump, Sherlock's done it before, but he was younger then and all of his joints were properly functioning. This time, he only manages to stop the guy because once he lands, he immediately collapses over the guy because his legs buckle under him.

Lestrade and the next guy catch up to him and John practically carries him to a cab and supports his aching body all the way home.

"When we get inside," John whispers in his ear, "Get undressed and get in bed."

Sherlock lifts his head. "Why?"

"I'm going to make you feel better."

Sherlock does as he's told. He takes his clothes off and lays in bed, on his back. He drops his limbs in every direction on the bed, just wherever feels comfortable.

John comes into the room in just his underwear. They're black. Sherlock smiles.

"Makin' me feel better, huh?" He feels lightheaded and silly from the pain killer John gave him. He wiggles his lower body. His cock flops from side to side.

"That stuff works quick," John notes. He's shocked Sherlock's body even took it. He laughs at Sherlock's silly expression. He laughs again when Sherlock flops his cock again.

"John, I've been high many, many times in my life—"

"I'm choosing to ignore that—"

"But never have I ever felt this fantastic."

"Yes, well," John grabs oil from the nightstand and drops a stream on his hand. "Let's just hope you feel the same tomorrow, 'k love?"

Sherlock's still on his back, so John starts with his shoulders and neck. He presses his hand into Sherlock's collar bone and presses his thumbs bellow the bone. He rubs the skin there. Sherlock stretches his neck underneath John so John will rub it, too. John leans down and takes advantage of his stretched neck; he licks his jugular vain, then takes the white skin into his mouth and sucks, bites, kisses until Sherlock moans and there is a sure bruise there.

"Your neck hurt?" John asks, sucking just below Sherlock's ear.

"Nothing hurts, John."

"Oh geez. I should not have given that pill to you."

"Mmmmmmmmmmmno," Sherlock moans, "It's brilliant." He smiles.

John smiles down at him. He moves to Sherlock's arms. He rubs his biceps and moves to his chest. He rubs Sherlock's skin there, then pinches the pale man's darker nipples.

"Ouch," Sherlock playfully says.

John chuckles. He bends and takes Sherlock's now hard nipples into his mouth. He traps it and flicks his tongue at it; hearing Sherlock hiss he does it to the other one. He finishes there and kisses the center of Sherlock's chest then moves.

He moves down Sherlock's body, first with his forearms and wrists, then ribs and belly. He carefully runs his fingertips over Sherlock's stomach, just under his bellybutton.

"Tickles," Sherlock says. He laughs.

John pours another patch of oil on his hand, then happens the notice the oil is flavored. He gets an evil grin. He runs a finger down Sherlock's lower abdomen again, then Sherlock giggles. Then John runs the tip of his tongue back up Sherlock's belly and dips his tongue into Sherlock's bellybutton. Sherlock squirms underneath him. He moans again. He wants to throw his hands onto the back of John's head, but he feels too numb.

"Do that again," Sherlock whispers.

John smiles and pulls away from Sherlock. He settles himself between the man's long legs. "Not yet," he says. He rubs the freshly squeezed oil onto his other hand, then rubs Sherlock's left thigh.

Sherlock hisses.

"What?" John asks. He briefly pauses.

"Aches."

"Sorry baby," John rubs lighter. "It'll hurt tomorrow."

Sherlock's head rolls to the side and he harshly sighs. Unexpectedly, he feels John's lips touch the inside of his thigh. He lightly spreads his thighs.

John smiles. He finishes with the left thigh, then moves to Sherlock's right. Sherlock hisses again, but John presses on. He kisses that thigh too. He sees Sherlock smile.

Next he rubs Sherlock's knees. He knows those will hurt Sherlock most tomorrow, Sherlock's got knee problems anyway. There's not much he can do but rub Sherlock. Then he rubs Sherlock's shins, calves, ankles, feet, toes. He takes his time, and when he's finished he licks up Sherlock's right leg, to his hip, then stomach, then chest. He lays over Sherlock and tongues the man's mouth open. He finds Sherlock's hands and takes Sherlock's in his own. Sherlock squeezes when John bites his bottom lip.

"Oh John," Sherlock moans as John leaves his mouth and tongues his ear. "What are you doing to me?"

"Slowly building your orgasm," John states.

Sherlock rolls his hips up into John's and squeezes John's hand. He moans, too.

"Like that?" John asks, licking the spot on his neck he'd just licked before Sherlock moaned.

"No—I mean yes—not your tongue—your words," Sherlock's words are broken up with one thrust of his cock into John's hip. "So blunt—"

John smiles. "Oh, yeah? How about I fuck your tight arse to orgasm, huh Sherlock?" John thrusts his cock into Sherlock's hip. Sherlock mimics and moans. "Like that?"

"Yes, John, yes!"

