Fic - The Sound of Her Voice
Title: The Sound of Her Voice
Rating: 18
Characters: Sherlock, John, Sarah
Notes: If you're lucky enough to be trigger free and want to skip the warning (cause it's a spoiler!) read on. If you're trigger-careful or not spoiler averse... looky here:
Definitely dubcon
Synopsis: Is there no end to Sherlock's range of talents?
Length ~1,000 wds
Sherlock is standing by the window, tapping away at a mobile phone, when Sarah walks in to the sitting room.
"Good morning Sherlock. Hope you don't mind me making myself a coffee before I go."
Sherlock flickers his fingers at her over his shoulder, not even bothering to turn his head.
"John was exhausted so I've left him asleep upstairs," she calls from the kitchen. Sherlock's fingers continue to fly over the mobile phone's keyboard.
tap tap tapa tapa tap tap tap
tapa tap tap
tapa
tapa
tap
He wheels towards the kitchen, head cocked and eyes narrowed. "Hmm? Still asleep? Sarah - please I'm being terribly rude. Do make coffee - I'll have mine however it comes."
They make small talk while the kettle boils. Sarah finds herself quite pleasantly surprised at Sherlock's little compliments and considerations.
"Join me in the sitting room, please," says Sherlock as he rests his mobile phone carefully on the cluttered mantelpiece. He gestures at John's chair, "Do take a seat there Sarah. It's possible you could be of the greatest help to me, but we must act quickly."
"Of course. What can I do?"
"I just need you to say some sentences for me. Out loud. A man's alibi depends on it."
"Certainly. You need to check for what? How the voice carries or something?"
"Yes, if you like, now just say after me - Please close the door."
"Please close the door"
"Hmm, good but it needs to be a bit more commanding. Stress on the word 'close' if you will.
"Please close the door."
"Not quite. Breathier please"
"Please close the door."
"Better - much better. Now say 'Your eyes - they're open' - in the same tone of voice if you will"
"You're eyes - they're open."
"Perfect. Now say 'You don't want to tell me yet' please"
"'You don't want to tell me yet.' Sherlock, what exactly..."
"Shh. I must concentrate. One more I think. Yes. 'What'"
"What?"
"No, just 'what' - don't make it sound like a question."
"Okay. 'What.'"
"Hmm - it'll have to do. Finished with that coffee? Great - let me take that from you." He gathers up the mugs and his phone and heads for the kitchen. Sarah stands irresolutely for a moment then leaves the sitting room, shaking her head.
A knock on John's door wakes him from his doze.
"Hello?"
"Close your eyes," Sarah's voice calls through the woodwork.
"What?"
A pause
"Don't open your eyes."
"Mmm - okay. They're closed!"
John squeezes his eyes shut, a frisson of anticipation thrills through him as the door opens. He hears footsteps approaching, then a silk scarf is slipped over his eyes and deftly tied.
"Oh Sarah, yes."
He feels cool fingers on his wrists then the rough bite of rope. His arms are tied together above his head. John, naked beneath his sheets, can feel his cock twitch in anticipation.
"Tell me what you want."
"Oh god Sarah. I want to fuck you."
A long pause. John worries he's been too blunt for this early stage in their relationship.
"Don't. Yet."
"Suck me then. Oh God, please suck my cock."
He feels the sheets pulled down his body. Hears a sharp intake of breath as his straining erection is finally revealed. The fingers that graze his shaft are dextrous. He feels like a musical instrument being caressed by its owner. He wants a bold, bombastic, soaring crescendo to be played on him.
He didn't think in musical metaphors till he met Sherlock. Shit. No. Don't think of Sherlock. Think of Sarah. Lovely, gorgeous, safe Sarah.
Unexpectedly kinky Sarah.
"Oh god, Sarah, please don't make me wait. Take me in your mouth."
Lips descend and it is electricity. It is maddening currents that make his fingers curl, longing to tangle themselves in thick, warm hair. It is blood pounding in his temples, breath shaking in his lungs, nerves straining for each sensation, words senselessly spilling from his mouth.
