John's eyes blinked against the powerful rays of the Sun that cast the room in a warm glow. He was alone on the bed, Sherlock's side was cold.
Wonder when he left?
He stood up and stretched, moving closer to the window to peer out at the beautiful sunny summer day. His face lit up. He caught a glimpse of silver out of the corner of his eyes and opened the window to have a better look. The air was cool and brisk, without being cold. The gentle sea breeze ruffled his short hair.
Hey! Victor's here, he thought as he saw the familiar car parked in the driveway.
Putting on his shorts and a t-shirt, he walked out barefoot.
From the kitchen he could see Victor, out on the patio, fussing over his paints and brushes, standing close to the easel which had a canvas perched on it.
He yawned and switched on the kettle, making three cups of tea as he rummaged through the bags on the kitchen counter. The smell of freshly baked scones and croissants assaulted his nostrils. His tummy rumbled.
He carried two mugs of steaming tea out to the patio.
"Hey, Victor," he said, voice still hoarse from Sherlock's pounding two nights ago, as he put the tea cups down on the large table out on the patio, and moved give Victor a spontaneous hug.
Victor had turned with a grin on his face when he heard John come out, did a double take as he took in the redness over one cheek.
His grin turned cheeky as he heard the hoarseness in John's voice, "I see." He returned the hug warmly.
John shook his head as he sat down on one of the chairs, "Don't ask."
Victor chuckled.
"When did you get here?"
"Just half an hour ago."
"Where's he?" John asked, looking around.
Victor gestured into the distance, over by the edge of the huge ground, near the railing.
John stood up to peer into the distance.
Sherlock stood close to the railings, naked, feet spread apart, looking out into the distance. Just his pale form and the wind causing his curls to wave.
"Bloody hell! Is he naked?"
Victor gave a short laugh, "Yeah, but who's to see? There is nothing beyond there except the sea. There's no one for miles, John."
John looked back at him and grinned. "Looks like he is sunbathing."
His gaze caught on the canvas, the unfinished painting. Victor was looking down, mixing paints, his movements fluid, dextrous.
He neared, one hand still holding the tea cup and looked closely at it. His voice held surprise, "Are you painting him? I thought he didn't give you permission."
Victor waved his free hand vaguely, "When I arrived, he was already out there. He took off his clothes." He smiled at John, and then dipped his brush in his paint can again and resumed painting. "He's posing, John. He has given me permission. He doesn't have to use words. One needs to be perceptive enough to listen to his silences, deduce his actions. Sometimes, they are more significant."
John leaned against the iron railing, sipping his tea slowly, eyes trained over the still figure.
They were quiet for some time. The only sounds were the ocean waves, the sounds of the seagulls and Victor's little knocks and taps and sounds of frustration as he worked away.
John's voice was soft, reflective as he spoke after some time.
"It never was about submitting to him, was it?"
Victor paused, shrewd eyes flicked over John's face. He put his brush down and picked up his tea cup, and came to stand alongside John. He took a sip.
"No, it wasn't," he said softly. "It was always about Submission to the highest within yourself. To recognize that highest potential that is within yourself. Letting go of the distortion of circular thinking, developing a wider vision, reaching the pinnacle of rational objective thought. And coming to the realization that you are what you seek. And that realization comes easily when you are completely submitted."
John took a deep breath and another sip.
"Why? Why didn't you tell me?"
Victor had a faraway look in his eyes as he stared at Sherlock's blurry form.
"Because experiences are not transferable. Because lessons learned from experiences are not transferable. One needs to learn for oneself." He waved his cup towards Sherlock. "He taught me that."
Both men were quiet for several moments.
When Victor finally spoke his voice was meditative, as though musing aloud.
"He said his job is to act as a conduit to come to that understanding. A goal to focus his Subs energies on. So that he can gather them all, clean up the messy bits and reflect the rest back. Because once you recognize this truth, you stop depending on anyone else."
John looked thoughtful as he mused on this, meshing the thought with his understanding.
Victor continued, "I lived with him for two years. Then he told me one day, when he felt I was ready, 'This is my gift to you. I hand you-Victor. Stripped of the accumulated rubbish of a lifetime of pain, sentiment, doubts, worthlessness. The pristine core of Victor. Recognize the beauty, the potential. Go and live your life, any which way you want to. You don't need me anymore. And if you do, I will be there, I am never far from you. But for now, it is time to be your own man.' And he has kept his promise. Whenever I need him, he is there. Giving…. Always giving…. Of himself."
