Author's Note:
John taking control for a whole day.
John slept until the sunlight started creeping into their room, groaning softly and tightening his grip on his husband. Morning. Fuck, he just wanted to sleep. He groaned again and cracked an eye open as he stretched, his finger nails digging into his husband's back. Right, so... morning. He yawned and glanced down at Sherlock. Wasn't there something special about today?
Sherlock shifted to look up at John, when he felt his husband stirring. "Good morning." He was about to lean over and give John a kiss on the lips but then he remembered he wasn't allowed. Well, he supposed not anyway. He had spent all night, coming up with wild and unrealistic ideas about what could possibly happen with his husband in control.
Had he done something wrong? Not even a good morning kiss? John let his eyebrows tug together before it all dawned on him. Full day in control. Granted, he had slept through six and a half hours of it but he had wanted that. Oh, God, he was in control. He moved and roughly met Sherlock's lips, rolling them so he could pin his husband to the mattress and settle between his legs. "Want to fuck you," he growled against Sherlock's lips.
Sherlock returned the kiss but let John control it. With restraint he managed not to utter a cocky come back. He supposed submitting to total control would mean he would have to be demure as well. He could deal with that, despite the fact that it went against his usually strong personality. "Okay," he replied quietly and managed not to squirm at the mere thought.
"God, I want you," John gasped and leaned off of Sherlock, reaching into the bedside table, grabbing lube and a condom. He was already hard, something he considered quite the accomplishment, and grinned as he pressed his penis into Sherlock's stomach slightly. A moan ripped from his mouth and he moved to meet his husband's lips again. "Feel wonderful," he whispered as he opened the lube, winced at the horrid strawberry smell, and quickly got some on his fingers. Should he warn Sherlock? Tell him? Sod it. He shifted and worked two fingers into his husband.
Well, John was certainly most eager this morning. Not that he would ever complain about something like that. Sherlock couldn't help but moan when he felt his husband's fingers inside of him. He had to keep reminding himself not to squirm or thrust into John. No scratching either. Shit, this was harder than he thought. He dug his fingernails into the sheets below him. Begging was allowed, wasn't it? He bit his bottom lip in hesitation.
John paused for a moment. "Act like you usually would," he panted, begging slightly. It was odd to have Sherlock acting so different but he figured his husband was taking this to heart. "P-Please." he took a deep breath and finished preparing Sherlock before grabbing the condom and tearing the foil open with his teeth. "You are going to love this," he whispered as he shifted to rest on his knees, rolling the condom on himself. He had bought them so Sherlock could enjoy the sensation, too. "Ready?"
Oh thank God. That relieved the tension and trepidation Sherlock had been feeling, and he relaxed. He wrapped his arms around John, fingers trailing along his husband's back lightly. "Please? Want you too." He kept his voice quiet, and only met John's gaze briefly before looking away. Something new. He was excited about that. New things almost always turned out to be fantastic.
John slowly entered Sherlock. It felt different but this, secretly, was more for Sherlock than him anyway. He took a deep breath as he moved slowly, one hand moving to grab Sherlock's leg and wrap it around his waist. "Oh, God." He dropped his head and closed his eyes as he started a slow, smooth rhythm and made sure Sherlock could feel the difference.
A moan escaped Sherlock as soon as John entered him. The sensation was different that what he was used to but still felt wonderful. Better than that really. It caused extra friction. Couldn't go wrong with that. Why hadn't they tried this sooner? How had he not read about this before in one of his books? One hand continued to scratch lightly at his husband's back but the other dropped to the sheets below to tangle in them tightly. "John…" He wasn't able to think clearly enough to finish whatever thought he had tried to form.
John grinned because that was a good noise. A really good noise. He kept his rhythm, slow and smooth, and grunted each time his hips hit Sherlock's body. He was going to take his time, make sure everything Sherlock felt was amplified. "Jesus." He tugged his bottom lip between his teeth as he dropped down to support himself with his elbows, his breathing hard as he finally met his husband's gaze. Sherlock was intense with those, so focused on trying to keep the control he was used to with the rest of his life, and it was enough to make John thrust once so hard that the headboard smashed against the wall.
Sherlock moaned with each of John's thrust, his hips moving in time with the man above him now. It was hard not to rock in time with his husband. "Oh God," he breathed out from the hard and unexpected thrust. He was pretty sure he heard part of the headboard crack a little but that didn't really matter to him right now. John was inside of him and it felt fantastic.
