Johlock -Consume You- CH. 4
Title: Consume You
Written by: sam_lickr81
Rating: M(Trigger Warnings for painplay and name-calling)
Pairing: Johnlock(Sherlock/John)
Summary:I wanted some sexual tension smut. Basically, Mycroft warns John that Sherlock is going to try to make a sexual advance on him soon, and he doesn't know if he should believe it until Sherlock gives him reason to. Smut and Top!Sherlock. Bit of Roughsex!kink and painplay!kink.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sherlock or anything having to do with BBC.
---
Once they stumbled through the door to Sherlock’s bedroom, Sherlock shoved John rather hard onto the low bed.
He fell with a punched out breath, holding himself up on his elbows. His heart slammed against his ribs with excitement, and he was pitching quite the tent in his corduroys.
“Shirt. Gone.” Sherlock ordered, dropping to his knees with one on either side of John’s hips as he shrugged off his silken robe.
“NOW.” He grunted, his eyes almost completely dilated.
John complied, pulling his shirt and jumper over his head and throwing them aside. Sherlock simply watched, his eyes glazed over and analyzing.
“Don’t speak,” He snapped as he saw John part his lips as if to comment.
“That’s not your place tonight…This isn’t about you, John…”
John shivered at the detective’s words, closing his mouth rightly.
Sherlock placed the pad of his index finger on John’s lips softly, tilting his head with a dark expression.
“Good boy,” he whispered. The next thing John saw was Sherlock raising his hand up next to his head.
The slap came down on John’s cheek like a thunderclap. For a moment, he didn’t know what happened. All he could see was white, and all he could feel was a burning in his cheek that was spreading a heat throughout his face.
This was new. This was very new.
With one hand, Sherlock grabbed John’s face, turning him to look up at the detective. The dark-haired man held a calm, empowered expression as he looked down on the man on his bed.
“You liked that, didn’t you? Filthy, selfish little slut.”
John whimpered at the words slithering past Sherlock’s lips. He’d never heard anything so vulgar, and definitely not from his companion. He nodded in reply, not wanting to risk speaking.
Sherlock’s long fingers stroked along John’s cheeks and jaw.
“Of course you did…naughty little painwhore.”
Sherlock rocked his hips against John’s, grinding his arse against John’s crotch.
John let out a plethora of whines and gasps as he bucked up against the sweet friction.
“Yes that’s it…show me how you want it…show me…”
The words snaked past John’s ears as they left Sherlock’s mouth, and hot shivers shot down his spine.
The army doctor rutted up against Sherlock’s arse, reaching up to grip those slender hips. He was rewarded with another hard slap on the cheek.
Sherlock grabbed John’s wrists and pinned them to the bed.
“No hands.”
John let his head fall back as an overwhelmed sigh left his lips. He stared at the ceiling for a moment.
This was a LOT to take in. This type of situation, the feelings he was experiencing…this terribly possessive side of Sherlock…everything was almost too much. Almost.
“Shall I call you master, then?” he asked, half-joking. He lifted his head to look up at Sherlock.
Sherlock smirked, shaking his head to adjust his hair.
“Hah…no, not necessary. But I do expect you to listen to everything I say,” he growled.
John nodded, wetting his lips.
“Of course…everything.”
“First things first,” Sherlock cooed, his voice rumbling like crushed velvet. God that voice. Like he rehearsed each line.
He grabbed John’s jaw rather roughly, looking him dead in the eye.
“I believe I told you…to shut. up.”
John knew what was next. At least he had prayed it would come next.
His chest was pounding by the time Sherlock reached under his pillow. John looked out of his peripheral vision and saw the thin, sleek, black form of a riding crop being pulled out.
“OhgodyesPLEASE…” was heard on John’s breath as he spotted the device.
Sherlock raised his eyebrows, his eyes half-lidded and his lips slightly parted as he looked down at John.
“Oh? You like this part, yeah? You really are filthy, John…”
John swallowed thickly, his breath wavering.
“Yeah…” he managed, clenching and unclenching his fists on the comforter.
Sherlock sat back on his haunches, slapping the thin instrument against his pale palm.
