"I know you have them."
Sherlock looked up at her, cocking an eyebrow. He was sitting deeply slumped in his armchair; legs crossed, hands gripping the arm rests. Irene had walked through his door only moments ago, strode towards him with a clack of her black heels, and placed her hands firmly upon her hips. She looked down at him, exasperated.
"The photos. Delete them."
He knew not to play dumb with her. She had obviously been watching him closely since they'd returned. There had been many a moment where he had noticed her perfume in the air, wafting just out of reach. He had assumed that she was simply curious about his cases. He would never admit to never having seen her.
"Why should I?" He asked. A retort befitting a five-year-old.
"Do you really want an honest answer to that question?" Irene tensed her fingers around her hips, preparing for the upcoming battle.
Their gazes had become locked, each daring the other to look away first.
"I'm particularly interested to know why you copied them in the first place", Irene's eyes turned fierce, a cockeyed grin upon her lips, "I currently have three theories: blackmail, collateral, or..." she paused for effect, "pleasure."
"The middle one." Sherlock replied dryly, tapping his finger on the arm rest. Irene quickly noticed this and drew her eyes toward it. He stopped.
"Why so tense? Didn't you enjoy our last encounter? I thought it was quite... fun."
Sherlock forced a pained smile upon his lips. He had already deduced that she was unarmed, except for her cellphone. Maybe she had taken some sort of incriminating photos of him, expecting to blackmail him into deleting her photos. There was her purse in the corner, probably something nefarious hiding within. Whip. Needle. Crop.
Irene suddenly lunged at the coffee table in front of him, swiping his iPhone off of its surface before he could grab her wrist. Her reflexes were so quick that he only managed to graze her fingertips. Sherlock remained with an air of indifference.
"You wouldn't have made physical copies, would you?" Irene said, running her fingers along its edges. She held it in front of her and swiftly tapped in a pass code. The confidence in her eyes quickly drained as the red "LOCKED" screen appeared.
Before she could recover, Sherlock had stood up and grabbed it from her. He entered the correct pass code and looked through the keylogger. He looked up at her.
"Very good, but regrettably that was yesterday's pass code."
Irene did not seem shaken; instead she reached out her hand and placed it on top of his. Her eyes softened, attempting to change the mood between them.
"Why would you need protection from me Sherlock?" she asked, staring back into his emotionally deadened eyes, "you're the one who saved me, remember?"
"I am also the one who humiliated you by exposing your unfortunate sentiment."
Irene's pupils dilated for the briefest of seconds. She turned away from him and crossed her arms, thinking.
"I cannot let you keep those photos."
"Yet I have them still."
"It's always a power play with you." As Irene said this she reached around to the back of her dress and slowly undid the zipper. Sherlock watched, wondering if she was really trying to faze him with nudity. She must know that this tactic did not work on him.
Irene shrugged the dress from her shoulders and let it fall to the ground. She stepped out of the pool of fabric and turned to face him, wearing nothing but her bra and panties. Sherlock kept his eyes locked on her face.
"Reminiscent of the first time we met, is it not?" She asked, reaching her bra clasp and letting that go as well. She continued to walk towards him.
"Stunningly."
"I think a part of you kept a copy of those pictures for your own little pleasure", she placed a hand upon his lapel, running her fingers up it to his collar, "you find me endearing."
"That's certainly a word for it." Sherlock said, narrowing his eyes at her, attempting to figure out what she was trying to do. Remembering the last time she had tried to get something from him, he made sure to monitor her arms and hands for any sort of device that could harm him.
Irene trailed a finger up his neck, to his jaw line and across his cheek.
"Oh, I could still slap that face."
Sherlock seemed unconcerned.
"Are you sure that you don't want to take me up on my offer?" Her finger trailed across his bottom lip, dragging her fingernail across it.
"Sex doesn't interest me."
"I'm not offering mere sex darling," Irene said, pulling away, "I'm offering a true power play."
A look of confusion passed over Sherlock's brow. Irene laughed.
"Look at the poor thing. He doesn't understand."
Sherlock felt his pulse beating behind his ears as it suddenly dawned upon him.
"What drug is it this time?"
"It doesn't matter. You'll be fine. God, this really is a flashback isn't it?" Irene said as she gently pushed Sherlock down onto his chair. He felt intoxicated, his thoughts were running slower than usual and his vision became blurry. Irene examined her fingernail and then dipped it into his cup of coffee on the side table.
"I really do distract you, despite your denial." She said, smiling, before grabbing his phone out of his pants pocket.