It sounded like Sherlock liked that and John tensed, taking a deep breath before slamming into his husband again, the headboard smashing into the wall with a definite crack. At this point he wasn't sure if he wanted to shag his husband this hard because it would mean he probably couldn't do this again for the rest of the day. It was worth it, though. He paused for several moments before another rough thrust.
A loud moan came from Sherlock, as his other hand dropped down into the sheets with a firm grip. He whimpered during the pause, wanting John to continue the pounding. He almost pleaded for his husband to keep going but by then his partner had already thrust deep inside. "Shit," he hissed out. His eyes closed tightly. It was almost too much, but in the best way possible. He wasn't really sure words could describe what he was feeling. Perfection was all he could come up with. He was only dimly aware of the headboard splintering and cracking behind him.
John couldn't do slow anymore. Not at all. It was too good to have Sherlock beneath him not being able to control his thoughts or what came out of his mouth. He started to move faster, his thrusts as rough as he could manage. "Sherlock, Jesus." He swallowed hard and let out a small shout, a hand moving over and tangling in his husband's hair. "F-Fuck," he gasped because he was close now, so close.
"John yes," Sherlock managed to get out, his back arching up. Christ this was amazing. Why didn't he let his husband take him like this more often? It was impossible not to match the pace set by the man above him. The hand in his hair only made things even better and he didn't think that was even possible. His fingers were wrapped so tightly in the sheets that the circulation had been cut off but he didn't even care.
"God, Sherlo-" John tensed as he came with a loud shout, glancing up the moment he heard the headboard split halfway down. "Oh, fuck. Shit." He collapsed on his husband and tried to reach between them but finally gave up. He couldn't move. He had broken the headboard. Him. That was all him, not Sherlock. "B-Broke it," he muttered out as he slid to the side of Sherlock.
Sherlock was breathing heavily, despite the fact that he done almost none of the work this time around. He smirked up at John, even though the headboard was broken. Hell, it was mostly the reason he was smirking so broadly. "…'sgood…amazing…" His fingers finally loosened their grip on the sheets and he lifted a hand to gently run through his husband's hair.
John snorted slightly and moved his hand to grab Sherlock's cock, his hand loose as he started the fastest strokes he could manage. He could barely move right now. Half of him believed that he had literally shagged himself into a coma. A wonderful, blissful coma. That, and he had split the bloody headboard. "H-Headboard," he muttered as he turned to lazily meet his husband's lips.
Sherlock moaned as soon as John's hand was on his penis. After how amazing everything had felt he had no doubt that he wouldn't last long at all. He returned his husband's kiss, despite the fact that he really couldn't breathe right. He opted to exhale loudly through his nose. "I know. Proud," he whispered behind the kiss, the smirk returning.
Proud. John snorted again and pressed harder against Sherlock's mouth. Only Sherlock could be proud about him breaking the headboard. Even if it wasn't a complete break, it had started to split. God, it must've meant that... "Your arse okay?" He asked against his husband's lips with a clearly cocky smirk.
Oh right. Sherlock hadn't even thought about that yet. Mainly because John was jerking him off and that was pretty distracting in itself. As he suspected, he didn't last long. He came, moaning into his husband's mouth. His body went lax, his breathing increasing again and he had to break the kiss to allow some form of normal air flow into his lungs. "Sore, but I will be fine." Though he wondered if he would be able to walk at all today. Hell, it had been well worth it.
John rolled and cleaned his hand off on the broken headboard with a smug smile. "Just fucked you into next week," he declared proudly as he inspected his handy-work the best he could upside down. "Your Mum...is going to kill me," he finally whispered, his head rolling so he could look at his husband. "I didn't think I would actually be able to do that. Me. I broke the headboard."
Sherlock took a moment to breathe properly before speaking again. He smirked up at John. "Or she will be impressed. If you are really worried about it, we can go into town and find someone to fix it. A carpenter or woodworker or something. Then the whole town will know about us." The smirk got bigger. That reminded him, he still owed his husband a shagging in alley while they were on their honeymoon.
Oh God, Sherlock was probably right. Nancy probably would be proud of John. He groaned, rolling over so his back was to his husband. "Shit," he whispered with a small giggle. "What, you going to call up and tell her?" He twisted to look at Sherlock, a blush spread across his cheeks. "That would be an odd conversation. 'Oh yeah, Mum, John broke the headboard shagging me.' That would just be..." He shook his head and returned to laying on his back, pulling the condom off, tying it, and tossing it into the trash bin.
