Jim/Sherlock to Sherlock/John **If you despise Jim/Sherlock (Sheriarty/Jimlock) please do not read...**
The transition will occur. I've got a plan.
Rated M: Sex, language, abuse(?), self-harm and other mature content. Lol but you knew that.
Chapter 1
"Pass me the whip." Jim ordered, his right hand outstretch and his fingers twitching with anxiousness. Sherlock obliged, grabbing the leather whip with metal tips. He placed it in Jim's hand. Jim curled his fingers around the leather, ripping it from Sherlock's grasp.
"Do you think you can get away with something like this?" Jim taunted the man kneeling in front of him.
Jim and Sherlock had kidnapped a spy sent out to gather information on their whereabouts. When Sherlock found out who this spy was working for, he was not happy. When he told Jim about the spy, Jim was livid and lashed out immediately. They brought the spy into their underground dungeon, where most of their captives were being held. Daily, Jim would come down to punish them all for even thinking to do such a thing. Sherlock always stood by, watching. He didn't dare touch any of them.
Sherlock wasn't particularly content with how things were going. He didn't agree with the way Jim decided to deal with his anger, but he wouldn't let him know that. If it made Jim happy to do this, then he would gladly allow him to continue despite the predicament's inhumane actions. He stopped caring a long time ago.
Jim prepared the whip, holding it up before bringing it down with an audible whooshing sound. The metal tips scathed across the whimpering man's back. The pain was so excruciating that he cried out a strangled scream. Blood oozed from the cuts and gashes that decorated his back, creating ever-growing pools.
"P-please..." The pained man begged in a thick, undistinguished accent.
Jim coiled back, marvelling at his work. The man was now lying in his pool of blood, barely moving.
"Begging doesn't work on me, dear." Jim shrugged with a smirk.
Sherlock frowned, a familiar feeling of guilt surging through him. He always felt guilt for allowing Jim to do this, but never once had he stopped him. "Jim?" Sherlock cooed, his voice quiet and soft.
Jim turned around, his whole demeanour changing at the sound of Sherlock's voice caressing his name. "What's wrong, love?"
Sherlock blinked, glancing at the beaten body. Their captive is losing too much blood and is at risk of dying. Sherlock wouldn't stand for another death to occur. He had to convince Jim to slow down.
"Let's go upstairs, I'm getting bored."
Jim's lips curved into a devious smile. He knew exactly what Sherlock wanted.
"Of course."
Sherlock pushed Jim down onto their massive bed. Pillows varying in sizes and shapes contoured around them, the cotton sheets were messy and shoved to the sides. The room was dimly lit, accenting the maroon colours that seemed to be everywhere. It was night fall, the moon shone through the white laced curtains.
Sherlock roughly kissed Jim, bringing his hands up to cradle his lover's face. His right hand tangled itself in his short hair, gripping it tightly. Jim groaned in both pleasure and pain. He loved it when Sherlock was bored, it meant he was in the mood for something harsh and exciting.
Jim's hand dragged the length of Sherlock's stomach, stopping as he felt the cold buttons that made his jeans. Fumbling to unbutton them, Sherlock grabbed his hand and pushed it aside.
"Not yet." He breathed against Jim's neck. Although he was utterly impatient to get on with it, he wanted to take his time. Sherlock liked teasing Jim in his own way.
Jim moaned as his partner nipped and sucked his way down the length of his neck then back up. He stopped at Jim's ear, taking his earlobe between his teeth and gently tugging it. Jim squirmed, his hands placed firmly against Sherlock's chest. The heat between them was nearly unbearable. At this point, Jim was panting vigorously. Never in his life has a person made him feel this aroused so quickly by doing so little.
"Please, Sherlock." Jim pleaded, his voice drowned by his heavy breathing.
Sherlock smirked and chuckled darkly. "Begging doesn't work on me, dear."
And Jim whimpered, remembering that he said the exact same words he used earlier. Jim knew exactly what he was doing: torturing.
Without even knowing it, Jim realized he was shirtless. He looked at Sherlock and found him sitting atop of him, holding his white t-shirt in his hands. Sherlock had a sly smile on his face, impressed and pleased that he managed to distract Jim so well to take off his shirt.
With great force, Jim pushed himself up and grabbed Sherlock's head, roughly kissing his lips. His hands tangled themselves in Sherlock's hair and tugged on it much more harshly than Sherlock liked. Sherlock collapsed on the bed, a muffled wail escaping his lips. Jim took that moment to his advantage and pinned his love down with his body.
"Your turn." He grinned, managing to switch from his submissive role. Getting what he wanted, Sherlock obliged and helped him take off his jeans. Jim tossed them to the ground along with his underwear. "Wow, love. Hard for me already?" He remarked.
Sherlock closed his eyes as he laughed out of sheepishness. Jim allowed silence to follow as he brought himself down to Sherlock's cock. Without hesitation, Jim took him in his mouth.
"Oh, god." Sherlock breathed, his hand instinctively bringing itself to the back of Jim's head.
He started of slowly, as if to taunt Sherlock. Sherlock pushed himself further into his partner's mouth, making him involuntarily gag. But Jim didn't mind, he continued on.
Jim brought his hand to cover the base of Sherlock's still exposed cock and began pumping while he sucked the head. Sherlock pushed himself up, propping himself on his one free elbow while his other arm continued to follow the rhythm of Jim's head. His stomach begun to clench and he knew he was close. He didn't warn Jim because somehow he always knew.
"I'm-I'm c-c..." Unable to finish his sentence, Jim already knew what he was going to say. Within the last three seconds before Sherlock climaxed, he completely inserted Sherlock's dick into his mouth until there was nothing left to see.
This pushed Sherlock over the edge.
Streams of cum came spewing out and into Jim's mouth. It was a fantasy that only Sherlock allowed himself to experience. He fell against the mattress, breathing so heavily.
Slowly, Jim released Sherlock from his mouth and kept his lips tightly squeezed Sherlock kept his eyes opened and locked on Jim, watching the muscles in Jim's throat move as he swallowed the load.
Sherlock rolled over onto his stomach, panting into the pillows. He closed his eyes, feeling unconsciousness greeting him until someone - Jim - pulled his hair. Jim hovered over Sherlock, bringing his lips close to his ear.
"Don't fall asleep yet, love." Jim whispered. "It's my turn."