Hey guys! So, sorry that the upload took longer than expected, we kind of live in different states and have to meet up on Google docs. when our schedules allow it, which isn't that often because I'm moving and Abigail is working. Anyways, yes there is a sex scene in this (once we get to the parts where Sherlock has left I don't think that there will be for a few chapters), also, I have a poll going up on my profile for it they should have a single kid or twins, and if you have a name you want the kid(s) to be, sent it in with a review. And before I forget, thank you to those that have subscribed to the story for updates, and thank you to those that have reviewed! It has only been a week since we posted the first chapter, and we already have over 700 views! That is amazing, so thank you guys so much, you don't know what it means to us! And as always, please send in reviews! They really do help us, and they motivate us to get the chapters done quicker, so please send them in! So, without further ado, here is the next chapter in That Night! Enjoy :-)
It had been a few days since that fateful night Irene and Sherlock had finally joined their minds and their bodies in union. Their recent time together had been charming and sweet, doing their best to make up for their lost time, the thought of Sherlock's impending leave looming over them like a rain cloud. Besides lazy days in bed and more than an ample amount of love making, the two had spent the rest of their time reviewing how they would put her into safe keeping and where Sherlock would be going to. Sherlock had also arranged some help from his homeless network to set up a stakeout for the meeting that was to occur between Irene and John in Hyde Park.
John sighed as he pulled on his well worn jumper, sunlight filtering through the bedroom window. It had been only a few days since Sh- since he died, and John hadn't left the flat since. Mrs. Hudson had tried to bring him some food, clean up the place for him, but he just wanted to be left alone. People had tried to call him; Mycroft, Harry, Mike, Molly, but he didn't answer them. It was when he got a text from an unknown number, now saved under Irene Adler, that jolted him from his shock and sadness. They had planned to meet up at Hyde Park, an open place that would be full of other people. Leaving his room, he went downstairs and made a quick cup of tea before leaving the flat for the park.
Irene wrapped her coat around her, glancing around to look for Sherlock. So far, she couldn't spot him, which was probably a good thing, considering he was like a limb to her now and she him. If he could fool the person he was in love with and sleeping with couldn't spot him, then hopefully no one else could either.
She buttoned her coat, covering the blue scarf Sherlock had given her to wear, not wanting John to have the visual memory of one of his late friend's favourite article of clothing. She spotted him seated at a bench with a coffee in hand. He looked, pale, far too slender, and ashen and white. She swallowed, glancing around again before walking up to him briskly, "Dr Watson." She murmured softly.
John stopped when he spotted the woman in front of him. "Miss... Adler, last I was told, you were dead. Even Mycroft said so, though I guess since you are, well, you, you managed to get away somehow. Anyways, why did you want to see me? Thought that you wouldn't want anything to do with me, only..." he trailed off, the thought of the name bringing tears to his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he looked at her again. "Sorry, but do you know about what happened? To him, I mean."
She blinked, sitting down next to him, "Yes...I should probably start with Karachi, however...Don't you think?" She asked him softly.
"Yes. Please, enlighten me on how you managed to escape a beheading, and trick at least one of the Holmes brothers, because I would like to know" John said, his sass showing through just a bit, not having spoken to anyone in days.
She nodded slowly, "It was...him...Sherlock...who saved me in the end...He...he must have come after me...rescued me and swept me away to a dingy hotel in the outskirts of Karachi...it was a...tense...forty-eight hours...to say the least..." She said, with a cracked smile, needing to remind herself that she was supposed to be under the impression that he was still dead.
"But if I remember correctly, he was working a case at that point, he wouldn't have had time-Oh. He finished the case earlier than he said, didn't he? Caught word that you were in danger, and being Sherlock, had to save you at the last moment. Am I right?" John finished, taking a deep breath of exasperation. Even when he was dead, Sherlock still managed to amaze him.
She shrugged, "Something like that I suppose...John...you should know...I...he...we...well...we were more than just...acquaintances." She murmured, biting her lip as a tear formed in her eye.
John's eyebrows furrowed, a deep crease setting between them. "I...don't understand. Were you two...lovers? We are talking about the same Sherlock, right? Because the Sherlock that I knew, he...he didn't have lovers. I never saw him take an interest in anyone, unless he was on a case or proving a point..." This was true, at least for John. He had never seen Sherlock take a romantic interest in anyone, he just assumed that Sherlock was asexual or something. 'Not my area' he had told him in that restaurant.
