The Red Right Hand (Queensland Flood fic)
Title: The Red Right Hand
Author: sunken_standard
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Work Type: fic
Pairing: Sherlock/ John
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Explicit sex, manipulation, D/s themes, mild misogyny
Genre: Character study, romance (sort of), darkfic, Porn
Word Count: approx 3k
Spoilers: Minor for TGG
Written for: xenelle
Summary: John Watson is straight. Sherlock Holmes loves a challenge.
Disclaimer: ACD canon is in the public domain, BBC owns this incarnation, I'm not making a dime.
A/N: Unbritpicked, Unbeta'd. Written for xenelle 's winning bid (and wonderful prompt) in waltzmatildah 's flood relief fic fundraiser challenge. Cross-posted to fandomaid, sherlockbbc and 221b_after_dark . Title comes from the song of the same name by Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds.
sevenswells has made some really awesome artwork inspired by the story. Go look now.
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Sherlock had been working on breaking down and rebuilding John Watson from the day he met him. At first, it was a lark. Entertainment. John was an interesting subject, receptive and combative by turns. By the third month of their residence at 221B, it became apparent to Sherlock that he was most definitely in love with John.
Sherlock had been told by countless psychologists (both in person and through academic texts of varying quality) that a sociopath did not experience love. Sherlock had never had reason to doubt this, as most people were contemptible wastes of oxygen. He'd had exactly one lover whom he'd had any feelings of warmth and possessiveness for, but that had been an anomaly and, most likely, hormonal. He was seventeen at the time.
John was different, that much was apparent at the outset. Broken but functional. A 'normal' person would want to heal him. Sherlock wanted to shatter him completely and use the pieces to create his own perfect mosaic.
He'd succeeded on many fronts in altering John's behaviour to his own liking, but there was one aspect that was still elusive. Sherlock wanted to fuck John. He wanted to hold John down and fuck him until he begged for the kind of pleasure only Sherlock could give him.
Sherlock's libido had never been strong. He indulged in sex just as he did with all other things (aside from cocaine) - only when necessary to maintain function. After living with John for three months, the desire to fuck was reaching a critical level. Masturbation took the edge off, obviously, but wasn't what he needed. He needed sweat and struggle and submission.
The problem? John Watson was heterosexual. Completely heterosexual. Sherlock had deduced the possibility of same-sex adolescent fumblings, but was certain John had had no interest at the time beyond feeling another hand on his as-yet untouched cock. Unfortunate.
John was highly sexually motivated. He had spent the three months since he'd met Sherlock constantly 'on the pull,' without success (due in large part to Sherlock's efforts to keep John's focus solely on him, where it belonged). He hadn't had any sexual contact with another person since before his deployment, going on two years. Sherlock couldn't imagine that kind of chastity for himself, but would take any advantage John's sexual frustration would present.
Then there had been the incident at the pool, where John's loyalty had been enough to spur Sherlock into action. No one else would have power over John Watson ever again unless that person was Sherlock Holmes. No. One.
One week after the showdown with Moriarty, Sherlock implemented a plan to make John Watson unable to think of anyone but Sherlock ever again. Sherlock had mapped out all approaches to the problem and decided a long game would ensure John's own certainty that this was what he wanted. If he were to feel coerced or manipulated (beyond a pre-established baseline), John would leave. John's sense of self was one of his selling points as a partner and Sherlock had to be careful in applying pressure to shape it into a form that allowed him just enough room to fit snugly in that space in much the same manner John had been able to crawl under Sherlock's own skin. It would be a (delightfully) delicate process.
First he would test the limits of John statement "It's all fine." He fabricated an opportunity to flirt shamelessly with a bartender in a pub in Soho. As predicted, John had taken issue with Sherlock's perceived manipulation (he had got three free drinks, two of which had been discreetly discarded as he had to maintain focus). Sherlock chastised John appropriately while alluding to the fact that the man was attractive (and he was, by both conventional and Sherlock's personal standards - if Sherlock hadn't had a goal in mind he would have taken him home), ending the conversation with a challenge ("Problem?") from which John backed down.