John smile was soft, "He told me once that the relationship between a Dom and his Sub is not equal. Not in the sense that we are inferior or he can exploit us. But in the way that the relationship between a parent and child, between a Master and his disciple can never be equal. One is always in the position of giving unconditionally, the other is always in a position of need, of taking."
He shook his head and took another sip. Pursed his lips briefly. "You know, so many things he has said come back to me, I feel like I'm slowly understanding his words, what they mean….. Amazing. He is amazing."
Victor put his cup down. "Yes, he is." He patted John's shoulder affectionately as he walked back to his painting.
Picking up his brush, he started to paint again, his voice teasing, "Go to him, John. He's waiting for you."
John walked slowly to where Sherlock was.
"Victor is here," he informed Sherlock as he neared.
"I know," Sherlock said, without moving a muscle.
He stood tall, gloriously naked, legs spread, long arms hanging loosely by his sides, his face upturned towards the sky, his eyes closed.
John stood a few feet away and just looked. As the golden hue reflected off the pale skin, at the relaxed posture, like a wild creature enjoying the outdoors. Suddenly, it was difficult, nay impossible, to imagine Sherlock running around in London. He seemed like such a child of nature, as though he was in his natural milieu.
The urge to connect at some fundamental level with him, grew stronger.
John undressed quietly and slid to the ground between his feet.
Sherlock didn't move an inch as he felt the warmth of John's breath on the inside of his thighs, as the wet mouth took his long limp cock in his mouth. He smiled, as he enjoyed the slow exploring touches.
John lapped and licked the soft pubic hair, nuzzled his face in the crease of the groin, held the long cock in his fist as he licked the slit, sucked on the cock head, swirling his tongue around the glans. As it firmed and grew, he started sucking in earnest.
It was after several moments that Sherlock's hand's came up to hold John's head, guiding his movements, hips starting to thrust gently. Sherlock was feeling lazy, decadent as he took his pleasure, his eyes looking out at the ocean, flicking down occasionally to meet the upturned face of his Sub.
"That's it…. pleasure me, John. Take your time, I'm in no hurry," he drawled lazily, pushing in slow rolls of his hips, shallow plunges at times, going deep at times, enjoying the warmth of John's mouth, the slow teasing friction.
Victor looked at the distant figures, just barely making out the outlines. Sherlock stood with his legs apart, John kneeling between his feet, evidently giving him a blow-job.
His hands moved faster and faster as he mentally prayed for it not to be over too soon. Sketching the sinuous curves, trying to merge the image in his brain and the vision in front of him in a coherent whole.
He was lost to the world as his hands moved like a blur, tracing, smudging, drawing, correcting.
Sherlock's hand tightened over John's head, his entire cock lodged deep down John's throat, wide stretched lips gripping the sides of his cock, providing exquisitely tight friction. Holding John's head, he bent down, over John, his hand skittering over his spine till it reached his tail bone. Long fingers probed inside John's cleft, his middle finger dipping inside the sphincter of John's anus. Pleased to find it prepped, he moved one finger in and out the lubed hole slowly, teasing the tight pucker, wet and slippery.
"Hmmm….. good boy," his voice was husky, as he slapped one cheek hard before straightening up.
He let John go, pulling himself out with a pop.
"Stand up. Turn around," was the quiet order.
John stood up and turned around, feeling equally decadent, waiting to see how his Dom wanted to have him.
He pulled John closer, one hand fisted John's swollen cock, the other hand moved back to the cleft, two long fingers insinuating them inside John, stroking his prostate. He chuckled as he heard John moan loudly, unable to decide whether to push back to the wicked fingers doing wicked things deep inside him and enjoy the consequent jolts of pleasure or whether to move forward and fuck into Sherlock's firm fist.
Oh John…. You should see yourself, trying to gouge on pleasure, sensation….
Finally, when he had his fill of teasing John, he pulled his fingers out. Placing a hand on the small of John's back he pushed down steadily. "Grab the railing."
John placed his fingers over the stone of the railing and bent down, readying for Sherlock to take him.
Sherlock crouched down, bending his knees as he put one hand on John's hip and held his erect cock with the other. He pushed in, widening his stance for better balance. John gasped, the wide head breaching his sphincter, sliding in slowly.
Suddenly, Sherlock pulled out, "You're too short!" he complained.
Looking around, he picked up John's shirt and spread it over the flat top of the stone railing.
"Oye!" John laughed.
"Shut up and get over here," Sherlock grinned as he hoisted John up till his arse was firmly over the railing.
John peered over the railing at the steep cliff and the sea below.
"Fuck, Sherlock," he giggled.