"I hadn't planned on telling her but if it isn't fixed the next time she comes here, she would probably figure it out." Sherlock turned his head to smirk once more at John. He laid where he was for a moment before finally deciding to roll toward his husband a bit so his body could press into John's. Hopefully, his husband would allow him this small gesture while his partner was in control.
John smiled and shifted, sliding down the bed to press his face into Sherlock's chest. "Let's not fix it," he whispered. For some reason he didn't mind Nancy knowing. In fact, he wanted her to know how much he really loved Sherlock. It was perfect. "Hell, I might call her up and tell her." He paused, cleared his throat, and shook his head. "No, no I won't." He looked up at his husband. "We should fix it."
Sherlock couldn't help the loud bark of laughter that erupted from him. After his outburst died down he spoke. "So, are we getting it fixed or not?" It didn't really matter either way to him. He grinned up at John before settling his head into his husband's shoulder.
"I don't know," John muttered with a blush. Did they fix it? God, he was so proud of himself for doing that. When Sherlock had done it in Scotland he had been shocked. "No," he finally said with a grin. "I want to keep it. I want everybody to know."
Sherlock grinned at John. "Okay." They would have to be more careful the rest of the honeymoon, unless they wanted to be sleeping on the floor or the fold out bed in the couch from now. He shifted slightly to get more comfortable. He grimaced, not really realizing how sore he was until he had needed to move. Maybe he was just being a baby about it, but he was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to move the rest of the day.
That wince was hard to miss. It shouldn't have surprised John though. He remembered how sore he was after Scotland. "Sorry," he whispered with a frown. "The condom felt nice... right?" He had to reassure himself that something had been right and that Sherlock had really enjoyed it.
"It is fine. You never need to apologize for something like that. Ever." Sherlock tilted his head up to smile at John reassuringly. "And yes, it felt amazing. It was a good idea." His head nestled back into his husband's shoulder, careful not to jolt the rest of his body.
John grinned and laughed, a bit relieved that Sherlock didn't absolutely hate him after that. He had meant to be so rough but one thrust had done him in. "Glad you liked it then," he whispered. "I just feel like a used you like a rag doll, literally. Do you ever feel like that after we shag really rough?"
Sherlock hesitated. Was these one of those questions that if answered 'no' then John would get upset at him for being insensitive? He slowly shook his head. "No..." He verbalized even slower. Should he? As long as his husband enjoyed it, he had never really thought about it.
"I guess I make so much noise and enjoy it so much that you should never feel like that," John replied with a small shrug and looked down at Sherlock. "I feel like I should shag you like that all the time," he added with a sheepish grin. It had been wonderful for him and Sherlock had clearly enjoyed it.
Sherlock smirked up at John. "You should. I would like that." This seemed liked a good idea to just lay in bed together like they had done the other day. That was up to his husband though. Although he wasn't sure he would be able to comply with anything John may have had in mind.
"Your arse wouldn't." John laughed and hugged his husband closer with a grin. It probably wouldn't, either. That and the headboard. "I was going to suck you off later in the kitchen," he whispered with a wry grin. "I think you will still be able to do that."
"The reward is worth the risk." Sherlock smirked at John once more. "It is your day, so we will do whatever you want whenever you want." He shifted to lay on his side, to give himself a little more comfort. It was only marginally better, but he didn't seem to mind.
After that John was starving. He felt like he could eat their entire house. "Hungry," he whispered softly with a grin, tugging Sherlock closer. "I am thinking tea and eggs," he paused. "Do we have brown sauce?" They probably did, there was everything at the house.
Hungry? That would mean he would have to get up. Sherlock was about to offer to make John breakfast but he had no idea what the hell 'brown sauce' was. "Maybe. I would have to look." He shifted off of his husband and then sat up slowly, managing not to make a face of discomfort.
"Down," John stated as he moved swiftly to straddle his husband and push him back to the mattress. "I just shagged you so hard I might have broken you." He gave Sherlock a soft kiss and smiled against his husband's lips. "I will do it. Do you want anything?" He didn't make a move to get off of his husband and instead bent to press his nose against Sherlock's neck.
