Sherlock stayed quiet, face expressionless. His eyes betrayed his emotions though, even his mighty will unable to keep the love that was shining in them, hidden from Victor.
I've missed you. I love you too. Don't you SEE it has to be this way?
He said aloud, a quiet order. "Well done. Go home, keep painting."
Three things happened in rapid succession. So rapid in fact, that an impartial observer would probably declare that they were simultaneous.
Victor bowed his head in quiet acceptance of his Dom's decision and started to get to his feet.
"NO!" The spontaneous anguished cry rang out loudly from John's throat.
And-Sherlock closed his eyes and sighed and hung his head down -in triumph, in approval.
Well done, John. Well done….
Sherlock stayed that way, quiet, with his eyes closed and head bowed.
John stood up from his chair, NONONO….Don't send him away, he NEEDS you, Sherlock…. I cannot believe you'd send a Sub who needs you away…..
He neared Victor who was staring back at him. The normally alert eyes were uncomprehending as though trying to process what was happening. Very gently, John pulled Victor up. His expression was a worried frown as he said softly, "Victor, sorry but….would it be okay if I ask you to wait in the bedroom? I need to talk to Sherlock alone. Please?"
Victor blinked and took a deep breath. He glanced at Sherlock, who continued to ignore the two of them. He gave a little nod and followed John to the bedroom. John waved vaguely at the easy chair that Sherlock had placed between the large cabinet and the window.
He gave a small reassuring smile, "I won't be long, Victor. Just need to….discuss a few things with him."
Victor nodded wordlessly and leaned back on the chair.
John closed the bedroom door behind him and walked back into the living room.
Sherlock sat, still as a statue. His eyes were now open and intensely focussed as they tracked John's movements as he moved closer, his face still expressionless.
John kept his eyes locked on Sherlock's as he sank down on his knees. I need to talk to my Dom….I need to understand….. so much is going on, unspoken….. I hope I don't get it wrong.
Sherlock's eyes followed John's descent as he went down on his knees. Make me proud, my love ….. Tell me I did not misjudge…
John's hands were on the ground, his eyes raised as he stared at Sherlock, as he gathered himself.
Both men were silent, both aware of the import and gravity of what they were about to discuss. All that was needed were the words to fill that which was already declared by the silence.
"Why, Sherlock? Why did you ask Victor to leave? You can see he needs you. He is practically vibrating with it. Fuck, even I can see it."
Sherlock's eyes were hazel under the lights, shining with suppressed intensity as he struggled to keep his expression mild. He stared back in silence.
John frowned as he pondered, "What am I saying? It is impossible that you of all people cannot see it… then why? I mean….. all these weeks and months, surely this has been escalating for some time….why have you not gone to him? You could have gone to him any time you chose to. Given him what he needed…. He needed his Dom…why did you not go to him. Why?"
John's eyes were darting all over Sherlock's face, trying and failing to read his expression.
He continued to muse aloud, "You wanted him to come here…..yes, of course….Victor is totally submitted to you….he wouldn't come here, unless you ordered him to…..You asked him to come here…yes, that's right….You asked him to come, didn't you? Why did you want him to come here?"
Sherlock looked at John as he deduced aloud, wanting to give hints, clues. But he stayed silent, his chin tilted up, a challenge… You know my methods, John. Apply them.
John stared at his Dom as slowly the shields seemed to be lowering, a hint of approval in Sherlock's eyes, even though not a single facial muscle twitched. But that lurking approval was enough to spur him on. He wants me to figure it out. Come on, Watson. You can do this….. you may not know much, but you know Sherlock.
His tone turned contemplative, "He is so deep in his Submission….. the look on his face, his words…. Aaahh…" his tone turned triumphant. "You wanted me to witness what such a deep submission looks like….Of course. The beauty, the glory of it….. you wanted to show me that I need to go further….."
His brow furrowed as his tone turned reflective again, as his monologue continued. "Was that it though? Or was there something else?" John's eyes closed as he thought furiously, his mind racing to connect dots.
Sherlock always had his reasons, Sherlock's mind did not work in a straight path, it was like an unimaginably convoluted tangle, but there was always method…one could not ever hope to untangle the intricate thought processes, but if one focused on the end result then it was possible to glimpse at the initial intentions. What else has this achieved?
Think, Watson…..Think….
"When you can kneel without the slightest suggestion of ego, the barest trace of self-preservation….."
