Author's Note:
Yay smut! Well, as long as you like that kind of thing? =P Thank you so much to everyone who continues to review and subscribe to this story!
John returned to the flat a deeper shade of red than he had been in the car, a large back in his right hand. He moved loudly through the flat and entered their bedroom. For a moment he couldn't speak, his eyes locked on Sherlock, before he nodded. "Yes. So," he cleared his throat. "Got your medication. And the whipped cream," there was a pause. "A-And the lady asked me what all of it was for and... I told her pie. Which, of course, was a lie. So... we've also got pie." He kept his eyes locked on the ground, his voice dropping. "Because I didn't want her to think I was some sort of pervert." He set the bag on the floor and slowly removed the four cans of whipped cream. "And I got an extra can... for the pie, y'know?" He toed his shoes off, rubbing the back of his neck nervously as he stood next to the bed.
Sherlock laughed, long and loud at John's admission. Once the laughter died down he smirked as he looked over at his fiancé quietly and contemplative. After a moment he said, "Take your clothes off, lay with your back on the bed and," he reached over to the nightstand and withdrew a black blindfold and threw on the pillow next to him, "…put that on."
Sherlock wasn't serious, was he? John glanced at the blindfold and shifted on his feet. In terms of a sex life John figured his was fairly normal before Sherlock. Very basic. Lights off and, if he was daring, above the blankets. But now. "God, yes." He yanked his jumper over his head and pulled his undershirt off as well, taking a chance to look at his fiancé before managing to get his pants, socks, and underwear off without any trouble. The lack of clothing compared to Sherlock's pants made him blush but he did as instructed, laying on the bed, on his back, and expertly putting the blindfold on. "I don't think this is very fair," he muttered, shifting a bit against the mattress.
Once the blindfold was on, Sherlock took out a couple other things from the drawer and placed them on his pillow. "Don't move until I tell you to." He crawled down to where the cans of whipped cream were located, then back up and put those on the pillow as well. He straddled John and leaned his head down to whisper in his ear, "Do you trust me?" For this to work, his fiancé would have to trust him and give over total control more or less. If there was doubt or even discomfort it would ruin the whole experience or at least, that was what the books had said.
Without his eyesight everything going on around him seemed louder, stronger...better. He felt Sherlock's body heat and suddenly there was his voice, close and sensual. He swallowed hard and bit his bottom lip to suppress a moan. "Yes," he answer surely, his stomach tensing tightly as he kept himself from lifting his hips up into his fiancé. What the Hell was he supposed to do with his hands? His fingers clinched excitedly into the bed sheets below him. Was that considered moving? Fuck. These rules seemed difficult to follow already.
Even though John couldn't see it, Sherlock smirked as he watched his fiancé squirm and fidget. "Okay then my dear doctor. If at any time you want this to stop, just use our safety word." He got off John and sat next to him. "Place your hands above your head, not straight up but more like forming the letter 'Y' and spread out your legs." As he waited for the army doctor to comply, he picked up two items from the pillow.
Oh good Lord. What had been their safety word? His brows furrowed as his body unconsciously followed Sherlock's instructions. It didn't take a genius to see where this was going and John swallowed hard. He wiggled his toes as his legs spread apart, tensing his stomach again, more for show, as he lifted his arms and let them fall back. Safety word. Cheesecake. Right. Of course. A bit of a joke. "L-Like this?" He asked, turning his head toward where he had last heard Sherlock's voice. He had heard the other man grab something from the pillow beside his head and wanted to reach out and feel it but managed to keep himself in check.
"Remember when I said I was going to blindfold you and tie you up via text?" Sherlock asked as he opened one end of a hand cuff and then secured it to the right bed post. "Well," he picked up John's wrist and placed the other end to it, "I decided to change it up a bit. Captain 'I'm in the military and can do things' Watson." He smirked and leaned over to attach the next wrist to the other bed post. The chain link in between was longer than police handcuffs, to allow a little movement and some slack. He also made sure not to make the cuffs too tight. The next pair of hand cuffs had slightly longer chains and he attached these to John's ankle's and the bed post ends.
