SUMMARY: Sherlock takes it upon himself to escalate their already unusual sex life.
AO3 TAGS: Canon Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, BDSM, Dom/sub, Dom Sherlock, Sub John, Pet Play, Puppy Play, Puppy John, Pseudo-Bestiality, Kissing, Blow Jobs, Anal, Anal Sex, Top John, Bottom Sherlock, Come Eating, Aftercare, Under-negotiated Kink, that might be the right tag for what happens in here, Kinktober, Kinktober 2017
AN: *takes a vacation from Sherlock fandom* *comes back with hella kink* … I'm a terrible person. And this is probably not a typical scene for irl petplayers. If you petplay like this, nice. But I also can't imagine it's common.
No animals were hurt in the making of this fic. (Also, please don't try this with real animals.)
Cross-posted from AO3 same day.
Day 20: Pet Play | Feet | Threesome (or more)
It shouldn't have taken long to get everything just right, but when it really mattered, Sherlock was a perfectionist. He waited until he was absolutely satisfied with the setup, and then whistled, a sharp, piercing sound that whipped through the quiet of the flat.
"John! Come here, boy!" he called.
It took a moment, long enough that he wondered if John had curled up for a nap while he waited, before he heard the soft pat-pat of two feet setting on the floor from the bed. A deeper thud-thud followed a moment later when John went down to his padded knees, and then the tap-tap of his gloved hands landing on the floor. There was a soft jingle of tags, like John was shaking himself out, and then he began moving. The sound of it, tap-thud, tap-thud was more interesting with Sherlock's cheek against the ground, though the vibrations were muted by the distance and the carpet.
He was facing away from John, kneeling next to the fire, when the other man rounded the sofa and came into the living room, and as much as Sherlock wanted to see the look on his sub's face, he knew he painted a more stunning picture by remaining still. It was a position and a setting meant to stun, and by John's stillness and silence, Sherlock had succeeded. Then again, John didn't have any reason to expect Sherlock to be kneeling on his hands and knees next to the fire, his arsehole stretched open by rigorous preparation and glistening with lube.
"Come here, boy," Sherlock called, and there was a brief pause, one in which Sherlock wondered if John would be too 'weirded out' and would safeword, before he heard John get closer to him. He could only breathe a slight sigh of relief, because this was not a particular scenario he had run by John first. He usually didn't, but this was also taking their play further out of the box than ever before. Surely farther than someone as 'vanilla' as John had even contemplated.
John came around his side and into view, his tan body naked except for his puppy paws, collar, knee pads, and tail. The paws and collar were a deep red leather, and they looked even better against John's skin in the flickering firelight than in the normal electric lighting. When they made eye contact, John sped up and greeted him like an eager puppy, laving his face with wet swipes of his tongue. When Sherlock let his mouth fall open, there was only a brief pause from John before his good boy licked into his mouth. Sherlock had to force himself to keep from moaning as the excited but brief swipes into his mouth and against his tongue made his cock throb in arousal. John might have even gone on forever, but Sherlock had other things planned.
Sherlock snapped the fingers on the other side of his body from John, making John jerk back from him and perk up, playing the part of Sherlock's eager-to-please puppy as wonderfully as he always did. He moved his fingers by his waist to pull John's attention where he wanted it and snapped them again, three cracks in quick succession that had John trotting around the front of Sherlock to his side. John's dog tags, his military ones they always clipped to his collar during their play, tinkled as he moved in, his nose running along Sherlock's side, before the back of his head pushed against Sherlock's ribs as he crouched to get at Sherlock's hanging cock.
It was a difficult position to maintain, leaving enough room for John to get to his cock, but when he felt the faux-curious laps of a tongue against his slit, it was all worth it. True to character, John didn't try to take Sherlock's cock into his mouth, but wrapped his tongue around the head again and again, lapping at him like his precome was all the nourishment he needed. Sherlock carefully shifted his weight to one hand so he could reach the other underneath himself to pet through John's hair.
"Good boy," he murmured, a shiver racking his body as John licked more enthusiastically at the compliment. "That's my good boy. Such a good dog. Such a good boy," he said, fingers starting to tremble. He had to bring them back to the floor to curl against the carpet as the pleasure rolled through him. It wasn't enough to come, not by a long shot, but it was still so so good.
John's jaw had to be aching by the time Sherlock snapped out a sharp "Enough" with an equally sharp snap of his fingers, and he was even panting with his tongue out when Sherlock glanced over his shoulder. The sight of him, his jaw wet with saliva, made Sherlock smirk.
"Come here, boy," he said softly, and John thump-thumped back over and licked at Sherlock's face again. His breath smelled a bit musky, and Sherlock allowed it for a moment before he turned his face away and then bent at the elbows to tap his shoulders. "Up." John leaned back a little to lift his paws and put them on Sherlock's shoulders, bringing his hard cock to Sherlock's face.
