A/N: Here is the second chapter for the day I promised, to make up for the one I couldn't leave yesterday.

Still 'M' and still not mine.

S/W/S/W

Yes! It was clear though, that even as he tried to deny it, Sherlock had definitely liked it.

Sherlock fought for his control, He certainly hadn't expected to enjoy what he was doing to the other man, and he wasn't here for the enjoyment of it. In fact, when it was all over, he knew it was going to be what his brother had termed, maybe not so ridiculously, a 'Danger Night'. The minute he had started this . . . thing, he had thought it was going to be all him, and everything was going to be under his complete control, including John. But, to his almost shock, John wasn't just laying beneath him and pretending to moan. John was actually participating and it was abundantly clear that John genuinely liked what was being done to him.

He'd had no idea that John would be participating in what was essentially his own rape, and Sherlock hated the fact that it was he that was forcing John to do it. Quite frankly Sherlock honestly didn't know how to deal with it or to stop it, and he tried his hardest not to become emotionally involved; to keep his mind separate from his body. However, it was clear that John was having none of that, and he moved his hips in a small circle, raised his hands, and touched Sherlock's taut shoulders.

Oh dear gods. John was going to kill him. He'd never be able to maintain any kind of control if John kept doing that. Sweat beaded on Sherlock's forehead and his arms literally shook on either side of John's shoulders; the left one covered in a nasty-looking starburst of red and white raised scar tissue that had brought him to Sherlock.

The wound had obviously been made by a large military style weapon, and those were not kind. In fat, he could probably deduce the make and model of the weapon if he tried hard enough, which would being the traitorous transport of his back under control. Relieved, Sherlock tried to focus on the scar, but without warning, John stroked his fingers over Sherlock's prominent collarbones and down his skin to his chest, and Sherlock's damnable body betrayed him once more and another . . . sound . . . of his indicated pleasure was yanked from his throat.

That had never happened before. He had always remained in control during his encounters, even during the worst of his addiction. No one had ever been able to make him even remotely feel anything other than the necessity of and contempt for the act, and damn it, John absolutely had to stop touching him! He couldn't do this . . . act . . . and keep his control if John insisted on touching him . . . or moving his hips like that!

"It's okay, Sherlock," John suddenly whispered, and Sherlock closed his eyes.

It wasn't okay! Nothing about this was okay! Why the hell couldn't John see that! Why did John insist on torturing him like this! This wasn't supposed to feel good!

"Sherlock," John's voice once more interrupted his inner chastisement and his voice was steady, and strong. John was so strong now and brave and Sherlock couldn't stop his eyes from raising and he met his friend's eyes. "Let. Go. Sherlock," he suddenly growled, and thrust his hips up into Sherlock with each word even as his fingers suddenly found his very sensitive nipples.

So focused on himself and his inner monologue was he that he had almost lost his hard on. However, at John's deeply growled orders and his touch, he suddenly regained it in force as he took in John's dilated pupils, racing pulse, and obvious trust . . . and his more than obvious want.

As much as Sherlock wanted not to, not even he could keep himself from throwing his head back, raising his body, and gripping John's thighs ever so tightly with his arms, and literally pulling John deeper over him. He squeezed his eyes shut and hated himself for what he was doing, but there was no way he could stop it. He thrust forward and did exactly as John had ordered . . . ordered of all things and he was going to go down in flames and shatter into a million pieces.

Maybe this was going to be a Danger Night.