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John swirled the dregs of his pint around in the bottom of the glass. It had been kind of Mike to sign him up for the conference, knowing he was trying to get back into medicine. But three days, alone, in a hotel on a trading estate on the outskirts of Birmingham, wasn't his idea of fun. He'd eaten dinner with a few of the other doctors, but they were all far too busy talking about their latest research or patients to chat to someone wanting to rejoin the fray of medicine.
It was made all the more wearing because he knew Lestrade was going to be off work for at least one of the days. They could have spent it together, long lazy mornings and then a day filled with mooching around the city or the flat, just enjoying each other's company. He sighed, wondering if he should order another pint. Then his phone beeped in his pocket.
'You in your room?'
He smiled, quickly pressing buttons.
'No. The bar. Alone. Why?'
He didn't have to wait long before the phone flashed on again.
'Want to…talk to you. Go back to your room. And make yourself comfortable.'
John could feel the colour rising in his cheeks. He knew Lestrade loved flirting on the 'phone, or via text. But he couldn't believe they might go further. Still, as he glanced around the bar, he knew he would hardly be missing anything. And imagining the sound of Lestrade's voice, whispering in his ear, did make his cock twitch in his pants.
'Okay. On way.' He sent back.
He swallowed the last of his pint, pocketed his phone, his fingers ghosting over the plastic key card in his pocket, just to be sure. The lift seemed to take forever as it took him up through the building, finally depositing him on his floor. He walked along the silent, deserted, corridor finally stopping outside his room, moving to slip the card into the lock.
He jumped as hands slid around his waist and someone pressed against him from behind. There was a familiar scent, and a second later rough stubble scratched against his neck, lips brushing against his ear. "Suggest you get yourself in that room and into bed right now," Lestrade's familiar husky voice said.
"What are you…How did you…how did you know my room number?" John couldn't stop smiling, and tried to turn around, to see his lover.
"Amazing what a warrant card will get you," Lestrade answered, not allowing John to do anything but walk forward, the door closing behind them with a firm click.
"That's…" John let out a breath as hands roamed down his stomach and began working to undo his trousers. "That's…not legal, surely," he managed.
"No." Lestrade slid his hand inside John's trousers; fingers gently squeezing his rapidly stiffening cock. "A real abuse of power," he agreed, his other hand sliding up under John's shirt, finding a nipple and giving it a gentle squeeze.
"Ah!" John laughed despite the slight pain. "Can't believe you're here – why are you here? You nutter. Did you ride all the way up here, for…just…"
"Why? I'd have thought that was obvious." Lestrade kissed John's neck, nuzzling his ear, pressing their bodies together.
"I…I…" John tried to form a coherent sentence, but as his trousers were pushed down and his shirt lifted up he felt the denim of Lestrade's jeans against his arse, and then the shock of cool metal and leather as Lestrade's jacket pressed against his back. "Jesus, fuck."
"Mmmm, excellent idea," Lestrade finally allowed John to turn around, then pressed him back against the wall, kissing him deeply and working the buttons of his shirt open, exposing him thoroughly, trousers around his knees and shirt pushed back from his shoulders. Lestrade was still, somehow, fully clothed.
John fumbled, trying to find the zip on the front of Lestrade's jacket, frustrated by the other zips and buckles, not wanting to stop kissing and look.
Lestrade moved, trailing kisses from his lips down to his neck, stubble rough, lips soft, tongue wet.
"What are you…even…doing here?" John managed; locating and tugging on the right zip, finally able to reach inside the heavy leather jacket and shove his hands up under the soft grey t-shirt Lestrade wore.
"Off…tomorrow," Lestrade said, sentence broken as he kissed John's neck, open mouthed, gently sucking on his sensitive skin, then allowing hot breath to gush over the skin. "Couldn't bear…thinking of you…here…alone."
John's response was stolen from him by Lestrade's hand wrapping around his cock and sliding down his shaft, an exquisite pressure that just made him desperate to thrust more.
He pushed Lestrade's jacket down off the strong shoulders, although he almost whined with need when the hand left his erection to allow the heavy leather to fall to the floor, discarded without thought.
His own shirt quickly followed it, and he kicked off his shoes as his trousers bunched around his knees.
Lestrade kept him trapped against the wall – cold against his back and buttocks, contrasting with the warmth of Lestrade's still fully clothed body leaning against him.
