Re: non-con FOR SCIENCE - fill3/3
anonymous
June 25 2011, 08:34:02 UTC
John shook uncontrollably as Sherlock looped the belt over John's neck, pulling it tight as though it were a collar and leash. "Oh god," he muttered, staring blankly at the wood in front of him. "Oh god, no."
Sherlock gripped the leash in one hand and held John's hips with another. He shoved into John again, more confidently this time, and slowly fucked him. It was like he was luxuriating in the sensation. And with every stroke, he pulled a little harder on the belt.
John twisted upwards to try and keep the makeshift collar loose, but there was only so far he could pull himself up without the use of his arms. His vision blurred, his face grew heavy. He was choking.
What a way to go.
Then Sherlock grew excited above him, gleeful. "Of course!" he exclaimed in a hushed whisper. "The pattern fits!"
A hand reached out and pulled John upwards, pinning his back to Sherlock's chest. The buttons of his shirt scraped John's spine, and John gasped, gulping down fresh oxygen, his eyesight clearing. Then, far too soon, Sherlock pulled the collar tight again. He held John close and fucked him, fast and hard.
John didn't know any more if this was part of the case, or just Sherlock finishing himself off.
Sherlock finally came. He let John drop back down to the table with a thud, and sighed with pleasure.
John lay limply, and weakly rotated his neck, trying to loosen the belt. Behind him he heard Sherlock redress himself and smoothed out crumpled clothes. Then the man leant forward and gripped John's upper arm with powerful fingers. John winced.
"I need to see what bruises form in the next couple of hours," said Sherlock, voice low. "It's very important. So don't move until I'm back."
John didn't reply. He just stared up at Sherlock. The man was thrumming with energy and excitement, like he was when he'd found a new clue, close to the end of a case. Practically high. John realised Sherlock wasn't letting go until he had an answer, so he nodded.
"Good," said Sherlock, standing up.
"Wait," said John, voice thin. He coughed. "Why did you... rape me?"
Sherlock scowled, tugging on his scarf. He looked pale and untouched, neatly dressed by the door. Like nothing had happened. "Really John, if you haven't figured that out-"
"Sherlock..."
Sherlock stared at him. "I'm trying to stop a murderer, John. I think a little discomfort on your part is worth catching him, don't you?"
"But-"
Sherlock sighed, then came and knelt by John, helping him sit back on his heels. "If you had the choice," he said, "between being raped, or letting a murderer out to kill more innocent young men, what would you pick?"
"That's different," John whispered. God, his eyes were wet. Sherlock hesitated, then helped John to his feet and lay him down on the couch. A few moments after that, and he pulled his own coat over John, covering him.
The knots still dug deeply into John's wrists when he moved.
"I'll be back at four," Sherlock said, standing straight and tugging at his cuffs, eyes downcast. "I'll look at the bruises, then I'll help you ... fix up."
He rushed out the door without even looking back. It slammed behind him, and John shut his eyes.
Re: non-con FOR SCIENCE - fill3/3darthhellokittyJune 26 2011, 01:35:31 UTC
This is amazing - I could almost see this happening. Sherlock's appealing to John's sympathy for victims to get him to cooperate was so manipulative, even before John found out what exactly the experiment was going to involve.
Yeah, I hope John unties himself and is waiting by the door with a frying pan when Sherlock gets back!
This was painful, but very well done. It made me write an epilogue (for my own peace of mind), but since it's a)not by you and b)quite likely not what you envision happening next, I'm not going to post it.
Sherlock gripped the leash in one hand and held John's hips with another. He shoved into John again, more confidently this time, and slowly fucked him. It was like he was luxuriating in the sensation. And with every stroke, he pulled a little harder on the belt.
John twisted upwards to try and keep the makeshift collar loose, but there was only so far he could pull himself up without the use of his arms. His vision blurred, his face grew heavy. He was choking.
What a way to go.
Then Sherlock grew excited above him, gleeful. "Of course!" he exclaimed in a hushed whisper. "The pattern fits!"
A hand reached out and pulled John upwards, pinning his back to Sherlock's chest. The buttons of his shirt scraped John's spine, and John gasped, gulping down fresh oxygen, his eyesight clearing. Then, far too soon, Sherlock pulled the collar tight again. He held John close and fucked him, fast and hard.
John didn't know any more if this was part of the case, or just Sherlock finishing himself off.
Sherlock finally came. He let John drop back down to the table with a thud, and sighed with pleasure.
John lay limply, and weakly rotated his neck, trying to loosen the belt. Behind him he heard Sherlock redress himself and smoothed out crumpled clothes. Then the man leant forward and gripped John's upper arm with powerful fingers. John winced.
"I need to see what bruises form in the next couple of hours," said Sherlock, voice low. "It's very important. So don't move until I'm back."
John didn't reply. He just stared up at Sherlock. The man was thrumming with energy and excitement, like he was when he'd found a new clue, close to the end of a case. Practically high. John realised Sherlock wasn't letting go until he had an answer, so he nodded.
"Good," said Sherlock, standing up.
"Wait," said John, voice thin. He coughed. "Why did you... rape me?"
Sherlock scowled, tugging on his scarf. He looked pale and untouched, neatly dressed by the door. Like nothing had happened. "Really John, if you haven't figured that out-"
"Sherlock..."
Sherlock stared at him. "I'm trying to stop a murderer, John. I think a little discomfort on your part is worth catching him, don't you?"
"But-"
Sherlock sighed, then came and knelt by John, helping him sit back on his heels. "If you had the choice," he said, "between being raped, or letting a murderer out to kill more innocent young men, what would you pick?"
"That's different," John whispered. God, his eyes were wet. Sherlock hesitated, then helped John to his feet and lay him down on the couch. A few moments after that, and he pulled his own coat over John, covering him.
The knots still dug deeply into John's wrists when he moved.
"I'll be back at four," Sherlock said, standing straight and tugging at his cuffs, eyes downcast. "I'll look at the bruises, then I'll help you ... fix up."
He rushed out the door without even looking back. It slammed behind him, and John shut his eyes.
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I seconded this earlier, so I'm glad to see it got a fill.
But, daaaaaamn. Sherlock is one cold bastard in this! You did a good job of making him soooo creepy. Good gravy. Poor John.
I kind of want John to be waiting to bash Sherlock with a cricket bat when he gets back home. *shivers*
Must... find... fluff... now.
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Yeah, I hope John unties himself and is waiting by the door with a frying pan when Sherlock gets back!
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'Choice' being the operative word here.
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Thanks for writing this.
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