Sherlock Holmes: Accountability
Title: Accountability
Characters: Holmes/Watson (movieverse)
Rating: hard R
Word Count: 1514
Warnings: rape fantasy
Summary: Originally posted on the kinkmeme and written in response to this prompt:
Holmes and Watson roleplay a rape fantasy, with bottom!Watson. Nothing truly violent, but just Watson acting all weak and helpless to stop Holmes, who won't take no for an answer and degrades Watson with words (calling him a slut & blaming him etc).
Author's Notes: I don't know what possessed me to write this. It's top!Holmes and bottom!Watson... I don't like either! I think it was the addendum later in the prompt thread that the OP wanted it to be serious. In any case, I'm not sure about the results. I think both people who commented on it, OP included, just felt obligated to do so.
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It was such an exhausting strain to be in control all the time -- to always have the responsibility of others' well-being in his hands. "I need this, Holmes." He needed to have all choice, all power stripped from him. "I need it more than even you could ever understand."
"Very well, Watson." Holmes's tone was unreadable. Watson's eyes searched his lover's face for any sign of disgust. The detective's dark eyes shone with curiosity, nothing more. "What do you need me to do?"
Watson could feel his cheeks reddening with shame, but he stammered the words out. "I n-need you to throw me down, on... onto the floor. I need you to pin me down, strip me, and..."
"Fuck you into the floor?" Cheeks feeling even hotter, he nodded. "Am I allowed to use any lubrication? I don't want to truly hurt you, my dear Watson."
"Don't use my name. Call me any filthy name you can think of, but don't call my name." The more degrading, the better. It might just make up for his failures. "And you may use the soft paraffin from my case, but not too much."
"Are you sure about this?" Watson could not recall the last time he had seen those brown eyes looking so serious.
"I am," he replied, placing a hand on Holmes's shoulder.
Holmes gave the tiniest nod before bursting into sudden, violent action. He pushed Watson away from him with a strong shove to the doctor's shoulders. "You vile, disgusting whore!" Watson shivered at the vehemence of the tone. "I'll teach you to seduce me, slut." With a quick, well-trained move, Holmes kicked out his foot while at the same time gripping Watson's forearm. Before he quite knew what had happened, Watson found himself on his back on the floor, breath driven out of him.
Yes, Holmes. Just like that.
"No," Watson moaned.
"It's too late for that," Holmes growled at him, stripping off his dressing gown and kneeling down to straddle Watson's thighs. The doctor raised his hands to push Holmes off, but the detective roughly gripped a wrist in each hand and pinned them hard against the floor. Watson struggled and pushed against that hold but could not budge or loosen it in the slightest.
He was completely at Holmes's mercy. The thought sent a shiver of fear and desire down Watson's spine.
"You're not going anywhere. I’m going to give you exactly what you want -- what you deserve."
"No! I don't know what you're talking about!" Hit me, Holmes.
"Don't lie to me, you filthy, wanton catamite!" Holmes backhanded him as he said it. It was nowhere near full strength, but Watson tasted iron in his mouth. Holmes now gripped both of Watson's wrists in one hand. His free hand began tearing at the doctor's clothing, ripping away his shirt. "You've been tempting me with this vile body." He softly raked his nails across Watson's torso. "Seducing me with those blue, blue eyes." He shifted over Watson, maneuvering a knee between Watson's thighs and shifting his legs apart slightly. "Now you will pay," he hissed.
"No!" Watson cried out as his trousers and undergarments received the same treatment as his shirt. "Stop!"
"I'm not going to stop." The light was behind Holmes -- it was impossible to make out his expression. "This is your all your doing."
More, Holmes. It's not enough.
"You nasty sodomite whore."
There.
Keeping his leg wedged between Watson's and keeping Watson's wrists pinned with his left hand, Holmes reached his right over to grasp Watson's medical case. He dragged it towards him, opened it, and rifled around until his hand came out with a small jar of petroleum jelly. His clever fingers twisted the lid off before he set it on the floor by Watson's head. He dipped his middle finger into it swirled it around once before withdrawing it.
"The fruits of your evil labor," Holmes hissed, passing the coated finger before Watson's eyes before moving his hand downward. He shifted his legs again so that both knees were between Watson's legs, wedging his thighs almost painfully apart. Sliding his hand behind Watson's member, which was already shamefully half-erect, Holmes thrust his finger into Watson's entrance.
