Work Text:
John looked down at his lover.
It was a rather beautiful sight.
Sherlock’s arms were stretched above his head and John had wound wide, black leather ribbons from elbows to wrists and then knotted the ends to the sturdy metal headboard bolted to the wall. The headboard was a new addition to their bedroom, as Sherlock had accidentally pulled too hard on the narrow spindles of the wooden predecessor the last time John had tied him up and rimmed him for two hours. It had rather broken the mood, and John had promptly gone online and found an old cemetery gate that was just about the right size. Sherlock had been in raptures over it, and this was their inaugural fuck to christen it. So far, John was counting it a huge success.
Sherlock’s hands were actually tied to the lower end of the bars, but John had forced him onto his knees and placed a black metal spreader bar around his thighs, just above the bent joints. As a result, Sherlock’s back was one long stretched line up through his shoulders and arms sloping down to where his long fingered hands gripped the bars with deadly force. John had removed the pillows so Sherlock wouldn’t suffocate, and the trussed up detective had his right cheek pressed to the damp burgundy sheet, his sweat soaked curls plastered to his forehead and temples, his aquamarine eyes glazed and staring at nothing, and his pink lips stretched around the black rubber ball gag buckled around his head. His pale skin was flushed pink and glowed against the contrast of hair, eyes and sheet, and John found his own eyes continually pulled to the expression of pained ecstasy gracing the beloved features.
Sherlock’s lean back was reddened and sported long, snaking trails of black wax from the candle currently burning merrily away on the bedside table, the single flame the only illumination in the darkened room and limning both men in the sensual reddish light and severely contrasting dark shadows. John had also bitten and sucked at Sherlock’s vulnerable nape and broad shoulders while he had been curled over the detective and plunging four fingers in and out of his body. As a result, love bites and circular bruises in the shape of John’s teeth littered Sherlock’s upper back. That had been an hour ago, and had been preceded by forty five minutes of John’s mouth sucking and licking the fluttering arsehole while Sherlock had whined and whimpered before gasping as a wide black plug had slammed home.
John stood next to the bed and ran his fingers through his lover’s hair, causing the lust stricken man to jerk in his bonds and moan luxuriously. The blond doctor’s dark gaze travelled the length of the beautiful body strung taut before him, admiring his handy work and alighting on the fucking machine currently wringing the most delightful sounds from that long, white throat. Sherlock’s thighs were spread wide by the bar John had placed at its widest setting, and his arse was at the perfect distance from the custom footboard John had had made to match the rest of the bed to take the long slow strokes of the slim, steel dildo sliding through the copious amounts of lube and saliva in his hole.
John had carefully selected just the right toy, the dildo far too narrow and smooth after the wide ridged plug to get Sherlock over the peak. He had also set the machine to a steady, but languorous rhythm also designed to keep Sherlock on edge and gagging in desperation. John himself was standing by the side of the bed in nothing but his old desert camo trousers leftover from his army days, the zip down, but the button fastened and his sturdy and his very hard cock and tightened balls jutting out through the opening. Just visible through the zip was the black metal cockring he’d placed around himself. He kept an eye on the clock, conscious of how long the both of them had been hard and wanting and came to the decision that it was time to get to the main event.
John reached out, slowing and then stopping the fucking machine as it slid from Sherlock’s sloppy hole one last time. Sherlock yelled around his gag shaking his head frantically and trying to slam his hips back in a mindless bid to regain the stimulation, but unable to due to his position and restraints. John reached out, smoothing a hand over one quivering flank and gentling and shushing Sherlock as one would a high strung racehorse. He leaned down to murmur in his lover’s ear.
“Shhh, shhh, pet, I’m right here and I’ve got what you’re craving. I’m going to give you exactly what you need. All you have to do is beg me for it.”
Sherlock’s eye rolled and he tried to lift his head the few inches he was able and look over his shoulder. He mumbled earnestly, almost in a panic, his chin drenched in spit from where he’d drooled around the black rubber stretching his jaw wide, his eyes wide and pleading as his muscles strained and his body shook. John smiled warmly, kindly, down at him and Sherlock’s eyes gained a sheen of tears.
“Alright, pet, that was very pretty, you’re being so very good for me. Let’s move on then, shall we?”