She smiled weakly, "Yes, that's exactly how I thought I was too...funny how two same sides make up a single coin...But...you should know...he loved me...and I loved him...love him...I always will love him, for the rest of my days until we can be together once more." She murmured, glancing up at John as a tear fell down her cheek. She silently wondered if Sherlock could hear her words, and what he would think of them.
Sherlock had been watching them from afar, an audio piece was positioned on the scarf he had given her to wear, so he could hear everything they were saying. At her words, he stopped, his mind sort of drawing a blank at the sincerity behind them. Yes, he knew that she loved him, that was evident in the eyes, actions, and her pulse around him, but he didn't know that it was such a deeply set thing. Then it hit him, his mind working nearly in overdrive now, that he felt the same way towards her. He was even looking at getting a ring for her, though they had only been together for a few days.
John was shocked by her words. The only time that he had heard someone speak like that about another person, was when Harry spoke about Clara, they had been working on their relationship again. The love, sincerity, and happiness that sort of rolled with the words was nearly tangible. Which was strange, because both Sherlock and Irene had said that sincerity and love were silly malfunctions of the human anatomy. "I-I don't know what to say to that. I'm so sorry, this must be so much harder on you."
She closed her eyes, "We both loved him, Dr-John-though in different ways...But yes, I...I...will never have the pleasure of having a family with him or...kissing him under the mistletoe at Christmas...much to his chagrin, I'm sure..." She choked back a sob, knowing that she need to put on the air of the grieving mistress.
A bitter smile broke through on John's face at her words, imagining Sherlock's reaction to her kissing him underneath a mistletoe sprig. "Yeah, he probably wouldn't be too happy about that." John chuckled, his sorrow beginning to lighten, just slightly, by talking about him. He would still need time to heal, that was inevitable, but he could morn without being sad. "I'm sorry, Irene, that I never got to know you too well before all of this. I'm sorry, that you are having to go through all of this, with everything that you have gone through already. If you ever need someone to talk to, just call me, okay, I saved your number when you texted me." he offered, looking at the nearly crying woman next to him. It was unnerving to see someone so much like Sherlock; intellectually, emotionally, be so vulnerable.
She nodded, smiling at him fondly, "Oh, John...What are we to do?" She cried, recalling how she had felt that night she thought she had lost him forever.
Taking a deep breath, John closed his eyes before answering. "Honestly, Irene, we live. Sherlock told me once that caring never helped the dying, that it did nothing. We miss him, yes, but I don't think that he would want us to be terribly torn up about his death. He would want us to move on, to live our lives. There is one thing though. See, he left a note, of sorts, in the way of a phone call... to me. During that call, he said that I needed to tell everyone that would listen, that he was a fake. That he invented Moriarty for his own games, but I know better. He wasn't a fake, he was a genius. What we need to do, is honour that. We need to tell anyone who will listen, even the homeless, that Sherlock Holmes was real, he was a genius, matched only by the genius criminal that was Moriarty. We need to remember him the way that he was, okay. That is what we should do, what we need to do." By the end of his speech, John had tears rolling down his cheeks, his ears ringing with the voice he longed to hear again. Because, after a year and a half of living with Sherlock Holmes, he craved the action that came with it, craved the adrenaline. And most of all, he craved the friendship.
Irene bit her lip, wanting nothing more than to tell him that Sherlock was alright. That he was just over across the way. She knew he was listening; knew he was just as torn up as his best mate. She reached a hand out, placing it over John's warmly, "I know, John...I know." She bit her lip, squeezing his hand. "I'm always here for you too...okay? I know we never got off on the right foot...but we should...now..." She trailed off, sighing heavily.
Sherlock missed what Irene had said, still thinking of John's words. Even after all the danger, all of the evidence that was stacked against him, John was still loyal to him, still trusted him. He had told John specifically that he was a fake, a magician, that all he did were tricks, optical illusions to fool the common mind, yet still he sat, telling Irene that he was real, that he was an unparalleled genius. He wanted so much to run out of his hiding spot, to pull John into his arms and tell him that he was okay, tell him that he was alive, but he couldn't. He had a job to do before John was safe. Tears welled in his blue eyes at the thought of someone being so loyal, so trusting, even when they had trust issues, as his therapist had noted.
