His key turns in the lock, signalling his return home. The dogs, Salvador and Jones, barking in the hallway as he pushes open the door and steps inside from the pouring rain of the late Friday evening.
"Hello, shush, hello." The older man greets his beloved companions as he takes of his soaked raincoat and jacket, hanging them up in the cupboard as he hears footsteps upstairs. No doubt mischievous intentions behind the sounds, he smiles to himself at the thought. John puts his umbrella in the stand before he quickly checks his appearance in the hallway mirror, neatening up his hair and brushing away any stray bits of hair or lint from his shoulders.
Footsteps start running along the staircase and he only has just enough time to turn before the two little monsters collide with his legs, sticking to him like glue as they cling at his waist and giggle at him as he looks down at his two daughters.
"Daddy!" They call in unison, John sighs as he bends down and scoops the two up into his arms, let out an exaggerated grunt as if they weight hundreds of pounds, they giggle but don't quite fall for John's acting, a single pair of footsteps follows shortly after, lighter and more graceful than the two five-year-old's in John's arms.
"Papa dressed up!" Rosie whispers loudly into John's ear as they watch Sherlock descend down the stairs, graceful steps with a knowing smile on his lipstick red glossy lips. His mascara clad eyelashes fluttering, his blushed cheeks and the golden colour of his eyelids shimmering under the hall light.
"Papa looks so pretty!" Isla announces as Sherlock laughs with delight as he takes the child from John's arms, he's still staring at his husband with awe and shock and arousal that dilates his pupils and makes his mouth run dry, like he's a teenager seeing Sherlock for the first time all over again.
"Thank you." Sherlock smiles as he nuzzles his nose into Isla's cheek, earning little giggles from the girl. John continues to stare at Sherlock, taking his made up face and then his diamond clad earlobes down to the sprawling diamond necklace John had gifted him for his birthday.
"You two should definitely be in bed now." Sherlock says, a soft scold on his tongue as Isla and Rosie look a little sheepishly as they nod, it's past their bedtime and John suspects they stayed up to see him, he kisses Rosie's cheek, snapping out of the trance Sherlock put him in and leads the way back up the stairs to the twins' bedroom.
Isla asking for a story as Sherlock tucks her securely into her bed, John smiles and selects a short one about a rabbit looking for carrots, he only gets halfway through before the girls are fast asleep, he shares a satisfied smile with Sherlock as they kiss their children goodnight and leave with the door slightly ajar, Jones and Salvador slipping inside once Sherlock and John had left the room, even if John had had the two dogs since they were pups their loyalty undoubtedly lay with the twins, he can't hold it against them.
"How was your day?" Sherlock asks as they walk along the landing towards their bedroom, John's fingers lacing through Sherlock's as he smiles at the younger man, bringing his hand to his lips, kissing along his pale knuckles.
"Better now that I'm home, even better seeing you all dressed up like this," He admires the silk slip adorning his husband's slender body, accenting the soft tones of his arms and legs, the dancer grace that he had mastered through years of ballet. Sherlock blushes and walks ahead of John to their bed, sitting down and letting his back collide with the soft mattress beneath him.
"What's the occasion?" John asks as he clicks their bedroom door shut and walks towards Sherlock, stands just a little away from him as he takes his socks and his tie off, throwing them in the laundry basket in the corner of the room. Sherlock shrugs and throws his perfect curls back as he looks up at his love.
"You've been working so hard recently that I thought you deserved a little treat." His tone is too casual for John to believe that that's the only reason, he smiles and arches a brow at his husband, stepping between his legs, letting his fingers fall into his soft curls, exploring his skull as Sherlock watches his face, a sparkle in his eye.
"You only dress up when you want something." John says knowingly as he slowly moves to massage his fingers over Sherlock's neck and down along his shoulders, he hums with delight as he body relaxes under his husband's careful attention, his touch like a drug to Sherlock.
"Such a suspicious mind." Sherlock murmurs his tempting red lips curving into a smirk.