"AH!" Watson half-moaned, half-gasped, cheeks reddening at the slight note of pleasure in his own voice. "Don't!"
"Enough lies." Holmes's questing finger soon found what it was after. Watson moaned out another denial as his body shuddered from the rough stimulation of his prostate. "I can see how much you are enjoying this, slut."
"Please..." don't "stop..."
"No. Your body is wantonly begging me go on." Holmes jerked his finger out of Watson, eliciting another moan. Watson felt and heard, more than saw, Holmes opening the front of his own trousers and lowering them and his undergarments. Holmes's hand went back to the jar, two fingers dipping this time into the soft paraffin before going to Holmes's arousal. Watson heard the detective's breath catch a little as he rubbed the clear grease over his erection. Then, Holmes shifted again, his hand gripping Watson's hip to pull his bottom up and then maneuvering the doctor's leg over his own hip. "I'll give you what you've been begging for," he said in a soft, poison tone as he placed his arousal against Watson's entrance. He slowly pushed the tip in and then thrust himself halfway in with one sharp jerk of his hips.
"Nooo..." It came as a high, drawn-out moan of pain and pleasure. "Please..."
"Please what, whore?" Holmes asked, thrusting the rest of the way in.
Please, Holmes, harder!
"Please bugger you senseless? Is that what you want, filth?" Holmes kept up a steady flow of invective as he thrust into Watson, hard and fast. Watson struggled again in his hold, longing to put a hand to his own arousal. He whimpered again, frustrated, yet thrilling in that complete denial.
His will was nothing. Holmes had complete control of him now. He moaned again, his back arching.
"You... like that, don't you... slut?" Holmes's speech was punctuated by harsh pants as the man neared his climax. His motions sped up further and Watson closed his eyes, feeling tears leak out at the perfect pain and pleasure of it. "Filthy... disgusting..." A particularly strong thrust came with each epithet. "Sodomite... whore!" With that last groaned out word, Holmes reached his completion inside Watson, who, with his own cry, also found his release.
Watson lay under Holmes, panting, shamed, and dominated, Holmes's seed leaking from between his buttocks and his own covering his torso.
Perfect... With that one thought, Watson briefly let go of everything.
"Watson," a voice called to him. There was a warm hand lightly slapping his face. "Watson!" There was worry in the voice, which was unusual because...
"Holmes?" he asked, opening his eyes and blinking them into focus. Why am I on the floor? He asked himself as he tried to make out Holmes's shadowed face above him. His confusion lasted for only another blink of his eyes as the dull ache in his lower body and the wetness on his stomach and chest reminded him. Oh, right. He turned his face away from the hand that now rested on his cheek, shame burning in his mind and across his cheekbones.
"My dear, Watson, I'm sorry." Was that regret in his voice? Watson's shame increased. "Here, let me..." Watson felt strong arms grip him and gently maneuver him half onto Holmes's lap. The hand was on his face again, cupping his cheek, the index finger wiping at the dampness under his eyes and the thumb tracing a tender spot at the corner of his mouth. "I've hurt you."
"No, Holmes." Watson reached a hand, still tingling with returning sensation, to cover the one on his cheek. "It was what I wanted -- needed." It was perfect.
"But... I cannot comprehend why."
Watson spared a moment to smile, enjoying the rare confusion in the detective's voice. It faded quickly as he replied, "You're welcome to deduce what you will, but... I can't tell you." Holmes, with his love of logic and of being in control of every situation, would never understand Watson's need to have all control taken from him. His pride would never comprehend a desire to be punished for failures for which no one else blamed him. "I can't tell you," he repeated in a whisper.
"Will you want this again?" It took a moment for Watson to recognize the unwonted emotion that underlay Holmes's tone. It was sadness. He looked hard up at that shadowed face, striving to look into his lover's eyes. He could only make out a deeper darkness within the shadows. "Well?"
"I'm sorry, Holmes, but yes." Holmes did not sigh, but his sharp exhalation was close enough. "Will you do it again?"
"If you ask it," was the soft, but unhesitating reply.
"Thank you, Holmes."
Instead of a reply, his face was lifted for a long, bittersweet kiss.
Watson closed his eyes and relinquished control for a moment more.
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I dunno... maybe I got carried away in the middle.
Anyway, "soft paraffin" is synonymous with "petroleum jelly," but I really have no clue which word they would have used for it (Vaseline -- it had been invented and was being made by then).