John was suddenly taking short and shallow breaths. This was erotic as Hell. He whimpered softly and tested the handcuffs with a hesitant tug of his hands and ankles. Fuck, he couldn't work his way out of bloody metal handcuffs. It didn't take long for him to get hard and he moaned to keep himself still. No moving. "Fuck." His tongue darted out to lick his lips. This shouldn't be so damn hot but Christ Sherlock was making him so excited.
Next, Sherlock picked up a can of whipped cream. He shook it for awhile, removed the cap, leaned over and began to apply the cream onto John's chest. He applied three lines. One strip started at the right nipple and ran down to the inner thigh. The next followed along down the sternum, over the belly button and down the length of John's already hard cock to the very tip. The third line mirrored the one on the right, only starting at the left nipple. Once more he straddled the army doctor, but just above the knees and not the chest. He didn't want to smear his current work of art. Instead of licking the whipped cream off, he trailed his fingers along John's obliques. "Oh, you are free to move now. Just nothing violent or too sudden."
John didn't have to be told twice and strained his arms to tug at the handcuffs around his wrists. "Shit." He slammed his head back against the pillow and let the muscles beneath Sherlock's fingers tense. The feel of his touch was so strong now that he couldn't see it and Sherlock's skin felt like it was on fire, causing another moan to rip from his chest. "Sherlock," his voice was rough and needy but he knew he couldn't say more. It was Sherlock's turn to be in control. And this was complete control.
Sherlock watched John, the smirk returning. "How does it feel my dear doctor, to know that I can do whatever I want to you and you can't do a thing about it?" His tone was cocky and taunting. He leaned forward, kissing along John's neck lightly and slowly made his way to the right line of the whipped cream. His tongue ran light and slow down his fiancé's chest and at the end of the strip he diverted left when he came to the second line he went past it, to the third and back up John's chest. He paused, to drive the army doctor mad with expectancy.
This was very similar to the cheesecake thing, but not being able to see or know what would happen was supposed to enhance everything being experienced due to anticipation and minus a sensory. To spoil the hell out of whoever was on the receiving end. The handcuffs? Well, that was for more of Sherlock's benefit for the control. He had read about these in different books but decided to combine the two to see how it would go. So far, it seemed to be working. Finally, his tongue worked along the remaining line and down to John's penis. His tongue ran along it teasingly well after the whipped cream was gone.
John bit his bottom lip to keep from shouting. He followed Sherlock's tongue mentally and every pause made a loud moan echo through the room. The center row of whipped cream was still on his chest. He felt it. And Sherlock was just sitting there. There was probably a smirk on the bastard's face. He was about to speak when Sherlock's mouth was on his chest again. "Sherlock!" Shit. He just yelled that. And now Sherlock's tongue was teasing his erection. This was his chance to gain some sort of control and he took advantage of it. His hips lifted up slowly, his erection bumping against Sherlock's lips. "Not gonna suck itself," John whimpered. That was what he sounded like now? Christ, this was driving him nuts.
Ah, so John thought he could control this now did he? Sherlock removed his mouth from his fiancé's cock and crawled up to whisper in the army doctor's ear breathily. "I'm sorry, what was that? I didn't quite hear you." He straddled John's chest and then without waiting for an answer he began nibbling the ear he had just whispered in. Fingernails scratched lightly along his fiancé's side, trailing down to the outside of the hips.
"Not go-" John took a sharp intake of breath and moaned again. Sherlock's teeth on his ear was suddenly the greatest feeling in the world. With the fingernails running down his side he was moaning again, multiple times, as he tried to press into Sherlock's fingers. "Ah, yes, fuck." He arched his back to press his stomach against Sherlock. "Sherlock, yes," he was yelling so loud he was sure the people on the street knew what was happening in their flat. He couldn't form coherent sentences anymore and the demand he had attempted to make earlier died on his tongue in preference of short words of encouragement and Sherlock's name.
