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John hurries up the stairs to their flat, taking them two at a time. He’s had a terrible day at the clinic and knows just what he needs to release that tension. He’s through the door and finds Sherlock at his desk, typing on his laptop without looking up. Rude git, John thinks with a smirk. He’ll take care of that. Without a word he pulls Sherlock to his feet, capturing his lips in an intense kiss. Sherlock makes a small noise of surprise but doesn’t protest, quickly responding to the kiss and wrapping his arms around his lover. John grips him firmly and pulls him towards the couch, leaning him against the arm as he continues to kiss him deeply. Then he pulls away, still not saying a word, and makes quick work of undressing Sherlock so he stands naked before him. As anticipated, Sherlock is already completely erect and visibly aroused at being manhandled in such a way.
“Beautiful,” John murmurs, realising that he too is already ridiculously hard beneath his trousers.

John shoves Sherlock back to half sit against the arm of the couch and pushes his legs apart to settle himself between them. He threads a hand into Sherlock’s hair, his lips going to the spot just behind his ear.
“You remember your safe word, yes?” John murmurs against his neck.
“Yes,” Sherlock confirms in an impossibly deep voice, swallowing hard with anticipation.
“Good,” says John shortly, then abruptly tears himself away from Sherlock’s silken skin and reaches into his jacket pocket.


Quick as a flash he’s pulled out a pair of metal handcuffs and has Sherlock’s wrists bound behind his back. Sherlock lets out a ragged gasp at the unexpected twist of events, his cock twitches and rapidly grows impossibly harder. He tries pushing himself into John’s hands but the other man has strategically stepped back ever so slightly as he pins Sherlock in place by his hips. Sherlock whimpers, hating himself for his neediness but unable to stop.
“Touch me, John,” he says desperately.
“You’re not exactly in a position to be making demands,” John points out, gripping his hips more firmly.

He leans forward, licking a line from Sherlock’s prominent collarbone right up to the spot behind his ear. Sherlock shivers with delight and twists his head, his lips seeking out John’s. John captures them roughly, sliding his tongue inside Sherlock’s open mouth, then allows the kiss to become slow and languid and tender. But before Sherlock can enjoy it too much, John is pulling away again, briefly releasing Sherlock to pull off his own jacket and unbutton his shirt. He almost groans in relief as he unzips his trousers and pulls them off, along with his underwear, finally freeing his painfully hard cock. Sherlock swallows hard and John almost pounces on him at the sight of his adam’s apple bobbing up and down his long, slender neck. The porcelain skin is far too perfect and he plans to make his mark upon it.

“Now here’s what’s going to happen,” John says, his tone slipping into the note of military command that he knows drives Sherlock absolutely wild.
Sherlock is very still and seems to be holding his breath in anticipation of what John will do next.
“I’m going to touch and kiss and bite you all over until you can’t take it anymore. Then I’m going to throw you down on that couch, hold you down and fuck you until you scream.”
Sherlock inhales sharply, his pupils blown out and glittering with his arousal at John’s words.
“Yes, John, all of that. Please,” he says breathlessly, sounding broken.


John grins wickedly and attacks Sherlock’s mouth with his own, wrapping a hand around his throat to move his head into the position he wants. Then his hand is in Sherlock’s hair, his fingers stroking, gathering a fistful of curls. Without warning he tugs, forcing Sherlock’s head back and exposing that incredible neck. Sherlock lets out a cry that’s somewhere between pleasure and pain and thrusts urgently towards John’s body.

John wraps his free arm around Sherlock’s waist to steady him, refusing to allow his cock any relief just yet, and sinks his hot mouth onto Sherlock’s throat. He circles his tongue over the flesh, a promise of things to come, and nips it lightly, drawing a sharp hiss from Sherlock. He continues his ministrations, sucking tenderly, drawing out a faint purple bruise on the delicate skin. He grins again, thinking with sadistic delight about how now everyone would know Sherlock is his.