He took measures to introduce John to the idea of Sherlock Holmes as a sensual creature while at the same time adding the element of vulnerability. Sherlock feigned sleep on the couch while holding his head at and awkward angle for hours. It was uncomfortable but not something he couldn't endure. The next day he made sure to hold his head in a position that made apparent his limited range of motion and played up his discomfort. John's instincts as a caregiver were stronger than Sherlock had anticipated, and within one hour of John taking obvious notice of Sherlock's perceived discomfort he offered relief in the form of deep muscle massage. Sherlock didn't have to fake the noises of pleasure that issued from his chest, as it was quite a stimulating experience. Sherlock made sure to reward the behaviour (and John's reaction of mild embarrassment mixed with pride in his own abilities) with verbal gratitude and a dinner at Angelo's (reinforcing the association with John's initial, though platonic, interest in Sherlock's sexuality).
Sherlock capitalized on John's concern for his welfare at every opportunity after that. He even went so far as to inflict minor injuries upon his own person in order to bring out John's inherent need to heal. John made mention of it once, something to the effect of, "Were you always this accident prone?" Sherlock replied with derision, but realized an opportunity to turn the situation in his favour, admitting he'd never had anyone to take care of him. John's face spoke volumes, displaying signs of anger and hurt (not directed at Sherlock but at John's vague [and most likely inaccurate] notions of Sherlock's past), but also resolve and warmth.
Sherlock grew impatient with his progress and stepped up his assault on John's heterosexuality in one giant leap. There was a pub on Crawford St. John especially liked. A case had ended well and Sherlock suggested it for their celebratory meal. He made sure to display good humour and plied John with drinks after a satisfying dinner. Sherlock ate little but was able to misdirect John's attention at regular intervals to sneak food off his plate and into the napkin on his lap (a tactic perfected in early childhood that still served him well). He indulged in a second glass of wine, enough to bring a high colour to his cheeks and soften his features. Sherlock favoured John with a fabricated sexual history that included heterosexual encounters in a bid to connect to John's experiences. The conversation continued through their walk home and into another bottle of wine John had purchased when he'd still been seeing Sarah.
They sat side-by-side on the sofa, Sherlock positioning himself slightly farther inside John's personal space than usual. He monitored all of John's physiological responses while steering the conversation into more intimate territory, encouraging John's questions regarding what aspects of a man Sherlock preferred over a woman. Sherlock suspected John had always wanted to have a similar conversation with his sister but had been uncomfortable with the idea.
Sherlock waited until John began an appraisal of his body (to the areas Sherlock had directed John's attention to by pointing out the physiological features of a man he found superior to those of a woman) to make a move. He leaned over and kissed John, making sure to keep it light enough to seem tentative but applying enough pressure to declare intent. John responded after less than a second of hesitation. Sherlock allowed John time to lead the kiss, then took control and ceded it in turn to establish a sense of equality. John became aroused quickly despite his level of intoxication and brought his hips into contact with Sherlock's thigh.
Sherlock responded by manhandling John into a reclining position against the arm of the sofa, which seemed to further incite John. Sherlock used his teeth on John's neck lightly (he would have ample time to mark him later if all went well) before shifting farther back on the sofa and going for John's belt buckle. John watched through hooded eyes, clearly interested. Sherlock proceeded to give John a blowjob, keeping it at a 7 (on a 1-10 scale, 1 being boring, 5 being adequate, 10 being exceptional) in terms of sophistication and enthusiasm. John started off quiet, but at Sherlock's carefully pitched urging of "Tell me what you like," he became more vocal.
John twisted the fingers of his left hand in Sherlock's hair gently (so polite, that would change) as Sherlock ran his tongue along the vein on the underside of John's cock while applying suction with his lips. "Yeah, like that," John near-whispered.
It was a start, but Sherlock could do better. He sucked the glans into his mouth and swirled his tongue over the tip in tighter circles, then wiggled it in the slit while using his hand to stroke lightly. John gasped and moaned as Sherlock took more of him into his mouth. Sherlock would reserve deep-throating as a special reward. John became more vocal as Sherlock rolled his testicles between dexterous fingers. "Yes. Yeah, oh that feels great, love." Pet names were abhorrent, but correction as to John's use of them would happen at a later date.
