How Did This Happen?
How did I let it get to this point? How could I possibly be letting this happen? Were the questions that were currently running tight circles inside John's brain; like mice on a wheel, scrabbling franticly but getting no where – producing no answers.
He was feet away form freedom; from normality. All that he needed to do was step toward the door; push the other man aside and leave. He could do it – easily. John was younger, stronger and highly trained. Even if the other man had the advantage of some height on the army doctor, what official physical training he'd received, when compared to John's, was a joke. It would take nothing for John to simply say 'fuck off', shove him aside, and leave.
So...why wasn't he doing it?
He wanted to. He most definitely didn't want to go down the other road being presented to him. John wasn't like that. He had no interest in doing those sort of things; playing those sort of games. And even if a very tiny (infinitesimal, really) part of him was curious... he certainly didn't want such exploration to take place with a man. Someone he worked with, whom he saw often, and whom he liked and considered a friend.
It was wrong. He should leave.
But he was frozen. He couldn't move. Couldn't make his mouth produce the words that would slam the brakes on this runaway train. Vile, traitorous, words that stuck in his throat every time he called for them to come forth and put a stop to this madness. He'd been told to stop, and to be quiet, and due to some strange form of temporary insanity, he couldn't seem to disobey.
The other saw his throat working and a small satisfied smirk spread across his lips. Lips that were far too close to John's face. His posture shifted subtly. He was no longer merely blocking John, preventing the smaller man from leaving; now there was an implied feeling of danger about his body language. A menacing promise in his bearing as he leaned into the wall, his hands either side of John's head, his breath the only air available for John to breath. He had complete control and both he and John knew it.
"Go ahead." His voice was frighteningly calm in John's ear. "Tell me to stop. Push me away, and walk out that door, we both know you could do it." Fora moment they just stared at each other. The other man daring John to take him up on the invitation. "You won't though." His voice dropped down to a suggestive, confident purr, and he pressed his body closer. "Because if you do... then this little game of ours will be over, and you know I won't ask to play again." He leaned forward his lips actually brushing against the shell of John's ear as he spoke; his voice dripping into John's brain, his very core, making the army doctor's already elevated pulse pound and race even faster. "And we both know you want to play so very badly." And then his tongue flicked across the shell of John's outer ear before plunging into the canal with a single swift thrust.
And with that John's last remaining dredges of willpower broke, and he was left to watch; trapped in his own head, as his body betrayed him. An entirely wonton sounding moan passed through his dry lips. The sound advertising as clearly as a neon sign, his final capitulation to the other man's desires. He felt the other man's lips stretch into a slow satisfied smile against his ear, and when he pulled back to look at the flushed and fluster face of the army doctor, John recognized a distinctly predatory, slant to the expression.
"There you are." One hand left the wall to cup John's chin, a thumb brushing over his parted lips. John closed his eyes as his treacherous tongue slid forward, passed the barrier of his teeth, just to taste the unexpectedly soft and warm digit. A dark chuckle escaped his captor, making John burn with shame and something that felt frighteningly like the beginnings of physical arousal. "That's more like it. Open your eyes John."
The command was absolute, and John's eyes sprang open to meet the burning brown eyes of Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade, and he knew he'd do what ever the other man ordered of him.
"Good man. Now Dr. Watson, on your knees." And John fell. Fell down the rabbit hole. Fell to his doom. Fell to his knees, and all he could think was...
How did I let this happen?