Fill: Not Till The Sun Excludes You (4/?)she_burns1May 10 2011, 01:41:10 UTC
This last word was said as if it was a particularly vicious curse, Sherlock’s face looking almost as if he had tasted something sour. John was surprised he didn’t give a dramatic shudder while he was at it. John let out a pent up breath, “But you did…you had sex with them?”
Sherlock smirked, “I wouldn’t have been much of a prostitute, if I had not.”
“I…can you not use that word?”
“What would you-”
“Companion.” He tossed out so quickly that Sherlock looked close to laughter, his tone patronizing as he murmured, “Very well, I wouldn’t have been much of a companion had I not performed the essential act required.”
“So…strange. You just…you don’t seem like you-”
“Should I apologize for upsetting your preconceived notions in regards to my sexual expertise? For the shock that I am not a virgin?”
“No, no, I’m not saying…no, I, it’s…okay. It’s fine. If you’re not a…it’s…I’ve never even given it much thought.”
“Obviously you have or you wouldn’t be as flustered as you currently are.” Sherlock’s voice became deeper and he was looking at John now, studying him, when he said something that made John’s heart skip a beat, “You wish to purchase me, is that it?”
The sputtering sounds John started making seemed to amuse him and Sherlock whispered smoothly, “I am no longer a companion, John. And, even if I were, I would not take you on as a client.”
There was absolutely no explanation nor excuse for John’s traitorous mouth to betray him as he blurted, “Why not?”
“Several reasons. All of them obvious, even to someone of your intelligence.”
“Wow. Thanks for that. Can’t see how you ever-”
Sherlock shushed John’s irritated outburst by speaking over him, cutting him off, “First, you are my flatmate. It is never wise to sleep with the person you cohabitate with, least, not in the current relationship we currently share. Second, while you are bisexual-”
John sputtered again, Sherlock was grinning now as he continued, unperturbed, “-most of your liaisons with men took place back in your time at Bart’s and, as such, are not recent. Your insistence towards our not being involved intimately to others and your ‘relationship’ with Sarah, would indicate that you are not entirely comfortable with the idea of sexual intercourse with your own gender. Then, as now, I would rather not deal with someone with such tumultuous emotional issues. Third and last, every person in the position of a companion knows the utmost and strictest of all rules: you do not take on a client that you have or can have a romantic interest in.”
John blinked.
Sherlock, cool as ever, turned from him as if nothing spectacular relevant had been revealed. It was akin to as if he had told John that the harridan had returned, which, in fact, she had, her eyes narrowed behind horn-rimmed glasses, “Here are the records. You two really police?”
Sherlock adopted an official air and reached into his coat, withdrawing one of Lestrade’s badges, “You wish to check again?”
She let out an aggrieved noise, “Make sure you hurry. I have to put those back, you know.”
Sherlock started flipping through the records. John did the same, but numbly, still focused on what Sherlock had said not moments ago. At this point, John wasn’t sure he could take any more surprising news - in fact, if one more surprising thing happened, he was quite positive he would die, the shock too much for him.
Re: Fill: Not Till The Sun Excludes You (4/?)zevbaldwinMay 10 2011, 02:05:19 UTC
You're gorgeous, as always. "Gigolo" with Richard Gere - one of my favorite movies. And now this issue with my new passion for S/J - it is simply priceless. I look forward to continuing.
Fill: Not Till The Sun Excludes You (5/?)she_burns1May 14 2011, 19:54:07 UTC
Once more the issue was dropped in light of the case. John didn’t see anything promising in the records but Sherlock found one name he resolutely clung to: Maria Else Mums. John didn’t have the faintest idea why - none of the victims had been named that and neither was anyone else connected to the case.
Still, Sherlock was adamant. He was currently pursuing further information on Maria, once more dedicating himself to some healthy computer research but this time at Scotland Yard, Lestrade reluctantly allowing them to use their resources. He was involved in the search as well, but seeing as he was in a different room and John and Sherlock were yet again alone, John found himself clearing his throat to ask (as casually as possible), “So…romantic interest?”
Sherlock breathed out loudly through his nose and stopping tinkering with the computer long enough to level John with the kind of glacial stare that would stop most men in their tracks. Most men. Not John, who continued on, unheeded, “You said you can’t be involved with a client that you have or can have a romantic interest in. And, um, I was being tossed about as the…client, so, um, do you…have a romantic interest in me now or are you, do you think you…”
John started to lose steam here, words trailing off as Sherlock returned his attentions to the computer but not to type, instead eyes fixed on the screen, right elbow resting on the desktop, chin in his hand as he muttered, “It’s none of your concern.”