Sherlock's arm was around his waist holding him steady, as he hoisted one leg and then the other over his shoulders, till John was bent into double, his arse at the right height. John's arms came up and wrapped themselves around Sherlock's neck, their faces inches apart.
"Don't worry, I won't let you fall."
John smiled, "I know."
Sherlock bent down to claim his Sub's lips at the same time as his cock slid in with one long slow stroke till he was buried to the hilt.
"Yes…. That's better…. Fuck you feel good," he gasped as he ground his cock in, stretching the opening out.
John looked into his eyes, as his body was being breached, luxuriating in the fullness, the stretch.
Sherlock started to fuck, withdrawing his cock almost completely, then sliding it in slowly, looking down and watching his length disappear into John's tight passage, his arse hanging off the ledge, holding him safely as he moved.
John's head fell back as he looked up at the sky, taking deep breaths in, inhaling the crisp morning air.
"Fuck yes… YES….. love this…."
"Love what?" Sherlock gasped as he rolled his hips in and out.
"Love having you inside me, love doing it outdoors," John moaned. "I want to stay here forever!"
Sherlock gently slid John's legs off his shoulders. "Wrap them around my waist," he said.
His big hands slid under John's arse, supporting it, pulling it forwards, bringing their faces closer together. His lips were on John's, kissing, sucking, his tongue taking a lazy tour of John's mouth, as his hips slowed down, rolling in and out slowly, just enough to keep them interested. He pulled him closer, letting John nuzzle his neck, one hand gently cradling his head, his face buried in John's hair, the other around his waist now.
He murmured in John's ear, "Not going to happen. Lestrade called, he has a case. We're leaving tonight, need to be at the Yard by tomorrow morning."
John groaned, "Fuck…. And it had started out as such a lovely day….. "
"Hmm….. it still could be that. See that path at the edge of the cliff?"
John craned his head and looked down. A narrow path along the cliff's surface veered into the corner and disappeared from view.
"Yeah."
Another lazy roll, the long length inched in and out, fingers digging into John's hip.
"It leads to a secluded alcove. The beach is mostly isolated in any case. Victor and I used to go to the alcove with picnic lunches. Swim in the ocean, have some wine, eat. And then I'd have him out there in the open." Sherlock chuckled into John's neck. "He'd get so annoyed, hated having the sand everywhere; in his crack, in his hair, his ears. But I'd have him. And then we'd come back and I'd punish him for showing displeasure to his Dom. Dear Lord… he loved that!"
John looked into Sherlock's eyes, an exquisite blue this morning, reflecting the colour of the sky. His voice was suddenly hoarse, "I bet…"
Sherlock's eyes flicked over his face, his lips hovered over John's.
"We could do that today. Later. I could have him…. while you watched…." His voice was husky. "Or perhaps you could join in?"
John's eyes widened, then darkened as the possibilities zipped through his brain. "I…..Fucking hell, Sherlock…" He moved his arse forward meeting Sherlock's cock, welcoming him, his own hard and throbbing as his wild imagination raged. "Fuck yeah….. I think….. I'd like to try. But how would that work?"
Sherlock's shrug was nonchalant, as his hips completed one more decadent roll, "We'll figure it out." His grin was mischievous, "This is novel for me too, John. I like novelty, something new."
John grinned back, "Oh yeah?"
"Yes," Sherlock chuckled, as he executed another slow roll and slide in and out, lazily, as though luxuriating in the sensation. He nuzzled against John's neck, suddenly breathless as his imagination grew, "It will be challenging ….. FUCK…. " He ground his cock in as he lost himself in the eroticism of the idea. "….. the things I could do to both of you….. make you do…..." He withdrew slightly and slammed in again, his moan loud, uninhibited, as he took his pleasure.
John's breath hitched, his anus stretched out with the incredible feel of Sherlock's rough slides, his mind full of sensual fantasies. He gasped, "Could be dangerous….."
Sherlock's smile was playful, seductive as he pinched John's arse, "And yet, here you are!"
John threw his head back and laughed, before straightening and nuzzling Sherlock's face. His voice happy, breathless, "I love you."
"I know…..Now, let's get this over with. Victor would have finished his painting by now," he said as he sped up, started fucking in earnest.
"How did you know….? Never mind," he said, as he gave himself up to Sherlock all over again.
Victor was wiping his hands, his painting done, as they walked back to the back patio.
Sherlock let go of John and moved towards him to greet him. "Victor," his voice was tender as he gathered him in his arms, lips soft against his temple.
Victor nuzzled against him for a while, then pulling his arm took him to his painting. The three stood looking at Victor's creation.
