Apparently I Wrote More (!?) - DarkFic Sequel (1b/1)
anonymous
March 14 2011, 03:08:26 UTC
A sigh is heaved at the two of them before he leads John to his bedroom. Lestrade saw it fit to handcuff him. Unnecessary, really, as John clearly lacked the ability to do more than shake his head and rasp what may have been words. His lips form ‘Sherlock’ and ‘please’, which, interspersed with the occasional whimper is lovely, really, but Sherlock is in no mood to appreciate it.
To anyone capable of observing, it is obvious that the first floor bedroom had, at one time, been the dining room. This is useless knowledge, except for the fact that directly in the center hung an ornamental hook, which was once intended for an opulent and heavy chandelier, was now intended for something not entirely dissimilar.
John’s whimpers reach a higher pitch when Sherlock removes his belt; his knees visibly rattle and he hits the floor hard. Sherlock makes a mental note to consider some sort of nourishment schedule, but later, later, as he drags John back up to his feet by the chain strung in front of him.
He drapes the belt over the hook, loops it through the chain, and ties it; the hook embedded in the ceiling can hold at least 200 pounds, the belt is leather of supreme quality; it should do for now. John watches him as he dangles there, torn between his two options of standing on the tips of his toes, or hanging from his arms. The first he will tire of eventually, the second will pain him in both his shoulder and his wrists. Sherlock nods once, satisfied, as John’s eyes widen and his breath shortens with fear.
Then he turns to leave.
Lestrade stands awkwardly in the doorway, half unsure whether his presence is welcome, half unwilling to leave. Pausing only to grab an item from the bed, Sherlock approaches Lestrade with stiff, irritated movements.
“I will be sleeping on the couch for the next four hours, at least.” The gag changes hands, John shuffles and wheezes beyond his back, and Lestrade favors him with the grin very few people think him capable of. “Do what you will, but do not, under any circumstances, release him.”
The wheezing turns into syllables, half formed and unintelligible, but once Sherlock closes the door, he can’t hear him at all.
THE END.
I am so sorry for the lack of super-hot-power-play-sex-of-the-non-consenting-variety. It is, sadly, not my forte. I’m still not sure if these other two bits really added anything to the original, but I wrote them, and thought I might as well share them as a sort of thank you to all the lovely people who commented. Thank you!
Re: Apparently I Wrote More (!?) - DarkFic Sequel (1b/1)
anonymous
March 14 2011, 04:06:49 UTC
Oh God. I've read a lot of dark fic, but this... I don't even know. I'm just gaping at the screen. I think I'm a lot more horrified by just the implication of what will happen to John than I would be if you'd written explicit sex.
Well done. I'm going to go find some fluff now, lol.
Re: Apparently I Wrote More (!?) - DarkFic Sequel (1b/1)velvet_maceMarch 14 2011, 22:40:54 UTC
This is amazing. This is incredibly hot as is, but, greedy thing I am, I absolutely love more of it.
By the way, there's a good chance I'm the OP, because the prompt seems awfully familiar and exactly like something I'd write and I kinda remember writing it before dashing off someplace else. The punctuation looks a bit off for me, which is the only reason I hesitate. So I might be wrong and I kinda hate to claim something that isn't actually mine.
Re: Apparently I Wrote More (!?) - DarkFic Sequel (1b/1)stickstockstoneMarch 15 2011, 14:45:02 UTC
Well, no one has cried foul yet, so...
Glad you like it, probably-the-OP! It was a great prompt. I've never written dark!fic before, but it's one of my favorite things to read, so I guess it had to happen eventually. That it was inspired by a prompt from one of my favorite authors is pretty much icing on the cake right now :) Hopefully it fulfilled all your John-vainly-attempting-freedom needs.
Re: Apparently I Wrote More (!?) - DarkFic Sequel (1b/1)
anonymous
March 17 2011, 02:49:31 UTC
Wow. How you managed to capture such a perfect little piece of darkness, I don't know. I could feel John's despair, and goodness I hope you write bunches more in this universe.
To anyone capable of observing, it is obvious that the first floor bedroom had, at one time, been the dining room. This is useless knowledge, except for the fact that directly in the center hung an ornamental hook, which was once intended for an opulent and heavy chandelier, was now intended for something not entirely dissimilar.
John’s whimpers reach a higher pitch when Sherlock removes his belt; his knees visibly rattle and he hits the floor hard. Sherlock makes a mental note to consider some sort of nourishment schedule, but later, later, as he drags John back up to his feet by the chain strung in front of him.
He drapes the belt over the hook, loops it through the chain, and ties it; the hook embedded in the ceiling can hold at least 200 pounds, the belt is leather of supreme quality; it should do for now. John watches him as he dangles there, torn between his two options of standing on the tips of his toes, or hanging from his arms. The first he will tire of eventually, the second will pain him in both his shoulder and his wrists. Sherlock nods once, satisfied, as John’s eyes widen and his breath shortens with fear.
Then he turns to leave.
Lestrade stands awkwardly in the doorway, half unsure whether his presence is welcome, half unwilling to leave. Pausing only to grab an item from the bed, Sherlock approaches Lestrade with stiff, irritated movements.
“I will be sleeping on the couch for the next four hours, at least.” The gag changes hands, John shuffles and wheezes beyond his back, and Lestrade favors him with the grin very few people think him capable of. “Do what you will, but do not, under any circumstances, release him.”
The wheezing turns into syllables, half formed and unintelligible, but once Sherlock closes the door, he can’t hear him at all.
THE END.
I am so sorry for the lack of super-hot-power-play-sex-of-the-non-consenting-variety. It is, sadly, not my forte. I’m still not sure if these other two bits really added anything to the original, but I wrote them, and thought I might as well share them as a sort of thank you to all the lovely people who commented. Thank you!
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Jesus.
This is just.
Just, well, fuck. Amazing.
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Well done. I'm going to go find some fluff now, lol.
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For the interested, all three can be found on my journal, complete with titles and slightly better word choice:
Desperate
Desire
Despair
Um. Hope you enjoy it, as much as you can enjoy something this seriously twisted, I guess.
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By the way, there's a good chance I'm the OP, because the prompt seems awfully familiar and exactly like something I'd write and I kinda remember writing it before dashing off someplace else. The punctuation looks a bit off for me, which is the only reason I hesitate. So I might be wrong and I kinda hate to claim something that isn't actually mine.
Reply
Glad you like it, probably-the-OP! It was a great prompt. I've never written dark!fic before, but it's one of my favorite things to read, so I guess it had to happen eventually. That it was inspired by a prompt from one of my favorite authors is pretty much icing on the cake right now :) Hopefully it fulfilled all your John-vainly-attempting-freedom needs.
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Brilliant, stickandstone. Just brilliant.
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