She nodded, squeezing his hand to make him focus on her eyes. She blinked a subtle morse code at him with her eyes, saying, He's not dead. She took a nervous glance around praying that Sherlock hadn't noticed. She couldn't help herself. She had to tell him. She knew just how painful it was to live without him...to think you lost someone you loved .
*Back at the Flat*
Sherlock sighed quietly as he closed the door to Irene's flat later that day, quickly shedding most of his disguise, save for the shirt and trousers. The meeting with John had gone smoothly, maybe too smoothly for his liking. His mind was still reeling with John and Irene's words regarding him, and the intonation that accompanied them. He had never expected people to care for him so much, Irene especially, yet here he was, with two people (at least) that cared and trusted him to the point of ridiculousness.
Helping Irene out of her coat, he pulled her into his arms, pressing his lips to hers like he had longed to all day. "I love you Irene, I really do. You are amazing, and beautiful, and unpredictable, and I love you." he whispered, his eyes closed tight as he held her.
Irene grinned, unable to help her self as she snaked her arms around his neck. "I meant every word I said, Mr Sherlock Holmes." She murmured, pressing her lips to his once again.
Sherlock smiled into the kiss, pressing her back against the wall. They both knew that he didn't have much longer to be with her before he had to leave, and they wanted to make the most of it. "So, Miss Adler, what am I ever going to do with you?" he husked out, looking into her eyes playfully.
*Beginning of Sex Scene*
She bit her lip, her arousal for him mounting immensely. "Hmm, you tell me, Mr Holmes. Would you like me to...dominate you? Considering I won't be in the business any longer...What with being in a relationship with you and all, and a possible being pregnancy, it would be nice to go out with a...bang." She husked, running her hand down his form to clutch his member through his dirty, costumed trousers.
He couldn't help but moan slightly at her words and actions, his mind filling with ideas and possibilities. "Oh, Miss Adler, that does sound very...appealing. But maybe we should take this upstairs to the bedroom, before I have you right here." His voice was graveled with excitement and arousal, his nerves being sent into overdrive at her mere presence.
She shook her head, "No...I rather think a more public space would be far more...stimulating...don't you?" She moaned, flexing her fingers around him.
"What do you have in mind, if you don't mind me asking?" Sherlock was slightly stumped, his mind beginning to fill with places like the back yard or the alleyway, and the thought of being caught in such a compromising...situation was alluring, arousing even at the thought.
She swallowed glancing around, her eyes landing on the very couch he had been seated on when they had first met. She licked her lips, "How about where you first saw...me?" She husked, motioning to the white couch that he had been on all those months ago.
Sherlock took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, before grinning and going to sit on the couch. When she didn't follow behind him, Sherlock frowned before remembering the exact circumstances in which they met. Well, this is going to be interesting, he couldn't help but think.
Irene bit back a sly grin of amusement as she made her way to the foyer, stripping off her clothes in a flash before stepping back into her Louboutin heels. She fixed her hair, and adjusted her earrings before calmly and casually walking back to the living room, pausing for a moment in the doorway. She couldn't help but admire him sitting there, slightly nervous. He really was the most beautiful, adorable thing she had ever seen. And he was hers; entirely. She cocked her head before murmuring, politely, "Hello. Sorry to hear that you've been hurt. I don't think Kate caught your name."
"I'm so sorry, I'm-" he cut off as she walked in. She looked amazing, nearly exactly like she had that fateful day. He could feel his jaw drop slightly and his heart begin to pound away, faster than before.
She couldn't help but grin at his reaction, he was so transparent it was too precious. She stalked towards him her hips swinging lightly, "Oh, it's always hard to remember an alias when you've had a fright, isn't it?" She husked, throwing her left leg on the other side of his lap and straddling him with her thighs. She did not sit down, however, wanting her most intimate body parts to be as eye level and available to him as they could be. She ran her hands up his chest and unbuttoned his worn, ripped shirt he had employed for his costume, removing it from his torso. She ran her hands down his smooth chest, "There now-we're both defrocked..." She began before sitting down on his groin softly, "Mr Sherlock Holmes."
Setting his jaw slightly, he looked up at her face. "Miss Adler, I presume." He said, trying to ignore the body that was in front of him.
She ran her right thumb across his cheekbone before, murmuring, "Look at those cheekbones. I could cut myself slapping that face. Would you like me to try?" She asked him, raising a brow.