John unscrewed the vice grip holding the fucking machine to the footboard, placing it on the chest of drawers to be cleaned later. Then he slithered into place behind Sherlock and knelt there, still and silent and watched Sherlock tug at his ties and try to move backward to reach skin. John wrapped a hand around himself, dragging the tip in a circular motion around the clenching hole before him and watched the ripple of a shiver travel down Sherlock’s body to curl the long toes. Then he held himself steady and tipped forward, plunging inside in one smooth glide with a grunt and listened intently to Sherlock’s musical scream of fulfillment.
John moved his hips in a subtle figure eight motion, just pressing his length against Sherlock’s inner walls, not giving the hard fucking the detective was obviously craving, but putting just enough pressure on his prostate to begin his slow climb to eventual satisfaction. The doctor measured his movements to his own steady breaths which were in time with his calmly thudding heartbeat. The control he needed was excruciating in its intensity, but it brought him a perverse satisfaction and pride to be so collected while the clinically brilliant mind below him disintegrated into animalistic need. His own mind quieted, the only thing in his world the subtle movements of his hips and the breathless whines and muffled pleas coming from the shaking body beneath him.
When he came back to himself it was to see Sherlock’s eye rolled back in his head, his lips slack around his gag, continuous shivers rippling the skin of his back and his long thighs trembling with strain. John took a quick glance at the clock and huffed in amusement. No wonder Sherlock was so devastated. John had been zoning and fucking him for an hour and twenty three minutes. It was past time to put them both into the stratosphere. He could hardly wait.
He suddenly and completely without warning drew himself all the way back and slammed in and kept it up without pause while Sherlock’s head snapped back and visible eye tore open in shock at the immediately overwhelming stimulation to his prostate. John pumped his hips, jack-hammering into the twitching, clenching passage, his teeth gritted with concentration and his balls drawing right up to the edge of the ring while his cock swelled just that little bit more. Sherlock was shivering uncontrollably as his immobilized body bounced up and down with John’s punishing thrusts. He was screaming and wailing, his head thrashing as much as it could, no thought in his brain except JohnJohnJohnJohn.
All at once, from one moment to the next, every muscle in his abused body tightened up as if electrocuted and Sherlock came explosively, soaking the bed in a truly staggering amount of ejaculate before peaking twice more in progressively violent dry orgasms for long minutes. When it was finally over, Sherlock was completely insensate and hanging limply in his bonds, his body flopping boneless and inelegant. The sight of his unconscious lover’s somnolent body moving only under the power of his own brought John to even greater heights and he reached down, unclasped the ring from his cock and pounded into the unresponsive body beneath him until he too came for long, almost agonizing moments, pulsing six shots of warm come into the gaping, reddened hole and then shuddering through his own set of dry orgasms as well.
When John was able to shake the daze from his head, Sherlock was still passed out and John couldn’t feel his own lips. He pulled his softened cock from Sherlock, watching in satisfaction as his seed dribbled from the puffy opening to slide slick and sticky down well muscled thighs. He caught his breath a bit and then began peeling the wax from Sherlock’s back in long strips, glad his lover was unaware of the tedious task. Then he heaved himself from the bed and stumbled to the loo for a quick wash and to fetch a warm, wet flannel. By the time he returned, Sherlock was just beginning to stir and moan in satiated exhaustion. John quickly dragged the flannel over the detective, wiping up the worst of the sweat and semen while Sherlock sighed blissfully. He gently unbuckled the gag and spreader bar, discarding them and the lovingly unwound leather strips over the side of the bed to be dealt with in the morning. Then he slid onto the bed and gathered Sherlock’s wrung out body close and smiled when the long limbs sluggishly wrapped around him.
He was roasting, tingling all over, and still couldn’t feel parts of his face. It was brilliant. They were brilliant.
He leaned down to press a kiss to Sherlock’s damp forehead and shushed him when he stirred.
“Easy, love, I’ve got you. I’m always going to have you, for as long as you’ll let me keep you, pet.”
Sherlock blinked open sleepy eyes and grinned; wide and satisfied and the most beautiful thing John had ever seen.
“Then you’ll have to keep me forever, won’t you?”
John smiled as the deep, sex slurred voice rumbled through his own chest.
“Yes, my pet, I certainly will.”