Bone Fiddle-verse 221B: "Pacified"
Fandom: Sherlock, Bone Fiddle AU
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Rating: Explicit/NC-17
Warnings: None of the big ones.
Summary: Sherlock always wants to keep going, no matter what, but he really is only human. John is both kind and . . . not-kind.
Author's note: This takes place after the long TBF sequel-in-progress, so there is just one tantalizing allusion to events in that story we haven't finished yet.
“Oh yeah, like that . . . ” John murmured, “slow, so slow -”
It took him a moment to realize that slow had stretched out to downright still. He looked down at the dark curls tickling his thigh and felt a line of warm drool leaking down to his balls.
John tried not to shake too hard as he laughed helplessly. Of all the amazing feats of Sherlock Holmes to share with his readers, he wouldn't be able to tell anyone that apparently, if worked to a sufficient state of exhaustion, the great detective had the ability to fall dead asleep with a dick in his mouth. (Not a small one either, thank you very much.)
Very carefully John eased himself out from Sherlock's lax jaws, placed a cushion under Sherlock's head where his thigh had been, and drew the wool afghan over Sherlock's half-clad form. Then he very slowly lifted Sherlock's magnificent hand up to that sleep-sweetened face, and carefully inserted the thumb between his pink lips, which closed around it in childlike reflex.
If John were a completely good man, he might not have given in to temptation. But he was only a mostly good one. And Sherlock's fancy new Polaroid instant camera was right there.
The woman wasn't the only one who could brandish the power of blackmail.
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Rating: Explicit/NC-17
Warnings: None of the big ones.
Summary: Sherlock always wants to keep going, no matter what, but he really is only human. John is both kind and . . . not-kind.
Author's note: This takes place after the long TBF sequel-in-progress, so there is just one tantalizing allusion to events in that story we haven't finished yet.
“Oh yeah, like that . . . ” John murmured, “slow, so slow -”
It took him a moment to realize that slow had stretched out to downright still. He looked down at the dark curls tickling his thigh and felt a line of warm drool leaking down to his balls.
John tried not to shake too hard as he laughed helplessly. Of all the amazing feats of Sherlock Holmes to share with his readers, he wouldn't be able to tell anyone that apparently, if worked to a sufficient state of exhaustion, the great detective had the ability to fall dead asleep with a dick in his mouth. (Not a small one either, thank you very much.)
Very carefully John eased himself out from Sherlock's lax jaws, placed a cushion under Sherlock's head where his thigh had been, and drew the wool afghan over Sherlock's half-clad form. Then he very slowly lifted Sherlock's magnificent hand up to that sleep-sweetened face, and carefully inserted the thumb between his pink lips, which closed around it in childlike reflex.
If John were a completely good man, he might not have given in to temptation. But he was only a mostly good one. And Sherlock's fancy new Polaroid instant camera was right there.
The woman wasn't the only one who could brandish the power of blackmail.