Hello people!

How are you? Sorry I took so much time to update this and I sincerely hope that you guys haven't given up on me yet...

Hope that you like this... This is totally not my type of thing...

(To new and old readers, warning for mature things ahead)

The stone roses- Love Spreads (music)

Dinner, tonight. IA

God, with an ally like her, why did he need enemies….

He was terribly bored, again.

The dime light that originated from the street lamps was the only thing illuminating the living room. Time had passed and he remained oblivious regarding what to do. The rational part of him was repeatedly being overwhelmed by her. In other hand the sentimental part was even worst.

It was not supposed to be like this.

He was not supposed to feel.

It completely overcame his own view of himself. Of course, it had started with John however his 'sentiments' had acquired epic proportions after her rescue, after her ultimately winning the game, after Nero.

And still, sentiments were still an enemy against the pure reason that he sought for all his life, not only a point of pressure for everyone to see, but also something that was extremely irrational to his old self.

The game had acquired epic proportions and there was nothing that he could do to change it. It never occurred to him how much everything could change in her account.

A breeze made him come out of the trance he was in. A simple breeze could tell him almost anything. For anyone else, he could hear sounds that denunciated their presence almost instantly. With Mrs Hudson, her small and confident steps would be a give-away. In John's case, it very much depended on his mood but every time, his friend would climb the stairs in a somewhat thoughtful way, always waiting to realise if it was completely safe. And then there was Mycroft, who purposely made his presence known by the soft nods on the wood with his umbrella. But the Woman…

The Woman would come in the dead of night, in the moment when his need for her became the greatest. And yet, unlike all the others, she would do as she pleased without his notice, of course the only signals of her presence that he could distinguish were the ones that she chose to leave behind. And the breeze was that one sign that she wanted him to have, without hesitation or notice.

"You are late." He hoped that he could resist. The game was always the same, someone would lose control. The question was who and if the other could ultimately win the game, which rarely happened, since both of them would throw caution way from the equation to begin with. In their particular case, only a couple of time she had won, while he never had been able to resist the trill and addiction towards her. But today, today was his day, or so he hoped.

"So, should we make up for the lost time?" her smell was always the first thing that he noticed with her presence, a mixture of roses a tone of cinnamon and something fresh that he had never been able to identify. Her shiny black Louboutins had been discarded somewhere in the confines of his room, her bare feet touched the floor with precision and confidence.

"What in Earth possessed you to inform my mother of an upcoming marriage, our supposed upcoming marriage." Something in her expression made him pause, that he quickly dismissed as guilt. However, she rapidly guarded her expression with an infuriating smirk.

"Well, you better than anyone, should be aware that your mother is much smarter than the credit that her sons give her for. Besides I agree with her, you need someone beside you."

"Oh, no you don't." her eyes were shining and she had smile that he rarely had seen on her face.

"My thoughts are mine to know… But Sherlock, as a friend-" he snorted at her particular choice of words. They could be a lot of things but friends, was not in that particular list. "Your mother thinks that her actions are for the best, besides she is completely in love with Nero. And as his mother, I don't see any objections regarding my child's relationship with his own grandmother."

"Give her Nero for all I ca-" her hand quickly made contact with his face. These type of comments were the reason why she could win from time to time, he had no sensitivity when it came to these small matters.

There was a dangerous spark on her cobalt eyes, she turn her back on him, in order to fetch her shoes from his bedroom. Before he could even realise, he had jump from his father's chair and had grabbed her by her wrist.

He knew better than anyone than to question her relationship with their son. But his need for control had spoken louder than normal and it had seemed the only way out of that particular match. And yet he had lost again…

"I am sorry." He thoughtfully whispered into the air with a regretful look in his eyes. "I did not… mean to say it." His eyes were pleading for her to not take his commentary personally. In his mind, that type of statement wasn't that far off, but even he was aware that when it came to her relationship with their son, it was completely different.

Her free hand went against his cheek yet again.

In her third attempt to hit him, his body gracefully was able to avoid it by taking a step back. His hand was still firmly holding one of her wrists. He quickly was aware that the cold present in her eyes started to fade away under his gaze. For a moment, just for that moment she has dropping a part of her well-constructed mask. All type of emotions were leaving a trail in her expression.

And the 'sentiment' was catching with the both of them. His breath was becoming more and more laboured, in her case, she tried in vain to somewhat cover hers, while her pupils were more dilated than the existent light requested for and due to the acknowledge that she had made a fatal mistake, there was a redness spreading in her cheeks.

