Fic: Tie it in a Bow (Sherlock-BBC, NC-17, Sherlock/John)
Title: Tie it in a Bow
Author: Yami no Kaiba
Beta: Enekororo
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Length: 1,363 words
Summary: PWP bondage smut.
Disclaimers: The BBC ultimately owns these versions of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s characters. They live across the pond, if you want to visit them.
Warnings: bondage, anatomically correct terminology (because it's Sherlock).
Note: Many thanks to the wonderful Enekororo from Tumblr, who volunteered to slog through my excessive run-ons, awkward sentences, and confusing tense shifts. This wouldn't be nearly as coherent without their hard work.
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A trussed up John is always a beautiful thing, but it is a rare opportunity that presents itself right now, what with Sherlock having masturbated earlier in order to savor this moment. Seeing John's firm flesh wrapped by something as delicate and flimsy as silk or as heavy and concrete as chains makes Sherlock's lips seem dry and his mouth water. There was just something so viscerally appealing in having all that potential movement constrained to the merest jerks and twitches as muscles involuntarily spasm. In having usually animated limbs trapped in whatever configuration Sherlock wanted to try this time.
Pale, long fingers walk up the silk wrapped shaft on display, feeling the strain of the cloth as John's penis tries to fill, to expand, but is denied the relief. John squirms under the tight press of Sherlock's other hand, the hard yet warm feel of bone close to the skin pushing into his palm as John tries to hitch his hips up for more stimulation. A short whine scrapes out of John's equally silk wrapped throat to be muffled by the wet silk keeping the small stress ball oriented firmly in his mouth.
Sherlock hums appreciatively in his own throat, brushing a finger tip across the penis' glans, smearing the beads of pre-ejaculate down into the edge of the silk. Silk or chain for the hips? Chain - the added weight across the iliac crests would act as both a comfort and a goad, leaving just enough space to wriggle. Plus, another point of possible anchorage to pull John's thighs up off the bed's surface just that little bit to add strain and give easier access to both the gluteus maximus and anus wouldn't hurt.
Leaning down, he gives a series of quick licks and nips to the opposite hip, receiving a mixture of heavy pants and garbled words before he eases back and moves off the bed to rummage in the box standing open not that far away. He gets out an appropriate length of chain to loop over and under the bed, along with a padlock.
Bright, hazy blue eyes watch him as he goes about re-ordering the bonds to his liking. John's hands above the padded manacles circling his wrists are open and resting on the pillow. The manacles chain John to the headboard, and Sherlock knows that when John gets to the point that he forgets himself, John's fingers will clutch at the pillow as if it's the edge of a cliff.
There's an impatient, questioning sound from John as Sherlock returns to the box for more strips of silk. He returns and strokes John's legs from thighs to silk-wrapped ankles before loosening the tension where the ankles are tied to the footboard. With swift movements, he raises John's right leg to wrap a strip of silk around the upper thigh a few times before slipping the ends through a link in the chain about John's hips and tying it off. Moving about the bed he does the same to the other leg, before returning to the footboard and re-tying John's ankles there.
Looking up at John's expressive face, Sherlock raises an eyebrow, hands wrapped around both of John's ankles and squeezing lightly before he lets go. John gets the silent message, rolls his eyes, and tentatively tests the new binds before attempting more forceful movements.
Licking his lips, Sherlock tamps down on the need to feel the straining muscles and instead focuses on watching the play of muscles and limbs, looking for any slippage of the knots. A pleased smile ticks at the corner of his mouth when the knots hold with the exact tension he wanted and John makes a bit of a huffing noise through his nose, the skin around those blue eyes crinkling.
Sherlock climbs over the footboard, settling between John's raised thighs. Fingertips trace down from behind the knees along the back of John's thighs, over the silk and to the mounds of his arse. There Sherlock spreads his hands, eyeing John's expression from beneath his eyelashes as he squeezes and kneads the flesh in his grip, rubbing little circles with his thumbs close to and brushing minutely against John's testicles.
The squirming starts almost immediately, John's chin rising, straining his neck against the silk wrapped around it. Sherlock watches, fascinated by the rapid flutter of John's laryngeal prominence as the doctor feels the added pressure. The blond's breathing turns from nasal huffs into little muffled gasps.
He continues to tease and grope until his hands start to ache a little. Removing one hand he reaches for and flips the cap off the tube of lube he'd left on the bed near John's ribs, working somewhat awkwardly one handed to pour some onto his fingers before dropping the tube back to the bed. Spreading the lube with his thumb and John's crease with the other, he moves his lubed fingers to trail down from the base of John's testicles, over the perineum, to circle and massage John's anal sphincter.
John's deep grunt and sudden hard jerks in his bonds were expected, but pleasant to observe none-the-less. The brief struggle causes John to arch his back, pushing his chest up, and Sherlock takes the invitation to lean down, to lave and suck at an exposed nipple thereby bringing it to hardness. A careful bite brings a strangled yelp from John's throat that morphs into a low moan as Sherlock's tongue drags against the sting.
The glans of John's penis is nearly lying against his trembling abs in this position. Sherlock moves his hand from John's arse to grip it lightly in his hand, to rub his fingertips along the seams of the overlapping silk. Another broken whine issues from that gagged mouth and Sherlock gives in to the urge to slip his finger into John's tight anus when it flutters against the pad of his finger.
A gurgled grunt and a feeble attempt at a kick to his side just drags John's leg against Sherlock's latissimus dorsi. Sherlock grins and with a last nip to the well worked nipple, he eases himself back, putting his weight on his own thighs so he can watch his hands work. He takes it slow, moving his finger in and out while his other hand continues to tease John's penis.
Squirming slowly turns to outright writhing, hands clenching and unclenching at the pillow when Sherlock adds another finger. He twists and scissors, petting the rectal walls, but not quite touching the prostate yet. More pre-ejaculate leaks out of the trapped penis, prompting him to swipe a thumb back and forth across the penis' glans causing John to whimper and thrash his head, the tendons of his neck stark against the silk.
John's muscles are starting to tighten and strain, he’s rocking into each shallow thrust of fingers into his anus. His thighs come to rest and squeeze against Sherlock's sides. Sherlock licks his lips again unconsciously, noting clinically his own coiled anticipation in his gut and his increased respiration. He slides his hands up to the quick release knot just under the penis' corona and times the fabric's release to the first direct prostate stimulation he gives.
John gives a long wail, head tipping back and straining while his penis gives an aborted spurt, the silken cage rubbing against his shaft as it finally finishes expanding. Sherlock leans in, fingers gently catching and angling the penis' head into his mouth where he sucks gently at the glans. After three more successive strokes to the prostate and a garbled scream in his ears, John's semen rushes over Sherlock's tongue and down his greedily gulping throat.
Sherlock licks John clean while carefully sliding his fingers out. Climbing up the quivering body sprawled below him, he trails his fingers up the expanse of John's trembling sides and leans down to kiss the strained edges of John's stretched lips.
"So," he murmurs, fingers working against the various silken knots about John's body starting with the one about his neck. "I get to keep the liver experiments out on the counter for another week, right?"
A pleased, sleepy hum is his only reply.
--Fin.