Re: Fill! - Satisfaction With Two - 4/?
anonymous
February 9 2011, 09:36:09 UTC
Sherlock clamped his mouth down, sucking hard on everything behind his lips and Joan's eyes fluttered as she pressed backward, becoming aware of the erection in the small of her back, which only made her grind back with purpose. Mycroft's breath was coming in short bursts, as if he was trying very hard to control himself. Sherlock pulled back a little, his tongue flicking her clit with in a quick rhythm that made Joan's body jerk while she gasped repeatedly. Panting, she put a hand to Sherlock's forehead, pushing a few inches away.
"If you don't fuck me now," she told him, trying to keep her eyes open as Mycroft's hands began to stealthily sneak downwards, "I'm going to get up and go ruin the experiment in the kitchen with the...the fingers in the acetone," she leaned back against Mycroft's chest and made herself breathe. "As soon as I can find my legs."
The self diagonosed sociopath grinned at her fondly, rocking back onto his heels and reaching for his zip, and that definitely wasn't enough for Joan, who found it in herself to sit up and reach for his collar.
"I don't think so," she said, attempting to undo buttons without losing patience and ripping the shirt open, "both of you need to be a lot more naked. Immediately." Mycroft laughed, truly laughed, for the first time in Joan's hearing, and she realized she put on her 'army surgeon' voice. "It's true," she said, feeling a little sheepish as she pushed the lavender shirt from Sherlock's unbelievably pale shoulders. Behind her, Joan heard Mycroft setting his cufflinks carefully on the floor, in lieu of a clean table close by.
As soon as Sherlock was free of his shirt, Joan kept herself from immediately devouring the the beautiful milky plains of his chest, going instead for his zip. He laughed deep in his chest, feeling around beneath the edge of the couch, and coming up with two condoms that definitely had not been there the last time Joan had given the room it's cursory cleaning.
"I cannot believe you two, remind me to be angry later," she said, pulling him close and biting down on his right shoulder. Sherlock threw his head back, soft noises coming from him. He arched his hips forward, and the fabric brushing against her, dampening as he pressed closer, and became beyond what she could take. Joan reached down again for his zip at the same time Sherlock did, and they both laughed a little as they managed to get the trousers out of their way.
Sherlock looked over her shoulder for a moment, his eyes a little unfocused.
"Hm, perhaps Mycroft ought to enter first Joan, with the way we're sitting." Joan wasn't entirely sure what he meant, but she trusted Sherlock, and nodded, reaching a hand back. First she found thigh, still covered in trouser, then an open fly, and hard cock already covered in condom, and Joan wondered if the elder Holmes brother was ever unprepared, which lead to her imagining the pair of them in Boy Scouts, which just made her giggle a little breathlessly until Sherlock lifted her up a little. She felt Mycroft's cock nudging her, felt him carefully spreading her cheeks apart and oh, oh, because it makes perfect sense, Sherlock smiled a little crookedly at her.
"Knew you'd get there eventually," he said, and Joan managed to tell him to stuff it, panting a little as Mycroft snapped closed the container of lube (she really will kill them later), circling the tight pucker of flesh before pressing a finger inside. It had been longer than Joan would like to admit since she had done this, and she couldn't draw a breath as Mycroft made it two fingers. "Relax, Joan."
She would tell him to bloody well relax, but couldn't quite form the words, and instead settled for covering his hand with her own while he rolled his condom down and squeezing, pleased to hear his breathing stutter.
Re: Fill! - Satisfaction With Two - 5/?
anonymous
February 9 2011, 09:39:48 UTC
Joan couldn't help but hold her breath as she slid down onto Mycroft's cock, Sherlock drawing a hand down the column of her neck and kissing the corner of her mouth absentmindedly. The three of them were still for a moment, waiting for her to adjust, and then she reached down for Sherlock's cock, feeling the most impatient she'd ever been since two days before the Christmas of 1984.