"Oh, Miss Adler, please do. I would so enjoy it." Sherlock said softly, looking into the woman's eyes. In their position, he was very excited to begin with, this just made it better.
Irene eyes flashed wide, a gleeful glint in them as she brought her right hand back and slapped him across the face, lighter than she normally would have.
Sherlock had been slapped before, he had managed to piss people off who then slapped him, but never like that. Yeah, he had the sharp stinging, but in the context that she was dominating him, it aroused him. The thought of Irene Adler, Britain's favorite dominatrix, taking control of him was a surprisingly enticing idea.
She glared down at him lustfully, "Mm, not cut yet." She murmured, examining her hand briefly. "Shall I try again?"
"Whatever you wish." Sherlock said, his voice catching in his throat. He never thought that a kink like this would be relevant to him.
She ground her arse into his groin as she brought her hand back again and whipped it across his other cheek, backhanding him rather hard. "Mmm," She moaned, her hand stinging as she shook it out.
Sherlock's head turned to the side from the force of the slap. He very aroused from all of this; the role playing, the submissive actions that he was taking, everything. He moved his head back to it's original position, looking straight ahead. Slowly, he reached his hand up to caress one of her breasts.
Irene raised a brow at his bold action, "My, my Mr Holmes, do you fondle every woman you meet so readily after having been just introduced." She asked calmly, leaning into his touch slowly.
Sherlock paused for a second before answering. "No, Miss Adler, I do not make a tendency to fondle every woman I meet. But then again, not every woman has had the same effect on me as you do." in show of his meaning, he ground his hips upwards, pressing them to hers.
She swallowed a gasp as she felt his obvious erection through his trousers. Her pulse elevated and her pupils darkened. She swallowed, "Oh my, someone is certainly happy to meet me." She husked.
"You have no idea just how...happy I am right now. So please, Miss Adler, get on with it." he said, his voice dipping lower with the last sentence. His member was begging to be touched, begging to be handled, and there she was, in all of her teasing glory.
Smirking to herself, Irene gently leaned forward to whisper in his ear, "Well, Mr Holmes, tell me what exactly it is you want me to do?" She husked lowly, nibbling his earlobe gently.
Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he whispered "I want you... to dominate me." His body was nearly being sent into overdrive just from a few touches and some words, and it was glorious.
Her eyebrows shot up, not expecting him to be so keen on her professional service. She narrowed her eyes slightly before continuing, "Do you mean, whips, and chains, and the works? Props, I mean...Or just here and now?" She asked, wondering what he was thinking of.
His mind stopped for a moment, he hadn't thought about all of the possibilities. "Given our current situation, I would have to say; whatever you please, Miss Adler." he husked in a low voice. He would be perfectly content with anything that she did to him.
She smiled darkly as she grabbed his shirt, "Wrists behind your head." She ordered curtly, taking on her dominatrix voice and tone.
Looking at the article of clothing that she had grabbed, he bit back a smirk and placed his hands behind his head, crossing them so that she could tie them easier.
She tied the shirt around his wrists and pulled the double knot tightly. "There. Try and get out." She commanded.
Following her orders, he pulled against the knotted fabric, and once he felt no give, he tried twisting his hands to get out, once again he proved unsuccessful. Smirking, he looked up at her again, shaking his head slightly. This newfound bondage did wonders to his body, his nerves alighting in an imaginary flame.
She leaned down and placed a tender kiss on his lips, "There now, that's all the sweetness you'll be getting for a bit." She murmured, leaning back to get up off and out of his lap.
He felt like he was losing his mind as she left him. There he was, all tied up and ready for her, and she was leaving. His eyes widened slightly, following her around the room like a lost puppy would.
She crossed to the same chair she had sat in when she had first talked with him. She sat down lazily and eyed him, her head cocking to the side. She flashed him a evil smile. "Tell me Mr Holmes, what are your views on masturbation?" She asked calmly.
Caught off guard with the unusual question, he quickly regained his mind. "I find masturbation to be a trivial thing done by those lonely enough to crave any touch, and those will the inability to find pleasure in more intellectual ways. I personally have never masturbated, having found more gain in scientific experiments and deductions." he answered half truthfully, looking at her. Because they are playing as if they had just met, he hadn't actually masturbated yet.