"I learnt from the best." John replies, giving in to temptation and leaning down to his love's red lips, warm and sticky from the gloss coat over the lipstick, he moans against John's lips, letting his perfect lips part to allow him entrance inside his dark wet warm mouth.
"Undress me." It's a quiet command spoken in the silence of the bedroom, the need for the other's body growing as John pulls back from Sherlock's lips and smiles with triumph when he see the red lipstick smeared messily from his lips, along his chin.
"The price of beauty." Sherlock shrugs as he leans back on his elbows and waits for John to start the slow undressing of his body. John smiles as he gets to his knees before Sherlock with deliberate slowness. His fingers a feather-light touch along Sherlock's skin as he edges closer to the hem of his silk slip that had risen up to the middle of his thigh.
His soft skin raises with goosebumps beneath John's touch, his breath low and laboured as his husband takes his time to roll the delicate silk up his body, Sherlock watches him, he doesn't dare take his eyes from John's hands until the material had revealed his lace clad crotch. There's a wolfish grin on John's face when the lace panties are revealed.
"Now I know you want something." John says with a low growl to his voice as he brings his eyes back up to Sherlock who simply smiles as coyly as he can, refusing to reveal just what he's trying to manipulate out of John before he's had his fun, not that John minds being manipulated when it comes in the shape of Sherlock all dressed up for him, ready to be fucked and owned as he pleases. John would quite happily do anything Sherlock asked of him if it meant seeing Sherlock all pretty like this for him.
"I'm afraid you're going to have to work harder to get anything out of me." Sherlock says, lifting his chin with defiance as John grins menacingly at his words and gets to his feet with the swift grace of a predator pouncing on their victim, but they both know better than to think of Sherlock as a victim in this scenario.
John flips Sherlock onto his belly without ceremony. Presses the younger man's face into the soft pillows as he drags his curls around his fingers and tugs in that delicious way Sherlock always misses when John's away and he's left to play on his own. He goads John when he pushes his pert derrière up into John's crotch where lies the real beast of the evening. John growls deep in his chest above Sherlock and shoves his pretty face deeper into the sheets, smearing his perfect makeup delightfully.
"Such a wanton slut." John coos low in Sherlock's ear, dragging out the 's' just for him, he moans and finds that he's bucking his hips into the soft mattress for some friction of his dreadfully neglected cock, John quickly stops him, slipping his hand beneath and around Sherlock's belly and raising him up, his arse raised into the air, cock away from temptation.
"Only daddy's going to be cumming tonight." John says as the weight on the bed shifts and Sherlock hears more than sees John beginning to undress, he resists whimpering and begging, that'll come later.
"You still haven't undressed me." Sherlock can't keep himself from talking, can't resist being petulant even with John as worked up as he is, he knows he can get the older man to break. He smirks with triumph and cries with equal arousal and pain when John strikes his presented arse with harsh precision. He mewls like a bitch in heat when John hits him again and again, making sure to hit his balls on the last strike. Sherlock rocks and keens into the mattress as he tries to keep from cumming, aware that his slip is ruined from the spots of precum that had leaked onto the expensive material.
He can't bring himself to feel angry about this fact however.
"Daddy didn't say you could speak." John's tone seethes from behind Sherlock, out of sight, there's an edge of unbridled arousal in John's voice, one that Sherlock dreams about hearing, whispering filthy promises into his ear as he draws out orgasm after orgasm from the dancer's body. He shivers and his arse clenches around John's absent cock. That makes Sherlock frustrated.
"Look at you, searching to be filled up, so hungry for it." He's on the bed again, behind Sherlock with his hand around his neck, holding him down and keeping him from looking behind at John.
His hot lube-slick finger slides into Sherlock's flushed red arse without warning, earning a strangled cry from the younger man as he does. Clenching around John's finger in the hopes of drawing him in deeper, fulfilling the starving emptiness.