John smiles again. He slowly thrusts against Sherlock and licks Sherlock's lips. Sherlock's tongue darts out and they meet before both disappearing back into Sherlock's mouth.

"You want to-"

"Yes, anything!"

John smiles. "You want to turn over so I can get your backside?" he asks.

Sherlock opens his eyes to see John pull away. John sits back on his knees and motions with his finger for Sherlock to turn over. Sherlock whimpers.

"Trust me, baby," John says, grabbing Sherlock's hips and flipping him himself. "It'll be so good."

Sherlock lands on his front and grinds into the mattress twice, presenting his arse for John's enjoyment. John doesn't lose track of the mission: make Sherlock feel good.

John's hands go into Sherlock's hair and he rubs Sherlock scalp. That's something Sherlock always enjoys, so he moans when John presses his fingers harder to his head.

"Nice?" John asks.

"You have no idea."

John moves down, gently rubbing his neck, then fingers his spine; he counts the bumps. "You need to eat more, love," John says. His hands move their way down Sherlock's body, passing what he thinks is the important bit and moving straight to the back of Sherlock's thighs, then down to his calves.

When he finishes with Sherlock's legs, he repositions himself between Sherlock's legs again so that he too is on his stomach behind Sherlock. He grabs the oil from next to Sherlock and opens the cap.

"John, what are you doing?" Sherlock asks.

John's not even sure what he's doing until he's done it, and that's pour the flavored liquid straight from the bottle to the round top of Sherlock's arse. He watches the drop, as if mesmerized, as it slowly trickles down the round hump. John licks the trail back up Sherlock's arse and does it again. It tastes so good; the oil is strawberry flavored, but what gets him is the Sherlock flavor. Salt, body wash, natural male musk, they're all there. John's mouth waters.

As if hearing his thoughts, Sherlock spreads his legs more. He wants so badly for John to tongue him. It's not something they do often, basically for the sheer special desire they feel each time it's done. They don't want that amazing feeling to get old. But Sherlock wants it now.

As if hearing his thoughts, John drops liquid onto the top of Sherlock's cleft. He watches it run down, a tiny bit slipping between cheeks but most of it being unable to do so. Without thinking (not that he'd stop himself), John licks up Sherlock's cleft, from the bottom to top. The feel of his tongue being guarded by the cheeks of Sherlock's arse is fantastic. He wants more.

As does Sherlock. When John's tongue touches him, Sherlock attempts to spread his legs more to allow John better access to his hole. With no such luck, Sherlock grabs hold of the sheets under him and holds them tight. He wants to push back onto John's tongue and John's tongue hasn't even really done anything yet.

John licks his lips and lets his tongue regain moisture. Then he spreads Sherlock open with one hand. When he finally sees the spot he's wanted this whole time, he doesn't even realize he grinds against the bed below him. As if it were him, Sherlock does the same.

"Oh, baby," John babbles.

Sherlock shivers as John's breath breaches his hole. "More," he says.

John takes the oil one last time and drops two drops over Sherlock's hole. It's cold, Sherlock involuntarily clenches. John, as he has done this whole time, chases the drop and licks warm moisture over Sherlock's closed hole. Sherlock moans and grabs the sheets.

"More," he says again.

The tip John's tongue breaches Sherlock. He laps at Sherlock over and over, every few strokes pressing his tongue into the hole. Of course his tongue will never reach Sherlock where he wants it most, but even here it's not as deep as it can be. It'll take more, John thinks. He takes the oil and drops some onto his index finger, then slowly and gently presses it into Sherlock.

Sherlock hisses. "Just keep going," he says when he automatically rejects John.

"I'll take my time, I've got nowhere better to be," John replies. He slowly circles around Sherlock's rim and lets Sherlock adjust. Of course it's not instant, he does it many many times. Finally Sherlock's body agrees and lets John press into him to the second knuckle. As he circles around inside Sherlock, John licks at his cleft and kisses his cheeks.

"More," Sherlock says again.

John complies, slowly pressing his whole finger into Sherlock.

Feeling inside Sherlock is something John will never get used to. Sure, it's amazingly good and incredibly hot, but it's so intimate John can't ever get used to it. It's that he's the only person that will ever do this to Sherlock, the only person that can.

He rubs inside Sherlock as Sherlock moans his approval. After letting Sherlock adjust, John finds Sherlock's prostate.

"Ohgodohgod," Sherlock says.

Another thing John will never get used to is how quickly and easily he can pleasure Sherlock. With one brush of his fingertip to Sherlock's prostate, one swipe of tongue to rim, John's got Sherlock in pieces beneath him.

"Good?" John asks.

"Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," is all Sherlock can say.

His body is more relaxed, John notes, so he begins to thrust. Slowly. Gently. He pulls his finger out of Sherlock and pushes it back in with such finesse Sherlock's sure this is how he 'took care of people' in the military.