She nodded slowly, "I see...Have you ever witnessed anyone masturbating then? John, perhaps? By accident of course." She winked, "Or some porn website?" She licked her lips slowly.
Quickly thinking back, he nodded. "Yes, I did once catch John with his laptop. He seemed to be enjoying it, though I can't see why." he said, still looking at her.
She chuckled, "Ah, and a woman? Have you ever seen a woman touch herself, Mr Holmes?" She murmured darkly.
This time he could answer completely truthfully. "No, I cannot say that I have. Never having been around women for any particular length of time, I have never had pretense to." he said, glancing around the room in a failed attempt to calm himself.
She leaned back in the chair and spread her legs slightly, running an errand hand lazily along her right inner thigh.
Sherlock felt his breath hitch as his eyes focused on her hand, widening at its motions. His mouth felt dry as he watched her, desire beginning to course through his body again.
"Tell me Mr Holmes," She began softly as she trailed random patterns on her thigh, getting higher and higher, closer to her apex, "How does this..." She said, glancing down at her assaulting hand, "make you feel?"
Taking his eyes off of her hand, he forced himself to look at her face, drinking in her beauty. "It makes me feel..." he paused in search of the right word, "enlivened." he decided, feeling the word was appropriate for the situation. He could feel his member straining against the fabric of his trousers, begging for release.
She cocked an eye at the raging bulge in his trousers, "You certainly seem to be." She husked before running her hand to meet her now moist folds, "Mmm" She gasped, hitting her clit lightly.
His breath hitched again, tighter this time, as he watched her begin to touch herself lightly, his pants tightening even more at the sight. He wanted so badly to go over to her, to give her the pleasure that she was giving herself, but he couldn't.
She eyed him darkly as she bit her lip, and ran two fingers around her swollen nub, teasing herself by not giving direct contact. "Mm, Mr Holmes, I'm getting so very wet..."
"Miss Adler," he choked out at his name on her lips. His eyes were flitting from her hand to her face, unsure of which was better; the movement or the reaction. Her face was flushing, her eyes were darker, like the sky on a stormy day. That combination was heavenly on her, something he had never seen on anyone else. "You are so beautiful, Miss Adler." he said, his pants suddenly way too constricting for his liking. As he watched her, his hips jerked upwards involuntarily, his member begging for friction of any kind.
She chuckled lowly at his frustration, "Why thank you dear how very...ahh..." She moaned, as her fingers directly touched her clit, "sweet..."
He was finding it harder to breath as he watched her, his heart pounding away in his chest. Her voice, mixed with the sensations running through his body, had his mind in a frenzy. "Irene, please..." he begged, forgetting his role.
She chuckled and shook her hair, "I don't think so, Mr Holmes." She purred, before dipping her fingers down across her folds and inserting one into her entrance. "Ohh, ahh!" She groaned.
Sherlock groaned as he watched her fingers disappear into her, his hips jerking more at the sight. He needed some form of release, needed to be in her. How could she do this to me, just by sitting there and touching herself? He couldn't help but think, slightly astonished at his body's reaction to her.
"Talk to me Mr Holmes," She began inserting a second finger and beginning to pump slowly before quickening her pace, "How do you feel...ahh...now?"
At her words, Sherlock forced his breathing to slow down, trying to regain part of his mind in order to answer her. "I feel... like... like I'm on fire. Please, Miss Adler, I need you" he finally answered her, his mouth drying out again.
She slowed down her pace, taking her fingers out and bringing them to her mouth where she sucked them slowly and suggestively, "Mm, I am rather tasty." She murmured lowly.
"Please, Miss Adler..." Sherlock trailed off again, unable to form words as he watched her. He knew what she tasted like, what she felt like, and wanted that. His body was screaming at him, telling him to get up and go to her, to find release of some sort in her. "Irene..." he groaned, his hips moving more, watching her.
"Do you want a taste too, dear?" She mocked pityingly, standing up and crossing so that she was just in front of him.
He couldn't answer her, just staring up at her with wide eyes, begging for some kind of touch. In the closer vicinity, he could smell her arousal, see it on her fingers as she walked over to him.
She ran her fingers down back to her centre, dipping them inside and dragging them along her upper wall before taking them out and leaning over him, she placed them in front of his mouth before quickly snatching them away and hitting him across the face with her other hand. "I asked you a question, dear. You will answer me when addressed, do you understand?" She hissed sweetly.