"My phone will lock permanently if the pass code isn't changed once per day." Sherlock told her, still able to function, albeit at a lower level.
"Well that's fine; I can just destroy the phone." Irene paused, staring Sherlock in the eyes. She thought. "Or... all of the information will be automatically sent to another source if I destroy it, right?"
Sherlock only smiled.
Irene slapped him across the face, a swift and fierce slap that left a rosy pink mark that was quickly reddening.
"Cheeky." Irene said with a twinge of a snarl.
"That was unnecessary." Sherlock replied, but he didn't bring a hand up to rub the sting. He only watched her eyes as they scanned his body.
"Well it looks like I won't get those pictures deleted, will I?" Irene asked, not seeming too worried about it. "It doesn't really matter, I trust you with them. I won't deny you your pleasure."
"It...I..." Sherlock stumbled, trying to organize his thoughts. He was still alert, he just felt as though he had drunk one too many pints. Irene placed a delicate finger upon his lips.
"Shh, I don't want you to tire yourself out. Especially when the fun is just getting started. I've always wanted you to come for dinner with me Sherlock, I do wish you had." She ran a finger across the red mark on his cheek. "This isn't exactly how I imagined it would happen."
Sherlock brought a defensive hand up to her arm, pushing her away.
"I'm not interested... in ... sex."
Irene raised an eyebrow in disbelief, bringing a hand down to his thigh and rubbing it slowly upwards.
"Don't think you're the only one who observes. I saw that bulge when you came to visit my apartment, even though you tried to hide it."
She rubbed her palm over his cock, wrapping her fingers around it and sighing contentedly.
"And I still see it now."
She broke out into a full smile as she felt him twitch. He was still staring into her eyes, trying to deduce her.
"Oh really Sherlock, you're drugged and you're still trying to hold onto reason. Let it go."
"Sex is... irrational." Sherlock told her.
"That's what makes it fun."
Sherlock closed his eyes, trying to will his mind back into its normal state. But all he could see was Irene's face floating before him, and all he could concentrate on was the feeling of her fingertips pressing on his cock.
"I don't ...need..." He mumbled, struggling to open his now heavy eyes. She was leaning over him, her lips hovering by his cheek.
"I know love, but you should stop denying yourself. It may not be a need... but it is a want." She kissed his cheek, leaving a red stain from her lipstick.
Before he could stop her she was climbing on top of him, her hands on the buttons of his shirt. She undid each of them slowly, savouring the sight of his naked skin before running her fingers up his chest. Though she was trying to distance herself from emotions, she couldn't help wishing that he didn't need to be drugged. Yet she understood him, she understood how his mind worked, and she admired him for it.
She leaned over and kissed his neck, his clavicle, and back up to his lips. Though the kiss was quite still on his part, she could have sworn she felt them move slightly to accommodate her own.
"I've been waiting to do that for a long time." She told him, her hands upon his chest. She suddenly got up and headed toward the purse she had brought, left by the doorway. She pulled out a tightly coiled black rope.
"I take no risks darling."
He stared at her with steely eyes, she couldn't quite decide whether he hated her or whether he was intrigued. Before uncoiling the rope she managed to take off his suit jacket and dress shirt. She then pushed him forward and pulled his hands behind his back, tying them together. She was sure he wouldn't be able to untie himself in his current state. He leaned back again as soon as she let him go.
"Kinky." He said, and she froze for a moment. His voice sounded so sure and sharp, had the drug worn off that fast? She looked into his eyes and saw that they were still droopy. He wasn't focusing on the right parts of her face, he wasn't thinking clearly. But she decided to make this more quick than she had originally intended. Her dosage may have been off.
She pinched one of his nipples and enjoyed the struggled look of pleasure upon his face. He was sweating.
"Of course I'm kinky. I'm a dominatrix." And at that she went to her purse and pulled out a tiny riding crop.
"Portable." Sherlock managed to say, still trying to be witty despite being drugged.
"Of course. Made especially for you." Irene said. She pulled back and smacked him across the cheek that wasn't red. His eyes were unwavering, only locked upon her face. She grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head back.
She dipped her head down and kissed him, savoring the feeling. This would most likely be the last and only chance she'd ever have.
"You still... love me." Sherlock slurred as Irene moved to his trousers, undoing the button slowly while kneeling between his legs. She looked up at him and he detected a flick of pain across her face before she steeled herself once more.
"Well deduced Mr. Holmes." She said mockingly, knowing better than to refute him. He knew, he had always known. "God knows why."
