Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5122562.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Sherlock_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Sherlock_Holmes/John_Watson, Mycroft_Holmes/Greg_Lestrade
  Character:
      Sherlock_Holmes, John_Watson, Lestrade_(Sherlock_Holmes), Mycroft_Holmes,
      Sherlock_Holmes'_Mother
  Additional Tags:
      Drug_Addiction, Rape_Aftermath, Child_Abuse, Force-Feeding
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-11-01 Chapters: 10/? Words: 28378
****** Adventurous ******
by storytellerof221b
Summary
     Sherlock suffers from his drug-addiction and former abuse. Mycroft
     tries to help and Greg gets involved. John is a pizza delivery guy
     because army-pension isn't enough. Sex will definitely occur. Often.
     Porny.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
***** First Encounter *****
The first time Greg Lestrade met Mycroft Holmes was in the hospital. Sherlock
had been brought in. He had drugged himself almost to death when Greg found him
in the old warehouse. He was on the floor. His clothes were all dirty; he was
all dirty.
Greg had always liked this guy following him around the crime scenes and
solving some crimes for him by simply looking at everything. But he could never
talk him into stop using.
And now he sat beside Sherlock’s bed watching the thin and pale body. An oxygen
mask was pulled over his mouth and nose and his fingers twitched restlessly;
his eyes moved behind the lids.
He looked at the other man, Sherlock’s brother. He had bodyguards, but they
waited outside. Suddenly he sighed and Greg looked right into his eyes.
“I should have seen it coming.” Sadly he touched Sherlock’s greasy hair.
“He wouldn’t have listened anyway. He always did what he wanted.”
“That’s true. I will make him detox. Again.”
“Jesus! He has already done one?” Mr Holmes nodded.
“Yes, about a year ago. It was before he met you. Somehow you made him feel
better. He ran around talking about cases and such. He was even happy. I don’t
know what happened that made him relapse.”
“Maybe a relationship ended badly?” Greg asked into the room.
“There never was anyone suitable for him, I am afraid.”
“You mean?”
“Exactly. He is still untouched. My little brother is a virgin.” Now Greg
looked sad, too.
“What can I do?”
“You already did a lot.” Greg ruffled his hair.
“What are you going to do now?”
“I will take him into rehab and hope for the best. Perhaps you could visit him
some day? I will text you the details.” Greg nodded and stood.
“Please do that, Sir.” Mr Holmes looked up and smiled.
“I will be in contact, don’t worry.”
***** Reward *****
Chapter Summary
     See chapter 1 for complete summary
The following week Greg was promoted Detective Inspector and transferred to
homicide division, which was very much his division.
He knew Mr Holmes had something to do with it and he decided to make a call. He
would have called him anyway to ask about Sherlock since Mr Holmes hadn’t
texted him any details yet.
A woman answered the phone and told him Mr Holmes was abroad but she was
authorised to give him all the information about Sherlock’s whereabouts. Greg
thanked her and planned a trip for the weekend to visit him.
That night he sat in front of his TV. All by himself since his wife was doing
whatever she was doing when they weren’t together. He really didn’t want to
know. He knew their divorce was in plain sight already.
Then he got a text. He looked at his mobile and opened the text message.
“How are you doing, Detective Inspector?”
MH
Who the fuck was MH? An H as in Holmes? Carefully he texted back:
“Is that you, Sir?”
GL
“Yes, it is, DI Lestrade.”
MH
Greg swallowed. Why did he text him that late?
“Did something happen to Sherlock?”
GL
“Not at all. I just wanted to know about you, Greg.”
MH
Greg???
“I was made DI. Thanks to you, I suppose. I want to thank you, Sir.”
GL
“Invite me over then and we have a drink.”
MH
Again. What the fuck? But why not? He was Sherlock’s brother.
“When?”
GL
“Just open the door, Greg.”
MH
Greg almost choked on his tea, but got up and went to open his door. And there
he stood, Mycroft Holmes. Rather intimidating in his three-piece-suit and
umbrella. His shoes were polished. He was dressed as immaculate as ever. They
looked into each other’s eyes until Mycroft raised an eyebrow. Greg blinked and
made a step back.