"YES….." John's cry was a spontaneous jubilation. "It was a test…. You were testing me…." He opened his eyes, looking excitedly at Sherlock. "I'm right, yeah? You were testing me….. My ego…yeah, that's it….you were testing whether I had finally let go of my ego, that false sense of pride and self that had dragged me towards the downward spiral of insecurity and jealousy previously. You were testing if I had finally let go of it…"
His eager eyes looked at Sherlock for confirmation of his deductions.
Sherlock looked approving as he blinked. Well done, John. He looked down for a few moments, struggling to keep his barriers up. Steady, Sherlock…Cannot….. CANNOT influence his decision. It has to be HIS….
He turned his head to look away, to avert his eyes from John's keen gaze.
John's eyes narrowed as he stopped talking, for the first time sensing something coming off in waves from Sherlock. He took a mental step back and looked, really looked at his Dom.
Sherlock sat rigid, every muscle tense. His face was turned sideways, teeth worrying his lower lip, his jaw clenched. His hands were gripping the armrest so tightly, that his knuckles had turned white. There was a faint sheen of moisture in his eyes.
"Sherlock?" John's voice was a hushed question.
Sherlock's jaw moved as he clenched it further. With utmost gentleness John slowly pried one hand open, touching Sherlock's hand with light touches. A tear rolled out of Sherlock's eyes. His lips trembled.
"Hey….hey….Sherlock… Fuck, you're hurting. This hurts you…." John murmured as he saw the struggle to maintain impassivity, even as Sherlock's face crumpled some more, his nostrils flaring. John sat up further, his palm warm as he cupped Sherlock's face and turned it towards him.
"You are in agony, the sight of Victor in so much need….it is tearing into you….you need to Dom him, to give him what he needs from you…. This has been hard for you, hasn't it, love?" John's voice was still a soft whisper. "You hate seeing Victor like this...you must have been watching him and slowly seeing him whither. And it has gutted you. But you still did it. For ME," John murmured with wonder. "You could have stepped in anytime you liked, taken him at your leisure. But you need me to be okay with it." He shook his head in wonder, "So much, Sherlock. You love me so much." He bowed his head.
They sat still for a few moments.
After a while, Sherlock's fingers came down to stroke John's hair gently. John stayed still for a while, joyous at meeting the approval of his Dom, an approval that seemed to flow from the fingers directly to his soul. Victor's words came to him….The pure joy you will feel when he praises you, when you have pleased him, it has to be experienced, John. And it never diminishes, that surreal feeling…..
He looked up again, at those beautiful eyes brimming with tears, thankful for the lowering of Sherlock's defences, grateful that he had understood. He reached up and with gentle fingers wiped Sherlock's tears.
He shook his head, "I do see, Sherlock. The lessons you've taught me, the words you've said. I have thought about them. I told you, I will not let your efforts have been in vain. I meant that I would ponder upon every word and action. Learn and think. Absorb and reflect. I will make mistakes, but by God, I will try not to let you down. I love you, Sherlock. More than my own breath."
Sherlock looked down at him, chewing his lower lip, eyes brimming with emotion, love as another tear fell. He continued to stay silent, unable to verbalise the depth of turmoil he had been through… It HURTS, John…. I HATE it, having to stand by and watch…. He never asks for much, just my attention, just for a little while…. And yet, I NEEDED for you to understand, accept, SEE…..
John leaned forward, one hand entwined with Sherlock's. "You do not need my permission. You have never needed it. And yet you gave me an opportunity to shine, to come through. Because you love me so much…..Taking care of Victor or any other Sub was something you had pledged you would do, even at the risk of losing me. What kind of Sub, what kind of friend would I be, if I became an obstacle towards that solemn oath? I am not the same selfish, insecure John…. I have grown, Sherlock…thanks to you."
The tears kept rolling down Sherlock's cheeks. He closed his eyes with satisfaction, a deep sigh escaping his quivering lips. Such a long way, my love. You've come such a long way….I couldn't be more proud of you….
"He needs you. I know what it is to need you. I know how desperate, how all-encompassing such need is. Give him what he needs, Sherlock. Anything he needs and at any time you want to. To him and to any other Sub….."
John marvelled as he heard his own words, words that came from somewhere deep inside of him, bypassing his mind…... Just how much self-confidence have you filled me with Sherlock? That I can say these words, without fear…...that I can feel so sure of my place in your life…..You said to me once upon a long time ago, "John, you don't need sex, you don't need romance. You need to belong. To know that you are integral to something bigger. To know your place in life without doubts. To know that you're home. You're mine, John. And I am your home."... I get that now….