Any other day Sherlock would have been stubborn and resisted, but today he remained still like John instructed. Really it was probably better that way. "No, I am fine." He had eaten last night, so he was good until tomorrow or the next day. "Think I might nap while you eat." He hadn't realized he was tired until now.
A nap? John nodded slightly and smiled at his husband. Sherlock needed to sleep as much as he could and he wasn't going to stop him. "I will let you sleep as long as you want. I'm really afraid I broke you." He tugged his bottom lip between his teeth. It wouldn't do good to force his husband to do anything else if he hurt him this early in the morning.
Sherlock frowned slightly. Had he just ruined one of John's ideas for the day? "I can sleep later, if you had other plans." The scab forming on his head was becoming itchy but he refrained from scratching it. At least it wasn't pounding like yesterday.
"No. Sleep," John said softly, a smile on his lips. "Sleep. Please sleep," he whispered as he placed a kiss on the top of Sherlock's chest scar. "I want you to sleep. It would make me very happy." He grinned as he moved off of his husband and slipped on a pair of boxers.
Sherlock nodded as he smiled up at John. "All right then." Once his husband was off of him, he shifted to his side and snuggled into the pillow. It wasn't John but it would have to do. Probably wouldn't sleep as long alone but that really didn't worry him. He would only need an hour or two anyway. "Love you," he muttered as his eyes closed and he fell asleep.
John watched Sherlock for a moment before turning and going into the kitchen. He made himself a cup of tea and some toast, sitting at the table for an hour and a half before he decided to wake Sherlock up. He moved silently into the room, climbing into the bed as gently as he could and curling at the end. He took a deep breath before slowly taking Sherlock's penis into his mouth.
Sherlock groaned as the weight on the bed shifted and it took his brain a moment to register what was happening to him. His body squirmed reflexively as he came to wakefulness. He was still feeling sensitive from when John had given him hand job earlier. "Shit," he muttered as his eyes finally opened. He wasn't sure if he was going to be able to get hard so soon, but that didn't stop it from feeling wonderful.
John smirked the best he could, lifting his eyes to look at Sherlock. It had only been an hour and a half but after what he had done to his husband he figured he owed him one. He pushed at Sherlock's hip so he would lay flat, hallowing out his cheeks and taking Sherlock as deep as he could.
Sherlock stilled his body and moaned as John continued to suck him off. His fingers dug into the sheets below him, eyes closing in contentment. To his surprise and delight, he felt his cock gradually getting hard. It was going to take a little longer for it to get completely firm though. Which meant he would be able to enjoy his husband's mouth on him for a bit.
Perfect. John reached up to grab Sherlock's hands, moving them to the back of his head. God, he wanted those hands on him. He paused before pulling away slowly, his mouth open right above Sherlock's cock but not touching it. He smirked slightly and cocked an eyebrow at his husband.
As soon as Sherlock's hands were in John's hair he began scratching at the head. Now that was just fucking unfair. His eyes opened as he let out a whimper of yearning. "Please?" He begged, looking down at his husband. If John teased him too long, he just wouldn't be able to maintain the erection and probably end up being ineffectual most of the rest of the day.
John grinned, shrugging slightly. "Remember that blow job I gave you at your Mum's house when you practically fucked my mouth?" He asked as his tongue darted out and ran up Sherlock's penis before he stopped at the tip, mouth open again. "You are a genius, Sherlock. Figure it out," he whispered.
Oh. Oh. Sherlock had thought his husband was just trying to tease him, or maybe John was just tormenting him by making him work for it. If he was careful with the thrusts, it shouldn't agitate his already sore arse too much. He thrust up into John's mouth lightly. Partly because he didn't want to make his husband gag but mainly because anything rough would end up hurting more than he already was.
John moaned slightly and let his eyes slip closed, following Sherlock's hips down with his mouth and taking as much of his husband into his mouth as possible. God, he would never get tired to doing this for Sherlock. He let out a low hum before raising his mouth again. He knew Sherlock would only be able to do that a few more times. The man was sore from being shagged into the mattress like some sort of doll, but it would be worth it.
Shit, that felt good. Sherlock moaned as he thrust back up into John's mouth. His fingers dug into his husband's head to help hold him in place and not squirm all over the place in excitement. His eyes closed when he thrust into John for a third time. His poor impulse control came into play when the fourth thrust was much rougher and harder than he probably should have done, but it was all feeling so wonderful. He was close now.