“I’m going to test how much you really take pleasure in getting hurt, Doctor Watson…”
Written by: sam_lickr81
Rating: M(Trigger Warnings for painplay and name-calling)
Pairing: Johnlock(Sherlock/John)
Summary:I wanted some sexual tension smut. Basically, Mycroft warns John that Sherlock is going to try to make a sexual advance on him soon, and he doesn't know if he should believe it until Sherlock gives him reason to. Smut and Top!Sherlock. Bit of Roughsex!kink and painplay!kink.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sherlock or anything having to do with BBC.
---
Once they stumbled through the door to Sherlock’s bedroom, Sherlock shoved John rather hard onto the low bed.
He fell with a punched out breath, holding himself up on his elbows. His heart slammed against his ribs with excitement, and he was pitching quite the tent in his corduroys.
“Shirt. Gone.” Sherlock ordered, dropping to his knees with one on either side of John’s hips as he shrugged off his silken robe.
“NOW.” He grunted, his eyes almost completely dilated.
John complied, pulling his shirt and jumper over his head and throwing them aside. Sherlock simply watched, his eyes glazed over and analyzing.
“Don’t speak,” He snapped as he saw John part his lips as if to comment.
“That’s not your place tonight…This isn’t about you, John…”
John shivered at the detective’s words, closing his mouth rightly.
Sherlock placed the pad of his index finger on John’s lips softly, tilting his head with a dark expression.
“Good boy,” he whispered. The next thing John saw was Sherlock raising his hand up next to his head.
The slap came down on John’s cheek like a thunderclap. For a moment, he didn’t know what happened. All he could see was white, and all he could feel was a burning in his cheek that was spreading a heat throughout his face.
This was new. This was very new.
With one hand, Sherlock grabbed John’s face, turning him to look up at the detective. The dark-haired man held a calm, empowered expression as he looked down on the man on his bed.
“You liked that, didn’t you? Filthy, selfish little slut.”
John whimpered at the words slithering past Sherlock’s lips. He’d never heard anything so vulgar, and definitely not from his companion. He nodded in reply, not wanting to risk speaking.
Sherlock’s long fingers stroked along John’s cheeks and jaw.
“Of course you did…naughty little painwhore.”
Sherlock rocked his hips against John’s, grinding his arse against John’s crotch.
John let out a plethora of whines and gasps as he bucked up against the sweet friction.
“Yes that’s it…show me how you want it…show me…”
The words snaked past John’s ears as they left Sherlock’s mouth, and hot shivers shot down his spine.
The army doctor rutted up against Sherlock’s arse, reaching up to grip those slender hips. He was rewarded with another hard slap on the cheek.
Sherlock grabbed John’s wrists and pinned them to the bed.
“No hands.”
John let his head fall back as an overwhelmed sigh left his lips. He stared at the ceiling for a moment.
This was a LOT to take in. This type of situation, the feelings he was experiencing…this terribly possessive side of Sherlock…everything was almost too much. Almost.
“Shall I call you master, then?” he asked, half-joking. He lifted his head to look up at Sherlock.
Sherlock smirked, shaking his head to adjust his hair.
“Hah…no, not necessary. But I do expect you to listen to everything I say,” he growled.
John nodded, wetting his lips.
“Of course…everything.”
“First things first,” Sherlock cooed, his voice rumbling like crushed velvet. God that voice. Like he rehearsed each line.
He grabbed John’s jaw rather roughly, looking him dead in the eye.
“I believe I told you…to shut. up.”
John knew what was next. At least he had prayed it would come next.
His chest was pounding by the time Sherlock reached under his pillow. John looked out of his peripheral vision and saw the thin, sleek, black form of a riding crop being pulled out.
“OhgodyesPLEASE…” was heard on John’s breath as he spotted the device.
Sherlock raised his eyebrows, his eyes half-lidded and his lips slightly parted as he looked down at John.
“Oh? You like this part, yeah? You really are filthy, John…”
John swallowed thickly, his breath wavering.
“Yeah…” he managed, clenching and unclenching his fists on the comforter.
Sherlock sat back on his haunches, slapping the thin instrument against his pale palm.
“I’m going to test how much you really take pleasure in getting hurt, Doctor Watson…”