“None of my concern? How is it-?”
Sherlock cut him off with a derisive snort, “I find it curious you are focused on that particular bit of information and not more focused on my welfare. Your bleeding heart should be more inclined to question the possible abuse I may have suffered, the diseases I might have acquired-”
Now it was John’s turn to interrupt, snappish, “Has my bleeding heart, as you put it, ever had much of an impact on you before? Besides, while you’re malnourished and have deplorable sleeping habits, you appear to be relatively healthy in all other respects. I can deduce that with my own meager skills, thank you very much.”
“Your skills are not meager.” Sherlock returned smoothly and it was as close as a compliment that he had ever come to causing John to feel somewhat flustered. Until he ruined it by adding, “At least when it comes to medical diagnosis.”
Sherlock finally looked at John, eyes slightly narrowed as he quietly stated, “It is a bad idea and, might I add, of poor taste to glamorize my former vocation.”
“I am not-”
“No, true, but close. To be perfectly precise you are interested in my former activities, aroused by them, even. Not so much the fact that I sold myself sexually to others but more at the very idea that I can be bought. That I can be owned. You wish to own me. To dominate me. That is your desire.”
John had started making a huffing sound that somewhat resembled laughter halfway through Sherlock’s observations. When he managed to speak, his voice was small, “That’s absolutely ridiculous! I-no! No, no, no! I’m not at all, I mean, to say that I’m,” his voice dipped low as he whispered, “aroused, that’s just…ridiculous.”
“Would you like me to show you?” Sherlock murmured, rising to his feet, standing in front of John, his light blue eyes scanning John’s thoughtfully. John licked his lips as he shifted his weight from foot to foot; he unconsciously started drawing away from Sherlock until his back met a wall. The unexpected collision made him flinch and he tried in vain to ignore the fact that the taller man was looming over him, his tone husky, “I could give a demonstration.”
“Sherlock, come on, that’s…it wouldn’t even work.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. It’s not as if I’m some naïve…” he trailed off, scoffing at the very idea, offering in a frankly boastful, “I actually have three continents of experience, so-”
“Be that as it may, I assure you, I was very good as a companion. And, as you are already well aware, I have the ability to read people-”
Fill: Not Till The Sun Excludes You (6/?)she_burns1May 14 2011, 20:04:50 UTC
“Not emotional,” Sherlock cut in viciously, both hands resting on either side of John’s head,effectively pinning him to the wall, “Facts, motivations - what a person wants sexually can be very far removed from what they want emotionally. The two are not as mutually exclusive as people would like to believe. I can read what you want through your eyes, your face, your body language. I can paint you a picture with my words; I can describe perfectly what you want to do to me, what you want me to do to you. Would you like that?”
John scoffed again and Sherlock fixed him with a serious stare, one corner of his mouth twitching, “You’re afraid,” more blustering from John followed by Sherlock leaning closer, mouth hovering near his ear, “Afraid I’m right, which I am, I promise you. I can read you like a book. I know exactly what you want to hear. All you have to do is say ‘yes’.”
“G-go ahead. Knock yourself out.” John said on a breath, swallowing, “Be good for a laugh.”
Sherlock’s lips were practically brushing John’s ear now as he whispered, voice deep and dark, a seductive purr of sound, “We are at home, both of us are completely undressed. We are in your bedroom. I fit in well here, as I too, am now one of your possessions. “
John’s eyelids grew heavy as Sherlock continued to talk smoothly, “You are on your back on your bed and you order me to come to you and I do, I have no choice and, what’s more, I want to. I crawl over you, blanketing your body with mine and I kiss you. Long and deep and thorough. I explore your mouth skillfully, hungrily, I drink you in and then you push me away, push me down and I obey. I trail kisses down your chest, I lick your nipples, tease them with my lips and teeth until they’re hard, aching points before I slide my tongue downwards, rising up at the last second, breaking contact just so my breath can ghost over your hard cock, hot and moist.”
John’s eyes were closed now and he thought it fitting that as Sherlock talked about the heat of his breath John could feel it, the man’s lips growing steadily closer and closer, almost touching as his voice dropped to a whisper, “Instinctively you arch upwards, wanting more contact and, at first, I deny you but you knot your fingers in my hair and remind me that you own me, that I belong to you and that when you tell me to do something I must do it, so I surrender, taking you deep into my mouth. But I don’t get to please you for long, oh no, because you see, you don’t want that - you don’t want to come in my mouth or even inside me, not until I am blind with desire for you.”