Sherlock was quite aroused himself by this point and palmed himself through his trousers. John took notice and made a strangled noise (to be expected, John's personality indicated he would find any visual cues as to his partner's enjoyment stimulating). Sherlock unzipped and pulled his own cock out, giving it two firm strokes before turning his attention back to John.
He pulled John's foreskin over the crown and ran his tongue in the space between the two, then took up a steady tempo of hand and mouth in counterpoint. John became more vocal with words of encouragement. When his thighs began to shake, Sherlock played his trump card and caressed John's perineum before pressing upward. John had restrained himself thus far from thrusting into Sherlock's mouth, but as he skirted the edge of orgasm his movements became more forceful. "Yeah, fuck, good, so good, close... Fuck, so close... gonna come... love you... Fuck, yes, 'm gonna come..." followed by a series of staccato hitches in breath and a sharp pulling back of his hips, which Sherlock had anticipated and followed. John held his breath as the first pulse hit Sherlock's tongue, then released it with a satisfied sigh. Sherlock sucked John gently through the aftershocks, then spit into the wineglass on the the coffee table. Swallowing would also be a reward.
Sherlock shifted back on his knees and brought himself off with quick, rough stokes, eyes closed and head thrown back to give John a memorable image. He made sure to come neatly into his own hand, as John might not be ready for contact with semen other than his own. He slumped forward and rested his head on the back cushion of the sofa, panting across John's still-exposed cock. Then he tucked himself away and got off the couch to wash his hand, taking the wineglass with him as he went. John would recognize his consideration in the clean-up and react favourably.
Sherlock took his time washing his hands and the glass. He returned into the lounge in time to intercept John, who was obviously headed for bed. There was a moment of indecision on John's part, then he stood on tiptoes and gave Sherlock a short, chaste kiss on the lips before ducking his head, then retired upstairs. It was obviously a thank-you.
Sherlock knew better than to allow John time to overthink things. He picked a case from his website and had John out of bed at six to chase false leads. He made sure to temper his behaviour slightly, but not enough to give John reason to believe he could use sex to humanize Sherlock.
After Sherlock grew bored with the ruse of the case and the client's necklace (freshwater pearls and a sapphire cabochon, ghastly thing) was safely returned, John brought up the topic of the previous evening. Sherlock projected insecurity, which John ate up with a spoon. There was reassurance in the form of slow, exploratory kisses (boring, but necessary to endure for John's sake) that didn't end up leading anywhere.
Over the course of the next week, John became more tactile when in the flat. Sherlock responded in kind, at first with a tentative air and then with increasing frequency and duration to lead John to believe it was something Sherlock was acclimatizing himself to.
The second time he went down on John was in John's bed. He kept it roughly the same level of quality as the first one, only this time used one wet finger to skate along John's arsehole near the end. John tensed and Sherlock discontinued the motion, but it was enough to gauge John's comfort level (physically stimulated, but mentally threatened by preconceived notions of masculinity and penetration). Sherlock allowed John to assist in bringing himself off, which was pleasant but nowhere near what he wanted. Sherlock stayed in John's bed through the afterglow but left him to sleep alone. Wouldn't do to set a precedent so soon.
John had unusually sensitive nipples for a man which grew soft and puffy under the onslaught of Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock used this to his full advantage by getting John off just by sucking them in combination with a merciless handjob, knowing John would react with shame to the speed and impetus of his orgasm. As predicted, John pulled away, but Sherlock pushed on relentlessly, feigning a haze of lust at John's reaction (he was honestly intrigued by it and made a mental note to explore the extent of the sensitivity more fully at a later date) and rubbed himself off against John's hip. John's insecurities were appeased.
It took John three more weeks to work up to going down on Sherlock. It ranked as on of the top three most terrible blowjobs Sherlock had ever experienced. The level of stimulation wasn't near enough for him to finish, so he had to resort to a series of muscle contractions and replaying the most intense orgasms he'd ever had in order to be able to ejaculate. At the last moment he succeeded in pulling mostly out of John's mouth to cover his lips and chin (a satisfactorily erotic sight) and then apologized profusely to make it seem as though he'd fully lost control. Worked like a charm.