Shocked by the quick slap, he looked at her and nodded. "Yes, Miss Adler. I'm sorry, I understand." he said, his face stinging from the contact, yet it only aroused him more.
She nodded approvingly, "Good boy. Now I'll ask you again, do you want a taste?"
He nodded slowly, "Yes, please, Miss Adler" he replied, looking up at her face.
She brought her moist fingers up to his lips, "Suck." She commanded darkly.
Opening his mouth, he leaned forward slightly and closed his lips around them, sucking softly, moving his tongue around the fingers in an attempt to taste all that he could. The feeling of her fingers in his mouth, along with the taste, made his member twitch in anticipation.
Irene couldn't help but let out a soft moan as she felt her centre begin to throb harder. "Mm, yes, good boy. I really should put you on that leash..." She trailed off, referencing the comment she had made all those months ago.
Sherlock couldn't help but smirk around her fingers. The thought of him on a leash was intriguing to say the least, but they had all the time in the world for experimenting. Right now, though, he just wanted her.
She glanced down at his groin, "Do you want me to release you?" She asked him, referring to his aching member.
His breath clinched in his throat at her words. He looked into her eyes, and nodded slightly, as her fingers were still in his mouth. He wanted more, but it was a step in the right direction.
She pulled her fingers out slowly and wiped them along his cheekbone, before kneeling down and unbuttoning and unzipping his trousers slowly. She smirked as his member popped up through his pants, "Hello there." She murmured at him.
Sherlock groaned slightly as he was released. Her breath brushed against it and made his hips jerk slightly in pleasure. He wanted so much to be touched.
She kneeled her elbows on his knees and studied his groin for a moment, licking her lips and taking her leisurely time, thinking of how to continue, "Hmmm..." She teased, glancing up at him with a grin.
He looked down as he felt her elbows on his legs and groaned softly. The sight of her mouth so close to him was torturous pleasure. Her lips were so close, shining in the light.
She flashed him a small grin, "What would like Mr Holmes? Hand or Mouth?" She asked him point blank.
Thinking through the fog in his mind, he reasoned quickly, figuring in her personality and tendencies, and said "H-hand, please", his voice stuttering slightly.
She narrowed her eyes at him, cursing herself for having failed to realise that the brilliant detective would have figured out her little game of opposites. She growled lowly before untucking him from his pants fully and pressing a kiss to his head.
Smirking internally, Sherlock felt his mouth fell open slightly as her lips pressed to his member.
She winked him before sliding her mouth down his head and shaft and sucking slowly as her tongue tickling his tip.
The feeling of the warm mouth and tongue on him was pure ecstasy in his needy state, and he leaned his head against his arms and closed his eyes, a groan breaking through his lips, louder this time than before.
She bobbed her head a few times before taking him out of her mouth and stand up, pacing around the room lazily.
His head shot up as the feeling of her mouth left. Looking around the room, he saw her pacing slowly. He was so close, his breath came in pants and gasps. "Miss Adler?" he asked, nearly begging.
She turned an eye to him, leaning against the mantelpiece nonchalantly, "Mm, yes, Mr Holmes?" She asked feigning innocence.
"Please, Miss Adler. Take me, please! I need you." he ended in a groan, his voice having taken a pleading nature. His body was screaming at him to get up, to go take her against the wall, but he could not.
She lifted a brow in mock surprise, "And what exactly is it you need from me?" She asked, walking towards him slowly.
Sherlock groaned in frustration, much like he would when working a case. "You! I need to be in you, to feel you around me. I need your touch, your body on mine. Please, Irene, I need you!" he babbled, spilling everything that he was feeling into his words. He felt like he was on fire, like he was going to burn up at any moment.
She smirked, "Say it." She challenged, "Talk dirty and say it." She ordered, her tone more fierce this time.
"Please, Irene, fuck me. I want to feel my dick inside of you, feel your breasts as you fuck me. Fuck me, Irene." he ground out, realising what she wanted him to say.
Irene moaned at the sound of his velvet voice producing those words and sounds. She pulled his pants and trousers so that they hit his ankles before re-straddling him, running her hand between them so that she could grip him and trace him along her opening, tantalizingly.
Sherlock groaned loudly as he felt her hand grip him, pull him along her opening teasingly. His hips thrust upwards against her hand, trying to find friction.