"Oh suck, yes Jesus, sweet Jesus, suck like that. Your tongue, on the tip. Oh god yes. Yes like that. Stroke me. Suck and stroke. Oh please don't stop, don't stop don't stop. I'm so close - if you don't want to I - ahh God no - not deeper! Oh God please I'm going to - I'm going to - I'm warning you, slow down because I'm going to - ah!"
He shudders
"Ah!"
His back arches.
"Ah, God, yes. Yes. Oh you didn't have to... Oh God thank you, I... Oh thank you."
The warm lips slide from his cock. The sticky little popping sound as he is released send him into fresh paroxysms. Fingernails gently graze his thighs, his stomach, his chest as the sheet is drawn back over him.
"I want to touch you," he manages through shaky breaths as he feels his knots being untied. A pause.
"Don't."
He waits, wondering if his hands will be untied now. Instead, he feels fingers stroking his hair. Again, her voice commands him.
"Please. Don't."
"Okay. Okay. I won't. Oh God Sarah - whatever you want."
His knots are loosened but just before they are completely untied there is another pause.
"Please. Don't open your eyes."
"Okay. You are incredible, do you know that?"
He hears footsteps cross the room and the door closing before he lifts his blindfold. An anonymous red silk scarf. It doesn't look like the kind of thing Sarah wears. "Ah well" he thinks to himself as he drifts into contented sleep, "maybe I'll keep it by the bed for next time."
He doesn't even notice that it is gone when he wakes up.
Sherlock is standing by the window tapping on his mobile phone. He smiles to himself as he stares out of the window. His eyes are unfocused as he replays his latest triumph on his inner screen. The great Sherlock Holmes. Daredevil. Adventurer. Genius. He looks down at the phone in his hand.
DELETE?
Y
DELETE?
Y
DELETE?
Y
It frustrates him that he can't tell John about this particular stroke of genius. Nor can he tell Sarah just how helpful she was when it came to establishing a man's alibi.
"It's true," he thinks to himself, "the stage did lose a fine actor, and a rather promising sound engineer, when I decided to become a specialist in crime."
DELETE ALL VOICE RECORDINGS?
Y
He leaves the red silk scarf on the mantelpiece. That's the thing about the brilliant ones - they always want to get caught.
Rating: 18
Characters: Sherlock, John, Sarah
Notes: If you're lucky enough to be trigger free and want to skip the warning (cause it's a spoiler!) read on. If you're trigger-careful or not spoiler averse... looky here:
Definitely dubcon
Synopsis: Is there no end to Sherlock's range of talents?
Length ~1,000 wds
Sherlock is standing by the window, tapping away at a mobile phone, when Sarah walks in to the sitting room.
"Good morning Sherlock. Hope you don't mind me making myself a coffee before I go."
Sherlock flickers his fingers at her over his shoulder, not even bothering to turn his head.
"John was exhausted so I've left him asleep upstairs," she calls from the kitchen. Sherlock's fingers continue to fly over the mobile phone's keyboard.
tap tap tapa tapa tap tap tap
tapa tap tap
tapa
tapa
tap
He wheels towards the kitchen, head cocked and eyes narrowed. "Hmm? Still asleep? Sarah - please I'm being terribly rude. Do make coffee - I'll have mine however it comes."
They make small talk while the kettle boils. Sarah finds herself quite pleasantly surprised at Sherlock's little compliments and considerations.
"Join me in the sitting room, please," says Sherlock as he rests his mobile phone carefully on the cluttered mantelpiece. He gestures at John's chair, "Do take a seat there Sarah. It's possible you could be of the greatest help to me, but we must act quickly."
"Of course. What can I do?"
"I just need you to say some sentences for me. Out loud. A man's alibi depends on it."
"Certainly. You need to check for what? How the voice carries or something?"
"Yes, if you like, now just say after me - Please close the door."
"Please close the door"
"Hmm, good but it needs to be a bit more commanding. Stress on the word 'close' if you will.
"Please close the door."
"Not quite. Breathier please"
"Please close the door."
"Better - much better. Now say 'Your eyes - they're open' - in the same tone of voice if you will"
"You're eyes - they're open."
"Perfect. Now say 'You don't want to tell me yet' please"
"'You don't want to tell me yet.' Sherlock, what exactly..."