Sherlock slowly introduced John to his inherently submissive nature by disallowing him to come out on top (literally and figuratively) during foreplay. Sherlock brought up the topic of penetration after besting John in a contest of physical strength on the floor of the lounge (quite invigorating, actually) by telling John that he wasn't experienced with anal sex (an outright lie, although he did find it only moderately pleasurable to be the bottom), but would like John to fuck him. The expression on John's face was akin to a child being given their most desired object - equally pleased and reverent. John was overly cautious but obviously had some experience (he'd slept with women on three continents, there wasn't much he hadn't done with one at some point).
Sherlock's immediate goal (in the scheme of the larger end-game of ruining John for all other people) was to get verbal confirmation of John's feelings. Coercion tactics and leading questions were not an option - John had to vocalize it on his own, outside of the influence of a euphoric sexual state. The focus on this objective coincided with Sherlock easing John into being the receptive partner during intercourse.
Sherlock found that John was very responsive to the phrase, "Do you trust me?" when spoken in a certain manner. He used this to placate John while he fingered him for the first time, talking John through his initial discomfort with prostate stimulation. It took seven sessions spread out over two weeks to get John to the point where he would agree to try being rogered with only a token hesitation. Sherlock may have overdone it a bit when he panted in John's ear "Let me fuck you, God John, please let me fuck you," but the results spoke for themselves.
Sherlock knew that this would be an important milestone for John, so he took his time in fingering him open, making sure to stop periodically to kiss and soothe John with gentle touches while he adjusted. No wonder John had been so invested in women up until this point, as he needed to be treated like one. Sherlock insisted that they be face to face, claiming he wanted to see John (partially true), while in reality, he wanted John to watch him. John needed to make the connection that he was being fucked by Sherlock Holmes. That it was Sherlock possessing him. Sherlock, breaking down his last barrier.
It was an adequate fuck, better than average when taking into account that it was John's first time. Sherlock let John sleep in his bed for the full night, completely content. Neither of them liked to be touched immediately after orgasm, so cuddling was not a problem. Sherlock allowed himself to doze, also content. During the course of night, John had shifted closer and draped an arm over Sherlock's waist. Sherlock enjoyed the weight and the warmth. He did love John, very much at times, and a feeling of triumph washed through him. It would only be a matter of time before complete victory was assured.
And then the inevitable moment of crisis. There was a crime scene (of course it would be at a crime scene); Lestrade milling about looking out of his depth (again), Donovan chatting up another rookie (Sherlock admired her straightforward approach to sexual gratification, even if her choice in partners was utterly nauseating), a few constables scattered here and there but thankfully no forensics yet; everything very ordinary. Sherlock asked John's opinion on the body and when the man failed yet again to see what was staring him in the face (literally, the woman was wearing contact lenses. Contact lenses! How could anyone miss that?) Sherlock let his opinion of John's relative idiocy be known. John stormed off, but there was a mystery to be solved, so Sherlock didn't follow. Let John get the hissy-fit out of his system.
Of course, back at Baker Street, John had other ideas. He ranted at Sherlock that he shouldn't be treated like that in front of other people (tellingly did not mention that the same went for when they were alone), countered by Sherlock's arguments that no one's opinions mattered, etc. John threatened to leave. Sherlock couldn't have timed it better if he'd tried.
He responded with practised coolness (while the anticipation of John's inevitable answer caused his heart to beat faster), "What's keeping you here then?"
"I bloody love you, that's what!"
Oh. Oh, there it was, the sweet thrill of conquest. Sherlock was almost giddy with it as he stalked up to John and pulled him into a rough kiss. He owned John Watson completely and he claimed his prize. He didn't return the sentiment with words, although he did reward John by allowing himself to be fucked over the arm of the couch (which John had fantasized about continuously since their first encounter). They stumbled into Sherlock's bedroom afterwards, and as John slept beside him, Sherlock wondered how soon it would be before he grew bored.