John shut the door behind him and shook the rainwater from his jacket. His day had started off miserably and had only continued in that vein. The milk had gone off over night so he didn't get to have his tea this morning. Sherlock had left a rotting rat on the kitchen counter and was conveniently MIA to avoid a yelling fest. At the clinic he had to deal with a discharged soldier that had a mental breakdown. After wrestling the soldier to the ground and receiving an elbow to the gut, John had finally managed to talk him down and bring him back to the present. Planning to forgo a cab in hopes of walking off his foul mood, he had started walking and not three minutes later the bottom fell out. All the cabs in London seemed to have mysteriously disappeared and he was left walking in the rain.
Instead of calming him down, the walk only provided him time to mull over other irritating issues. Since Sherlock's return, things had not gone back to the way they were; not even close. John honestly wasn't expecting it to but maybe something similar. He thought they were starting to get better until two months ago, then Sherlock started to retreat again. John would suddenly sense that he was being watched and upon looking up would see Sherlock's gaze jerk away. Sherlock sometimes seemed unusually nervous and jittery around John. Other times, John would ask a question only to have Sherlock simply stare at him before stalking to his room and slamming the door behind him. The urge to smack some sense into Sherlock was starting to become impossible to ignore.
Sighing, he pulled off the wet coat and held it as he ascended the stairs. Pushing the door open, he froze upon seeing the elder Holmes standing by the cold fireplace.
"Good evening, Doctor Watson."
Hesitating, John slowly hung up his coat while glancing around the flat. "Mycroft. Is Sherlock protesting from his room?"
"I haven't spoken to my brother in several hours. I merely stopped by to pick up a file I left the last time I visited."
"Um, okay."
Mycroft then motioned towards a brown package on the desk. He pulled out a slip of paper from his breast pocket and stepped forward to present it to John.
"The postman was having difficulty delivering a package for you, so I took temporary ownership of it and now need only sign it over to you."
"Sign it over to me?" John questioned.
"Of course, John. This package is addressed to you and I am not you. I assumed the responsibility that this package is to be delivered to your hands. Please sign this slip, acknowledging that I have fulfilled my part of the transaction and that you have rightfully claimed your package."
John took the slip of paper and saw it was actually a receipt for two packages. Looking back up at Mycroft, John walked to the desk and started hunting for a pen.
"You mean to tell me that Mycroft Holmes actually respects the laws of the royal post?" John joked, scribbling on a scrap of paper to test the pen he had found.
Mycroft sniffed dismissively behind John as he quickly scrawled his signature on the slip. Tossing the pen aside, he turned and handed the slip back to Mycroft.
"The slip said there were two packages. Where's the other?" John asked while looking around the room.
Mycroft folded the slip neatly and tucked it into his breast pocket, trading it for a slim envelope.
"The second package is upstairs in your bedroom. This letter came with this package. I would suggest reading this and opening this box before going upstairs. Mrs. Hudson is out on a date and is not expected to be home until tomorrow afternoon. Have an...exciting evening, Doctor."
Mycroft walked past John and down the stairs while the doctor stared after him. Narrowing his eyes in confusion, John grabbed the knife from the mantle and slit open the envelope before jabbing it back into the mantle. Pulling out the papers, he sat in his chair and relaxed back against his pillow to start reading.
He recognized Sherlock's handwriting and his eyes widened with each sentence he read; 'saw you two months ago at the club', 'most powerful wank'. John sat up straight and held the pages in both hands. 'Falling to my knees in front of you', 'use me as you wish with whatever toy you want'. John's imagination was never lacking when it came to sexual fantasies and now Sherlock was in the role of lead actor. On his knees in front of John, debauched with ejaculate splattered over his lips and cheeks. 'Safe words', 'please'. It was overwhelming. He slowly lowered the sheet to his lap before standing to open the large box on the desk. His breath whooshed out of him after pulling aside the flaps and seeing the contents. Floggers, plugs, clamps, spreader bars, dildos of varying sizes, various lubes; John was suddenly lightheaded from the rush of blood to his groin. Bracing his hands on the tabletop, he breathed deeply as his gaze continued to search through the box, cataloguing its contents. John's mind exploded with all the possibilities that these toys implied. This was something he had kept hidden from Sherlock and had succeeded it seemed up until two months ago. John had visited the sex club two months prior after dealing with a caustic Sherlock for a week. Apparently, Sherlock had arrived at some point researching a case and had seen John in action.
