Overflow Post
This post is for responding to prompts from prompt posts that are full, or continuing WIPs that have already been started but the prompt post is now full or near to full.
PLEASE POST ALL NEW FILLS TO THE NEW OVERFLOW POST!( Read more... )
PLEASE POST ALL NEW FILLS TO THE NEW OVERFLOW POST!( Read more... )
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John held up a hand, giving him a moment to collect himself. “Do you actually know what you’re doing?” he asked. “I mean, have you done this before?”
“No, never,” Sherlock happily admitted. “But I did some research. And if that idiot woman can make a living from it, how hard can it be?”
John didn’t find that all that encouraging, but he sighed and settled himself in, returning his eyes to the candle that danced in front of him. “Right. So, what do I do?”
“You don’t need to talk,” said Sherlock.
He pulled up a chair and sat down very close to John, facing him. John felt immediately like one of Sherlock’s experiments, especially since Sherlock was wearing the expression of intense concentration that he usually reserved for crime scenes. It was a little unnerving to be on the receiving end of such scrutiny, but John tried to put it out of his mind. He also tried to ignore the combined anticipation-trepidation that had settled in his gut.
“Now,” Sherlock began again. “Focus on the flame and feel yourself start to relax. All you have to do is listen to my voice, and you’ll find that it’s very easy to drift down into a relaxed state, naturally and at your own pace. Just keep your eyes on the flame, right at the center of the flame, and listen carefully to my words.
“I want you to take a deep breath in, John, and hold it…very good, now let it out slowly and feel your muscles start to grow loose. Once more. Take a deep breath…and release it, letting all the tension flow out of your body. Well done, John, you’re doing excellent so far.”
John felt a warm, satisfied glow at the compliment, rare as they were coming from Sherlock, but he still wasn’t sure this would work. At the start, he had trouble focusing, spending too much thought on gauging his body’s reactions, or worrying whether Sherlock would notice his growing erection. Because whether or not it worked, this was already the sexiest thing he’d ever done. Sherlock’s smooth, low voice, droning so sweetly, trying to work its way under the barriers of John’s conscious mind, was gradually making him dizzy with arousal. Or maybe it was just making him dizzy. He blinked a few times, eyes watering from staring too long into the candle’s bright flame.
“That’s right, John,” said Sherlock. “You can feel that tired sensation working at the corners of your eyes, making it harder and harder to keep them open, your eyelids feeling heavier and heavier. Try to keep them open so you can continue to stare into the heart of the flame, but the more you try, the heavier they start to feel. You can blink if you need to, but every time you do your eyelids feel heavier and heavier, wanting to close, becoming more and more difficult to keep them open. That’s right. You can let them close now, and as you do you’ll feel your body sinking deeper into relaxation.”
John felt his eyes slip shut, and his whole body sink into the cushions. Without the candle, he was left with the drowsy feel of his body, the sound of Sherlock’s words, and the steady pulsing in his groin.
“Very good, John. You’re doing so well. In fact, your eyelids are so heavy, I want you to imagine there are weights attached to each one. And no matter how hard you try, you won’t be able to open them again. No matter how hard you try, your eyes will stay tightly shut, those weights pulling them down. You know that in an emergency you could open your eyes if you really needed to, but I want you to use your imagination so that no matter how hard you try to open them, they will remain heavy and tightly shut. Try to open your eyes now, John, and you’ll find that you can’t.”
So John did. He tried to pry his eyes open, knowing, as Sherlock said, that he was perfectly capable of doing so if needed. But even though he knew he could open them he just-didn’t. He worked the muscles of his face, trying to lift his lids, and at the same time keeping them heavily clenched. It was a strange contradiction to experience, and he wondered if it were a sign of trance, or whether he was just playing along. Would he be able to tell the difference?
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