Sherlock huffed as if it was supposed to be a chuckle, but Joan wasn't paying attention because Sherlock was sliding inside of her and she wanted to wrap her legs around him and lock her ankles together because fuck. They were still again for perhaps a second, then Sherlock drew out slightly and back in, which caused Joan to move upwards, which caused Mycroft to shift, all of them stirring and sighing together.
The air in Joan's lungs felt static and heavy; she felt as if she was unable to draw breath in or out. Her arms churned, her hands searching, as if they couldn't decide where they wanted to be. Finally, one planted itself on Sherlock's chest, her fingertips sliding through the sweat gathering there, the other reaching back to hold onto Mycroft's shoulder as he slowly rocked his hips upwards, rolling them with firm, even strokes.
Sherlock was just the opposite, and it made Joan want to laugh. He was following his brother's lead, fucking into her with a careful thoroughness, but there was something in the way his hands scrambled for purchase on Joan's hips, in the wild of his eyes, and how he seemed to itch and throb in his skin that suggested that he would rather be sliding into her hard and fast, slamslamslaming with the couch groaning its protest of their movements.
Their eyes met, and maybe it was too much, because Sherlock immediately bent forward, his face in the crook of Joan's neck. She could feel his lips moving, and she thought for one sex blind moment that he was reinventing the kiss because that was just so Sherlock, and then she realized he was speaking, brokenly gasping her name in a voice barely above a whisper.
And it took Joan by surprise all over again, the strangled gasp in her throat barely heard over the noises the brothers made as she fluttered over them both, leaving pink raised lines down Sherlock's chest as she clenched and clenched and clenched her hand. Her leg was half wound around Sherlock, her toes pressing into his lower back, and Joan could feel the muscles there tense so hard as he felt her come.
Her mind was a haze, she was still taking the rollercoaster ride, only the feeling in her stomach that comes just after tipping over the top of the hill was rocketing through her body, bending her backwards like a violin bow. Mycroft was whispering perfectly articulated filth into her ear, the only sign that he was just as close as Sherlock in how his hands went tighter and tighter on either side of her chest, just beneath her quivering breasts.
Sherlock was still thrusting, their bodies making wet noises where they joined together, a bead of sweat slowly crawling down his temple. Joaned reached down to cup his face, pulling him up and their lips together, and the nonstop assault to her nerve endings was bordering on painful, her thighs trembling uncontrollably. Joan bit down on Sherlock's bottom lip, drawing blood, and he gave in, driving into her with all the relentlessness of his fierce intellect. Joan howled, her voice cracking higher than she would have thought possible if she hadn't been in the process of being thoroughly fucked by two men at once.
Re: Fill! - Satisfaction With Two - 6/6 - Fin!
anonymous
February 9 2011, 09:42:16 UTC
Joan's breathe was catching again, because Mycroft was still making controlled, almost lazy circles beneath her, one hand moving down the slope of her abdomen to flick her clit methodically with his middle finger, and it was bursting over her again, her vision sparkling and fuzzing around the edges like her eyes were watering, and they probably were.
"Oh, oh," she stuttered, as her back muscles went taut repeatedly, and Sherlock moans low in his throat and she then could feel him pulsepulsepulse inside of her as he bit down on where her neck met her shoulder. Joan wanted to collapse, felt as if her bones might melt out of her body, her limbs splayed higgledy piggledy across the two of them, but Mycroft was panting harsh little breaths into the short hairs at the top of her neck, the beds of his fingernails going bloodless as he presses them into Joan's shining skin.
So Joan cranked her torso around, her fingernails digging into his shoulderblade to keep herself in place as she licked into his open mouth, kissing sloppily and grinding herself downwards onto his cock, this was all he needed because he spent himself almost immediately, sighing almost contentedly.
There was a moment of almost stillness, Sherlock almost blindly seeking out a spot to rest his head, finally placing it on Joan's shoulder, and leaning into her hand like a cat as she carded her fingers through his hair fondly. There was a rumble of amusement at Joan's back, and she could tell Mycroft was being unbearably smug, again. Finally, she breaks the silence.