Sherlock absently thinks it was a good choice to wear the crotch-less panties for this occasion.
"You're dripping for it." John says above him, adding a second finger that John didn't pour lube on to, it drags over Sherlock's hot flesh and makes him beg for more, bucking his hips before John straddles his thighs, keeping him pinned helplessly to the bed now.
"Daddy!" Sherlock wines, his eyes squeezed shut and his cock painfully hard and neglected still confined to the panties. He realises, with a mix of intense unidentifiable emotions, that he's about to cum and that John knows he's about to cum.
John hooks a third finger into Sherlock's tight arse, coos all sorts of dirty names into Sherlock's ear as he strokes his fingers over Sherlock's abused prostate, it takes seconds for Sherlock to clench around John's fingers like a vice, for him to spill into his expensive panties and to ruin the sheets and his dress.
"Couldn't angel baby cope?" His tone is taunting above Sherlock, it earns sweet mewls from his lover's lips and ugly slurs made pretty as they pass the swollen red flesh.
"Not to matter, punishments can come after." John coos from behind Sherlock, who lays with a blissful expression below his husband, that is, until he feels and hears his couture silk slip ripping in two in John's hands.
"John!" He cries with horror, rolling the two men onto their backs as he claws at the ruined fabric laying in his hands, all playfulness forgotten as Sherlock glares at his husband murderously.
"I'll buy you a thousand more." John promises, rolling back atop Sherlock, replacing the ruined fabric in Sherlock's hands with his own and dragging them high above his head. Sherlock sets his jaw and glares at the man as he rubs his leaking cock over his cum-stained belly.
"You'll have all the silk in the world." His teeth catch Sherlock's lip and bites and pulls with the threat of a sting, smirking above the younger man as he reaches his hand to collect both of Sherlock's securely, his newly empty hand snaking down to tease at one of Sherlock's nipples.
"A million." Sherlock breathes once John has released his lip in favour of his throat, he feels him grin against his Adam's apple, sucks over the lump until it's red and Sherlock's hips are bucking upward to meet John's.
"A million for every stitch torn." John agrees as he pushes Sherlock's thighs apart and slips his fingers between them, toying with Sherlock's contracting hole until neither can stand the teasing any longer.
Slowly John positions himself against Sherlock. Their eyes locked together as they feel the drag of John's head over Sherlock's puckered hole before he finally presses inside. Home.
They cry out and Sherlock is quick to grind his hips down to draw John deeper inside, until his hips slot against his arse cheeks and his balls slap his flesh. He buries his fingers into John's hair and stares into his dilated pupils with all the love and respect and adoration he felt from the day he met him. They edge closer to their inevitable release, grunting thrusts and moaning jerks.
They're teetering dangerously towards completion and this is where the younger man takes advantage.
"I want a baby." John spills deep inside of Sherlock, a cry of ecstasy on his lips as he grinds down on his lover and spills all his has deep inside of him. Sherlock lost to the sensation, the pounding of cum against his prostate, he cums for a second time, his fingers lost in his husband's hair as his stomach and thighs and bed sheets are sprayed with pumps of his sperm.
John rolls them, careful to keep his softening cock buried in Sherlock's arse as he lays on his back with Sherlock propped up on his hips, leaning against his thighs that are drawn up behind him. The light and shadows are thrown over Sherlock like a halo, the diamonds still adorning his skin glittering and making him seemingly glow with an angelic light. John reaches up and caresses his flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips. He couldn't deny this man anything.
"We'll call Mary in the morning, see if she'll carry for us again." John promises, smiling as he sees the relief wash over Sherlock, the tears of happiness shine in his bright eyes, their lips collide again as Sherlock presses his body against John's, sweat and cum linger on their skin.
"I love you," Sherlock murmurs low, John grins and kisses him a few more times before he bucks his hips and reminds Sherlock of his softening cock still buried deep inside of him.
"Show me." They grin knowingly and Sherlock spends the rest of the night showing his husband just how much he loves him.