Sherlock squirms against him in a desperate attempt to seek some friction against his now achingly hard cock. John changes his approach, pulling Sherlock’s head roughly to the other side and kissing his way down his throat, nipping at his adam’s apple and sharp collarbone.

He releases his grip on Sherlock’s hair and trails his hand down his neck and chest, coming to rest against his right nipple. He rubs it with his fingers, softly at first, and ducks his head to capture the other nipple with his lips. He slides his tongue experimentally over the now erect nipple, pinching the other, and Sherlock moans and squeezes his eyes shut. His movements are slow, deliberate and torturous, and John knows that if Sherlock’s hand were free he’d be threading them through his hair, bossily pushing his mouth closer. He closes his mouth over the nipple, licking and sucking at it hard, and Sherlock throws his head back with a groan.

John traces his hand down Sherlock’s body, stopping to grasp his hip firmly, then slides lower to graze Sherlock’s hard length with his knuckles ever so briefly before pulling away.
“Please, John,” Sherlock cries desperately.
In an instant John has stopped, drawing himself back up to face Sherlock and clamping his hand firmly over Sherlock’s mouth.
“Am I going to have to subdue you, Sherlock?”
Sherlock shakes his head, eyes wide with surprise and arousal, and John tries to ignore the delicious feeling of Sherlock’s cupid bow lips against his palm.
“Good.”


John gets back to work, kissing his way down Sherlock’s throat and chest down to his belly button. He gently nuzzles at the especially soft skin there then licks his way down the trail of fine hair until he’s kneeling in front of Sherlock. Sherlock watches him with fascination, biting his bottom lip to keep himself from making a noise. It’s so god damn hot that John almost gives in and swallows his cock right then and there. But he’s feeling far too sadistic today to give Sherlock what he wants so soon.

Instead, he draws himself up to full height once again and pulls Sherlock into a brutal, punishing kiss. Sherlock moans into his mouth and John senses that his legs would give way if they weren’t supported by the couch behind him. He decides to show a little mercy towards his lover and pulls away to lick his own palm then slowly and deliberately wrap it around Sherlock’s length.

He swallows Sherlock’s whimpers with his mouth as he starts to stroke at an agonisingly slow pace, rubbing his thumb across the tip of his cock which is already slick with pre-cum. John can sense how on edge Sherlock already is and knows he won’t last long. He pulls his lips away and buries his face in Sherlock’s hair, kissing his neck lightly.
“Don’t you dare come yet,” he whispers hotly into his ear.
Sherlock shivers, unable to speak, as John resumes his assault of Sherlock’s throat, his free hand coming up to tangle in Sherlock’s curls.

He applies a little pressure, intensifying his kissing, sucking and biting of Sherlock’s flesh, speeding up the movement of his hand around his cock, until the detective is writhing beneath him, moaning freely now.
“John, please, oh god,” he pants, fighting against the restraints that bind his arms.
John cruelly ceases all movement immediately and Sherlock cries out as though the sudden loss of contact is causing him physical pain. But then John is hastily unfastening the handcuffs around Sherlock’s wrists and pushing the man roughly down onto the couch.

John lands on top and straddles him, pinning Sherlock’s arms above his head and bringing his lips down to meet Sherlock’s in a bruising kiss. Sherlock moans loudly at this sudden change as John snaps the handcuffs back around Sherlock’s wrists with a satisfying click. He keeps Sherlock pinned down as he repositions himself to slide his rock hard and now leaking cock against Sherlock’s length.
“Oh god. Fuck me, John. Please,” Sherlock pleads breathlessly.

John slides his hand down Sherlock’s body, laid out so beautifully beneath him, and squeezes his ass roughly. He gropes around the couch cushions for the bottle of lubricant they’ve stashed there for occasions such as this one. He locates it and flips the cap open in preparation.
“Are you wearing it?” John growls, and Sherlock manages to nod.
Satisfied, John slips his hand between Sherlock’s legs, giving his cock and balls a cursory stroke, and feels the base of the plug inside Sherlock. It’s of a modest size, just enough to for Sherlock to feel it, but it opens him up nicely.