John's erection was maintained through a leather cock ring that matched his collar, wrapped tight around the base and his testicles. Sherlock sucked it into his mouth and John yelped and thrust forward, shoving his erection down Sherlock's throat. Normally, Sherlock wouldn't allow something like that, but normally he wouldn't engage in something like this during their pet play scenes either. He hummed in the cadence of "good boy" and John appeared to have understood Sherlock's intent because he began to fuck sloppily forward, chasing after the sensation of Sherlock's mouth and throat without finesse.
Saliva ran down Sherlock's chin as John fucked his mouth, but Sherlock could only tolerate the feeling for so long before he couldn't stand the way it dribbled down his face. He snapped his fingers and John stuttered but didn't stop, and Sherlock snapped his fingers again, slower and harsher. This time John dismounted, but before he could try to deliver more puppy kisses to Sherlock's face, Sherlock twisted his arm around to snap around his arse. John's eyes flickered to his, just once, a sign of his unsurety, but the moment Sherlock snapped his fingers again, John obligingly moved out of sight.
A tongue began to swipe at his stretched open arsehole, and after the first lick, there was a brief moment of pause before John began licking in earnest. Sherlock, having anticipated, or rather, planned, this occurrence, had been kind enough to use John's favourite flavour of edible lubricant. John devoured it hungrily, even more so than he had Sherlock's cock, and Sherlock almost forgot himself in the pleasure of being eaten out. Typically, Sherlock topped, and it had been so long since he hadn't that he had apparently forgotten how try wonderful it could feel. The thought only made his anticipation of the culmination of the night sharpen, and he wrenched his arm around to pat at the base of his own spine.
"Up," he said for a second time, and this time, there was no pause between John stopping his task and following instructions.
The leather of his paws was heavy and slippery against Sherlock's sweaty back, but John managed to find his balance as he tried to push forward. Without the guidance of his hands though, his cockhead kept slipping against Sherlock's arse, skitting up or off to the side. When Sherlock glanced over his shoulder, John didn't seem to mind the constant misses as his expression was one of rapture, eyes mostly closed and jaw slack. It ended up taking several minutes for the head of his cock to finally catch against Sherlock's rim, and the accidental teasing had only served to make Sherlock tight and tense with anticipation and arousal. His cock was throbbing with his heartbeat, and so very difficult to ignore.
When John's cock did catch, he gave an excited yip as he pushed forward, finally forcing his thick cock into Sherlock's body in a quick thrust. Sherlock moaned at the penetration, his "Good boy. That's it, John. That's my good boy," coming out breathy as his pup pulled out just as fast. John yipped again as he fell into the same quick and sloppy pace he'd had when he'd been fucking Sherlock's face, and Sherlock let himself sink into the sensations of it. It really had been too long since he'd been fucked, and he'd forgotten how thick John was, how well he filled Sherlock.
John was like an animal as he fucked Sherlock. He wasn't trying to find Sherlock's prostate, wasn't making any attempt to make it slow or careful. He was simply following his animal instincts and chasing after a sensation he was never going to catch with his cock ring in the way. It was up to Sherlock to shift, to dip his spine and to let his knees slide out just enough for John's cock to make contact with his prostate. He groaned at that first brush that sent almost paralysing streaks of sensation through his body to the tips of his fingers and toes, and he must have tightened because John made a strange noise, his paws slipping against Sherlock's back as he began to fuck in harder.
Considering Sherlock's own complete lack in bestiality, it was strangely and highly arousing to have his 'pet puppy' use him like he was. True, it was at Sherlock's command, and Sherlock was still in control, but John was using him in the most base sense - Sherlock was not a consideration in John's equation. There was only John's cock, the wet hole around it, and the pleasure at the end. Pleasure he wouldn't reach unless Sherlock allowed it.
It was with great difficulty that Sherlock reached under himself and back, feeling for John's thigh. The difficulty came with the stretch of the strange position, but also with the fact that John's increasingly harder and harder thrusts were jarring him, almost pushing him across the carpet, forcing John to shuffle just a tiny bit forward each time. If Sherlock wasn't careful, John would very well fuck him right off the carpet and right into the wall.
His fingers slipped against the edge of the cock ring the first few times he made a grab for it, but then they caught. He gave one pull, ignored John's whimper and stuttering pace except to roll his spine to encourage him to keep going, and then a second pull, and then a third before the snap finally release and the leather curled against Sherlock's palm. The sound John made just then was more like a bark, and he began to fuck into Sherlock so hard and so fast that Sherlock had to brace himself on the edge of the mantle, and so sloppily that Sherlock was tense with the possibility that John would accidentally pull out.
