Chapter 32: Epilogue
One Year Later
"Fuck!" John bit her own shoulder to try and stay silent. Sherlock asked her to.
Sherlock twisted her fingers in retaliation.
John bit on her lips and moaned.
"Turn over," Sherlock commanded calmly. "You knew the consequence."
John spun and put her hands against the counter next to the sink. Her body was wet and sticky with sweat. Her legs and arms were trembling. Without Sherlock's fingers inside of her, her exposed skin was suddenly very cold.
The blindfold was slipping off her nose but Sherlock seemed to care about that just as much as John did.
The room went deadly silent.
John's breath caught and she accidentally let out a whine.
Sherlock's hand smacked across her bum with a thwack.
The sting shot down her legs and through her center. John's walls clenched around nothing and she whined again.
Another smack and John nearly crumpled into the sink with a moan. Her pants filled the room as Sherlock appeared behind her.
Sherlock's hands ran up and down her back, over the reddening skin, and around her front. "Another, ma cherie?"
John could not make words. She dumbly nodded the head that was too heavy for her to hold upright.
Sherlock chuckled darkly and disappeared once again to smack her on the thigh, her hand squeezing her tightly in the same move.
John's knees buckled.
Sherlock caught her easily. She held them both up and placed John's hands back on the counter.
John's head swayed onto Sherlock's chest. Sherlock's hair was so long now, it curved around her ears and down her chest. It stuck to John's mouth but she did not care.
Sherlock ran a hand over John's middle and held her across her torso. With her other she trailed down into the folds of John's vulva, a finger on either side of her pulsing clit.
Sherlock moaned and breathed into John's ear.
John shivered.
Sherlock's fingers circled slowly.
John extended up with her toes to push into her. She used both hands to hold onto the counter to pull herself back down.
Sherlock picked up the pace.
John flushed with a new heat. Her mouth fell open silently. Her fingers slid along the countertop.
Sherlock pulled her hand back and pressed down with her palm. She slid her fingers down and curved them inside of John's aching body.
John yelped. Her walls flexed and she could feel Sherlock's fingers inside of her.
"Mmm," Sherlock moaned. "So wet for me."
John moaned back. Wet from needing Sherlock inside of her or wet from Sherlock's mouth earlier, it did not matter. John rocked her hips against the heel of Sherlock's wrist.
Sherlock bit her neck where her choker caught against her skin. She rolled her hand and fingers at a brutally satiating pace.
John's nerves were on fire as she braced her body. Every limb locked down as the heat inside her grew. Her hips curled wantingly as Sherlock's fingers pressed at just the right angle.
"Yes," John gasped. "Yes, yes, yes, yes."
"Come," Sherlock demanded.
John's body released in an explosion of tingles as she tipped into an orgasm. Every part of her trembled as she fell into Sherlock's waiting arms.
Sherlock withdrew her fingers.
John squinted her eyes back open, not knowing when she had shut them, and saw Sherlock suck them both into her mouth.
John moaned again and shut her eyes.
They heard the stairs squeak.
John's body tensed and she whispered, "That's Mrs. Hudson."
Sherlock smiled devilishly.
"No!" John said quickly. "Not again! Rose. Rose, rose, rose. I love you but no!"
Sherlock pouted but there was no time to make her feel better about that or return the orgasm favor. John ran for their bedroom and quickly made herself look halfway decent before Mrs. Hudson could see her in this state.
"Yoohoo!" Mrs. Hudson called from the door. "Girls! Are you in?"
"No, Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock called lazily. "We're not home."
Mrs. Hudson laughed and barged on in, ignoring Sherlock's usual state of undress. Bralette and boxers were still alright for her, even if she looked as though she had just run a marathon. A marathon on John's body.
"Where's John?" Mrs. Hudson asked.
John quickly finished dressing and dove into the bathroom to fix her face. There was no helping the giant bruise forming on her neck or the sweaty state of her hair but a splash of water was going to have to do it.
"Hello," John greeted quickly as she leapt out.
"Oh hello John," Mrs Hudson greeted with a smile. She held out an envelope to her. "I have those tickets you wanted."
John smiled and grabbed the envelope quickly. "Thank you."
"Tickets?" Sherlock asked with a frown. She hated not knowing.
"You're not too sick to go, are you?" Mrs. Hudson asked worriedly. She held a hand up to John's forehead. "You look positively flush."
"I'm fine!" John dove from her hand and waved the tickets in the air. "We're going."
"We are going?" Sherlock asked again, growing increasingly more annoyed.
"I do love a bit of dancing," Mrs Hudson announced wistfully.
"Dancing?!" Sherlock was outraged.
