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Midnight blue silk tethers golden skinned wrists to a wrought iron bedstead. John is bound carefully, securely, naked and willing. A pillow has been placed behind his back and the silk secured to the frame with enough slack to allow a small amount of movement. He watches his lover undress. Pale skin illuminated by the subtle glow of candlelight is apparent as layers of expensive fabric are seductively removed. John salivates when only two items remain adorning his lover's body; a deep aubergine shirt and dark boxer shorts that hug the lithe body, leaving nothing to John's imagination. He watches his lover stroke graceful hands over his own body, artfully twisting and swaying, an erotic dance meant only for John. Long fingers tug tousled curls before skimming down an elegant neck, giving John a clear view of taut tendons begging to be nipped, then travelling over a broad, smooth chest, coming to rest at the edges of his open shirt.

Behind him, a mirror has been positioned, slightly off-centre, allowing John a clear view of his lover as he slowly strips. Sherlock lets the shirt slide from his broad shoulders, the material gliding down his arms in a sensuous susurrus before pooling at his feet. The sight of so much skin causes John to moan and wrap his fingers around the fabric securing his wrists to the bed frame, his arms straining.

Sherlock's eyes slide open at the sound of John's moan, it seems obscenely loud in the darkened room. John feels Sherlock's gaze as it sweeps over him, raising the hairs and making his heart pound. Sherlock fixes his focus purely on John's cock, licking his lips at the sight of the wetness beading there. John trembles and bites his lip in an effort to prevent a needy groan escaping. A smile hugs Sherlock's lips and he runs his right hand down his lightly muscled stomach, his eyes watching every twitch and pulse of John's cock. John isn't discouraged by the intense scrutiny, far from it, it makes him harder still; his hips thrust futilely upward, desperately searching for friction.

Sherlock's gaze moves slowly upwards to meet John's, his look penetrating. John fights against his instinctive reaction of closing his eyes and riding the pleasure out; he wants to stay alert and aware; knowing the pay off will be worth the struggle. He raises his chin, a semi-defiant move, and Sherlock smirks, knowing the move for what it is. Cupping himself through his boxers, Sherlock allows his eyes to slide half shut, drawing his lower lip into his mouth. He nips at it before allowing it to slip slowly out, glistening wet and red, fully aware of the effect it has on John. Sure enough, John's cock gives another twitch and he tightens his grip on the restraints. Sweat glistens on John's skin as he fights to control his reactions, tugging more firmly on the silk that binds him.

Sherlock slips his hand into his boxers, the movement tortuously slow, designed to give pleasure to both men, but not enough to satisfy either. Sherlock's neck is sinfully elongated when his head drops back, a low moan escaping him as he strokes his penis more firmly. John can see the way Sherlock's fist moves under the snug material, can tell by the way the tendons cord on his arm precisely how Sherlock is holding himself, teasing himself, teasing them both. He growls, the sound deep and feral, unlike any sound he has made before. Head snapping up, Sherlock immediately encounters John's stare, heat and hunger clear on his face, his hand moves more frantically now, candlelight shimmering in the sweat on his lithe muscles.

"John."

Sherlock's smooth baritone comes out broken and gravelly. That voice changes John's simple name into a sex soaked prayer, one that John desperately wants to answer.

Releasing his cock, Sherlock inserts his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and shimmies them down. Stepping out of them, he moves closer to John, the movement met with another growl. Sherlock stills, then returns to stroking his cock, his eyes remaining on John, both a challenge and an offering.

"Fuck, Sherlock!"

John's voice sounds deep and desperate even to his own ears but it obviously hits the right note for Sherlock as he moves seductively to the bedside, before climbing on to the mattress. One long leg slides over John, leaving Sherlock straddling him.

Sherlock kneels up and the action puts his erection level with John's mouth and John can smell Sherlock's arousal. The heady scent attacks his senses, causes his mouth to flood with saliva. Heat radiates from Sherlock and John can feel it most powerfully where Sherlock's penis is almost, but not quite, touching his lips. Groaning, he cranes his neck forward in an effort to reach the prize so temptingly held before him. Maddeningly, Sherlock shifts further away, remaining just out of reach. With one long, dexterous finger Sherlock gathers up the moisture from the tip of his cock and teasingly smears it over John's parted lips. Both men moan as John sucks his lip into his mouth, chasing the salty taste of his lover.

"Please Sherlock."

John knows he is begging and he can't believe how he craves it. Craves Sherlock's continued control, craves the taste and touch of Sherlock. Usually he relishes the opportunity of causing Sherlock to break free of his tightly held control; today he is lost under Sherlock's spell.

Gripping his cock in one hand Sherlock leans over John, left hand on the wall above the bed head. The tip of his cock rests on John's lower lip, a powerful temptation.

"Open."

The order is instantly obeyed. John moans as Sherlock eases into his open mouth, the taste blooming on John's tongue as he sucks, desperately trying to draw out more of the sublime flavour. His eyes close as he savours the sensation of Sherlock's cock resting hot and heavy in his mouth, his tongue moving along Sherlock's length, heedless of the moisture trailing down his chin. His cock is throbbing, straining for friction, but John's focus is purely on Sherlock.

"Look in the mirror, John."

Sherlock's words are husky, his body tense, but his eyes are firmly on John's face.

John's eyes flick over to the mirror. He has the perfect view of Sherlock's clenched backside and the way that Sherlock is positioned over him.

"Watch."

Sherlock begins to move, teasingly thrusting into John's mouth. The sight of Sherlock's arse cheeks clenching and releasing as he fucks into John's mouth is just too much of an erotic image for John to look away. Groaning, he doubles his efforts, rubbing his tongue along Sherlock's shaft, hollowing his cheeks and sucking firmly, letting his saliva collect, making each slide in and out effortless, encouraging Sherlock to move faster.

Sherlock seems equally enamoured with the way that John looks and feels, his moans accompany each thrust and he trembles, long thighs shaking against John's skin. John grips the headboard and focuses on the mirror, relishing the way Sherlock's muscles work with each powerful thrust. He feels Sherlock thicken against his tongue seconds before his mouth is flooded with salty bitterness, a taste that he hungers for. He swallows once, twice and then allows Sherlock to pull out.

John is now sharply aware of how desperate he is. Sherlock slides down his body, stopping with his full lips just resting above John's cock, waiting until John follows his gaze to the mirror, looking over, John stifles a yelp as Sherlock takes him into his mouth, the image perfectly reflected, with him in the starring role. Sherlock places broad hands over John's hips, stilling his thrusts, before easing his mouth away, John moans at the loss. Sherlock glances up, ensuring that John is still looking in the mirror, before dragging his tongue along the iron hard length of John's cock. Growling, John tries to move so that he slips again between Sherlock's lush lips. Sherlock chuckles and takes John deep into his mouth, sealing his lips around John. He keeps the suction slow, easing John towards orgasm. He keeps the slow pace until John's growls turn into whimpers, finally speeding up and fondling John's balls. A firm suck and tug are all that's needed to bring John to a mind-blowing orgasm. Arching up off the bed and straining against his bonds, John comes into Sherlock's eager mouth, pulse after pulse, leaving him completely drained.

A moment passes before Sherlock crawls up John's body, peppering kisses against the damp skin, untying John's wrists. Gently he trails the silk over John's chest, before taking hold of John's hand. John presses his lips against Sherlock's forehead, wrapping the material around their joined hands. Midnight blue silk on marble and gold.