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.
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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