A shiver of anticipation danced down John's spine as his gaze cut over to the stairwell leading up to his bedroom. He wanted to fly up those stairs to see what the second package might be and what condition it was in. Hell, he knew what it was but he was very eager to see the condition. But he took a deep breath and worked to settle himself. The anticipation of the unknown was the best part. Knowing the various scenarios that could play out but not which one was to be acted on. The possibilities were endless and titillating. Ignoring the heavy press of his cock against his zip, he toed off his shoes and quickly shed his socks. Yanking off his jumper and tossing it aside, he rolled up his sleeves and untucked the shirt. If he was going to play, he wanted to be comfortable and yet as minimally dressed as he could. Grabbing the box and tucking it under his arm, he squared his shoulders and smiled darkly to himself before going to the stairs.
He didn't try to muffle his footsteps or moderate his pace as he climbed. The door to his room was cracked open slightly and light was visible under the door. He slowly reached out to push open the door, curious as to what he might find. For the second time in ten minutes, his breath deserted him in shock and awe. He moved slowly into the room, walking around the device now placed in the center of his private space. The table had five legs, one at each corner and one branching off from the center of one end. The flat portion was padded with leather and a small extension cradled a certain dark curled head. John set the box down on his dresser before leaning against it to just observe. He knew it had to be a custom piece that Sherlock must have designed and specially ordered.
The genius was nude and on his back with his extremities locked into place. His bent legs were locked into thick buckles around his ankles on stirrups keeping his legs elevated and spread wide. A wide leather band was strapped over his abdomen, keeping his pelvis tight against the padding and unable to move. His arms were cuffed onto armrests by his side that actually dipped lower than where his body lay. The cuffs were thick and his hands were wrapped around grips. John drank in the sight of his flatmate as he turned his attention away from the set up and looked at the man himself. A silk blindfold covered the all-seeing gaze and a deep throat gag kept his lush mouth spread open. His head was tilted back slightly, just enough to allow John to see the plastic wire with an attached tag. Stepping forward, he realized it was earplugs and that sent a whole new shiver of anticipation through John. Sherlock was blind, deaf, mute and he was here offering his body for John's pleasure. His skin was already flushed and his cock had swollen since John had stepped in. John read the tag and raised his eyebrows; 'Say my name'. He didn't spend long wondering about that. If Sherlock was deaf what point would saying his name have? There must be something that John wasn't aware of.
"Sherlock."
The reaction to his name was breathtaking. John heard a muffled humming noise that preceded a moan from deep in Sherlock's throat. His cock twitched and his grip on the handles tightened before releasing. John couldn't hear the humming anymore and he slowly walked around the table to eventually stand between the spread pale calves. Licking his lips as his gaze slid down the legs, he eventually saw a flared base snugly pressed against his hole.
"Oh, what have you done to yourself Sherlock?"
The humming didn't start up until he said the consulting detective's name so it wasn't just audio driven; it responded to the name. John watched as the man's hips tried to flex but they didn't get far because of the leather strap across him. John suddenly felt light headed again as he took in the entire image in front of him. Stepping between the spread thighs, he noticed that the table ended just before the bottom of his arse so there was ample room for someone to press against the gorgeous offering.
John gently ran his left hand down the inside of Sherlock's right thigh, scraping his nails against the delicate flesh. A visible shiver raced through Sherlock's body and he whimpered at the sensation. Being this close, John could smell the musky scent of Sherlock's arousal and he reached out with his right hand to palm Sherlock's left arse cheek. His arse muscle clenched at the sudden touch and John's gaze darted up to watch.
"Sherlock."
The clenched muscles ensured that the vibrating plug was pressed directly on his prostate and John smiled brightly upon seeing the entire body jerk. A high pitched keen slipped from Sherlock as his body fought to relax. Stepping away, John moved to the box and quickly sifted through the items. Setting out the things he planned on using, John walked towards Sherlock's head and carefully brushed aside the dark hair. Squatting to the side, he watched as Sherlock arched slightly into the teasing touches along his scalp. Getting one fist full of hair, he pulled the pliant head back sharply and saw the detective swallow before releasing a sigh. Keeping his grip, John reached up with his free hand and pulled the closest ear plug out.