She unzipped his trousers and slipped a hand inside, sighing audibly at the feel of it. She pulled him out, marvelling at him. She had seen many cocks in her lifetime, but none had turned her on as much as this one. Undoubtedly a side effect of the man it belonged to.
"Have you ever had a woman give you fellatio?" she asked him as she flicked her tongue against his tip. He squirmed. He was silent.
"I'll take that as a no." She pulled his full length into her mouth and then licked him from hilt to tip. She was starting to feel as though she were more turned on than he was, but she reminded herself that he was obviously enjoying himself.
"So you are a virgin?" She asked him. For some reason she had assumed that he would have at least tried sex once, just to see what it was like.
"Sex doesn't interest me." He repeated slowly.
"Well that's quite obviously a lie."
She stood up and took off her panties, smiling as she watched his eyes flit to her pussy then back up to her face again. She pulled him up from the chair and laid him on the ground (with whatever help he could give her).
"Moriarty will have to give you a new nickname after today." She told him, a hint of tenderness in her voice as she knelt over his body, kissing him one more time. Her heart fluttered as she felt him kiss back, testing out the feeling, rubbing his upper lip against her own.
She could never hold this against him, no matter how hard she wanted to.
Irene grabbed his cock by the base and guided it towards her. She was slick with arousal and he slid slowly and easily into her. They were both silent for a few moments, staring directly into one another's eyes. Irene swiftly ground down onto him the rest of the way, letting him fill her to the brim.
They both groaned at the same time, the sounds escaping their lips and echoing against the ceiling. Mr. Sherlock Holmes was taking sexual pleasure in her. Alas, he was drugged, but he never would have let his guard down any other way.
Irene began to grind down on him, pushing his cock against her vaginal walls, trying to find where it felt the best. Sherlock was watching her and surprisingly she felt quite bare. She could almost hear his thoughts, deducing her every move and groan. He was obviously recovering from the drug slowly.
She pushed down harder, trying to silence his thoughts, wondering if she should slip him another sedative, when she gasped. Sherlock had bucked up into her, staring her straight in the eyes.
"Well someone's changed their mind about sex..."
"It must be my mental state." Sherlock said; his voice a purr to her ears. Her heart was beating so hard that she could feel it against her skin. He could probably deduce it by watching the pulse at her neck. She must silence him.
Irene began to move faster, her hips expertly sliding up and down his shaft. She stared at his face, trying to detect a weakness, but all she saw was the same old Sherlock stare. Faster and faster, she was losing herself in the moment now. The mere thought of riding Sherlock's cock drove her insane, but watching his face while she did it was enough to drive her over the top.
She moved a hand to her clit, watching as his eyes flicked down to her fingertips. She moaned, leaning backwards, rocking back and forth as she brought herself to the edge.
Sherlock's mind was clearing, he was trying to hold on, but the friction kept on building. He didn't know how to stop her. So he watched her.
"I must tell you Miss Adler," he said, causing her breath to catch in her throat, "it is quite fascinating to get a first hand perspective of the female orgasm."
She gulped, teetering over the edge, his voice caressing her mind.
"But I haven't orgasmed yet."
"You are going to just about... now." At his word she screamed, exploding with pure admiration for the man's mind as well as his body. He was always very accurate.
As she came down she tried to recover her edge, remembering the true point of this whole act. This couldn't be all about sex, could it? She pulled herself off of him slowly, noticing that he was still hard, holding back as always.
"You could have joined me." Irene told him, straightening her legs and walking over to her purse.
"Too dangerous." Sherlock replied curtly, watching her every move. If only he could untie this damned knot; the drug seemed to have left his hands incapable of following his brain's commands.
Irene turned around sharply, her black and gold picture phone in her palm. Bollocks, Sherlock thought to himself, as her plan became perfectly clear to him.
"You don't have to delete those photos Sherlock," she crooned, lifting the phone to focus its eye upon his naked and comprised position, "If you don't mind, I'll just have to take my own safeguard."
He grimaced. The phone made an artificial shutter click. She moved to a slightly different position and snapped another.
"Thank you Mr. Holmes, it's been a pleasure", Irene said, gathering up her clothes.
Sherlock did not reply, he only glared.
Dastardly hands! He yelled in his mind, fingers fumbling over the rope. Why won't you work!
She slipped on her underwear, then her dress, before checking her makeup and hair in a small pocket mirror. She snapped it shut and put it back into her purse.
"Until next time."
"Pleasure." Sherlock said between gritted teeth. Yet, a part of him could not help but be genuine, for he had had the pleasure of seeing the woman in action once again. The pleasure of being beaten.
Hope you enjoyed, I know I did. XD