"Shh. I must concentrate. One more I think. Yes. 'What'"
"What?"
"No, just 'what' - don't make it sound like a question."
"Okay. 'What.'"
"Hmm - it'll have to do. Finished with that coffee? Great - let me take that from you." He gathers up the mugs and his phone and heads for the kitchen. Sarah stands irresolutely for a moment then leaves the sitting room, shaking her head.
A knock on John's door wakes him from his doze.
"Hello?"
"Close your eyes," Sarah's voice calls through the woodwork.
"What?"
A pause
"Don't open your eyes."
"Mmm - okay. They're closed!"
John squeezes his eyes shut, a frisson of anticipation thrills through him as the door opens. He hears footsteps approaching, then a silk scarf is slipped over his eyes and deftly tied.
"Oh Sarah, yes."
He feels cool fingers on his wrists then the rough bite of rope. His arms are tied together above his head. John, naked beneath his sheets, can feel his cock twitch in anticipation.
"Tell me what you want."
"Oh god Sarah. I want to fuck you."
A long pause. John worries he's been too blunt for this early stage in their relationship.
"Don't. Yet."
"Suck me then. Oh God, please suck my cock."
He feels the sheets pulled down his body. Hears a sharp intake of breath as his straining erection is finally revealed. The fingers that graze his shaft are dextrous. He feels like a musical instrument being caressed by its owner. He wants a bold, bombastic, soaring crescendo to be played on him.
He didn't think in musical metaphors till he met Sherlock. Shit. No. Don't think of Sherlock. Think of Sarah. Lovely, gorgeous, safe Sarah.
Unexpectedly kinky Sarah.
"Oh god, Sarah, please don't make me wait. Take me in your mouth."
Lips descend and it is electricity. It is maddening currents that make his fingers curl, longing to tangle themselves in thick, warm hair. It is blood pounding in his temples, breath shaking in his lungs, nerves straining for each sensation, words senselessly spilling from his mouth.
"Oh suck, yes Jesus, sweet Jesus, suck like that. Your tongue, on the tip. Oh god yes. Yes like that. Stroke me. Suck and stroke. Oh please don't stop, don't stop don't stop. I'm so close - if you don't want to I - ahh God no - not deeper! Oh God please I'm going to - I'm going to - I'm warning you, slow down because I'm going to - ah!"
He shudders
"Ah!"
His back arches.
"Ah, God, yes. Yes. Oh you didn't have to... Oh God thank you, I... Oh thank you."
The warm lips slide from his cock. The sticky little popping sound as he is released send him into fresh paroxysms. Fingernails gently graze his thighs, his stomach, his chest as the sheet is drawn back over him.
"I want to touch you," he manages through shaky breaths as he feels his knots being untied. A pause.
"Don't."
He waits, wondering if his hands will be untied now. Instead, he feels fingers stroking his hair. Again, her voice commands him.
"Please. Don't."
"Okay. Okay. I won't. Oh God Sarah - whatever you want."
His knots are loosened but just before they are completely untied there is another pause.
"Please. Don't open your eyes."
"Okay. You are incredible, do you know that?"
He hears footsteps cross the room and the door closing before he lifts his blindfold. An anonymous red silk scarf. It doesn't look like the kind of thing Sarah wears. "Ah well" he thinks to himself as he drifts into contented sleep, "maybe I'll keep it by the bed for next time."
He doesn't even notice that it is gone when he wakes up.
Sherlock is standing by the window tapping on his mobile phone. He smiles to himself as he stares out of the window. His eyes are unfocused as he replays his latest triumph on his inner screen. The great Sherlock Holmes. Daredevil. Adventurer. Genius. He looks down at the phone in his hand.
DELETE?
Y
DELETE?
Y
DELETE?
Y
It frustrates him that he can't tell John about this particular stroke of genius. Nor can he tell Sarah just how helpful she was when it came to establishing a man's alibi.
"It's true," he thinks to himself, "the stage did lose a fine actor, and a rather promising sound engineer, when I decided to become a specialist in crime."
DELETE ALL VOICE RECORDINGS?
Y
He leaves the red silk scarf on the mantelpiece. That's the thing about the brilliant ones - they always want to get caught.