"Yes," John said to Sherlock and then turned to Mrs. Hudson. "Should be fun."
"Dancing?!" Sherlock yelled again.
"Do have your domestic and then a spot of tea before you go. No fainting out there," Mrs. Hudson said with a wink and scurried back down the stairs to avoid Sherlock's worst.
John turned to Sherlock with her hands on her hips. "Yes. Dancing. It's my reward."
"Your what?!" Sherlock yelled again, jumping to her feet and matching John's stance.
"You promised me dancing," John pointed at her and smiled. "Don't think I forgot just because you had me bent over your knee. I get my payback."
"Payback?"
"For the sex club." John said, as if bringing something up from over a year ago made perfect sense. "You made me dance. Now I'm making you. Let's go."
"I'm dancing?!" Sherlock was positively bewildered. It was amazing. "That is a horrible waste of our time, John."
"Yup." John took two steps and wrapped Sherlock in her arms, moving her body to an imaginary ballroom beat, ignoring her ragdoll limp limbs.
"We need to be scouring the surrounding areas for the case. Searching for any sign of something out of place."
John chuckled as she shoved Sherlock's hand on her hip. "We will."
"John-"
"Shhh." John quickly pecked her lips. "Just dance, love."
Sherlock frowned at her, saw the lost cause, kissed her quick, and spun John into a perfect waltz.
"Tosser," John hummed into Sherlock's shoulder.
It was madly perfect.
AN:
Ready for this…. What do you do when you found 'the one' and they are what everyone tells you you should want, the white picket fence and 2.5 kids served up on a silver platter… but you want more? What if you don't know what the 'more' is? What if you don't like white fences? Or want the kids? Do you throw away everything people tell you you want, the thing that in itself is so wholly deserving and good, to chase after an indefinable fantasy? Or do you love them as much as you can for as long as you can because the real world doesn't believe in fantasies? Is the grass greener? Or do you like running through fields? What if there is nothing there?
As I pondered these questions, my muse hit me square in the chest. She decided I had to write these words and finished the rough draft of this fic within days. This was probably too much information about my personal psyche but I could not not write it. It is also why I couldn't finish it for years. This was largely about my ex fiance (see Martin/Frank) who I did break up with during the year pause of me writing this. Some of Martin/Frank's lines were straight out of his mouth. (I am so grateful to me for breaking up with him!) Because of that though, it became very difficult for me to finish. I am now in a much better place of mind, in a much better relationship, and even though I'm sure I could improve on these last few chapters, I'm ready to leave this story in the past.
Oh god, there are so many reasons behind so many things. So again, please be kind in any comments -I would really appreciate it- and I would love to discuss any aspect at all. So. Many. Hidden. Layers.
If you are looking to embark on any kind of BDSM journey with a willing partner, I wish you all the best of luck (and have no trouble admitting I am a little jealous). However, this is not your BDSM guide nor is it good research. I wanted to depict John/Sherlock as completely terrible newbies. In this, there are concrete BDSM rules broken and Sherlock is kind of a manipulative SOB (as you could well tell) which is NOT what you want to do. Play is separate from life (unless otherwise specified). However, Sherlock would totally use this as a tool, especially when such a novice, and she would not magically know exactly what to do right off the bat (genius that she is) and would honestly fuck some things up, largely including the emotional aspect. John would trust Sherlock way too much to do her own in-depth research so she would go along with it (as she did) until she got mad (as she did). I hope that's enough of a disclaimer and that you find good research on all the lovely websites out there :D
Another disclaimer. If you find your libido lacking or non-existent, BDSM is probably not your fixer. Even young ones can have a low libido. It is usually caused by things like lack of exercise, not eating right, stress, depression/anxiety, hormonal birth control, or relationship problems. For John, it was mainly relationship problems. She didn't know/acknowledge it, but her body did. Please don't feel forced to have sex with anyone, even if you are in a relationship with them.
Thank you so much for reading. I love being able to share this with you.
Cockscomb (title) = Affection (also, it had the word COCK in it)
ma chérie (sh pet name for jw) = My Darling (familiar)
Freesia (ch5 dinner)= Innocence/Friendship
Bulrush/Cattail (ch7 shopping/kidnapping, used by jw) = Peace
Amaryllis (ch10 crossdressing)= Strength/Pride
Hyacinth (ch12 floor)= Jealousy
Iris (ch14 wax, used by jw) = Hope
Petunia (ch15 martin sex, finger) = Anger/Resentment
Heliotrope (ch19 ropes) = Devotion
Protea (ch21 exercise, used by sh) = Courage/Strength
Rose (ch 31 and beyond) = Love