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Summary
"Tell me how it feels," John orders.
"Good," Sherlock breathes, his usually extensive vocabulary failing him. "So, so good."
He leans forward, sticking his arse up, begging without words, and John gasps, the fingers on Sherlock's hip clenching. Sherlock lowers his head between his arms, panting. He tries to imagine how he looks to John, naked, sweating, his legs spread wide, arse out, his hole stretched tight around John's fingers.