He let go of Sherlock's hands and sat back slowly, arse on heels. His hands were on the floor, his eyes lowered submissively.
A few moments passed in silence, Sherlock's brow furrowed at the submissive posture, at John's hesitation. What are you going to ask for, John? What do you need from me, that you hesitate so?
John's words came haltingly, "Just….can I ask….for something? Can I be present when you…..you know? Can I watch?"
Sherlock's eyes widened.
John's head was still down as he struggled to articulate. Even with the few minutes in your presence with Victor, I SAW so much. Please, let me…
"It's just that…. I….Victor is so much more submitted than I am….can I observe?" He shook his head, "Not like a voyeur…not out of curiosity….but so that I can understand…."
"NO…." Sherlock's voice was a fierce whisper, his voice full of denial. He shook his head as he tried to explain. "You don't know what you are asking for, John. It will…..it may…" He stammered as he tried to find the right words. "It will be hard, my love." He shook his head mutely.
John sensed that Sherlock's words were uttered in disbelief, they were not the decision of a Dom. He continued doggedly, "I won't find it hard. I want to see. I NEED to see."
Sherlock's voice changed cadence, became cajoling as he reasoned gently, "John, knowing about me being intimate with someone is one thing. Actually watching it….. you may find it hard to witness my love for someone else. Actually dominating someone else, have sex with someone else. Think about what you are asking for….."
"I have. If you want to deny me, then it is your right as a Dom, Sherlock. But I do think I can watch. I won't get in your way. And if it gets too much, I can always leave. I will have learned something even then. Please?" John pleaded.
Sherlock leaned forward as he pulled John towards him.
He changed tact. "What about Victor? John, it is intensely private, intimate what we do…. You wouldn't want anyone else to watch as I fuck you, as I Dom you, as you cede all control and dance to the tune of your Dom…."
"I don't mind." Victor's voice rang out loud and clear, as he interrupted their conversation.
Both men looked up, startled to see Victor standing in a corner, his expression subdued but sincere. His hands twitched diffidently by his sides as he watched Sherlock's eyes narrow, the slow surge of anger starting to creep into his Dom's expression. He took a deep breath and continued.
"You can punish me for intruding on your private conversation, for speaking out of turn, Sherlock. But I truly do not mind. Sometimes, what you ask for is…so hard to understand, to strive for….words are not adequate as explanations. It helps, Master. To see someone else submit. I know that my entire vision expanded after I met David. And John might benefit too. I want him to have that. The intent is not prurience…. it is to observe, to understand. How can that be wrong? Please, Sherlock?"
Sherlock's eyes flicked from one Sub to the other. Both their eyes were on him, hopeful, waiting.
Suddenly restless, he stood up.
He went to stand near the window, looking out at the dwindling traffic, the pedestrians moving about. His mind effortlessly began to deduce as he watched- late for daughter's/niece's birthday party….. just lost his job, marriage in tatters…..going for an overseas holiday in a few days….. studying for an exam, in love with the girl next to him, she's using him for his brains, will drop him soon…teacher, gambling problem, heavily in debt, contemplating suicide….He allowed the familiar ritual to soothe him for a while as his inner gyroscope readjusted itself.
There is no valid reason to decline their plea…. It is fear that freezes you…..You're just scared of either of them being hurt, but….. they've proved themselves worthy of your trust…..if they are agreed and enter into this knowingly…..they are grown men…
John waited head bowed, lost in thought. Did I do the right thing? Hadn't expected Victor to come out….wonder what he thinks I am, wonder if he thinks I am a pervert….no, no... he expressed exactly what I was having difficulty articulating….. he UNDERSTANDS…..in this he understands even more than Sherlock…..but Sherlock is right, this is Victor's personal time with him and it has come after so long….how can I intrude…..fuck….did I do the right thing?
He looked up startled, when he felt a warm clasp on his shoulder. Victor stood by his side, looking down with reassuring eyes….. don't overthink it, John. It's okay. I really don't mind. In any case when I'm with him, the world disappears…..
John's hand came up naturally, to lay itself on Victor's hand, his body leaning into the reassuring touch.
The Subs waited.
