Author: MonkeyBard
Rating: NC17/Explicit
Summary: "Sherlock, where's the lube gone?"
Date: 23 July 2015
JWP #23: Improvised Tools. For a truly desperate person anything can be utilized as a tool or as a weapon.
A/N: You knew the smut was imminent, right? It only took the right prompt.

John opened the nightstand drawer. He knew without looking where the bottle ought to be. His hand reached for it, and paused. It wasn't there. This was not a good time for distractions, damn it.

Finally, after several fruitless moments of blind searching, he was forced to pause in his affectionate assault on Sherlock's delectable collarbone and actually look in the drawer.

"Sherlock, where's the lube gone?"

A moment passed while Sherlock--what? Caught his breath? Regained focus and speech? Considered how to break the news? John suspected all three.

"You forgot to pick up a new bottle." It wasn't a question. John knew without being told that this was the case. "Damn it, Sherlock! The one thing I asked you to do while I was at work today--"

"This is not the time for recriminations, John."

"Isn't it? I was really hoping I could put this to good use tonight." John ground his hard cock into the crease of Sherlock's hip, making sure his own hip pressed just as firmly into Sherlock's equally erect prick.

Sherlock let out a grunt that was half gasp. "As was I. In which case, I suggest you improvise."

"Improvise?" He was about to say something snarky when an idea struck him. He pressed a heated kiss against Sherlock's open lips. They spent a moment tongue-fencing before John pushed off. "I'll be right back," he promised, and gave one of Sherlock's taught nipples a quick pinch to seal the pledge. He received a delightful squeak of equal parts pleasure and indignation in return.

"Where are you going?"

"You said improvise--"

John padded swiftly down the hallway, his stiff cock bouncing with each quick step. A glance showed the sitting room and kitchen shades were down. Good. It was equally dim within the flat as without, but he didn't care to chance being spotted by the neighbours across the way if he could help it.

A swift search of the cupboards turned up what he sought. He grabbed a spoon from the utensil drawer and hurried back to the bedroom.

When John re-entered the room, Sherlock rolled his head to look at him, not lifting it from the pillow. One of his long-fingered hands toyed with his erection while the other arm was flung in a deliberately careless fashion overhead. His dark curls were tousled against the cotton pillowcase that was almost the same pale, grey-blue shade as his eyes. John's prick throbbed with increased urgency at the vision.

"--so I'm improvising." He held up the jar for a split second and then set to unscrewing the cap.

Of course Sherlock had caught the label in the brief moment he'd been given. "Virgin coconut oil?"

"It's not going to be 'virgin' much longer," John quipped. He scooped some out with the spoon and set down the jar so he could transfer the dollop to his other hand. He dropped the spoon on the nightstand and began warming the oil between his palms as he climbed back onto the bed. Using his knees to shove Sherlock's legs apart, he knelt between them. "It an excellent lubricant. Anti-fungal properties, too, which makes it pretty ideal for our purposes, actually." Random yet relevant facts were useful in arousing Sherlock in sexual situations. Where other couples talked dirty, they talked science. Not that Sherlock needed any arousing at the moment. Indeed he needed no encouragement at all to bend his knees and shift his hips so that John could get where he wanted to go.

John had got more oil than strictly necessary, but better that than the opposite. He slicked his cock with one hand, while at the same time he used the other prep Sherlock's ass.

"Warm," observed Sherlock, as John's fingers ringed his hole and slid inside. One, then two. Stretching and preparing. It didn't take much. "Fairly low melting point."

"Yeah. Nice, that." It was as articulate as John could get just then. He withdrew his fingers and with Sherlock's help positioned his prick at Sherlock's opening. God, they were both greased up but good. He pressed inside in one smooth thrust. Sherlock inhaled sharply. John knew the sound well. It was a good one. One that said, 'Yes. There. Perfect.' without needing a single syllable.

He pulled back nearly to the tip of his cock and drove in again, receiving a welcome grunt of pleasure from his partner. He wrapped one slippery hand around Sherlock's erection and immediately felt Sherlock's larger hand wrap around his own. The two of them together jerked Sherlock's cock towards release while John drove harder and faster into his ass.

Sherlock gasped and shuddered as he climaxed, and that was the last push John needed to follow him over the brink. He growled out his pleasure and came hard inside his lover.

In the aftermath of orgasm, John sprawled atop Sherlock, heedless of the mess that would soon need cleaning up. He was too relaxed to care at the moment.

Sherlock's chest rose and fell beneath him, long fingers gently carding through John's hair. When that lovely baritone voice sounded, it was like a purr to John's ears. "I've never done a test of the relative oleaginousness of various culinary oils."


"No. Perhaps further experimentation is in order."

"For science, of course," murmured John into Sherlock's shoulder.

"Of course."

"Count me in."


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