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Greg downed his pint almost all in one go.
"Fuck, Greg!" John commented, ignoring the detective's raised eyebrow at his use of the swear. "Bad day at work or something?"
"Something like that." Greg mumbled, signalling to the barmaid for top ups. "Give you one guess." he continued, pushing across John's new pint.
John nodded. "Sherlock."
"The guy will be the death of me." Greg quipped. "Winds me up so tight I could burst."
John snorted into his pint. "I bet." he replied, sinking half in one pull. He knew just what it was like to be pushed to breaking point by the lanky Holmes.
"You need you mind taking off it." John pushed his pint aside and moved closer to Greg. The booth they were sat in was quite well hidden and nobody noticed when John slid his hand into Greg's lap.
Nobody except Greg, that is.
As John's hand slipped higher and pressed at Greg's crotch, the detective let out a groan and his cock twitched eagerly under John's palm.
"I know what you can do." John shared, grinning madly.
"What?" Greg asked, more than a little alarmed by his betraying body.
John chuckled, squeezing just the right amount of perfect on the growing hardness in Greg's pants.
"Let's go to your place and stick this up my bum."