The Dom turned around after long moments of silence. Sherlock's eyes flicked over both of them, zooming in to take in the clasp of their hands on John's shoulder. A flash of approval, joy surged through him. He waited for it to pass, waited for grim determination to return. This is Victor's time. Even if I allow this, nothing should detract from it. He has waited his turn patiently.
His voice was solemn as he gave a brief nod.
"Very well. Both of you in the bedroom. John, you will sit in the chair. You will be quiet, unmoving. If things get too intense, you are welcome to leave quietly. But you will NOT disturb us. Use good judgement. I do not want to have you traumatized, but I will NOT make allowances for your presence and censor my time with Victor. Victor, get undressed and wait on your knees."
He broke off, his hands coming up in a helpless gesture. "Please… understand that this is unprecedented. An experiment, if you will. I've never…" he broke off and took a deep breath, looking hesitant, sceptical. "I've never dominated with an audience, not unless it was a specific occasion or a venue like a BDSM club. I am not sure of its success. But for both your sakes….. I'm willing to try."
He nodded at them.
"Go on. I'll join you soon."
John leaned back in the chair, focused on getting his position right and relaxed, determined to not let even his fingers twitch, for fear of disturbing Sherlock and Victor. He wanted to be just a part of the background, inconspicuous as the wallpaper.
Fuck if I know what to expect….. hope this is a good idea…I am in a good place, I don't think it will affect me so much….hope Victor stays okay with it….FUCK, I'm actually going to watch Sherlock fuck someone else….how surreal is that…
He watched as Victor quietly undressed, unable to help glancing at his crotch from the corner of his eyes, taking in the limp cock, the nest of brown curls. All right then…. I'm a doctor, I've been in the army…..seen plenty of naked men before…. Never one who's about to get fucked in front of me though…. He swallowed against his suddenly dry throat, and tried to focus on staying still.
"I wish to thank you for this, John," Victor's voice was soft as he slowly went down on his knees, without a trace of self-consciousness, his naked body on display.
John shook his head, "I'm the one who should thank you. This is your right, you are his Sub. But to allow me in here….. yeah, don't quite know what to say about that."
"It won't matter, John. I mean… your presence. Once he is in here, it won't matter to either of us anyways." Victor smiled with reassurance and then bowed his head.
Both waited in silence, for their Dom.
Sherlock walked into the bedroom from the bathroom door, a quarter of an hour later. He held his riding crop and a new bottle of lube and a packet of condoms. He dropped them pointedly on the bed. He came to stand a couple of feet away from Victor, who was kneeling on the floor.
John watched.
As Sherlock undressed quietly, his eyes on Victor. As he sat on the bed and ordered gently, "Come here." As Victor sank to his feet, hungry eyes looking at Sherlock, taking in their fill after a long time, without restraint, without a word. As he bent down with a shuddering breath till his cheek rested on Sherlock's knee, his back arched, his legs folded underneath him. As Sherlock's gentle fingers massaged his scalp in soothing circular motions, letting Victor take succour from the first touch of his Dom in months. As Sherlock gathered him close and started to kiss Victor, one arm around him, one hand gently angling his head. Gentle reassuring kisses, close mouthed, then tongues starting to mate. As he held Victor's face in his hands and nuzzled his Sub's face, murmuring softly, "I know, my love…I know…" As Sherlock's tears splashed over Victor's face, unrestrained, unabashed.
John watched.
As Victor's body surged into Sherlock's arms, as though he were the parched earth, soaking up every drop of long-awaited rejuvenating rain. As Victor gasped, "I love you…. I love you….. I love you." As at Sherlock's silent consent, Victor's feverish desperate hands ran over his thighs, his hips, his chest as they kissed, his face upturned to gasp into his Dom's mouth, hunger and craving in every movement. It reminded John of an infant suckling on the mother's breast, desperately sucking in the milk from her teats….of a baby bird pecking into the mother's open beak, trying to grab the regurgitated food….. it was as though Victor was sucking in nourishment, sustenance. And Sherlock gave of himself….. gently, patiently….as though determined to keep giving until his Sub had his fill. Neither man was aroused, their cocks limp between their legs, as their souls mated.
John watched.
As Sherlock stroked Victor's head gently like a loving parent, "What do you want, Victor? Name it, it is yours if I can provide….What do you want, my love?" As Victor replied, "To serve you, Sherlock. I want to serve you." As Sherlock snorted and then murmured, "You want to serve me? What do you think you've been doing for months now? Giving John and I the time we needed, the space we needed …. Hmm ..…What do you think you've been doing if not serving me?"