He firmly grips it and carefully eases it out, watching Sherlock’s face as he whimpers at the loss. But he doesn’t feel empty for long because John is pressing slick fingers against him before slowly pushing them inside. Sherlock hisses as they enter him fully and John knows what Sherlock wants. He leans back over the man as he slowly fucks him with his fingers and kisses him once, softly, lovingly. The calm before the storm. A few moments pass and the tension within both of them increases rapidly.

“Are you ready?” John asks roughly, all composure completely shot to hell now with his desire for the man beneath him.
“Yes. Do it.”
Then John is slicking himself up, positioning himself above Sherlock and guiding himself into place. He pauses for a moment, taking in the magnificent sight before him, before slowly but surely sliding fast and deep into Sherlock in one smooth movement. Sherlock lets out a strangled cry and John groans loudly, stilling to allow him a moment to adjust before capturing his lips in another hot kiss.

He uses one hand to firmly hold Sherlock’s wrists in place above his head, threading the other into his hair once more. John slides almost all the way out of Sherlock before slamming back in hard. They both groan roughly and John’s mouth again goes to Sherlock’s throat, frantically kissing, licking and nipping at his flesh as his desire starts to build to the point of being unbearable.

He starts to thrust hard into Sherlock, the detective’s hips coming up to meet his in their frantic rhythm, and he tightens his grip of Sherlock’s hair, pulling forcefully to expose more of his neck.
“Harder,” Sherlock manages to gasp.
John complies, angling his hips, suddenly hitting a very sensitive spot deep within him, and Sherlock practically screams his name.
“Christ, Sherlock, you feel amazing.”
He keeps up his punishing rhythm, attacking Sherlock’s neck mercilessly as the detective meets his thrusts and moans with abandon.

“God, I want you so much, I want to make you mine,” John pants.
“I am yours, I’ve always been yours,” Sherlock moans desperately, and his broken voice is pushing John rapidly towards the edge.
John thrusts into him hard, his world crumbling around him at the sight of Sherlock so deliciously undone. He knows Sherlock is desperately close and felt his own climax start to close in around him. He wraps his hand around Sherlock’s cock and it’s more than the other man can take.


“John, I’m going to-”
“Do it, come for me, Sherlock.”
John sinks his teeth into the space between Sherlock’s shoulder and neck and Sherlock screams as his orgasm rips through him, clinging to John and spilling into his hand, so beautifully and completely out of control. It’s enough to push John over the precipice and suddenly he’s tumbling into blissful oblivion, shuddering and crying out Sherlock’s name as he comes deep inside.

Sherlock whimpers as John carefully pulls out of him. He looks an absolute mess – his hair is hopelessly tangled, his lips are swollen and red, and his abdomen is sticky with his release. John finds it incredibly hot but feels a sudden wave of need to take care of his dishevelled lover. Sherlock’s eyes are still closed and the bites and bruises are already showing up on his pale flesh, and his hands and wrists, still bound by the metal cuffs, look raw and painful. John unlocks the cuffs and tenderly takes Sherlock into his arms as he continues to whimper.


“Are you okay sweetheart?” he whispers into Sherlock’s hair, stroking soothing circles onto his back.
Sherlock nods against him but doesn’t seem ready to speak. He clings to him, trembling, and John trails soft kisses across his brow and eyelids then on his cheeks.
“Did I hurt you?”
Sherlock presses his full lips to John’s clavicle, kissing him tenderly.
“Yes,” he manages to reply, his voice utterly wrecked. “It was incredible. Intense, but quite remarkable.”
Sherlock sounds small and vulnerable, and John’s heart swells with love for him.

John scoops him up into his arms, giving him a gloriously slow and healing kiss. He takes Sherlock’s hands into his own, gently kissing and massaging the reddened skin of his wrists and intertwining the long fingers with his own, then dips his head and places soft kisses along the tender flesh of his neck. Sherlock sighs softly, starting to relax into John’s touch.
“I love you so much, Sherlock.”
“I love you too, John.”
“Can I take you to bed and kiss it all better?”
“Yes, that would be acceptable.”