John loved it – it made him feel completely at the mercy of whatever Lestrade wanted. Dominating him, taking control. He could still barely believe Lestrade was there, with him, not a hundred miles away, in London.
Lestrade let go of his cock and reached around, grabbing his arse and dragging him close, pressing their bodies together.
"I suggest, Doc, that you get yourself on that bed."
"I don't…I didn't bring any lube," John panted, moving his hips as much as he could, within the firm hold, enjoying the slight friction on his dick.
Lestrade let out a huff of laughter. "Good. Might have wondered why you thought you'd need it." He let go, and John almost stumbled backwards, glancing behind to locate the bed as his head span, trying to catch up with all the sensations bombarding his body.
He lay back, watching as Lestrade quickly dragged his t-shirt over his head, then listened to the zips and Velcro on his boots being opened, and the thud as they were kicked off.
Finally, jeans in a crumpled heap on the floor, Lestrade crawled onto the bed, over John, head dipping to drop gentle kisses on his stomach and thighs, purposefully avoiding touching his erection.
"Bastard," John breathed, as Lestrade managed to swipe a tongue over his balls.
"Mmmmmm," Lestrade agreed. "Turn over. Arse in the air."
John obeyed without question, twisting to try to watch what Lestrade was doing behind him. But it only took a second before he found out, as Lestrade's tongue slid between his legs, dragging a wet stripe from his balls to his lower back.
"Jesus – Greg!"
The tongue moved back to his hole, wet tip delicately tracing around the puckered skin, hot breath a counterpoint to the cool breeze over wet skin as Lestrade breathed in. Then his cock was wrapped in a warm fist again, and gently pulled down, back between his legs, where the tongue could swipe over his sensitive hole, then swirl around the sensitive tip of his dick. He rested his forehead on his arms, and couldn't help but spread his legs a little wider, begging for more.
"Mmm," Lestrade moaned, the sound sending gentle vibrations through John, as he waited, body taut, never knowing if the mouth would find his cock or his arse next.
"Fuck, you…please, just…" he wriggled his hips, unable to articulate what he wanted to say.
"Tell me," Lestrade said, giving a gentle tug on John's erection and burying his face between his arse cheeks, forcing his tongue just inside John's body.
"Fuck me, God, I want you, please, I…" he gasped again at the sensations.
"Whatever you want," Lestrade shifted slightly, the mattress dipping, tongue leaving John's body for a moment, only to be replaced by slick fingers.
John realised that Lestrade must have arrived with nothing but lube in his pocket. Somehow it felt so much more exciting – like an illicit affair; a secret, dirty, encounter in a faceless hotel room.
A finger slid into him, Lestrade's other hand still slowly stroking up and down his cock, too loose and too slow to be truly satisfying, but enough to keep his desire on a simmer, just waiting for more.
A second finger slid inside him, a twist of Lestrade's wrist sending the first shiver of pleasure through him from the nudge against his prostate. He let out a small moan, just to let his lover know that he'd found the right spot.
The fingers teased him, pulling out until just the tips remained, short thrusts, twisting and turning before slipping all the way back in, until Lestrade's knuckles were tight in his crack.
"Please," he begged.
"Turn over," Lestrade commanded.
The fingers slid free of his arse, easily slipping out, lube dribbling down, cool over his balls.
He rolled onto his back, legs spread wide, one knee bent, eyes feasting on Lestrade's body – strong thighs spread for balance, muscles in his chest and shoulders softly shadowed, the slight dusting of hair on his chest, dipping down his stomach and then dark at his groin. Cock standing out, hard, tip obviously wet, just poking out of his foreskin.
Lestrade squeezed a little more lube into his palm, keeping eye contact with John as he slid his own cock through his slick fist. John licked his lips, eyes darting from Lestrade's face to his thick cock.
"Ready?" Lestrade asked.
He nodded, lifting his legs, smiling as Lestrade moved forward, feeling the tip of his cock sliding down, then pushing into him, and despite the preparation there was a second of stretch and burn before the familiar sensation of Lestrade pushing into him, slowly, carefully, not stopping until he was all the way in.
John's eyes were closed, one arm flung out across the bedding, the other hand resting on Lestrade's own, fingers twitching as he wanted to reach out and force Lestrade to move.
He knew this was just as torturous for both of them, the slow, slow push and pull. He opened his eyes, finding Lestrade's dark brown eyes locked onto his own blue ones.
