A/N: I don't think I've ever written something like this on purpose, at least not in a while, so this chapter was extremely difficult. I hope it turned out alright. Also, these stories (and my other fics) won't change because of the new episodes. These are AU's, and most of my stories (even if they don't say it, in my head they are) take place after John and Mary (get divorced, in my world). So hope everyone still likes this and the other things I write. Anyway, enjoy, please review!

Also, I had most of my trouble in this writing one of them the dom, so that's why John is called "The Voice". It is John, I just, like I said, had difficulty writing him like this. Anyway, hope you enjoy.

Day 11: Dom/Sub

"Come back," Sherlock hears.

It's far off, distant, and there's static between him and the voice calling to him. It sounds like someone calling from down the beach during early morning tide. He can't see The Voice, though. It's too dark.

"Stand," The Voice demands this time.

It's closer, louder, like it's finally catching up to Sherlock. He isn't moving; The Voice will catch him.

He wants to be caught. He needs to be caught.

So Sherlock stands.

"Keep your eyes closed," The Voice says, at his ear.

It's loud, booming, demanding, but also intimate and wanting. He wants to be wanted.

"Follow me," The Voice demands this time, far away again.

Sherlock blindly steps around the coffee table and towards the voice, somewhere off towards the kitchen. Footsteps walk down the hall to their bedroom, so he follows. Gladly.

"Take off your clothes," The Voice demands.

Sherlock heart skips a beat. The thought that he has no idea what's about to happen is causing a mystery inside his head that he'll gladly not solve. He wants to be surprised. He needs to be surprised.

"You've given me permission before, but I need it again, Sherlock," The Voice says. "Say yes and I'll do whatever I want with you."

"Yes," Sherlock hisses. It's a whisper, a word so faint that The Voice needs to stop breathing for it to be heard.

"Again."

"Yes," Sherlock sighs.

"Louder!" The Voice shouts this time.

"Yes!" Sherlock yells back.

A riding crop sound worse than it feels, so when Sherlock hears leather crack against his skin, he falls to his knees with an even louder moan. His body vibrates with pleasure, with need, and his cock hardens nearly instantly.

It's not a second before the tongue of the whip is being brushed down his back.

"Where next, Sherlock?" The Voice asks in front of him.

Sherlock hadn't even heard him move, though his mind is very much one-track at the moment, and the track it's on is going back and forth between the sting on the back of his thighs.

"Here?" The Voice asks, and suddenly the riding crop is licking at the bead of pre-come pooled at the head of his cock.

Sherlock gasps. Of course, he knows The Voice would never hit his cock, but the thought that the little weapon is so close to the area, it makes Sherlock leak more.

The Voice chuckles and spreads the pre-come up his abdomen, to his chest, throat, chin, mouth. "How about here?" he asks, shoving the leather between beautiful lips.

Sherlock moans and opens his mouth.

The riding crop disappears and it's replaced with the wet head of a lovely cock.

"Suck it," The Voice demands.

Sherlock eagerly swallows the cock as far as he can. A hand grips his head and yanks his hair, and Sherlock groans and squeezes his eyes shut. He wants to beg for the whip again, he wants to feel it on his skin, so he replaces the words he wants to use with the vicious suction of his mouth.

The Voice doesn't make any noise, and Sherlock knows he doesn't want to give any sort of satisfaction of a job well done. Sherlock pulls back enough to just keep the head in his mouth, and he sucks as if nursing, swallowing the pre-come leaking out as if feeding.

Suddenly, the cock he's finding so delicious is gone and not a second later his abdomen stings with contact from the whip. He groans high and loud, breathless from the shock and relief. He throws his head back and bites his lip, wishing so hard to touch his cock, but then his head is yanked back down and the cock is shoved back between plush lips.

This time, The Voice thrusts his hips and fucks Sherlock face while holding Sherlock tight by the hair. Sherlock moans between thrusts, glad to be used. Spit and pre-come spills from his mouth down his chin to his chest. He really, really doesn't mind.

"Touch your cock," The Voice growls.

Sherlock doesn't want to wait to be asked twice. He takes hold of his cock and strokes unevenly, not even finding a rhythm before he sees his orgasm arriving.

"Stop."

With a pained groan, his hand stops. The dick falls out of his mouth with a slurpy pop and he knows there's still spit hanging from his mouth. He doesn't care. His heart beats roughly in his chest and he wants to badly to beg, but he doesn't.

And there are one, two, three slaps to his back, and he falls forward onto his hands and arches his back for, he prays, more hits. None come, and he moans loudly as if being fucked in the arse. He wants that, he wants anything.

"Get up," The Voice says, and Sherlock instantly rises once again.

His hair is yanked back again, and he opens his mouth, but he hears wet passes of a hand over the cock, so he waits. In second, come streaks his cheeks and chin, some lands in his mouth.

He wants to cry, his cock is so hard, so he's thankful when he feels fingers wrap around his cock. He nearly screams, then falls back on his arms and arches as he comes all over the body in front of him.

"John!" he yells as he comes.

Wet kisses spread all over his neck and chest, sucking on every bit of skin that can be reached. Sherlock can't be bothered that mouth marks with be visible in the morning.

Arms wrap around his chest and a body pushes him backwards until he's lying completely on the floor.

"Are you ok?" The Voice, John, whispers.

"Yes," Sherlock answers, breathless. "Perfect."

"Obviously," John says. "I wanted to take you out of your own mind. Did I succeed?"

"Yes," Sherlock says again, patting John's back. "Success is a small word for what this describes."

John chuckles. "Good," he says, kissing Sherlock's cheek. "Next time, I want to whip you while I'm fucking you."

Sherlock rotates his hips up at the body on top of him. "God, John," he moans, then turns them over so he's on top of John.

"I love you," John whispers between kisses. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," Sherlock says, kissing John deeply.