John watched.
As after a long time, Sherlock positioned Victor against the wall. As he picked up the riding crop. As he stood behind Victor, covering him with his body, his face nuzzling into Victor's neck, his fingers petting Victor's sides. As he stayed still, as though gathering his strength, summoning the Dom. As they stood for a long time, breathing in tandem, unmoving, neither needing to say a word, communicating as if by osmosis. As Victor stood head lowered, cock in full mast, accepting, submissive.
John watched.
As Sherlock stepped back and started to strike Victor. At the dichotomy of the rough merciless flogging and the love and tears in his eyes. As the Dom provided for his Sub, what his Sub needed even though it hurt him just then, to hurt Victor. As the contact rippled through Victor's body, making him shake like a leaf in a storm. As Victor moaned and whimpered and cried out, his back arching even as his cock leaked. At the steady mantra of, "Sherlock….Sherlock….Sherlock" that fell from Victor's lips, his being submitted even as he rejoiced in the pain/pleasure of his Dom's attentions, body vibrating and shivering to the crack of Sherlock's riding crop. At Victor's face, which seemed to embody utter rapture, flushed and glistening with sweat.
John watched.
As Sherlock finally threw down the riding crop. As he stood behind Victor and bent down to kiss every welt with soft lips, bathe them with his tears. As he sucked at each one, licking them like a cat, intending to soothe. As he murmured, his voice muffled against Victor's skin, "I can't anymore, not today. Forgive me…." As Victor gasped and turned around, sliding to his knees, his arms around Sherlock's waist, his face buried into Sherlock's crotch, nose nuzzling against the half-hard cock. "Don't say that, Master. Don't' say you're sorry. Yours, Sherlock….whatever you want or don't want. Not mine, never me…. always you, only you," his cry was full of love, supplication.
John watched.
As Sherlock pushed Victor towards the wall, till he was sitting with his legs outstretched, back to the wall and ordered quietly, "Hands." As Victor raised both his arms above his head. As with one finger Sherlock pinned both of them against the wall, as his legs straddled Victor's outstretched legs. As Victor turned his face to kiss the knuckles of Sherlock's other hand, an unconscious gesture of pure obeisance. As Sherlock looked down, as though all the love in the universe was contained in his eyes and pouring down on his Sub. As he arched his hips back slightly to feed Victor his erect cock. As Victor mewled with relief, with arousal as his mouth took all of Sherlock slowly, inch by inch, as though savouring every morsel till it hit the back of his throat and pushed beyond. As he began to suck slowly, in a trance like state, nostrils flaring as they breathed in the smell of his Dom.
As Sherlock threw his head back, his moan low, heady, "FUCK…" As Victor sucked… licked… lapped eagerly, as Sherlock's hips moved, his long thick cock moving in until he was buried deep. As Victor looked up as he deep-throated his Dom, his hands supported above his body with just Sherlock's index finger. As Sherlock fucked him with deep slow strokes, glistening cock moving and stretching Victor's lips relentlessly. As Sherlock's moans of pleasure filled the room, reverberated around., his face flushed with arousal. As Victor's eyes reflected his joy as he pleasured his Dom, as though Sherlock's pleasure was surging from his cock and into his body, while his own cock stood stiff, leaking over his flat tummy.
John watched.
As Sherlock pulled back and with gentle hands he led Victor to lie face down on the bed. As he prepped him with slick fingers, opening him up. As the fingers moved hypnotically, disappearing in the glistening cleft between Victor's closed buttocks, the knuckles digging into the cherry red skin of Victor's beaten arse. As Sherlock watched, dark eyes flashing with arousal, love as his fingers readied his Sub for taking. As he put on a condom and slicked himself with one hand, the other gently caressing the shuddering body underneath him.
John watched.
As Sherlock mounted Victor, covered his torso completely, one arm flung across his chest, pinning down both his forearms as his hand gripped the opposite arm. Victor's legs were together and Sherlock's legs straddled him, his thighs next to Victors, his knees bent, the soles of his feet digging into Victor's calves, forcing them together. As that long thick cock nudged at Victor's entrance and then breached it. As Sherlock started taking him, a slow rhythm to start with, that gradually, inexorably picked up pace. As Sherlock's hips moved as he began to fuck, his hips canting back until the just the fat cockhead was inside Victor's external sphincter and then bunching in as he slid in deep, pushing, grinding that impressive length in, going deep inside Victor's bowels. As Sherlock's face hovered over the nape of Victor's neck and shoulders, teeth grazing sometimes in warning, sometimes to convey his desire; ready to punish and bite, ready to reward and soothe.