A proud smirk etched his lips. "Mmm…that's what I thought," Sherlock murmured between small bites. He began a trail of kisses: starting with the ear, down the length of the jaw, down the neck, down the chest, down the stomach. With a teasing pause he stopped just at the base of John's penis. Without warning he moved off his fiancé. "You know, I think we need more whipped cream. I mean you went through the trouble of buying it all. We should really use it, don't you think?" He picked up the can he used before, straddled the other man's chest once more, put some of the cream on his finger and held it to John's lips to suck off. The hand holding the can shook it once more and then began applying it his fiancé's shoulders.
This had to be illegal. Sherlock's tongue had to be illegal. Christ, where did he learn all of this? The closer Sherlock's mouth got to his penis the faster his breathing got and the moment he felt the weight shift off of him and moaned at the loss, tugging at the handcuffs with a grunt. When the weight was back on him. What about the pie? he had wanted to say but the thought was stupid and he couldn't really talk anyway. Not with all of the distractions going on around him. John eagerly took Sherlock's finger into his mouth, biting it softly as he sucked and licked at the whipped cream with a hum of appreciation. When he felt more on his shoulders he nipped at Sherlock's finger in excitement. In his haze of arousal he decided that this was, quite possibly, the greatest thing to ever happen to him.
A shiver of pleasure went through him when John licked the whipped cream off his finger. Sherlock gave a small growl of excitement at the nipping and he almost lost his focus. He had made a decent sized mound on either shoulder, before he dropped the can and then began spreading it on the rest of the army doctor's shoulders and neck. Once he was satisfied the whipped cream was spread evenly and smeared in all the desired places, he began to lick it off slow. He started with the tip of the right shoulder first.
John opened his mouth and tilted his head slightly. He had heard Sherlock's growl and there was no denying that his fiancé was getting excited. His tongue lapped at Sherlock's other fingers sloppily, moans and gasps escaping his mouth at the feel of Sherlock's mouth working away at his shoulder. "Please," he moaned, the handcuffs clicking as he shifted and tugged at them. "Oh, Sherlock, Christ." His stomach tensed and he arched again to try and get closer to Sherlock.
The tongue worked its way along the shoulder and once it was clean, Sherlock sucked on it lightly. He gave small nips, his body bucking into the man below him as John's tongue ran along his fingers. He moved onto the neck, repeating what he done the shoulder. Licking it clean and then giving it light biting suckles. He did the same to the other shoulder, his lower torso writhing excitedly into his fiancé. Self control. He wanted to draw this out as long as possible, even if they were both dying and begging for it by the end of it. He removed his hand from John's mouth and once more found the can of whipped cream, the first can was almost empty already.
Perfect. Sherlock was moving against him. He wanted this just as bad as John. He could feel every little bite, where it had been and if there was going to be mark. The loss of Sherlock's fingers made him frown and his tongue ran across his bottom lip. A frustrated growl ripped from John's lips and the muscles in his torso tensed. Christ, he wanted to kiss Sherlock. "I love you," he whispered. "Sherlock..." His body wiggled and the feeling of Sherlock's pants fabric against his skin had him thrusting roughly into the body above him.
Concentrate. Sherlock needed to stay focused but he wasn't sure if he was going to make it. He supposed he could tell John to stop moving but God it felt so good. No, stay on task. His breathing became a little thready and with willpower he moved down to a kneeling position between the army doctor's legs. His thin frame was a bit scrunched but he ignored it and began applying the whipped cream on his fiancé's inner thighs and then finished off the can on John's cock. On hand smeared the cream around with a light touch on his thighs and the other began gentle strokes on the penis as he rubbed the cream on the hard member.
After the whipped cream was spread around, Sherlock rest his hands on either side of John's legs. He leaned down and begin licking the left thigh slowly. Once it was cleaned, his tongue ran teasingly and lazily over the base of his fiancé's cock and then over to the other thigh, where he licked it clean but slower than the last time. Finally, he got to John's penis. Sherlock didn't take the whole thing in his mouth, instead he started at the base and worked his way up. At the tip, he put his lips around it and ran his tongue along the sensitive area lightly.