Two indistinct figures, indicated only by sinuous curves, the swell of a buttock, the bulge of a muscle, the line of the thigh, the chest…..painted against the backdrop of the blueness of the sky and the ocean. One standing, looking down at the second figure on his knees, whose hand was raised as though seeking an anchor, a look of rapture on his face. Both bathed in a golden sunny glow. Their faces were also indistinct, just subtle shades indicated the utter devotion on the face of the kneeling figure. The standing figure had his hand outstretched, fingers spread as though giving, gracing something. The whole picture was so vivid, it was as though one was standing there…. And yet, it was so obscure that one would need to spend a long time studying it to gauge the intent of the creator.
Victor's eyes flicked over Sherlock's face, hopeful, eager.
Sherlock's eyes were penetrating as they studied, parsed, dissected. It was a few moments before he looked at Victor.
"It's breath-taking. Well done, my love."
Victor took a deep breath, "I would like you to have this."
Sherlock's smile was warm. He came up to Victor, "Come here."
He gathered him in his arms, soft lips bent forwards to kiss Victor on his lips, his nose, his forehead.
"I accept," he said softly. He leaned forward to kiss Victor again, gentle breaths fanning Victor's face as he deepened the kiss, his hand cupping Victor's face. "It's beautiful. Thank you."
Victor's smile was radiant, satisfied.
Sherlock swatted his arse playfully.
"I'm hungry. Let's have some breakfast and all go down to the beach. I'd love to go for a swim. What time do you have to leave?"
Victor started to put his brushes away. "Not until tomorrow."
"Hmm….. Good, plenty of time."
Victor moved to the door to go back in, "I'll get breakfast started. I bought some croissants and fruits on the way here."
John stood up and stretched as he started gathering the empty tea cups. "I'll join you," he called out, just before the door swung shut.
Out of the corner of his eye, he observed as Sherlock picked up a piece of charcoal and bent towards the painting, writing something in one corner.
Sherlock put the charcoal down, before he too went inside.
Balancing three cups in hand, John neared the painting and bent down to peer at it.
Written in one corner in elegant curls was a single inconspicuous word.
"Culmination"
- OM TAT SAT. ITI.(THE END)-
To the readers of Culmination—my humble Namaste :)
This then was my fantasy, my vision of what Dom Sherlock would be like…..a story I always wished SOMEONE would write. But since no one else was, I decided to do it!
I am so pleased that you were intrigued enough to read up to this point. I am truly glad that you enjoyed Culmination. May I request that before you say good bye to me and to Culmination, to leave a last comment, and tell me how you liked it. It will be a source of great satisfaction to me.
Now—
There is something else that I would like to share with you.
Some time ago, I wrote another long story in this fandom called "MOKSHA" under a different pseud- sherlockfan221.
It is a very different story; about half of it is set in India, it is a love story but based on spiritual and philosophical principles, and although Sherlock and John are good friends it is not a Johnlock. Instead I have paired Sherlock with the most beautiful man my mind could conceive of.
Many of you may not like to read a story that is not a Johnlock. And that is fine! I am so pleased you liked Culmination. For those who do not mind reading about Sherlock with someone else and if you like the way my mind works, I invite you to read "Moksha."
To me-If Culmination is like a delicious ice-cream sundae on a hot summer's day by the beach then 'Moksha' is the majesty of the very ocean itself. If Culmination was a lark and a bit of fun, 'Moksha' is my beating heart.
Or if I can be facetious, in Culmination you met only a fraction of Quantum, in 'Moksha' you'll meet all of her :)))
Please Note- Moksha would be more enjoyable on AO3 as I have included pictures... just FYI...
The rest of this little note is for those readers who are inclined towards spirituality or have an introspective/philosophical bent of mind -
There is an additional vantage point from which Culmination was conceived and written.
It is a Dom/sub story with Dom Sherlock, most certainly. But there is also a spiritual allegory interwoven through the story arc, John's journey and Sherlock's philosophy and actions. It both underpins the story and transcends it in some ways.
"Culmination" is based on the Yoga of Submission- to the ABSOLUTE—(or indeed to the Highest in oneself- both mean the exact same thing) An allegory of a spiritual inward journey into Submission, as written by a Submissive (ME). Only the Submission is not to another human being but to the ABSOLUTE, the form I've chosen to give to Totality/ The Truth. (I am not a BDSM practitioner, I am talking about being submitted to Divinity)
You see, I explored all the other Yogas in Moksha—The Yoga of Action, Yoga of Devotion, Yoga of Knowledge, Yoga of Meditation--but could not explore this most important one, as the story line did not allow it. Moksha felt incomplete without it and a few months after finishing it, this story popped into my head. If my words seem cryptic, I'm afraid you will have to read Moksha right up to the detailed author's end-notes for this to make any sense.
