Only You, Always You.
Title: Only You, Always You
Pairing/Characters: Blackwood/Watson, mentioned Holmes/Watson
Rating: R
Word Count: 587
Spoilers: The movie?
Notes/Warnings: Blood play. Not my usual kinda of writing, just kinda happened.
Disclaimer: Don't own.
Second Person, Watson's POV!
Two months, one week, four days since you last saw Holmes. Two weeks, five days since you gave in and accepted that Holmes would never come. One week, three days since you started believing that Blackwood was the only one who loved you.
“What are you thinking about?” He asks you as he runs the blade lightly over your bare chest.
“You. Only you.” You answer. You know if you were to say anything else he would punish you, and not in the good way. “Always you.”
He puts more pressure on the knife, but not enough to draw blood. “Good boy.” He finally cuts you and you love the feeling of it. “I don’t think you deserve my love, my attention. Do you?”
You can’t take your eyes off of him as he brings the blade up to his lips and licks at the blood. “No. Not good enough for you. Never good enough for you.”
“And yet,” Another cut this one from your navel to the top of your pants. “I still take play with you.”
You gasp as he runs his index finger over the cut, covering it in blood. “Thank you.”
He laughs at that. “You should thank me every day.” He runs his blood-covered finger over your bottom lip. “Open.” You do as he says. “Clean it.” You draw the finger into your mouth with your tongue and lick it clean. His smile use to make you sick but now all it does is make you hard and he knows this. “Tell me, my dear doctor, do you want me in you? Do you want me to make you scream? Make you bleed?”
You nod so that you don’t have to open your mouth and lose his finger.
He uses his free hand to undo your pants and pull them down. He pulls his finger out of your mouth and you can’t help but whimper over that loss. He doesn’t prepare you, he just thrusts into you but he uses oil so as not to hurt himself. It always hurts and it draws blood but you know he loves it so you try to ignore the pain; you can’t make him mad.
He wraps his hand around you and starts stroking you. His hand is rough and there is no love behind the motion; just the notion of ownership. He grabs the knife and cuts you across the chest, then leans down and licks over the wound. That pushes you over the edge and you can’t help but moan. You moan his name but it isn’t the name you want to say. If you say the name you want to say, he will be upset and you can’t upset the one who loves you.
He pulls out of you and you notice he didn’t come. He moves so that he’s over you and you think he’s going to let you taste him but instead he stays over you and starts pumping. You get no warning before he comes on your face. On reflex you lick up as much as you can reach. He laughs at how pathetic you must look but you continue because you know he likes it and you have to make him happy.
He runs a hand through your hair and smirks at you. “You’re a very good boy.” He cuts you again but this time he brings the blade up to your mouth. You lick it clean. “Now, whom do you belong to?”
“You. Only you, always you.”
Pairing/Characters: Blackwood/Watson, mentioned Holmes/Watson
Rating: R
Word Count: 587
Spoilers: The movie?
Notes/Warnings: Blood play. Not my usual kinda of writing, just kinda happened.
Disclaimer: Don't own.
Second Person, Watson's POV!
Two months, one week, four days since you last saw Holmes. Two weeks, five days since you gave in and accepted that Holmes would never come. One week, three days since you started believing that Blackwood was the only one who loved you.
“What are you thinking about?” He asks you as he runs the blade lightly over your bare chest.
“You. Only you.” You answer. You know if you were to say anything else he would punish you, and not in the good way. “Always you.”
He puts more pressure on the knife, but not enough to draw blood. “Good boy.” He finally cuts you and you love the feeling of it. “I don’t think you deserve my love, my attention. Do you?”
You can’t take your eyes off of him as he brings the blade up to his lips and licks at the blood. “No. Not good enough for you. Never good enough for you.”
“And yet,” Another cut this one from your navel to the top of your pants. “I still take play with you.”
You gasp as he runs his index finger over the cut, covering it in blood. “Thank you.”
He laughs at that. “You should thank me every day.” He runs his blood-covered finger over your bottom lip. “Open.” You do as he says. “Clean it.” You draw the finger into your mouth with your tongue and lick it clean. His smile use to make you sick but now all it does is make you hard and he knows this. “Tell me, my dear doctor, do you want me in you? Do you want me to make you scream? Make you bleed?”
You nod so that you don’t have to open your mouth and lose his finger.
He uses his free hand to undo your pants and pull them down. He pulls his finger out of your mouth and you can’t help but whimper over that loss. He doesn’t prepare you, he just thrusts into you but he uses oil so as not to hurt himself. It always hurts and it draws blood but you know he loves it so you try to ignore the pain; you can’t make him mad.
He wraps his hand around you and starts stroking you. His hand is rough and there is no love behind the motion; just the notion of ownership. He grabs the knife and cuts you across the chest, then leans down and licks over the wound. That pushes you over the edge and you can’t help but moan. You moan his name but it isn’t the name you want to say. If you say the name you want to say, he will be upset and you can’t upset the one who loves you.
He pulls out of you and you notice he didn’t come. He moves so that he’s over you and you think he’s going to let you taste him but instead he stays over you and starts pumping. You get no warning before he comes on your face. On reflex you lick up as much as you can reach. He laughs at how pathetic you must look but you continue because you know he likes it and you have to make him happy.
He runs a hand through your hair and smirks at you. “You’re a very good boy.” He cuts you again but this time he brings the blade up to your mouth. You lick it clean. “Now, whom do you belong to?”
“You. Only you, always you.”