John didn't pull out, either on accident or on purpose. Without the cockring leeching sensation from his erection, he became positively ferocious. His paws scrabbled against Sherlock's back as he sought his own release, and Sherlock was thankful that he hadn't actually gotten the gloves with the little fake claws attached, or else his back would be a right mess. Or rather, he would have been thankful if his mind wasn't being overwhelmed by his own approaching orgasm, that sensation of white noise filling him as his cock pulsed harder and harder, quicker and quicker with his need to finally come.
Sherlock didn't come until John did though, until he felt John slam so hard into him that it felt like his tailbone would bruise from it, until John let out a howl and pushed so heavily into Sherlock that his elbows collapsed and his shoulders hit the floor. Only then, at knowing that John had just brought himself off with Sherlock's body, used him without a single care for Sherlock, did Sherlock come, his cock pulsing come onto the carpet as his muscles spasmed around the thick, hard length still stretching him open.
There was stillness and silence for a few moments, John's breaths harsh but fading into the crackling of the flames. When they began to slow, John dismounted and Sherlock grunted at the loss of fullness, John's come starting the slow trickle from his loose hole. Before he could raise a hand, John's tongue was on him, licking up his come. His soft tongue against Sherlock's sensitive rim made Sherlock squeeze his eyes shut as his spent cock pulsed weakly at the sensation, and Sherlock had to fight his own lungs for control of his unsteady breaths, especially when John's tongue began to dip just inside.
When he was done, John returned to Sherlock's side at his own accord, nudging at the side of Sherlock's head. Sherlock cracked an eye open to see John frowning at him, but still silent, still staying in his assigned role until told otherwise. Sherlock groaned and then twisted on his spine, dropping his hip to the floor so he could face John who instantly perked up and curled against him.
"How did my good boy like his treat?" Sherlock asked, slightly rhetorically as he finally managed to lift his hand to run his fingers through John's hair. "My perfect pet."
John shook his hips the best he could considering his curled position, his plug tail swinging just enough to brush silky fur against Sherlock's thighs, before falling still again. Sherlock kept petting him, letting his body calm, letting himself feel the relief of release and the combined warmth of his partner against his front and the fire at his back. By the time Sherlock's mind had started to wake from its relaxation state, John's breathing had begun to even out towards sleep mode so Sherlock slid the hand in John's hair to the back of his neck and undid his collar.
The tinkling of the dog tags as the leather fell to the floor made John jerk, and he blinked slowly. Alertness came slowly to his face, and when it did, he sat up with a groaning hum, stretching out his arms. Sherlock settled onto his back and reached up to undo the mitts and then the knee pads one at a time as John flexed his fingers.
"So…" John drawled, voice even like he was withholding his opinion until he'd gotten to the bottom of his curiosity. "That was different."
"Mhm," Sherlock agreed, getting to his feet so he could help John up. The rabid fucking on their knees hadn't done either of their bodies any favours, not even John with his knee pads, and their journey to the couch was slower than normal and just a bit stilted. Sherlock sat John down first and crouch to massage John's knees. "A different that you'd like to repeat?" he asked as he massaged John's knee caps and the tendons behind them. It was certainly something that Sherlock would like to repeat, but if John didn't like it in retrospect, if he didn't want to repeat their play, then Sherlock wouldn't ask it of him; just because he was the Dom didn't mean he made all the decisions.
"I need to think about it first," John said slowly. Sherlock nodded and stood, taking one of John's hands in both of his own to massage them as he sat down next to John. "I'm not sure how much I really enjoyed it, and once I figure that out, I'm not sure what my feelings on that will be."
"I understand," Sherlock said, swapping putting John's hand down and picking the other up. "I would like you to know that I would like it, very much, if we did it again, but I do not want that to affect your opinion. If it is not something that you are comfortable doing, and if it's not something that you're comfortable having done, even after aftercare, then we won't do it again."
The slight tension in John's limbs gave way and John smiled, leaning over to press a relieved kiss to the corner of Sherlock's mouth. "Thanks, Sherlock."
"Of course, John."
Even though their play was over, John's collar on the floor in front of the fire, John laid down facing the back of his couch, laying his head in Sherlock's lap, a clear signal for his need for more comfort. Ever since they'd begun their pet play, Sherlock had felt more centered than ever before in his life, and he found himself increasingly unbothered by being forced to remain still to care for John. Instead, he set his fingers to John's scalp and began to stroke, using the rhythmic motion to settle into his mind palace as John fell asleep against him.
FIN
Eh, not sure if I'm happy with that ending and I don't think the fic ended up as filthy as I wanted it to be, but I tried.
Reblog the thing (themadkatter13fanfiction tumblr, tagged/The-Next-Level).