"Bastard," he breathed. "You know I…"
"Love this, whatever you say," Lestrade finished.
"Wanker," John said, but smiled, and as a reward Lestrade thrust a little harder, right at the end of his stroke, making John's cock bounce against his stomach.
"I can always leave again," Lestrade threatened, voice rough, betraying his own need.
"Wouldn't fucking dare," John breathed, and squeezed his muscles hard, getting a ridiculous amount of satisfaction as Lestrade's body twitched and his eyes closed briefly.
Lestrade sped up his movements a little, John's body flexing as the thrusts grew harder. He watched as Lestrade glanced around, then grabbed the bottle of lube, slowing again for just long enough to dribble more of the cool liquid out of the bottle onto his shaft, then sliding back in, repeating the process.
"Feels good," John managed. Then his eyes snapped open as Lestrade pulled al the way out, and he felt empty and cold, his sphincter grasping at air before Lestrade slid all the way back in in one long hard thrust.
"Fuck," John breathed, hands grabbing at the bedding. He loved the feel of every inch of Lestrade pushing into him in one go. The way Lestrade repeated the action, but varying the time he was empty – sometimes shoving straight back in, others making him wait, watching the twitch of his hole, the silent begging of his body to be filled again. "Fuck."
Then Lestrade moved, shuffling his knees wider, pushing John's legs back until he was spread wide, almost folding him in half as he reached for a kiss, arms sliding beneath John's shoulders, pressing them together.
John wrapped his arms around Lestrade, holding him tight, every sensation filled with the man – his warmth, his scent, the feel of his skin, his cock, his rough stubble, the taste of him. He pushed his hand into Lestrade's soft hair, kissing him hard, breathing the same air as Lestrade thrust into him, moving just enough that his cock – trapped between them, twitched from the sensation.
It was one of his favourite positions – completely dominated, Lestrade's body covering his, Lestrade completely in control, thrusting hard, passion taking over every movement. He couldn't help but moan into Lestrade's mouth, and knew, as Lestrade's thrusts grew harder, more erratic, that he was about to come.
He squeezed his muscles tighter, and Lestrade let out a gasp of pleasure, then rolled his hips, pushing in so far that John could swear they become one being.
"Fuck," Lestrade panted, muscles shaking, breath coming in pants as he rode out his orgasm, kissing John, then resting their foreheads together, stilling, apart from the rise and fall of his chest, and the thud of his pulse.
There was a pause, a moment, and then Lestrade kissed John once more, sliding free of his hot, slick hole, moving down his chest, kissing each nipple, nuzzling down over his stomach, then taking John's cock back into his mouth.
"Mmm," John's hand was still on Lestrade's head, fingers entangled in the short greying hair, and he gently guided Lestrade's movements, then gasped as two fingers slid back inside him, and Lestrade's thumb firmly pressed his perineum.
He was torn between thrusting his cock further into Lestrade's mouth or trying to push himself down on the fingers – he could feel how loose he was, and the fingers slid easily through the lube and Lestrade's own semen.
Lestrade solved the problem, swallowing his cock as deeply as he could, whilst pushing his fingers into John, flexing them, until John couldn't take any more, and the world seemed to disappear around him – his only focus on his cock and arse, the heat and pressure, and suddenly he was coming so hard he shook, toes curling, fingers tightening their grip on Lestrade's hair, the muscles and tendons of his neck standing out as he threw his head back and let rip with a stream of breathy-half-formed obscenities as he came.
Lestrade kept sucking his cock, tongue lapping, until he was, all of a sudden, too sensitive and had to wriggle, pushing on Lestrade's forehead to stop it, and he laughed.
"Stop, stop, too much," he panted. "Come here."
Lestrade slid his fingers free of John's arse and crawled back up the bed, wrapping his arms around John and kissing him, then collapsing onto the pillow, dragging John close, tangling their legs together.
"Thank you," John smiled.
Lestrade huffed out a breath of laughter. "No need."
"I mean for…for riding all the way up here, for me, us, this…"
Lestrade grinned. "Was worth every second."
The next day, as Lestrade was outside attaching John's bag to the tank of his bike and John checked out, he looked down at the form the conference organisers had provided. His eyes came to rest on the question 'What was the highlight of your conference experience?'. He glanced out of the large window in time to see Lestrade straddle the motorbike, settling on the seat and revving the engine. He grinned and checked the box that said 'evening entertainment'.
~Fin