John tried valiantly to ignore the fact that he was practically panting now, his fingers somehow having risen of their own accord to wrap themselves in the material of Sherlock’s coat, “So once more I am drawn away, your fingers in my hair, tugging sharply and yes, it’s painful, but in such a good way and then I’m under you, our roles reversed but you’re so much more powerful than I am. You’re like a wave over taking me, strongly crashing down, overwhelming me. You rest your tongue on just the very tip of my cock, circling it until you feel it throb, licking until I start to beg, desperate for more, and you tell me you’re a kind master, a giving one, as you suck me but not hard, no, because you’re really not that kind.”
“No. Instead you do it so lightly, so tenderly that I loose my senses completely. Until I become mindless, until I am crying out with the need for you to let me come, because, you see, I can’t come without your permission.” Sherlock’s tone took on a more husky quality and was now so low John swore he could feel it thrumming along with the pounding of his very blood, the combination loud in his ears, more so at the next words, “Can I have your permission, John? Please…will you let me-?”
“God, yes.” John replied so earnestly that Sherlock chuckled darkly, drawing away, eyes bright with triumph as he said, “After all this time it would appear that I haven’t lost my touch, especially if we go off the semi-erection you’re currently sporting. If I had continued any longer in that vein I am sure things would have taken a…surprising turn.”
Fill: Not Till The Sun Excludes You (8/?)she_burns1May 14 2011, 20:05:29 UTC
John, whose hands were still raised from where they had clutched Sherlock’s coat, lowered as he finally opened his eyes, glaring at him, “I hate you.”
“Not quite.” Sherlock murmured and then, in an unexpected move, cupped John’s face and looked at him, remarking sincerely, “Don’t think I’m not tempted, John. Don’t ever think that. It would be so easy to…” he shook his head, lowered his hand, “But it would be unwise.”
John wanted to say more when suddenly Lestrade burst into the room, making him jump as he crowed, “Got it! Maria Else Mums! She’s-”
“Amelia Summers.” Sherlock said smoothly and now John had to struggle to work his mind back to the case, mouthing flapping soundlessly before he managed, “Amelia…hang on, that…that was the first victim’s name.”
“Yes.” Sherlock confirmed, cool as ever, as if he hadn’t just had John backed up against a wall and whispered filthy scenarios in his ear, “Maria Else Mums was her real, full name. Her call girl name was an anagram.”
“So…Amelia owned the flat?”
“Yes.”
“But…why? She had her own place; we saw it and…why were the flat and the phone number so important? Why did she and two other girls die over it?”
Sherlock merely gave John an enigmatic smile and looked expectantly at Lestrade, “What else did you find out about Maria?”
“She had a child.”
“Of course she did,” Sherlock returned, “And that’s where our answers lie.”
Sherlock exited the room he and John had been using the computer in, the other two men at his heels.
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Sorry for how long this took me, OP! RL has been super busy! I hope to get this done within this upcoming week though, as things are finally starting to die down a little - hope this latest installment pleases and thanks to all those who have read this so far! ;)
Re: Fill: Not Till The Sun Excludes You (8/?)meredyddMay 14 2011, 23:05:48 UTC
OP here! Take your time! This is amazing and lovely and hot all at once. I love the characterization and *flails* LOL I lost my words, it seems. Thank you SO MUCH for writing this!
Sherlock smirked, “I wouldn’t have been much of a prostitute, if I had not.”
“I…can you not use that word?”
“What would you-”
“Companion.” He tossed out so quickly that Sherlock looked close to laughter, his tone patronizing as he murmured, “Very well, I wouldn’t have been much of a companion had I not performed the essential act required.”
“So…strange. You just…you don’t seem like you-”
“Should I apologize for upsetting your preconceived notions in regards to my sexual expertise? For the shock that I am not a virgin?”
“No, no, I’m not saying…no, I, it’s…okay. It’s fine. If you’re not a…it’s…I’ve never even given it much thought.”
“Obviously you have or you wouldn’t be as flustered as you currently are.” Sherlock’s voice became deeper and he was looking at John now, studying him, when he said something that made John’s heart skip a beat, “You wish to purchase me, is that it?”
The sputtering sounds John started making seemed to amuse him and Sherlock whispered smoothly, “I am no longer a companion, John. And, even if I were, I would not take you on as a client.”
There was absolutely no explanation nor excuse for John’s traitorous mouth to betray him as he blurted, “Why not?”
“Several reasons. All of them obvious, even to someone of your intelligence.”