"I'm going to take out the gag. The only words you are allowed to speak are your safe word and my name. I want to hear every sinful noise that I can ring out of you," John murmured, his lips brushing against the delicate shell of Sherlock's ear.
"Nod if you agree."
John eased his grip just enough to allow Sherlock to shakily nod before he pressed the ear plug back in. He followed the strap on the gag until his fingers reached the buckle and quickly released it. Easing the metal from Sherlock's mouth, John set it aside and straightened. Releasing his grip on Sherlock's hair, John trailed his fingertips around Sherlock's throat and felt the muscles ripple as he swallowed again. He continued to trail his fingertips over the prominent collarbone and slowly started to circle around a dusky nipple.
"Just so beautiful, Sherlock."
(!)(!)(!)
The plug vibrated mercilessly against his prostate and a cry spilled from Sherlock's lips as he drowned in sensations. He had entertained so many possibilities of how this evening could go. Ranging from the scenario of John releasing him and then packing up to leave, to John taking possession of his body and making him scream and beg. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as John pinched a nipple and slowly rolled it between his fingers. Happily it seemed the second option was the one that was going to play out. The blindfold and earplugs kept him in the lovely state of anticipating what John might do next. He could smell the distinct scent of John as he moved around him. He could feel the subtle vibrations coming up through the table as he walked and shifted. All he could hear was the rumbling bass tones in his speech but nothing clear. All of his usual senses were cut off and it was glorious. He had been so nervous about this evening that he knew he had to cut everything off or he wouldn't be able to submit; wouldn't be able to shut his brain off.
His thoughts were ripped away as a sharp pain and pressure at his nipple shot through his body and mind. Nipple clamp, his mind helpfully and hysterically supplied a moment before the other nipple was subjected to the same torture. He couldn't hear his own moan but the vibrations rumbled through his skull cavity. His muscles flexed against the bindings and the restriction caused a delicious shiver to dance through him. John's fingers trailed down his ribs and then cut up to trail over his thigh muscle. Each gasping breath shifted the chain attached to the nipple clamps and he closed his eyes behind the mask. Questions raced through his mind, wondering if John would actually let him come. Maybe he would bring him close to orgasming repeatedly but not let him finish until John allowed it; today, tomorrow or for several days. Or maybe he would have Sherlock come and then fuck him into a second orgasm; Sherlock was so horny it would be easy.
Sherlock's pelvis jerked sharply as a wet heat swallowed down his cock and he would have been embarrassed by the sound ripped from his mouth if he had heard it. Choking cries, whimpers, gasps and 'John' was the only understandable word that was flowing from his lips. He knew how his lips curled around the name; how his tongue caressed the simple yet overwhelming word.
The lips left his cock just as something nudged at the plug and a moment later it vibrated directly against his prostate. Crying out, his cock was swallowed down again as the plug was subtly pulsed. It didn't vibrate again but the sensation was enough to start edging him towards his orgasm. His head rolled frantically as his hips tried to thrust forward while he also tried to hold back his orgasm. It was too early for him to come. There was still so much that could be done. It seemed John was insistent that Sherlock orgasm though. The plug stopped moving but Sherlock continued to clench around it as the mouth continued to torment his cock and hands ran over his skin. Too much...not enough...he felt dangerously close to hyperventilating as he desperately pulled in oxygen. The hands ran up his torso and flicked the sensitive nipples once before releasing the clamps. John swallowed down his cock and Sherlock felt his world explode. He could even hear his own scream through the earplugs as his upper body thrashed against the onslaught of pleasure and pain. He collapsed back against the table and felt his fingers twitch around the grips as endorphins flooded his system. He vowed that once he learned to walk again he would commission a placard proclaiming John Watson's tongue as a national landmark. No, can't do that; can't publicize it; can't share it. He never believed in a deity but he was very willing to thank it for bringing him John.
One earplug was removed briefly. "I'm not done with you yet. Give me a color."
It took him three attempts to get his tongue, lungs and his brain to work in tandem. "Green, John. God, green."