If you've read this far, thank you.
Characters: Holmes/Watson (movieverse)
Rating: hard R
Word Count: 1514
Warnings: rape fantasy
Summary: Originally posted on the kinkmeme and written in response to this prompt:
Holmes and Watson roleplay a rape fantasy, with bottom!Watson. Nothing truly violent, but just Watson acting all weak and helpless to stop Holmes, who won't take no for an answer and degrades Watson with words (calling him a slut & blaming him etc).
Author's Notes: I don't know what possessed me to write this. It's top!Holmes and bottom!Watson... I don't like either! I think it was the addendum later in the prompt thread that the OP wanted it to be serious. In any case, I'm not sure about the results. I think both people who commented on it, OP included, just felt obligated to do so.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________
It was such an exhausting strain to be in control all the time -- to always have the responsibility of others' well-being in his hands. "I need this, Holmes." He needed to have all choice, all power stripped from him. "I need it more than even you could ever understand."
"Very well, Watson." Holmes's tone was unreadable. Watson's eyes searched his lover's face for any sign of disgust. The detective's dark eyes shone with curiosity, nothing more. "What do you need me to do?"
Watson could feel his cheeks reddening with shame, but he stammered the words out. "I n-need you to throw me down, on... onto the floor. I need you to pin me down, strip me, and..."
"Fuck you into the floor?" Cheeks feeling even hotter, he nodded. "Am I allowed to use any lubrication? I don't want to truly hurt you, my dear Watson."
"Don't use my name. Call me any filthy name you can think of, but don't call my name." The more degrading, the better. It might just make up for his failures. "And you may use the soft paraffin from my case, but not too much."
"Are you sure about this?" Watson could not recall the last time he had seen those brown eyes looking so serious.
"I am," he replied, placing a hand on Holmes's shoulder.
Holmes gave the tiniest nod before bursting into sudden, violent action. He pushed Watson away from him with a strong shove to the doctor's shoulders. "You vile, disgusting whore!" Watson shivered at the vehemence of the tone. "I'll teach you to seduce me, slut." With a quick, well-trained move, Holmes kicked out his foot while at the same time gripping Watson's forearm. Before he quite knew what had happened, Watson found himself on his back on the floor, breath driven out of him.
Yes, Holmes. Just like that.
"No," Watson moaned.
"It's too late for that," Holmes growled at him, stripping off his dressing gown and kneeling down to straddle Watson's thighs. The doctor raised his hands to push Holmes off, but the detective roughly gripped a wrist in each hand and pinned them hard against the floor. Watson struggled and pushed against that hold but could not budge or loosen it in the slightest.
He was completely at Holmes's mercy. The thought sent a shiver of fear and desire down Watson's spine.
"You're not going anywhere. I’m going to give you exactly what you want -- what you deserve."
"No! I don't know what you're talking about!" Hit me, Holmes.
"Don't lie to me, you filthy, wanton catamite!" Holmes backhanded him as he said it. It was nowhere near full strength, but Watson tasted iron in his mouth. Holmes now gripped both of Watson's wrists in one hand. His free hand began tearing at the doctor's clothing, ripping away his shirt. "You've been tempting me with this vile body." He softly raked his nails across Watson's torso. "Seducing me with those blue, blue eyes." He shifted over Watson, maneuvering a knee between Watson's thighs and shifting his legs apart slightly. "Now you will pay," he hissed.
"No!" Watson cried out as his trousers and undergarments received the same treatment as his shirt. "Stop!"
"I'm not going to stop." The light was behind Holmes -- it was impossible to make out his expression. "This is your all your doing."
More, Holmes. It's not enough.
"You nasty sodomite whore."
There.
Keeping his leg wedged between Watson's and keeping Watson's wrists pinned with his left hand, Holmes reached his right over to grasp Watson's medical case. He dragged it towards him, opened it, and rifled around until his hand came out with a small jar of petroleum jelly. His clever fingers twisted the lid off before he set it on the floor by Watson's head. He dipped his middle finger into it swirled it around once before withdrawing it.
"The fruits of your evil labor," Holmes hissed, passing the coated finger before Watson's eyes before moving his hand downward. He shifted his legs again so that both knees were between Watson's legs, wedging his thighs almost painfully apart. Sliding his hand behind Watson's member, which was already shamefully half-erect, Holmes thrust his finger into Watson's entrance.