"If there's going to be round two, we're going to have to move to Sherlock's bed, because I have a feeling this position only works for hours in porn, not reality."
Re: Fill! - Satisfaction With Two - 6/6 - Fin!andrea_deerFebruary 10 2011, 22:02:54 UTC
This was absolutely most delightful and amazing, and so hot that the only reason I can speak more or less coherently is because I waited a day with writing this comment. ♥
Re: Fill! - Satisfaction With Two - 6/6 - Fin!esqueishNovember 3 2011, 05:56:02 UTC
Hello all, well, I guess I'm finally deanoning, now that I have an Ao3 account, and I threatened told myself that when I got one, I would own up to the fic that I've written anon on here, for the sake of having it all in once place. I've cleaned it up a little bit, brushed the dirt off and wiped the little smudgies off it's face, so if you'd like to see it a little cleaned up, you may find it here.
"If you don't fuck me now," she told him, trying to keep her eyes open as Mycroft's hands began to stealthily sneak downwards, "I'm going to get up and go ruin the experiment in the kitchen with the...the fingers in the acetone," she leaned back against Mycroft's chest and made herself breathe. "As soon as I can find my legs."
The self diagonosed sociopath grinned at her fondly, rocking back onto his heels and reaching for his zip, and that definitely wasn't enough for Joan, who found it in herself to sit up and reach for his collar.
"I don't think so," she said, attempting to undo buttons without losing patience and ripping the shirt open, "both of you need to be a lot more naked. Immediately." Mycroft laughed, truly laughed, for the first time in Joan's hearing, and she realized she put on her 'army surgeon' voice. "It's true," she said, feeling a little sheepish as she pushed the lavender shirt from Sherlock's unbelievably pale shoulders. Behind her, Joan heard Mycroft setting his cufflinks carefully on the floor, in lieu of a clean table close by.
As soon as Sherlock was free of his shirt, Joan kept herself from immediately devouring the the beautiful milky plains of his chest, going instead for his zip. He laughed deep in his chest, feeling around beneath the edge of the couch, and coming up with two condoms that definitely had not been there the last time Joan had given the room it's cursory cleaning.
"I cannot believe you two, remind me to be angry later," she said, pulling him close and biting down on his right shoulder. Sherlock threw his head back, soft noises coming from him. He arched his hips forward, and the fabric brushing against her, dampening as he pressed closer, and became beyond what she could take. Joan reached down again for his zip at the same time Sherlock did, and they both laughed a little as they managed to get the trousers out of their way.
Sherlock looked over her shoulder for a moment, his eyes a little unfocused.
"Hm, perhaps Mycroft ought to enter first Joan, with the way we're sitting." Joan wasn't entirely sure what he meant, but she trusted Sherlock, and nodded, reaching a hand back. First she found thigh, still covered in trouser, then an open fly, and hard cock already covered in condom, and Joan wondered if the elder Holmes brother was ever unprepared, which lead to her imagining the pair of them in Boy Scouts, which just made her giggle a little breathlessly until Sherlock lifted her up a little. She felt Mycroft's cock nudging her, felt him carefully spreading her cheeks apart and oh, oh, because it makes perfect sense, Sherlock smiled a little crookedly at her.
"Knew you'd get there eventually," he said, and Joan managed to tell him to stuff it, panting a little as Mycroft snapped closed the container of lube (she really will kill them later), circling the tight pucker of flesh before pressing a finger inside. It had been longer than Joan would like to admit since she had done this, and she couldn't draw a breath as Mycroft made it two fingers. "Relax, Joan."
She would tell him to bloody well relax, but couldn't quite form the words, and instead settled for covering his hand with her own while he rolled his condom down and squeezing, pleased to hear his breathing stutter.