It was a deceptively simple looking position, but devastating in its Dominance. The Sub had no give whatsoever, his body pinned under Sherlock's weight, his arms unable to move, his legs unable to move. He could only lie there and get fucked at the leisure and for the pleasure of his Dom. Every gesture was calm, unhurried. Every caress precise. As though to emphasize his Dominance, to keep the Sub in place.
John wondered that if Sherlock ever touched him like this, he wasn't sure he could take it. Actually, Sherlock had tried this position once with John during the early days. But John hadn't been able to handle it, bucking and shaking with the overpowering sense of helplessness, submission. It had been frightening in its intensity. John understood now that he had not been ready. Sherlock had abandoned it at that time, turned him around and had him face to face.
John watched.
As Sherlock fucked Victor for a long time. At Sherlock's balls as they hung down with each withdraw and bunched up against Victor's perineum with each plunge. As the squelching sounds of lube and friction competed with Sherlock's loud uninhibited groans and growls, with Victor's soft shaky breaths and whines. As after a long time, Victor moved one hand, his palm turned up in a mute plea. As in response to the plea, Sherlock withdrew completely and pulled Victor's arse up, till he was on his hands and knees, his body in a V-shape. As Sherlock straddled him, one thigh parallel to Victor's, the other leg straightened to bring his foot close to Victor's face. As Victor gratefully licked his foot, his lips nuzzling against it, sucking, licking with his wet tongue, as Sherlock fucked into him. As Sherlock's broad palm came down to press against the small of his back, pushing down with force, even as the other dug painfully into his hips, as he took his fill.
John watched.
Victor's responses. There was none of the usual clamour for more pleasure, more sensation, for release. Oh Victor was responsive! But it was a response, an acceptance of whatever his Dom chose to give him, without insistence, without demands. His body arched, he sighed and moaned, he gasped and whimpered. As he moved fluidly, helplessly trying to keep the connection, as though magnetised by Sherlock's touches. As though Sherlock had taken possession of his body, his senses and moved him as effortlessly as he would move his own limbs, by his will alone, for his pleasure alone.
John watched.
As he literally shook where he sat, shivering so violently in reaction he feared he would never stop, a continuous flow of tears trickling from his unblinking eyes. His cock lay hard between his legs, neglected and dripping.
He had thought that as per the norm, once Sherlock entered the room, his eyes wouldn't stray far from his face, his body, his motions. Instead, he found himself watching Victor most of the time, mesmerized, bewitched. The euphoria and beauty of complete surrender made Victor's face glow, as though he were incandescent on the inside, somehow….. as though the beauty of his soul were on display…..
He had asked to watch, thinking he would witness some sensuality, some Dom-Sub power play, perhaps learn a bit about what Sherlock liked, about how to submit better by watching Victor.
Instead he found himself witnessing some sort of sacred dance, a dance so POWERFUL in its simplicity and profundity, it was overwhelming. This wasn't Domination and Submission…this was possession, though he couldn't say… who was possessing whom… who was taking and who was giving….. who was leading and who was following…..
He was reminded of the two fish meant to make up the Yin-Yang symbol. Each drifting around the other as though there were a common centre around which they circled. As though there were only one soul between the two bodies, one wholeness, where one started and the other ended he knew not, as they moved as one, dancing their intimate erotic dance.
He had learned nothing that could be expressed in words, and yet….he had witnessed a revelation that rippled through him with the force and power of a tectonic shift in his assumptions and imaginations.
John watched.
As Sherlock threw his head back as his orgasm approached, as his moments became urgent, desperate, a look of utter electrifying exhilaration on his face. As he ordered Victor to come. As Victor jetted, untouched just by the one word command. As Sherlock moaned loudly as he emptied himself. As he lay holding the trembling body of his Sub close, in the aftermath. As he murmured words of love and approval. As Victor looked up, gaze reverent, his soul seeming to absorb the words directly into himself; a look of such bliss, such joy on his face that it lit up the room.
After a long time, that could have been minutes or hours, when Victor lay quiet, shudders subsided, a look of contentment and lassitude on his face…..only then, for the first time since he'd entered the room, Sherlock looked at John. His keen eyes took in the intensity of reshuffling and soul-deep upheaval John had been through. Giving one last soft kiss to Victor's temple, he rose from the bed.