“Wow. Thanks for that. Can’t see how you ever-”
Sherlock shushed John’s irritated outburst by speaking over him, cutting him off, “First, you are my flatmate. It is never wise to sleep with the person you cohabitate with, least, not in the current relationship we currently share. Second, while you are bisexual-”
John sputtered again, Sherlock was grinning now as he continued, unperturbed, “-most of your liaisons with men took place back in your time at Bart’s and, as such, are not recent. Your insistence towards our not being involved intimately to others and your ‘relationship’ with Sarah, would indicate that you are not entirely comfortable with the idea of sexual intercourse with your own gender. Then, as now, I would rather not deal with someone with such tumultuous emotional issues. Third and last, every person in the position of a companion knows the utmost and strictest of all rules: you do not take on a client that you have or can have a romantic interest in.”
John blinked.
Sherlock, cool as ever, turned from him as if nothing spectacular relevant had been revealed. It was akin to as if he had told John that the harridan had returned, which, in fact, she had, her eyes narrowed behind horn-rimmed glasses, “Here are the records. You two really police?”
Sherlock adopted an official air and reached into his coat, withdrawing one of Lestrade’s badges, “You wish to check again?”
She let out an aggrieved noise, “Make sure you hurry. I have to put those back, you know.”
Sherlock started flipping through the records. John did the same, but numbly, still focused on what Sherlock had said not moments ago. At this point, John wasn’t sure he could take any more surprising news - in fact, if one more surprising thing happened, he was quite positive he would die, the shock too much for him.
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Again thank you so much for this fill! :) It's wonderful. I'm loving how you're developing the storyline and they seem so IC. *G*
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Still, Sherlock was adamant. He was currently pursuing further information on Maria, once more dedicating himself to some healthy computer research but this time at Scotland Yard, Lestrade reluctantly allowing them to use their resources. He was involved in the search as well, but seeing as he was in a different room and John and Sherlock were yet again alone, John found himself clearing his throat to ask (as casually as possible), “So…romantic interest?”
Sherlock breathed out loudly through his nose and stopping tinkering with the computer long enough to level John with the kind of glacial stare that would stop most men in their tracks. Most men. Not John, who continued on, unheeded, “You said you can’t be involved with a client that you have or can have a romantic interest in. And, um, I was being tossed about as the…client, so, um, do you…have a romantic interest in me now or are you, do you think you…”
John started to lose steam here, words trailing off as Sherlock returned his attentions to the computer but not to type, instead eyes fixed on the screen, right elbow resting on the desktop, chin in his hand as he muttered, “It’s none of your concern.”
“None of my concern? How is it-?”
Sherlock cut him off with a derisive snort, “I find it curious you are focused on that particular bit of information and not more focused on my welfare. Your bleeding heart should be more inclined to question the possible abuse I may have suffered, the diseases I might have acquired-”
Now it was John’s turn to interrupt, snappish, “Has my bleeding heart, as you put it, ever had much of an impact on you before? Besides, while you’re malnourished and have deplorable sleeping habits, you appear to be relatively healthy in all other respects. I can deduce that with my own meager skills, thank you very much.”
“Your skills are not meager.” Sherlock returned smoothly and it was as close as a compliment that he had ever come to causing John to feel somewhat flustered. Until he ruined it by adding, “At least when it comes to medical diagnosis.”
Sherlock finally looked at John, eyes slightly narrowed as he quietly stated, “It is a bad idea and, might I add, of poor taste to glamorize my former vocation.”
“I am not-”
“No, true, but close. To be perfectly precise you are interested in my former activities, aroused by them, even. Not so much the fact that I sold myself sexually to others but more at the very idea that I can be bought. That I can be owned. You wish to own me. To dominate me. That is your desire.”
John had started making a huffing sound that somewhat resembled laughter halfway through Sherlock’s observations. When he managed to speak, his voice was small, “That’s absolutely ridiculous! I-no! No, no, no! I’m not at all, I mean, to say that I’m,” his voice dipped low as he whispered, “aroused, that’s just…ridiculous.”
“Would you like me to show you?” Sherlock murmured, rising to his feet, standing in front of John, his light blue eyes scanning John’s thoughtfully. John licked his lips as he shifted his weight from foot to foot; he unconsciously started drawing away from Sherlock until his back met a wall. The unexpected collision made him flinch and he tried in vain to ignore the fact that the taller man was looming over him, his tone husky, “I could give a demonstration.”
“Sherlock, come on, that’s…it wouldn’t even work.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. It’s not as if I’m some naïve…” he trailed off, scoffing at the very idea, offering in a frankly boastful, “I actually have three continents of experience, so-”
“Be that as it may, I assure you, I was very good as a companion. And, as you are already well aware, I have the ability to read people-”
“What? You’re bloody awful at emotional-”
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John scoffed again and Sherlock fixed him with a serious stare, one corner of his mouth twitching, “You’re afraid,” more blustering from John followed by Sherlock leaning closer, mouth hovering near his ear, “Afraid I’m right, which I am, I promise you. I can read you like a book. I know exactly what you want to hear. All you have to do is say ‘yes’.”