He hears a delighted rumble before the earplug is replaced. Despite his recent orgasm, arousal starts to curl and twist down his spine even though all his cock could do was twitch in response. There was a new sensation on his thigh, broad, cool, dragging down his long thigh, a-
A sharp strike at his thigh and he gasps in surprise. Crop, his mind supplied as the stinging warmth spread. He whimpered and felt himself start to descend into subspace, unsure of how far he would get. Normally he would enjoy sinking into subspace but he wanted to remember everything from this night; didn't want the hazy blurriness that came with his subspace. Biting his bottom lip, he tightened his grip on the handles and focused on sensing John's position.
(!)(!)(!)
John would have bet his pension that Sherlock wasn't aware of the noises that were spilling from his mouth. Breathless sighs, whimpers and keens, even when John wasn't touching him. He never would have imagined the sorts of noises he could pull from the genius. He licked his lips, picturing a public scene at the local BDSM club; Sherlock strung up with ropes wrapped around his pale flesh, begging to come but knowing he wouldn't be allowed. Sherlock was beautiful like this, John mused and struck the other man's pectoral muscle with the crop. The lovely pale skin was pinkening under the crop as he moved around the restrained man. He varied the strength behind his strokes and eventually watched as Sherlock's cock started to slowly thicken again.
"So gorgeous, Sherlock," he said and smiled as the plug vibrated.
Rounding the table until he reached Sherlock's head, John gently plucked the earplugs loose before kissing along the stretched neck. Biting right over the carotid, John hummed against the skin as the hand not holding the crop carded through Sherlock's hair. Letting the flesh ease from between his teeth, John straightened and looked down Sherlock's body as he gripped the dark hair and struck the abdomen with the crop.
"Tell me what's going through that lovely mind of yours, Sherlock. Every filthy," another slap to his outer thigh, "little," slap to his other thigh, "detail," John whispered and shifted his aim to hit the sensitive inner thigh.
"John! Ungh...you! Only thinking of you," Sherlock cried out as his chest heaved.
"What about me, Sherlock?"
The plug vibrated again and the sobbing cry caused John to pull Sherlock's head back just a bit more. John drank in the sight of his flatmate stretched out in front of him and knew neither of them would be able to last much longer.
"Sur-surprising dominance...take me...mark me as yours...tie me to the bed...hours, just for you...use me," Sherlock moaned and that last statement made his cock thicken further.
"Oh, I am going to take you apart and ruin you," John murmured as he released Sherlock's hair and started moving around him again.
Tossing aside the crop, John bent to lick at a taut nipple as his fingers worked at removing his own clothing. Blowing on the wet nipple, he smirked at the choked whimper. Kicking his trousers and pants free, he moved to stand between Sherlock's legs and gently ran his fingers around the stretched rim. The pale thighs on either side of him flexed at the sensation and Sherlock's head jerked back.
"I think I'm tired of waiting for my reward," John mused and started to work the plug from its hole.
New words started to drip from Sherlock's lips consisting of 'please', 'yes' and other expletives. John raised an eyebrow at how slickly the plug slipped from him and could only guess at how much lube he must have used. Grinning to himself, he replaced the plug with three of his fingers and nearly swooned at the burning heat and wetness he encountered. His fingers immediately found the swollen prostate and gently rubbed along the sides. It was more than enough as Sherlock jerked in his restraints and actually started sobbing.
"John, please!"
Using the residual lube, John rubbed it over his achingly hard cock and moved closer to the table. He suddenly had the realization that Sherlock must have special ordered the device to fit specifically to John and his dimensions. John growled in approval as he started to ease his hips forward, sinking his cock into Sherlock's hole. Both men groaned in appreciation and John kept pressing until his bollocks were pressed against Sherlock's upturned arse.
"Jesus, so perfect," John moaned and planted his hands on the table on either side of Sherlock's waist.
He remained still until Sherlock started biting his bottom lip and flexing his hips. Taking a shuddering breath, he withdrew his hips and steadily pushed back in; angling just so to stroke against the prostate.
"God, yes!" Sherlock yelped and curled his upper body before straightening again with a thump.
