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There were low grunts in the room, moans accented by tiny whimpers and soft laughter; the laughter was full of condescending delight. The whimpers were full of defeat and pleasure.
Sherlock Holmes had managed to get John Watson underneath him again.
The defeated whimpers weren't as real as the laughter — John enjoyed the Alpha pinning him to a mattress and completely wrecking his insides, though he’d never say it aloud.
Sherlock thought that he was very clever, to always get John into such precarious situations that such a thing could happen during their work hours. So, even though it was a game, it was a game that they both seemed capable of winning each and every time.
Now though, the games had ended, and Sherlock was driving hard and fast into the Omega beneath him, filling John with the hard thickness of his prick and making them both grunt and groan in salacious appreciation for what was happening.
It was as Sherlock flipped him onto his back and raised one of John's legs over his shoulder, fully intent on drilling him straight into the mattress until the man beneath him was crying out for mercy, that the phone rang.
"D-don't answer that," John's voice was a soft demand, but Sherlock had already pulled back to grab the smooth, black cell.
"Yes, what is it?"
There was a soft murmur of voices on the other end of the line, nothing that John could discern, but that didn't matter. Sherlock bared down on him, thrust his prick smoothly inside of the man beneath him one more time, and forced John to bring one hand up to clasp over his mouth, lest someone heard the low moan that threatened to tear from his throat.
"Of course I can. I could solve it over the phone," Sherlock's voice was haughty — it only got that way when he was on a case. And from how he spoke and the damn near incredulous look in his eyes, it was obvious to John that he wasn't going to hang up the phone to finish what he'd started. He shifted, unhappy, un satisfied ... and then felt Sherlock's hand shift, press to his throat. One dark brow arched, and that triumphant grin split across his features again when he thrust forward again.
"Sherlock--" John hissed the word out, but he shook his head quickly and then turned his attention back to the phone, with the hand on his Omega's throat the only thing that let him know that he was meant to stay in place .
"Well, that's because the police department is full of imbeciles ," Sherlock's voice was as brawny and confident as always — and his hips thrust hard and fast, bucking inside of John so hard that his body leaped with the motion. There was no hesitation in the motion of his hips — for all intents and purposes, Sherlock saw no need to stop in his quest for pleasure just because he'd gotten a case.
It was a new game, and it was clear that he was fully intent on winning.
Sherlock kept his hand placed carefully on John's chest, and his hips didn't break stride, even when he started to go into detail about the fact that you could not in fact, kill someone with an individual string of a violin by hanging them, and it was completely absurd that they would even suggest such idiocy when approaching him.
All the while, he'd shifted his angle and pulled John's leg up further, hooking his knee over his shoulder and nearly bending him in half. Beneath him, the Omega squirmed at the depth of penetration that occurred from this angle. He was used to Sherlock being methodical if a bit rough at times, but there was something altogether different about this situation.
They hadn't fucked in public, and they hadn't ever fucked where someone could hear them before.
And John, for all of his training in the army, for all of his stoicism in his day to day life, was loud when it came to sex.
Usually.
And now, all that he could do was stuff his fist into his mouth and try his hardest to hold back the moaning cry that threatened to tear up from his throat at what was happening... because even as he shifted and started to thrust against him so hard that John was seeing stars, Sherlock's voice was soft, methodical, a bit arrogant, and completely normal, as though he wasn't giving John one of the best fucks of his life.
He wasn't even in heat , his mind wasn't completely and utterly addled with insanity. He was just being fucked by his Alpha, because his Alpha had wanted it... and it was clear that he didn't care about what the situation was around them; he wanted it enough that he was going to take it without question, and without any cares given to what John might have done or thought in relation to the situation.
"Well, why don't you look beneath the table for the mark."
There was a pause -- in that pause, Sherlock shifted him again. He actually put the call onto speaker phone , sat the device on the table, and then pulled John to him with a surprising amount of strength. It brought his hips up completely off of the bed, threw both of his legs over Sherlock's shoulders, and opened him up wide, so that he could do nothing but feel the length of the man sliding hard and fast and deep into his core until he couldn't breathe around it.
Couldn't think around it.
Could do nothing but feel the pleasure that was stringing in a hot, wicked spiral over his senses.
And still, Sherlock spoke without so much as gasping for air, with no indication that he was exerting himself.
"How did you know that there would be--"
"You know better than to ask stupid questions." He cut the voice on the phone off with his sharp response, and then continued on. "Now, why don't you take a moment to research what that mark means. Don't worry, I'll be waiting for the inevitable moment when you realize that the answer was in front of you this entire time."
There was a grumbling sound from the other end of the phone, but John could hear buttons being pressed; obviously, they were also on speakerphone.
It made the blush that was on his face spread further, the pleasure that was building in his chest from the fact that there was a chance that someone would hear what was happening flicker even more wickedly to life.
He couldn't think around the knowledge of it -- nor the fact that, though Sherlock's voice was perfectly concentrated, he could see it on his face that he was close to orgasm.
He'd been close when he'd gotten the call.
And now, John could feel the beginnings of it, the swell of his prick, the knowledge that soon his insides would be completely painted with the evidence of it.
"Sh--" A hand instantly snapped over his mouth, Sherlock bending over so that John's knees hit against his chest and the prick inside of him dove even deeper. His eyes flared wide and he tried to gasp for a breath against the fingers on his lips, had to switch to drawing it hard and fast through his nose in order to be able to breathe at all.
The phone was rustling beside them, and he actually heard the voice on the other end speak, "Oh shit."
"Figured it out, did you?" Sherlock's voice was full of condescension.
"You're right, we should have known that it was the sister," and as though that profession of his intelligence was all that he needed to push him over the edge, John felt it. Heat, spilling hot and thick inside of him.
A knot, thick and heavy and so girthy expanding inside of him. John couldn't stop himself -- his own pleasure took him over at the feel of it. His orgasm tore through him and he couldn't stop the whimper that spilled through Sherlock's fingers, up into the air.
"What was that?"
The voice. The voice on the phone had heard him. The Alpha's fingers shifted from his lips to his throat, pressing down against him and cutting the noise off in a sharp motion that only made John orgasm all the harder, silently this time.
"The cat."
"I didn't know you had a cat."
"That doesn't surprise me with how very little you know." Sherlock's voice was still even and level, his body twitching, muscles jumping. He leaned down with his hand still on John's throat, still cutting the whimpering cries off, and pressed his forehead to his lovers. All that John could see were his eyes, the pleasure, and ownership that swirled in their depths. Connected like this, with Sherlock knotted deep inside of him, John knew that it didn't matter what the situation was; if there was a game afoot, the man above him was always going to win.
And with their sweat-slicked bodies joined together and the pleasure that was spilling through him at the knot, the orgasm, and Sherlock's satisfied smile, he wasn't sure that he minded at all.