John coughed almost right away, his eyes slamming shut as he struggled to get a deep breath. Jesus, he understood excitement but it would be rather embarrassing to die because his husband's cock choked him to death. He couldn't exactly move his head, either and shit his nose hurt. He was fairly sure he had smashed it into Sherlock's pelvis on that thrust and...that was blood. Good Lord, he had a nose bleed. Shit.
If John hadn't coughed, Sherlock probably remained oblivious to the other man's plight in his excitement. He stilled, opened his eyes and looked down at his husband. Fuck. "John? Oh God, I am so sorry. I…" He trailed off, giving up on whatever lame excuse he had tried to come up with. He wiggled back from his husband with a wince. Christ, he was definitely still sore and that had hurt. But that didn't matter right now, John was bleeding and it was his fault.
"Fine. 'S fine." John pulled away instantly, sitting back on his knees and cupping his hands around his nose. "Calm down," he muttered, a weak smile on his face. Well, that was a first. Nose bleed while giving a blow job. Always a fun story. "You are fine." He slid from the bed, wobbling slightly before he made it to the bathroom and pressed toilet paper against his nose. Only they could have something like this happen, really.
Despite John's words of reassurance, what had happened was not okay. All because he had lost control, which happened a lot during their many sexual encounters. Sherlock sighed in frustration and forced himself out of bed, ignoring the pain. He hobbled after his husband with some difficulty. He came to a stop barely inside the bathroom door, as he leaned against the wall. "I'm sorry," he muttered miserably.
Why was Sherlock apologizing? John had told him to do that and, honestly, he probably should have expected it. "Sherlock..." He looked at his husband for a long moment. "Don't be sorry." He grabbed more toilet paper, quickly swapping the completely red section out with ease. "'S fine, really is. No problem." He took an intake of breath through his mouth and turned to stand over the sink. "Battle wound," he added with a small laugh.
"No it is not. You are bleeding and it's my fault." Sherlock followed after his husband the rest of the way into the bathroom. He couldn't bring himself to share in the humor that John seemed to find in this situation. It wasn't funny to him by any means and he was feeling pretty terrible about it. He leaned his chest into John's back lightly, arm wrapping around his husband in a small hug.
"Because I told you to fuck my mouth, Sherlock." John leaned back against him slightly, inspecting himself in the mirror. His nose certainly wasn't broken but he had taken quite the jolt to it. "Honestly, you are fine." He grinned and pulled the toilet paper from his nose, quickly grabbing more when several drops fell into the sink. Right. Far from over, then. "It isn't a big deal. I'm fine. Look at me, I am just fine."
Sherlock sighed into the top of John's head It was useless to continue to argue. He would continue to blame and be upset with himself no matter what his husband said. He tilted his head down and began to place soft kisses along John's neck. He would find a way to make it up to his husband but he hadn't figured out how yet. "I love you."
Soft kisses. John closed his eyes and smiled slightly. "I love you, too," he whispered. If Sherlock didn't stop he might have a serious problem on his hands. There wasn't much he could do with a bloody nose and an erection. "How are you feeling?" He finally asked in order to get his mind off of the pain of his nose.
Sherlock wasn't even remotely worried about himself. All that mattered to him right now was that John was okay. His husband's question did make him aware of his own discomforts. He had a slight head ache, and his arse was sore. "I am fine." He continued to place kisses along John's neck. He wasn't trying to make his husband aroused, but to comfort the other man.
Think about something. Nancy and Siger shagging. Oh...God. John took a deep breath as that thought chased any hopes of an erection away, his shoulders falling as he pulled the toilet paper away from his face. No more blood. Always good. He let his hand drop to his side, the bloody wad of paper falling on to the floor. "Should probably get you back to bed," he finally mumbled, his words slurring together.
Sherlock lifted his head to look at John in the mirror. Good. No more blood was coming from his husband's nose. "I am fine," he repeated with a faint smile. Although perhaps John should lay down for a bit. He released his grip around his husband's waist and grabbed the other man's hand instead. He led them back to the bedroom and laid down on the bed once more, careful to lay on his side and not his back.
John followed Sherlock without a second thought, laying down on the bed and turning instantly to bury his face in his husband's chest. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock's torso with a small smile. "Still owe you that blow job," he muttered against Sherlock's chest. That was something he really wanted because he remembered how much Sherlock enjoyed it.