At this moment, he had no patience for games, his ability to ratiocinate was being overcame be her presence and the idea of what it would come next. The dopamine was quickly over flooding his weakened system and there was nothing that he could do against it.

It felt that so much time had passed, while in reality even a few weeks ago he had pinned against a wall, panting for the feel of him. However, it had not been enough, it never was, he sincerely doubted that he would ever pass that point, he always wanted more and more, she had become his own personal drug in their time abroad. A very small part of despised him for that, to given into temptation. And yet, he wouldn't change this situation for anything in the world.

The feel of her was completely breath taking. She had been the one to surrender or so it appeared, however he was well aware that it was just another form of control to her. Her lips clashed violently against his, her hands were quick and assertive, her nails touched his skin with the promise of so much more, and in her eyes he could see the need for vengeance due to his stupid statement.

Suddenly she was pressing him to the table in the corner of his living room, the same table where she had promise to have him and beg for mercy twice. In his current state, he wondered if she would be able to make him beg. His first answer would be an assertive denial and yet, even with his thirst for vengeance after the marriage business, he didn't know how much he could take.

The next step was his, she could not win, not that night.

His face was a couple of centimetres from hers but the energy between them was still electrifying. The composed and confident posture that she had showed a couple of minutes earlier had nothing to do with the sexual and aggressive one that she had at the moment. Sherlock was aware of how this would probably turn out for him.

They both when each other better than anyone, however there was also space for improvisation and improbabilities. She all had the capacity to make him question everything that he though he knew about her and today it wasn't different.

In a shift motion, his hands were tied by his own black belt. Her breath was laboured and he could feel her heart beat in the points where they were connected skin to skin. And then she took a step back to admire him in the moon light. His hair was ruffled, his chest had pink marks left by her nails and the only thing that she could was appreciate the moment. During their life together she rarely had the upper hand, the always would be equal but sometimes someone would win and unfortunately for Sherlock, is commentary was his down fall.

With a smile, she started to trace his body, at first a soft kiss in the corner of his lips or a simple bite here and there but truth be told abstinence was not something that fit that well with her, and after his departure there hadn't been anyone else. No for lack of opportunities, but she truly doubt that there was anyone in the world that she could compare to Sherlock. Her kisses became more aggressive and he couldn't even reach her.

The woman was losing control in the middle of mumbles, moans and heavy breathing.

"Release me at once!" she had a wicked smile on her face, just as the predicted, she was in a good way to make him beg. With a confident and mischievous look, she slowly move her hips against his, winning a groan in return. The next time, he met her half way, meeting a disapproving gaze in the woman's face. Her hand slowly drew a path to the shiny button of his pants, while pressing her palm into his arousal. "Mhh… God…"

"Never took you for a believer…" an isse was in only capable response. "Shh darling… I doubt that you want to be found in such position."

"You… you wouldn't…"

"Just try me…" while pronouncing her last word, he was quick enough to be able to reverse their position, even with the disadvantage of having his hands tied. "Sherlock… Careful…"

"We never… were…" she was driving him mad. Her skin always had tasted heavenly, the feeling of her next to him was almost too great to handle, his animal side had just snapped, he needed more… So much more… He was biting every bit of skin that he had access between her neck and collar bone. And she was just moaning against him, giving him more access at every nibble.

And yet, he was aware that she could recover her upper hand at any moment. At this point, his constricted reasoning only was focused on two simple things, getting free and then make her pay for this, for that he needed her as much entertained was possible.

But unfortunately for him, she was faster… In a moment, he was having his way with her and in the next he was being pressed, yet again, against the same goddamn table. The woman had gradually undid his button with her long fingers, and dropped gracefully, with a condescending smile, into her knees.

With feather touches, she traced the mark that the margin of his pants had left behind, followed by messy kisses. He could only feel her breath and her strong gaze that she had on him.

In an excruciating pace, she touched the border of his Calvin Klein boxer-briefs with a wicked smile on her face. She was well aware of how desperate he was for some kind of realise, but today it her victory, her control. And yet the biggest problem was that, she never had been able to resist to Sherlock for long.

"Irene…" his mind had gone blank in the moment that she took him in her hands. His pulse was through the roof, his muscles tensed and he could not recon anything but her, the feeling of her hands and her rapid breath.

She was having too much fun for own his good. And he, well, he was more than doomed.

Oh poor Sherlock... Hope that you enjoyed this one and please please, just REVIEW! (I am very insecure about this one...)

Have a nice week!