John decided suddenly that he needed to see this. While just feeling was amazing, and that feeling was heightened because of the blindfold, he needed to see Sherlock's mouth licking his thighs. It wasn't until there was a delicious heat on the head of his cock that a moan ripped through his throat. His head worked frantically against the pillow and with a proud grin he lifted his head as the blindfold fell off. "Fuck, that's beautiful." His eyes were narrowed against the sudden brightness.
"Cheater," Sherlock muttered with the tip of John's penis in his mouth. He supposed that next time he would have to tie the blindfold himself, extra tight, so the army doctor couldn't slide it off. "Close your eyes," he growled out, his mouth still in place but not moving or licking. He tilted his head up and gave his best glare, which was proving difficult because he was excited and amused right now.
Sherlock's low voice vibrating around his cock made him moan again and he struggled to hold the other man's glare. His eyes slammed shut as his head fell back against the pillow. After a long moment of both of them being still John lifted his hips slightly, grinning at his small show of dominance. "Shit, yes." His hips dropped again and the growing grin on his face was playful and cocky. While Sherlock technically had control, John wanted to put up a fight and make Sherlock work for it. "C'mon, Holmes," he growled, "put the bloody blindfold back on me." He needed to kiss Sherlock and making him put the blindfold back on was the only way he could get the man close enough.
Sherlock removed his mouth from the tip of the penis. "Be still and quiet or this all stops and I leave you chained to the bed the rest of the day." He smirked, because he wasn't bluffing. "And keep your eyes closed, should have just kept it on but he just had to wiggle out of it." His fingers trailed along John's thighs lightly.
John's body went slack almost immediately and he slammed his eyes shut. Sherlock wasn't joking. He could tell. But staying quiet? Christ, that was going to be impossible for him. He moaned softly at the continued loss of contact, biting his bottom lip. Kiss. He just wanted to kiss Sherlock. His thighs tensed under the light touches and he arched into it.
"Perhaps I should clarify, noise is fine so long as you aren't talking and telling me what to do." Sherlock couldn't help but smirk bigger. Now, to stretch it out. It had been his intention all along anyway. His fingers traced to one thigh, over the penis, where he stopped to to caress it momentarily and then over to the other thigh. He crawled up back to John, fingers trailing over the stomach and chest as he came back up. He leaned down, kissing the other man's lips, tongue running along the bottom lip lightly. His fingers came to run through the short hair.
Every touch made John twitch and let out a low moan. The moment he felt Sherlock's lips on his own his mouth opened in surrender, his eyes shutting tighter. He moved his tongue and ran it across the roof of Sherlock's mouth and nipped at Sherlock's bottom lip. He grunted and pressed eagerly into Sherlock's lower body. The muscles in his arm moved and tensed beneath his skin as he yanked at the handcuffs in a desperate attempt to touch his fiancé.
Sherlock continued the kiss, tongue exploring every inch inside of John's mouth it could find. The man below him bucking into his lower torso caused him whimper, and returned the eager grinding with his own. Easy. Steady. Make it last. It always seemed like they were in a hurry to finish. With control, he settled for a slower pace against the man below, his tongue still roaming around in the mouth, hot air blowing out his nose in attempt at breathing.
A whimper. John was getting somewhere. He returned the kiss aggressively, gasping into Sherlock's mouth. The man was a damn good kisser and the fact that he apparently never needed to breathe through his mouth. He wanted to tell his fiancé to take his pants off, to get on with it and stop torturing him, but he also didn't want to stay tied up to the bed the rest of the day. "Sherlock," he whispered against the other man's lips. "Sherlock, yes."