"Eh, eh, eh." She scolded, I'm on top this time. I own you, do you understand?" She growled.
Nodding almost violently, he looked into her eyes, begging and pleading without saying anything. He needed release.
She leaned down to whisper, "Good boy." As she slowly and agonizingly lowered herself onto him. "Ahh." She let out a moan similar to that of her text alert noise.
The feeling of her around him after so long of needing release was intense. Groaning loudly, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, focusing only on her voice and the feelings that surrounded him. It was pure bliss.
Irene began to lift herself up and down on his lap, pumping slowly as her hands raked down his chest and she tilted her head back, thrusting her chest forward close to his.
He could feel her moving on top of him, the sensation rocketing pleasure and bliss through him. He groaned louder, arching slightly as he felt her chest touch his. He wanted so badly so touch her, press her into the couch and make her forget her name, but he could not while his hands were bound.
Irene increased her movements, bringing her hands to clutch his shoulders as she rode him harder and harder, a scream of pleasure escaping her throat as her head faced the ceiling.
Sherlock groaned louder and louder as she sped up, her thrusts sending wave after wave of satisfaction through him, but it wasn't enough. "Irene, please, release me. I need to touch you" he husked, forcing his head up to look at her.
"You are touching me." She reminded him, increasing her pace further as her nails dug into his skin.
"I heed to hold you, caress you. Please Irene, let me go!" he said more forcefully as she sped up her pace again.
She sighed a moment, ceasing her movements. She leaned forward, pressing her chest against his as she finally untied the shirt from around his wrists. "There now, you're free Mr Holmes." She purred, beginning to thrust down on him once more.
Quickly, he moved his hands to fondle her, massaging her breasts and teasing her nipples as she began to move again.
She groaned out as she sat down on him harder and hard, "Mmmm Mr Holmes." She groaned.
"Oh, Miss Adler..." He groaned loudly. Getting a wicked idea, he moved his hands to her hips, gripping them tightly before quickly moving so that she was pressed, on her hands and knees, against the seat of the couch while he remained in her, her back facing him as he pounded, hard and fast, into her.
Irene gasped at the sudden flip of control as he took her from behind. God, she loved to be had this way. When it was someone worthwhile at least. She dug her nails into the sofa cushion as she thrust her arse back and against him to meet his pumps.
"God, Irene..." Sherlock groaned, reaching a hand around to grab her breast, teasing and twisting the nipple roughly. He pumped quicker, placing his other hand on her hip for stabilization. Leaning forward, he pressed open mouthed kisses on her neck and back, continuing to move within her.
She arched her back down to push her bum against his chest further, "Harder, my love, harder!" She begged, on the verge of climax as she felt her body tingle all over.
Complying to her command, he moved his hips with more force. Moving the hand that gripped her hip, he slowly trailed it down until he felt her nub beneath his fingers. Pressing gently against it, he moved his fingers in opposing time to his thrusts. He was so close, so ready to cum, but he wanted her to fall first.
Irene screamed as he touched her clit, feeling herself shake an clench around him as she came hard, her body filling with lush pleasure and warmth. "Ahh, Sherlock!" She hissed.
The feelings of her clenching around him, along with his name on her lips, pushed him over that final ledge. "Irene! Oh God, Irene" he nearly screamed, his hips moved more erratically as he came, riding out his orgasm. His body filled with bliss, his sight going strangely white for a moment.
She gasped again as she felt him come inside of her. She bit her lower lip as she dropped to her elbows, exhausted and still miles above the earth. "Fuck." She muttered.
As his orgasm ended, he had to stop himself from falling on top of her, instead choosing to press kisses to her back. "God, Irene," he muttered, unable to find words for what he felt.
*End of sex scene*
She whimpered slightly, as she fell fully to on her front, sighing happily, "Jesus Sherlock, where the bloody hell did you learn that specific position?" She asked him, greedily.
"While I was doing my...research, I came across one where the participants did that. I don't know exactly why I did that, but I think that you liked it." Sherlock smirked, rearranging them so that they laid on their sides, her back pressed to his chest as he wrapped his arms around her.
"Mmhmm, it's secretly my favourite, truth be told." She confessed with a blush. "And did you enjoy it? It gives the man much more control."