He walked towards John, his expression gentle.
"Do you see?" he said softly.
John slid down to the floor, on his knees, his hands flung around Sherlock's waist, his face buried in his groin. His tears dampened the soft black pubic hair, as he sobbed.
He turned his face up to complain, "You have been toying with me."
Sherlock stroked his hair gently, "Yes."
"Because I am not worthy."
Sherlock shook his head, "No, my love. Because you were not ready….. but you are ready now. You've done so well today."
He pulled John up and undressed him slowly. He guided John to the bed. Sitting with his back against the headboard, he drew John between his spread bent legs. John's head rested on his chest as Sherlock's hand gripped John's aching cock. He started to pump.
"Let me get the edge off. You need to rest….. this has been intense, John."
John buried his face in Sherlock's neck, his hips moving of their own volition, little gasps of pleasure, little moans moving from his lips to Sherlock's ears directly, as Sherlock stroked him to completion. Victor watched, his eyes full of understanding, one hand creeping forward to connect to John's foot in reassurance.
After cleaning his Subs, after giving Victor aftercare, Sherlock climbed back in bed. He lay on this side, spooning John from behind, protective arms around him as he murmured, "So proud of you, my darling. You did so well today…..I love you, John. Love you so much." John bent down to kiss Sherlock's arms again and again, feeling blessed, fulfilled as he murmured, "Love you…. Love you….. yours, Sherlock."
One hand kept stroking John's head, as Sherlock twisted back his other arm, pulling Victor closer. "Come here."
Victor nuzzled Sherlock's naked back, his face buried between his Dom's shoulder blades.
Sherlock pulled at Victor's hand, bringing it to his lips, "You were so good for both of us, Victor. Thank you." When he let go, Victor kept his hand around Sherlock's waist, the tips of his fingers caressing John's arm in gentle soothing circles.
John slept with the feel of his Dom around his back, lying in the secure cocoon of Sherlock's warmth, feeling Victor's quiet touches to his arm… touches of camaraderie, affection.
Sherlock slept, sandwiched between the warm sated bodies of his Subs. He sighed with relief as he closed his eyes.
Mycroft sat back, his whisky tumbler held loosely in his hand, as he watched Sherlock.
His large study was dark except for the dancing flames of the fire that bathed a small circle of light around the two armchairs turned towards the fireplace and their occupants, in a warm glow.
His brother sat slouched in the chair, staring blankly at the fire, chiselled face covered with gold and black patches that moved in rhythm with the flames. And yet, there was a look of such utter contentment in his expression that his face looked soft, all angular edges smoothed out. Hazel eyes shone in the light, a glimmer of happiness, bone-deep satisfaction.
He had arrived two hours earlier.
And not said a word.
They had dinner in silent harmony, both quite content to let go of meaningless small talk that normally filled silences. And then settled in the chairs.
Mycroft's voice was a bit rusty with disuse as he cleared his throat, "Things are going well, I take it?"
Sherlock stayed quiet, too lazy to move even to respond. It was a while before his lips quirked up, his voice soft, wistful, "Yes."
Mycroft wiggled a bit and settled back as well, Sherlock's inertia seeming to seep into him by osmosis.
After a while, head lolling over the back of the chair, eyes fixed on the fire as though hypnotised, "Why? Why do you do it, Sherlock? John, Victor, David, Adrian, Jeremy…. So many over the years. You put yourself on the line, your emotions on the line. Each time. It can't be need….. you can have anyone you set your mind to! Then why?"
Sherlock was quiet for a long time, looking reflective. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft as though musing aloud to himself.
"Because they need me. Because without even recognising what they are looking for exactly, they ask for me. Because I cannot stand by and watch. Because I need to help them to SEE. Because that is my need…"
They sat quietly, listening to the crackling fire for a while longer.
Finally Mycroft sat up. "I'm getting one more for myself," he said waving his glass. "Would you like a refill?"
"Yes, thank you."
Mycroft stood up and went into the kitchen. He got refills. Handing Sherlock's glass to him, he put his hand on his brother's shoulder briefly. Sherlock leaned into the touch quietly. Mycroft ruffled his unruly mop of curls, a small smile full of love and affection on his face. He came and settled back in his chair.
They sat and watched the fire as they drank for a long time.
Conversing the entire time without words.