Eventually Sherlock broke the kiss, not because he was worried about breathing but because he couldn't stand it anymore. He was driving himself crazy at this point. His breathing was heavy and sporadic, so he took a moment to get it under control. While he waited, he removed his pants and underwear, throwing them in some random location on the floor. He reached over and grabbed the Vaseline off the pillow. He applied some to his fingers, prepped himself and then John. He leaned up and kissed his fiancé's cheek and then whispered in his ear, "I love you." He let his tongue run along and in the ear briefly before straddling the army doctor's lower torso. Despite how anxious he was, Sherlock managed to enter with a light thrust and maintain a slow but steady tempo. His hands held onto either side of John's chest, fingernails digging in ever so slightly for a better grip. "God this is fantastic." His breathing once more went erratic, one hand trailing down to his fiancé's cock and began to stroke it time with his thrusts.
"Fuck, yes," John shouted. Everything. With his eyes closed everything felt better. The fingernails digging into his side felt wonderful and Sherlock thrusting inside of him was enough to make him moan with each movement. "Sherlock." His fingers curled tightly and dug into his palms. "I love you," he shouted again. After a moment of hesitation he moved his hips. Back to meet Sherlock, forward into the perfect hand wrapped around his erection. The handcuffs pulled against the headboards, squeaking loudly in time with Sherlock's thrusts and mixing with John's constant moans. "Perfect. Christ, you're wonderful." He arched his back off the mattress as his hips snapped forward and he came suddenly across his stomach, falling limp with a loud moan.
Sherlock smirked broadly, clearly proud. He continued his steady pace, and lasted a little longer than John did. He came with a loud throaty growl, his body going lax as his breathing continued their labored breaths. His hand let go of the penis, wiping some of the mess off absently on a sheet and then bunching it together to clean John's stomach. He crawled up to snuggle into his fiancé, his head laying the army doctor's shoulder. "That was good, yes?" He figured he already knew the answer based solely on how John had responded through the whole thing.
John slowly opened his eyes, panting as he nodded. "Yeah," a deep breath and a smile, "That was..." It was bloody fantastic. If John could form words he would tell him that. He tugged slightly at the handcuffs and bit his bottom lip, chuckling. "The skin around my wrists is going to be raw," he muttered as he looked down at his fiancé with a crooked smile. "Good touch with the handcuffs," he tugged at them, "Couldn't get out of them if I wanted."
"Maybe next time you won't tug so much," Sherlock replied with a smirk. He rolled off of John and to the edge of the bed, opened the drawer and removed a small key. "They had those fuzzy handcuffs so they wouldn't chafe so much but…" He trailed off with a shrug, moved back over and undid the cuffs from John's wrists and then his ankles. He could detach them from the bed later, so he leaned over and placed the key on the nightstand and then snuggled back into his fiancé.
"You expected me to not move during that? Are you joking me?" John instantly wrapped his arms around Sherlock, placing a kiss on the top of his head. "Besides, the fuzzy ones are tacky," he squeezed Sherlock, "and you're a gluten for pain. That was good." More than good. The craziest thing he had ever done as a sexual act. "It will be you next."
With a grin Sherlock tilted his head slightly to look up at John. "Me next, hmmm? What makes you think I will let you cuff me to the bed? Besides, we still need to cover each other in whipped cream and lick it off at the same time. There are a couple positions that would make that feasible, actually." For a moment he was pensive and quiet before asking, "how far are you willing to go with all this stuff?" He wasn't sure what limits he had, because it was all new to him every time they tried something.
"I've gotten a bit stronger since I was deployed," John whispered with a small kiss to the tip of Sherlock's nose. "It won't take much." After Sherlock's next statement he blushed but his fiancé's question was enough to bring his eyebrows together. For Sherlock it made sense. Sex was a completely new thing for him. John had experience but not on this level of sexual exploration. "I don't know really," he admitted. "That was new. A few years ago I would have never tried it but now..." He smirked and licked his lips. "I think we'll just have to figure that out, won't we? That is why we have a safety word," another pause and he closed his eyes. "But just being with you is enough. Having you here, knowing I'm going to marry you."
Sherlock nodded and once more fell quiet, thoughtful. When he finally spoke again his tone was serious. "John, I don't want to fight anymore while you are home. The first couple days got off to bad start and don't get me wrong the make-up sex is fantastic…I just…I don't like fighting with you." He wrapped his around his fiancé in a tight, sideways hug.