Fill: Road to New Roissy 6b/?voyeurineDecember 11 2011, 12:59:35 UTC
Mycroft stilled. Is it possible? He understands that his life has been one long series of defiances and disasters?
“Very good answer.” She patted his flushed cheek. With her other hand, she reached between his legs and cupped his balls, massaging them gently. As he arched into the touch, he blurted, “I’m sorry, Mycroft!”
Irene quickly undid Mycroft’s gag. He spat it out and caressed Sherlock’s back, trying to contain his emotion. He’s never apologized to me for anything before!
“I forgive you, Sherlock. And because I love you, I’m going to give you more. You know you need it.”
“Yes.”
He raised his hand again, but before he could slam it down, footsteps approached a closed door that marked one of two entrances into the bathroom. As they drew near, heavy breathing and muttered curses became audible. Then Gregory Lestrade, his leather trousers bulging at the crotch, burst in. His pupils were dilated with obvious lust and he clutched a riding crop in his gloved fist.
“Greg-“ Mycroft began, overjoyed. Lestrade silenced any further exclamation by striding over, grabbing his hair, and claiming his mouth in a bruising kiss that sent his own erection stabbing into Sherlock’s belly.
“I know I said I’d see you in the morning, Myc, but the two of you- three of you- are so fucking hot. I can’t take just watching any more.”
Lestrade stared down at Sherlock, who was eyeing him with apprehension and lust. “What’s this, eh? You getting off on an arse-beating?” Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed Sherlock’s shoulders, pulled him up and around so that he was sitting on Mycroft’s lap instead of lying across it, and wrapped his gloved fingers around the younger man’s now-exposed cock. He looked quickly at Mycroft, silently asking permission. The elder Holmes nodded, too excited to speak.
Lestrade rubbed his thumb gently over the swollen head before starting to stroke in earnest. With his other hand, he ran the tip of the crop up and down Sherlock’s white thighs. While Mycroft held him tightly, Sherlock began squirming on his lap and moaning wordlessly. The closer he got to release, the more frantic and mindless he became. He twisted at the waist, threw his arms around Mycroft’s shoulders, and began biting his neck.
Then, suddenly and cruelly, Lestrade stopped.
“No, I don’t think so. You’re here to learn self control, not randomly get off.” He pulled a cock ring out of his pocket and snapped it at the base of Sherlock’s erection. The younger man pulled his lips from Mycroft’s sweaty skin and wailed in frustration.
Irene laughed and slapped her leather-clad thigh. “God, Greg, the look on his face is priceless.”
“That face will have lots of interesting looks before this is over. Thanks for warming my boys up for me. I’ll take over from here.”
“Very good answer.” She patted his flushed cheek. With her other hand, she reached between his legs and cupped his balls, massaging them gently. As he arched into the touch, he blurted, “I’m sorry, Mycroft!”
Irene quickly undid Mycroft’s gag. He spat it out and caressed Sherlock’s back, trying to contain his emotion. He’s never apologized to me for anything before!
“I forgive you, Sherlock. And because I love you, I’m going to give you more. You know you need it.”
“Yes.”
He raised his hand again, but before he could slam it down, footsteps approached a closed door that marked one of two entrances into the bathroom. As they drew near, heavy breathing and muttered curses became audible. Then Gregory Lestrade, his leather trousers bulging at the crotch, burst in. His pupils were dilated with obvious lust and he clutched a riding crop in his gloved fist.
“Greg-“ Mycroft began, overjoyed. Lestrade silenced any further exclamation by striding over, grabbing his hair, and claiming his mouth in a bruising kiss that sent his own erection stabbing into Sherlock’s belly.
“I know I said I’d see you in the morning, Myc, but the two of you- three of you- are so fucking hot. I can’t take just watching any more.”
Lestrade stared down at Sherlock, who was eyeing him with apprehension and lust. “What’s this, eh? You getting off on an arse-beating?” Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed Sherlock’s shoulders, pulled him up and around so that he was sitting on Mycroft’s lap instead of lying across it, and wrapped his gloved fingers around the younger man’s now-exposed cock. He looked quickly at Mycroft, silently asking permission. The elder Holmes nodded, too excited to speak.
Lestrade rubbed his thumb gently over the swollen head before starting to stroke in earnest. With his other hand, he ran the tip of the crop up and down Sherlock’s white thighs. While Mycroft held him tightly, Sherlock began squirming on his lap and moaning wordlessly. The closer he got to release, the more frantic and mindless he became. He twisted at the waist, threw his arms around Mycroft’s shoulders, and began biting his neck.
Then, suddenly and cruelly, Lestrade stopped.
“No, I don’t think so. You’re here to learn self control, not randomly get off.” He pulled a cock ring out of his pocket and snapped it at the base of Sherlock’s erection. The younger man pulled his lips from Mycroft’s sweaty skin and wailed in frustration.
Irene laughed and slapped her leather-clad thigh. “God, Greg, the look on his face is priceless.”
“That face will have lots of interesting looks before this is over. Thanks for warming my boys up for me. I’ll take over from here.”
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