“G-go ahead. Knock yourself out.” John said on a breath, swallowing, “Be good for a laugh.”
Sherlock’s lips were practically brushing John’s ear now as he whispered, voice deep and dark, a seductive purr of sound, “We are at home, both of us are completely undressed. We are in your bedroom. I fit in well here, as I too, am now one of your possessions. “
John’s eyelids grew heavy as Sherlock continued to talk smoothly, “You are on your back on your bed and you order me to come to you and I do, I have no choice and, what’s more, I want to. I crawl over you, blanketing your body with mine and I kiss you. Long and deep and thorough. I explore your mouth skillfully, hungrily, I drink you in and then you push me away, push me down and I obey. I trail kisses down your chest, I lick your nipples, tease them with my lips and teeth until they’re hard, aching points before I slide my tongue downwards, rising up at the last second, breaking contact just so my breath can ghost over your hard cock, hot and moist.”
John’s eyes were closed now and he thought it fitting that as Sherlock talked about the heat of his breath John could feel it, the man’s lips growing steadily closer and closer, almost touching as his voice dropped to a whisper, “Instinctively you arch upwards, wanting more contact and, at first, I deny you but you knot your fingers in my hair and remind me that you own me, that I belong to you and that when you tell me to do something I must do it, so I surrender, taking you deep into my mouth. But I don’t get to please you for long, oh no, because you see, you don’t want that - you don’t want to come in my mouth or even inside me, not until I am blind with desire for you.”
John tried valiantly to ignore the fact that he was practically panting now, his fingers somehow having risen of their own accord to wrap themselves in the material of Sherlock’s coat, “So once more I am drawn away, your fingers in my hair, tugging sharply and yes, it’s painful, but in such a good way and then I’m under you, our roles reversed but you’re so much more powerful than I am. You’re like a wave over taking me, strongly crashing down, overwhelming me. You rest your tongue on just the very tip of my cock, circling it until you feel it throb, licking until I start to beg, desperate for more, and you tell me you’re a kind master, a giving one, as you suck me but not hard, no, because you’re really not that kind.”
“No. Instead you do it so lightly, so tenderly that I loose my senses completely. Until I become mindless, until I am crying out with the need for you to let me come, because, you see, I can’t come without your permission.” Sherlock’s tone took on a more husky quality and was now so low John swore he could feel it thrumming along with the pounding of his very blood, the combination loud in his ears, more so at the next words, “Can I have your permission, John? Please…will you let me-?”
“God, yes.” John replied so earnestly that Sherlock chuckled darkly, drawing away, eyes bright with triumph as he said, “After all this time it would appear that I haven’t lost my touch, especially if we go off the semi-erection you’re currently sporting. If I had continued any longer in that vein I am sure things would have taken a…surprising turn.”
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John, whose hands were still raised from where they had clutched Sherlock’s coat, lowered as he finally opened his eyes, glaring at him, “I hate you.”
“Not quite.” Sherlock murmured and then, in an unexpected move, cupped John’s face and looked at him, remarking sincerely, “Don’t think I’m not tempted, John. Don’t ever think that. It would be so easy to…” he shook his head, lowered his hand, “But it would be unwise.”
John wanted to say more when suddenly Lestrade burst into the room, making him jump as he crowed, “Got it! Maria Else Mums! She’s-”
“Amelia Summers.” Sherlock said smoothly and now John had to struggle to work his mind back to the case, mouthing flapping soundlessly before he managed, “Amelia…hang on, that…that was the first victim’s name.”
“Yes.” Sherlock confirmed, cool as ever, as if he hadn’t just had John backed up against a wall and whispered filthy scenarios in his ear, “Maria Else Mums was her real, full name. Her call girl name was an anagram.”
“So…Amelia owned the flat?”
“Yes.”
“But…why? She had her own place; we saw it and…why were the flat and the phone number so important? Why did she and two other girls die over it?”
Sherlock merely gave John an enigmatic smile and looked expectantly at Lestrade, “What else did you find out about Maria?”
“She had a child.”
“Of course she did,” Sherlock returned, “And that’s where our answers lie.”
Sherlock exited the room he and John had been using the computer in, the other two men at his heels.
---------------------------------------------
Sorry for how long this took me, OP! RL has been super busy! I hope to get this done within this upcoming week though, as things are finally starting to die down a little - hope this latest installment pleases and thanks to all those who have read this so far! ;)
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<3
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