"AH!" Watson half-moaned, half-gasped, cheeks reddening at the slight note of pleasure in his own voice. "Don't!"
"Enough lies." Holmes's questing finger soon found what it was after. Watson moaned out another denial as his body shuddered from the rough stimulation of his prostate. "I can see how much you are enjoying this, slut."
"Please..." don't "stop..."
"No. Your body is wantonly begging me go on." Holmes jerked his finger out of Watson, eliciting another moan. Watson felt and heard, more than saw, Holmes opening the front of his own trousers and lowering them and his undergarments. Holmes's hand went back to the jar, two fingers dipping this time into the soft paraffin before going to Holmes's arousal. Watson heard the detective's breath catch a little as he rubbed the clear grease over his erection. Then, Holmes shifted again, his hand gripping Watson's hip to pull his bottom up and then maneuvering the doctor's leg over his own hip. "I'll give you what you've been begging for," he said in a soft, poison tone as he placed his arousal against Watson's entrance. He slowly pushed the tip in and then thrust himself halfway in with one sharp jerk of his hips.
"Nooo..." It came as a high, drawn-out moan of pain and pleasure. "Please..."
"Please what, whore?" Holmes asked, thrusting the rest of the way in.
Please, Holmes, harder!
"Please bugger you senseless? Is that what you want, filth?" Holmes kept up a steady flow of invective as he thrust into Watson, hard and fast. Watson struggled again in his hold, longing to put a hand to his own arousal. He whimpered again, frustrated, yet thrilling in that complete denial.
His will was nothing. Holmes had complete control of him now. He moaned again, his back arching.
"You... like that, don't you... slut?" Holmes's speech was punctuated by harsh pants as the man neared his climax. His motions sped up further and Watson closed his eyes, feeling tears leak out at the perfect pain and pleasure of it. "Filthy... disgusting..." A particularly strong thrust came with each epithet. "Sodomite... whore!" With that last groaned out word, Holmes reached his completion inside Watson, who, with his own cry, also found his release.
Watson lay under Holmes, panting, shamed, and dominated, Holmes's seed leaking from between his buttocks and his own covering his torso.
Perfect... With that one thought, Watson briefly let go of everything.
"Watson," a voice called to him. There was a warm hand lightly slapping his face. "Watson!" There was worry in the voice, which was unusual because...
"Holmes?" he asked, opening his eyes and blinking them into focus. Why am I on the floor? He asked himself as he tried to make out Holmes's shadowed face above him. His confusion lasted for only another blink of his eyes as the dull ache in his lower body and the wetness on his stomach and chest reminded him. Oh, right. He turned his face away from the hand that now rested on his cheek, shame burning in his mind and across his cheekbones.
"My dear, Watson, I'm sorry." Was that regret in his voice? Watson's shame increased. "Here, let me..." Watson felt strong arms grip him and gently maneuver him half onto Holmes's lap. The hand was on his face again, cupping his cheek, the index finger wiping at the dampness under his eyes and the thumb tracing a tender spot at the corner of his mouth. "I've hurt you."
"No, Holmes." Watson reached a hand, still tingling with returning sensation, to cover the one on his cheek. "It was what I wanted -- needed." It was perfect.
"But... I cannot comprehend why."
Watson spared a moment to smile, enjoying the rare confusion in the detective's voice. It faded quickly as he replied, "You're welcome to deduce what you will, but... I can't tell you." Holmes, with his love of logic and of being in control of every situation, would never understand Watson's need to have all control taken from him. His pride would never comprehend a desire to be punished for failures for which no one else blamed him. "I can't tell you," he repeated in a whisper.
"Will you want this again?" It took a moment for Watson to recognize the unwonted emotion that underlay Holmes's tone. It was sadness. He looked hard up at that shadowed face, striving to look into his lover's eyes. He could only make out a deeper darkness within the shadows. "Well?"
"I'm sorry, Holmes, but yes." Holmes did not sigh, but his sharp exhalation was close enough. "Will you do it again?"
"If you ask it," was the soft, but unhesitating reply.
"Thank you, Holmes."
Instead of a reply, his face was lifted for a long, bittersweet kiss.
Watson closed his eyes and relinquished control for a moment more.
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I dunno... maybe I got carried away in the middle.
Anyway, "soft paraffin" is synonymous with "petroleum jelly," but I really have no clue which word they would have used for it (Vaseline -- it had been invented and was being made by then).
If you've read this far, thank you.