not even proofread, so lazy
This is just a short silly little bondage Sherlock fic! Just to warn you, I don't ACTUALLY get to the sex. I wrote this in 20 minutes just now. If people are interested in some ADULT CONTENT I might do another short GET TO THE D/S ALREADY fic when it's not midnight GMT. XD
Title: Scarf
Fandom: Sherlock
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Warnings: sexual situations, bdsm references
Summary: John and Sherlock try something new. For postcardmystery and other scarf fans!
If John had ever dared to imagine this happening, he would have thought it would be the other way round. He could imagine - God, he could imagine - Sherlock being the one standing at the end of the bed, looking down at him, his face very still. But it was him, bloody hell, John who was standing looking at Sherlock, his dark hair dishevelled against the pillow, his pale thin wrists fastened above his head by a scarf. He looked - John couldn’t think of a word that he would use, and so he borrowed one of Sherlock’s - debauched. Just thinking that word when he looked at Sherlock’s wrists made John swallow hard.
They’d been - if John thought fucking even to himself he blushed - having sex for about six months now. John supposed Sherlock was his - But they’d never used the ‘b’ word, and anyway it was pretty stupid for anyone over thirty, wasn’t it? The ‘r’ word wasn’t stupid but they hadn’t used that either, and that was alright, I mean two blokes don’t chat about… relationships, do they? It was all fine. Everything was how it had been before the - sex, with John doing the shopping with Sherlock’s credit card and Sherlock waking him up in the middle of the night to discuss impossible things. Sex was just something they did. No need to get emotional about it.
It was sort of hard to think of this as just another something. And that wasn’t the only thing that was hard. John resisted the urge to adjust himself through his trousers, because he got the impression you don't if you were topping - was that the word? It made him think of school desserts, somehow, that Dream Whip they put on top of jelly, and bloody hell man, this isn’t what you should be thinking about when you have Sherlock Holmes naked and tied up with a scarf in front of you.
John supposed he might be nervous. Just a tad.
And there was Sherlock just looking up at him with that inscrutable expression John found so maddening.
“Well,” Sherlock said, “get on with it, then.”
“I don’t think you’re supposed to be giving the orders,” John retorted. And then Sherlock gave him a smug little smile, and John felt his nerves slip away. Oh, someone was going to pay for that look. Quite a lot.
John set his shoulders back and nodded, then went to lock the bedroom door. He didn’t think this would be the ideal time for Mrs Hudson to pop up with sandwiches made from her leftover Sunday roast.
Title: Scarf
Fandom: Sherlock
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Warnings: sexual situations, bdsm references
Summary: John and Sherlock try something new. For postcardmystery and other scarf fans!
If John had ever dared to imagine this happening, he would have thought it would be the other way round. He could imagine - God, he could imagine - Sherlock being the one standing at the end of the bed, looking down at him, his face very still. But it was him, bloody hell, John who was standing looking at Sherlock, his dark hair dishevelled against the pillow, his pale thin wrists fastened above his head by a scarf. He looked - John couldn’t think of a word that he would use, and so he borrowed one of Sherlock’s - debauched. Just thinking that word when he looked at Sherlock’s wrists made John swallow hard.
They’d been - if John thought fucking even to himself he blushed - having sex for about six months now. John supposed Sherlock was his - But they’d never used the ‘b’ word, and anyway it was pretty stupid for anyone over thirty, wasn’t it? The ‘r’ word wasn’t stupid but they hadn’t used that either, and that was alright, I mean two blokes don’t chat about… relationships, do they? It was all fine. Everything was how it had been before the - sex, with John doing the shopping with Sherlock’s credit card and Sherlock waking him up in the middle of the night to discuss impossible things. Sex was just something they did. No need to get emotional about it.
It was sort of hard to think of this as just another something. And that wasn’t the only thing that was hard. John resisted the urge to adjust himself through his trousers, because he got the impression you don't if you were topping - was that the word? It made him think of school desserts, somehow, that Dream Whip they put on top of jelly, and bloody hell man, this isn’t what you should be thinking about when you have Sherlock Holmes naked and tied up with a scarf in front of you.
John supposed he might be nervous. Just a tad.
And there was Sherlock just looking up at him with that inscrutable expression John found so maddening.
“Well,” Sherlock said, “get on with it, then.”
“I don’t think you’re supposed to be giving the orders,” John retorted. And then Sherlock gave him a smug little smile, and John felt his nerves slip away. Oh, someone was going to pay for that look. Quite a lot.
John set his shoulders back and nodded, then went to lock the bedroom door. He didn’t think this would be the ideal time for Mrs Hudson to pop up with sandwiches made from her leftover Sunday roast.