Some of you who end up reading both stories may discover, as I did to my own surprise that I seem to have told the same story twice…...
In some ways the Yoga of Submission is the easiest way to reach the Absolute- one merely needs to let go, FREE FALL. (As Sherlock said to John- "I am giving you the easiest and most direct path OUT of that infinite loop"). Then it is Totality's job to look after you.
In some ways it is the most difficult, because letting go and trusting that IT will look after you is very very hard! Not impossible mind you, I stand proof….. and it gets easier as one moves along the journey. Time and again we find ourselves saying much like John, "I CAN'T." But the Universe is patient….just as Sherlock was. And you are brought back again and again. The comforting thing is that once a foot is firmly placed towards the journey home, you are guaranteed success. It is a one way street, you see!
Remember it is impossible to see the 'unimaginably convoluted tangle' of the way the Universe works…. But one can learn to read its intentions by seeing the result…. Even Mycroft agreed in season 3, one of my favourite dialogues in the series, "Coincidences do not exist, the Universe is seldom so lazy."
Only one who has lost their peace of mind, the silence of the mind at some point in life, and thought about it deeply, will know how as John said, it is, "The most precious gift in the world."
As Sherlock said, "Submission brings peace"—when you are submitted to WHAT IS, instead of an insistence about what you want, then the cacophony of desires and fears dies, and the true peace that has always been inside you emerges, is allowed to manifest itself.
Try it sometime. When you hit a rough patch, try….. to let go, go into free fall….And watch how the Universe is left helpless, IT has NO option but to catch you as you fall….. just like Sherlock was helpless in the face of Complete Submission….. he could not abandon any Sub who was truly submitted. Totality is equally bound to look after you, the forces of the Universe will gather around to uphold the foundations of true Submission, it CANNOT let you crash and burn ….. try it…..
Many of you may have found that just like me, you identified very strongly with John in this story. The explanation is truly simple. John IS us. No matter our situation in life, if you think deeply, we are all seekers-seeking eternal Peace, Happiness, Fulfilment, Love (these are some of the names given to the Absolute)-albeit in our own misguided way. When everything is said and done, we are all spiritual beings. ALL of us. John's journey IS the trajectory of a spiritual seeker's journey. (As Sherlock said to John- "You are mine, John. And I am your home.")
Perception is everything!
Some of you may find the mingling of spiritual and mystical principles, the interweaving of the most staggeringly profound human experience of SELF-REALIZATION in a Dom/sub explicit fanfiction story….. Blasphemous. Some might find it ….intriguing, thought provoking. My apologies if anyone's sentiment is hurt. The intention was always to share with LOVE in my heart…..
If you think about it deeply, of the myriad avatars of human relationships, a Dom/sub relationship came closest. One needs to be submitted to SEE. The body needs to submit its desires, the mind needs to submit its pointless thoughts, the intellect needs to submit its false erudition and addiction to its own importance… for the SOUL to shine with the knowledge that was already there….. Do you SEE?
Besides, I am an Indian. I come from the land of Karma and Yoga. To me, I see the spiritual and mystical everywhere I look….
And of course, as I've said many times, I ADORE Sherlock, I adore Dom Sherlock….. so, I killed two birds with one stone *smiles cheekily*
As an aside, and on a lighter note- can you imagine my utter delight when I saw the Christmas Special episode?! Moksha was written a year before that episode aired-I had Sherlock meditating in the Himalayas LONG before Moffat and Gatiss had even thought about it! :)))
If you do read Moksha- PLEASE let me know. Either by leaving a review. If you like Moksha and get what I've tried to say…..if you find that it speaks to you as more than just a story, I invite you (indeed encourage you) to come back and re-read Culmination (minus the smut) with "Moksha-goggles" on (if I can use that phrase). And try to parse the spiritual/introspective messages woven through the story arc and said by the characters. And perhaps find that you are reading a different story.
And finally, before I lay my metaphorical pen to rest, I offer this story with complete submission at the feet of the ONE who Doms me day and night…..who loves me more than I deserve, who forgives me every minute of every day, who works tirelessly for my inner growth, whose safe hands uphold me whenever I falter…
The inspiration to write this belongs to you, the courage and the strength to write it belong to you, I belong to you. And yet, like an ignorant foolish child I run to you excitedly, to offer that which is already yours. Please accept this gift of love, my Lord…and do with it as you see fit.
ॐ TAT SAT.