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Sherlock huffed as if it was supposed to be a chuckle, but Joan wasn't paying attention because Sherlock was sliding inside of her and she wanted to wrap her legs around him and lock her ankles together because fuck. They were still again for perhaps a second, then Sherlock drew out slightly and back in, which caused Joan to move upwards, which caused Mycroft to shift, all of them stirring and sighing together.
The air in Joan's lungs felt static and heavy; she felt as if she was unable to draw breath in or out. Her arms churned, her hands searching, as if they couldn't decide where they wanted to be. Finally, one planted itself on Sherlock's chest, her fingertips sliding through the sweat gathering there, the other reaching back to hold onto Mycroft's shoulder as he slowly rocked his hips upwards, rolling them with firm, even strokes.
Sherlock was just the opposite, and it made Joan want to laugh. He was following his brother's lead, fucking into her with a careful thoroughness, but there was something in the way his hands scrambled for purchase on Joan's hips, in the wild of his eyes, and how he seemed to itch and throb in his skin that suggested that he would rather be sliding into her hard and fast, slamslamslaming with the couch groaning its protest of their movements.
Their eyes met, and maybe it was too much, because Sherlock immediately bent forward, his face in the crook of Joan's neck. She could feel his lips moving, and she thought for one sex blind moment that he was reinventing the kiss because that was just so Sherlock, and then she realized he was speaking, brokenly gasping her name in a voice barely above a whisper.
And it took Joan by surprise all over again, the strangled gasp in her throat barely heard over the noises the brothers made as she fluttered over them both, leaving pink raised lines down Sherlock's chest as she clenched and clenched and clenched her hand. Her leg was half wound around Sherlock, her toes pressing into his lower back, and Joan could feel the muscles there tense so hard as he felt her come.
Her mind was a haze, she was still taking the rollercoaster ride, only the feeling in her stomach that comes just after tipping over the top of the hill was rocketing through her body, bending her backwards like a violin bow. Mycroft was whispering perfectly articulated filth into her ear, the only sign that he was just as close as Sherlock in how his hands went tighter and tighter on either side of her chest, just beneath her quivering breasts.
Sherlock was still thrusting, their bodies making wet noises where they joined together, a bead of sweat slowly crawling down his temple. Joaned reached down to cup his face, pulling him up and their lips together, and the nonstop assault to her nerve endings was bordering on painful, her thighs trembling uncontrollably. Joan bit down on Sherlock's bottom lip, drawing blood, and he gave in, driving into her with all the relentlessness of his fierce intellect. Joan howled, her voice cracking higher than she would have thought possible if she hadn't been in the process of being thoroughly fucked by two men at once.
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"Oh, oh," she stuttered, as her back muscles went taut repeatedly, and Sherlock moans low in his throat and she then could feel him pulsepulsepulse inside of her as he bit down on where her neck met her shoulder. Joan wanted to collapse, felt as if her bones might melt out of her body, her limbs splayed higgledy piggledy across the two of them, but Mycroft was panting harsh little breaths into the short hairs at the top of her neck, the beds of his fingernails going bloodless as he presses them into Joan's shining skin.
So Joan cranked her torso around, her fingernails digging into his shoulderblade to keep herself in place as she licked into his open mouth, kissing sloppily and grinding herself downwards onto his cock, this was all he needed because he spent himself almost immediately, sighing almost contentedly.
There was a moment of almost stillness, Sherlock almost blindly seeking out a spot to rest his head, finally placing it on Joan's shoulder, and leaning into her hand like a cat as she carded her fingers through his hair fondly. There was a rumble of amusement at Joan's back, and she could tell Mycroft was being unbearably smug, again. Finally, she breaks the silence.
"If there's going to be round two, we're going to have to move to Sherlock's bed, because I have a feeling this position only works for hours in porn, not reality."
The brothers laugh delightedly.
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I am going to go to my bunk now and reread this. Yes.
Thank you for sharing!
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Fanning myself... You just satisfied a kink I didn't even know I had.
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(egove Peasants to you too Mycroft)
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