"More," Sherlock says, trying to push back onto John's finger. John's been thrusting in and out of him for what seems like eternity now and Sherlock needs more.

John pulls his hand away to apply more oil, then slowly and gently places two fingers into Sherlock. Slow. Achingly slow. Again, Sherlock tries to push back but this time John uses his tongue to push him back onto the bed.

John takes his time with two fingers. He circles Sherlock's prostate and has Sherlock meeting each thrust, but he takes his time before adding a third finger. Sherlock's so ready he takes the third finger almost no problem, but John does it extremely slowly anyway.

"Faster," Sherlock pleas as John takes his time thrusting his fingers in and out of John.

"I'm trying to be gentle," John says.

Sherlock groans in frustration. "I don't want gentle, John!" He lifts his hips off the bed and roughly pushes back onto John's hand. "Just fuck me now!"

John grinds into the mattress. Sherlock could say the word fuck in any context and John will probably get a bit hard. It's just such a dirty word when it comes from Sherlock.

John doesn't wait for another invitation. He thrusts his fingers in and out of Sherlock to make sure Sherlock's ready, then sits back on his knees and pulls his underwear down to his thighs. No use wasting time getting them off. Sherlock rears back so his arse is in the air and his head is in his arms on the bed. John grabs the oil and slicks himself up well.

"Ready?" he asks.

Sherlock doesn't answer, instead he pushes his arse more towards John.

John takes hold of Sherlock's hip with one hand and lines himself up with the other. He and Sherlock cry out in unison as the head of John's cock gets pushed into Sherlock.

"Easy, easy," John repeats, stroking Sherlock's hip.

"More," Sherlock says.

John slowly pushes in until he's balls deep in his love. He pauses and lets Sherlock adjust. The tightness is something he'll never get used to, as well.

Instead of telling him to move, Sherlock pulls up and pushes back, thrusting John into himself. He moans. John watches his cock enter Sherlock over and over by the control of Sherlock. The sight is unbelievably sexy, but not more sexy than the sounds coming from Sherlock. Moans of satisfaction are pouring from Sherlock's perfect mouth.

"Come on," Sherlock frustratingly says. It's far to slow for him. "I said rough, didn't I?"

"Sorry for taking into account that you jumped off a building today," John says, taking hold of Sherlock's hips and beginning to thrust himself.

"There, there John!" Sherlock shouts. "Harder—nngghhhh—faster!"

John tries but the harder he tries, the more Sherlock shouts to go harder or faster. He doubles over Sherlock and grabs hold of the top of the headboard that's just below his eyelevel. With this leverage, he fucks Sherlock hard and fast like Sherlock wants.

"There it is, John!" Sherlock shouts. He reaches between his legs and grabs at his own cock, which is leaking everywhere with precome. John wants to lick it. "Almost, John—" Sherlock says. He moans. The bed creaks.

With the sounds of Sherlock and the sound of the bed, John knows he will be done as soon as Sherlock clamps around him. He anticipates how fucking amazing it will feel soon. The thought makes him thrust harder, hitting Sherlock's prostate dead on.

Sherlock can't make noise it feels so good. His mouth forms a perfect circle and his eyes tighten shut. With five perfect thrusts from John's cock, Sherlock comes all over the sheets below him. He shouts as he does so. "JohnJohnJohn—" he shouts.

"Oh god, Sherlock!" John shouts back as Sherlock clamps tightly around his cock. It almost feels too good to come, but John grips the headboard so tight his knuckles turn white and he pushes up into Sherlock as deep as he can, coming far into Sherlock.

When he pulsing stops and John can hear and see again, he lets go of the headboard and wraps an arm around Sherlock's chest. He catches Sherlock before he falls. He presses his face into Sherlock's curls. He kisses the back of Sherlock's head. "I've got you," he says as he pulls out and lowers himself and Sherlock onto the bed.

Sherlock's arms wrap around John's arm as John pulls him onto the bed. He shivers because his skin is sensitive. He takes deep breaths and manages to balance his heart rate.

"Are you ok?" John asks.

Sherlock nods.

"I'm sorry," John says. "I think I got carried away."

Sherlock vigorously shakes his head. "Perfect," he says.

John nuzzles his face as deep into Sherlock's head it can go. "I love you," he whispers.

Sherlock's arms tighten around John. "I love you, too."

The next morning Sherlock wakes with the aches and pains he expected to have from jumping off the building, plus a few more aches that were so worth it.

A/N: Thank you for reading. This story is the first of many, I think, that will match my Same Situations of Six Different Men. This chapter is the sex left out of Chapter 59. I decided to do a separate thread that will involve the sex I leave out of the main thread. I suggest reading both, but that's just me of course! Anyway, please review.