"Hm... I did enjoy it, though I do much prefer when I can see your face when you climax. As for control, I don't think that is exactly my... area of expertise." he said, playing with a strand of her hair absentmindedly.
She chuckled, "Wow, the great Sherlock Holmes not wanting to be in control and having the last say. My, my I must be special." She teased him.
"Trust me, you are something much more than special, Irene Adler. And I love you for that." Sherlock said truthfully. She was something that could not be described with words.
As the two lay there silently, relaxing and listening to each other's soft breathing, Sherlock's phone rang. Groaning slightly, he slowly untangled himself from Irene, looking down at her. She was sleeping, her body curling into a loose ball on the couch. Smiling down at her, he draped a throw blanket over her before leaving the room and answering his phone.
"Yes, Mycroft, what is it?" he asked quietly, not wanting to wake her.
"Sherlock, the car is enroute to your location. Make sure that you and your... lady friend are ready to go when it arrives." Mycroft said, the sound of tapping coming through the speaker.
"Okay, anything else?" Sherlock asked, again quiet.
"Why are you being quiet? You are never quiet when you talk to me." Sherlock could hear the suspicion in Mycroft's voice as he questioned him.
"Because my lady friend, as you so eloquently put it, is currently sleeping in the next room over and I would think it best not to wake her. Now, is there anything else, Mycroft, or can I hang up on you?" Sherlock ground out in annoyance.
"We may have a lead on one of the men in Moriarty's circle. We need to make certain, though, before we send you out there. You should have a few more days here before we send you out, if it is true." Mycroft said, his voice full of authority.
"Okay, Mycroft. Thank you for telling me, and we will be ready when the car arrives. Goodbye, Mycroft" Sherlock said before hanging up the phone.
Sighing quietly, he leaned his back against the white wall, running his hands over his face in exasperation. This all would have been so much easier had he not gotten with Irene. Not that he regretted it, no never, but he did wish that he had used some common sense instead of letting his heart rule his actions; he just couldn't resist.
Irene mumbled something in her sleep as she reached behind her, her grasp reaching nothing. She frowned, blinking her eyes open groggily, "Sh-Sherlock?" She muttered running a hand through her hair and sitting up.
Upon hearing a slightly muddled voice call his name, Sherlock straightened up and walked back into the living room, smiling at the sight that greeted him. Irene was sitting up against the arm of the sofa, the blanket still around her, and her hair tousled from their previous activities. Sitting down next to her, he looked into her eyes. "Mycroft called. The car will be here soon and we need to be ready for when it arrives. Once it gets here, we will be taken to a hidden location, somewhere that will be safe for the time being." He hesitated, unsure of whether or not to tell her of the lead.
She nodded slowly, blinking back a few hot tears, knowing that they wouldn't be like this again for a few months or two. She wrapped her arms around his neck and climbed onto his lap, "Kiss me one last time...Mr Sherlock Holmes." She begged, stroking his cheek gently.
Unable to resist, he gently pressed his lips to hers, trying to remember her unique taste for the times to come. His eyes closed as he wound his arms around her waist, pulling her tighter to him.
She moaned against his lips before letting out a soft sob, unable to help herself. Her hands tangled in his hair as she pulled back to kiss his cheeks a dozen times. The tears ran freely now, she had no idea where they were coming from or why, but a part of her felt like she wouldn't see him for a very long time. "Sherlock...I...I...Fuck, I love you...please know that, my darling." She wiped the tears away, embarrassed and confused by her reactions.
"Oh, Irene...I do know, I do know that you love me, and I will never forget that. I love you too, mon amour" He whispered, looking into her eyes as his hand reached up to brush the tears away. "I will always love you, Irene. No matter what happens, no matter where these next few months take us, remember that I will always love you, until the day that I die." He said, nearly choking on his own tears as he spoke. 'Emotions, such a nuisance'he thought absentmindedly.
As if remembering simultaneously, the two of them stood up, their hands intertwining, and walked from the room. There was still a bit to do before the car got there, and they didn't know when that would be.
Once dressed, and Irene's bag by the door, they sat together, not speaking, in wait for the car. Neither knew what to say, nor did it matter, for they had the next few days to say everything that they needed to before he had to leave.
So, there you have it, the third chapter in That Night. We hope that you liked it, and if you have any ideas, plot twists, compliments or complaints, names for the kid(s), anything, please send them in! Love you guys!