John picked up the pace of his thrusts and felt the inner muscles fluttering around his cock. Leaning forward, he rocked his upper body weight onto one arm while he reached forward and pushed up the silk blindfold. Gorgeous blue-grey-green eyes blinked rapidly to adjust before locking with John's gaze. Bracing himself again, John started pounding into Sherlock, hearing the cries urging him on. Keeping his gaze locked with Sherlock's, John watched as he started to tip into his second orgasm. Just as it peaked, John withdrew quickly and replaced his cock with his fingers. Rubbing directly over Sherlock's prostate, the genius froze for a moment before thrashing in his bindings and choking on a scream. Clenching his jaw tightly to restrain the louder vocalizations, he sobbed roughly as his second orgasm sucked him under. His eyes rolled back into his head as he sagged back onto the table. He sucked in a stuttering gasp as John eased himself back in and resumed his thrusting.
"God...John...don't know...too much...Jesus," Sherlock whimpered as his head rolled side to side.
He gasped minutely each time John brushed against his prostate but the doctor was taking pity on him and trying to avoid the overly sensitive spot.
"Just so beautiful, Sherlock. If I had known you were interested, I would have tied you to your bed and spent hours worshiping your body. Tasting it and licking it all over. I would have marked you all over as mine. Next time we're at the Yard, I'll fuck you in the closet down from Anderson's desk. Bruise that divine neck to let everyone know you belong to someone," John panted and leaned forward to lick along a nipple before sucking it into his mouth.
Sherlock panted against the feeling of John still thrusting into him. He never would have believed that John could go this long...or that his body was debating revving up for a third orgasm. His eyelashes fluttered wildly as arousal started to churn slowly and sluggishly. John's thrusts were starting to get frantic and just as he groaned, he shifted his angle and thrust against Sherlock's prostate. The orgasm slithered through the dark haired man as John's exploded into him. It was a dry orgasm for Sherlock but still exhausting, warmth flooded through him and he felt himself float, hearing the curses and groans above him but not registering them. That last orgasm had thrust him into subspace and he was just happy to float here and not care what happened now. He had seen John orgasm and come in his body. He held a part of John now. Nothing else mattered.
Some time later he came back to himself and found he was bundled in John's bed and partially draped over the older man. His skin felt moist, it wasn't hard to deduce that John must have wiped him down and removed him from the table. He glanced around surveying the state of the room now. Ah, there it was; the device now pushed against the wall and out from the center of the room. John was humming softly as one hand gently stroked through Sherlock's hair while the other hand gripped Sherlock's slack hand on his chest. He felt like his bones and muscles had been replaced with pudding and he really couldn't care. Mumbling, he snuggled closer to John and draped one leg over John's bare thigh. The humming stopped as did the toying with his hair but the hand shortly started up again.
"How are you feeling?" John asked softly, tilting his head to kiss the limp, curly hair.
Sherlock had to swallow a few times to try and get enough saliva to speak. "Gooey."
The chest under his head expanded and bounced a few times gently as John chuckled. Something poked at his lips and he focused his gaze to see a straw in a bottle of water. Not moving his head much, his lips snagged the tip of the straw and he sucked down a few mouthfuls. Sighing in relief, he released the straw and rubbed his face against John's chest.
"Better?"
"Mmm, yes. Were you surprised?"
"Very. I know I enjoyed it but did you?"
Sherlock could hear the seriousness in that question. If he hesitated or said no then John would never bring it up again and things would go back to the way they were. Sherlock definitely did not want that.
"When I learn to walk again, I'll be happy to show you how much I enjoyed it. But for now...yes, yes I did. Very much so."
It was quiet for a few more minutes before John spoke.
"Of course I blame you."
Sherlock hesitated, trying to think through of what John could possibly blame him for after they just had extremely enjoyable sex. Before he could question him though, John spoke again.
"I'm never going to be able to sign for a package again without getting a hard on."
Sherlock snorted. "Yes, well, I think it'll be worth it. Don't you?"
"Oh, definitely," John replied, reaching up to gently tilt Sherlock's head to kiss his lips.
(!)(!)(!)
This story idea came while I was riding in the car with my dog and my parents on our way to pick up some peaches. We were listening to the radio and the song 'Signed, Sealed, Delivered I'm Yours' by Stevie Wonder came on and the idea just grew. I apologize for nothing. Thank you to MyFirstistheFourth for proofing and urging me on and providing lovely dirty comments to everything.