“I am sorry, Mr Holmes, Sir. Please, come in.” He opened the door and Mycroft
stepped inside. His eyes scanned the living room and settled on the sofa. He
handed his coat to Greg who just took without a question and hung it up. Then
he stood helplessly in the middle of the room until Mycroft spoke again.
“Greg, relax. Get us a glass, will you?” Greg marched into the kitchen and
quickly rinsed two glasses. When he returned Mycroft had opened a bottle of
Lagavulin – where did he hide that? - and patted the place beside him.
“Sit, Greg.” And Greg sat holding the two glasses which were being filled right
now. He harrumphed and smelled the delicious alcohol. He had no idea why he
felt like he felt. He felt small. He was scared. Mycroft Holmes was scary and
intimidating. And now he sat on his very own sofa with him and had a drink.
“You wanted to thank me, Greg, didn’t you?” Mycroft’s eyes were piercing over
the glasses edge.
“Yes. I know, it must have been you, being responsible for my promotion.”
“You deserved it.”
“I might, but how on earth could I ever know what I could give to you to thank
you properly?” Suddenly Mycroft’s face was very close and he heard him whisper.
“I have one or two ideas of how you could thank me properly, Greg.” He breathed
into his ear and Greg shivered. But he didn’t twitch. Instead he leaned in
closer with his eyes closed.
“What ideas?” He roughly whispered back. This was insane.
“Do you trust me?” What kind of a question was that?
“Yes, I do.” Greg replied without thinking. Mycroft took his empty glass and
placed it onto the couch table.
“Then start thanking me with due respect. Oh, bring your handcuffs.” Oh fuck,
he knew exactly what Mycroft wanted. And he felt the heat flush his chest, neck
and face. He also felt his hard-on pressing against his jeans. He also saw
Mycroft’s greedy stare. Greg’s mouth was suddenly very dry. But he turned
around and got his handcuffs. He was holding them in front of Mycroft’s face,
but he just tisked grabbing them.
“You have to learn a lot, Greg. Do you want to?” Learn? Learn what exactly? But
again he could just stare into his eyes and nod.
“Fine. Turn around.” Greg did as being told and Mycroft grabbed his wrists and
fastened the handcuffs around them. Rather tight.
“Look at me, Greg.” Greg turned around and was pulled in a violent kiss. He
could feel Mycroft’s prick against his body. His knees became wobbly and he let
out a moan when he felt Mycroft’s tongue lick his lips. A man before had never
kissed him. This was different, nothing tender, just rude force. He was fucked
by that tongue and he liked it. His tongue was bitten and so were his lips. He
could taste his own blood and his eyes drooped.
“No, I want to see your eyes!” Greg looked back up again. He had no idea that
being dominated like this was that exciting and such an experience.
But it became even better when he felt his shirt being opened and Mycroft’s
long fingers moving over his chest and pinching his nipples. He let out a tiny
squeak and when he bent down and bit around them he shouted but pressed against
the other man. He had had no idea, that he liked what was being done to him
right now.
“Get down on your knees, Detective Inspector, and then you can start thanking
me properly!” Greg obeyed instantly and almost looked greedily at his groin. He
watched Mycroft open his belt and zip. His trousers fell down and he toed off
his shoes and socks. He also got rid of his jacket, waistcoat and shirt. There
were only dark blue silken boxers left. Unconsciously Greg licked his bottom
lip.
“Have you ever done this?” Mycroft asked. Greg looked down and slowly shook his
head no.
“Answer me properly, Greg. I want to hear you. Full sentences, please.”
“No, I haven’t ever sucked cock, Sir.” Mycroft smiled down on him.
“Look at me! I want to see your beautiful eyes!” Those words made Greg look up
quickly.
Beautiful? He had never heard such a thing from his wife. His eyes watered but
he kept looking up. Mycroft smiled tenderly and moved his slim fingers through
his hair.
“Yes, Greg, beautiful. Dilated. Blown. Huge. Wonderful. Everything.” And then
he pulled his boxers down and stood stark naked in front of Greg whose gaze was
fixed again on Mycroft’s large and impressive cock. How could that thing ever
fit into his mouth?
“Don’t worry, I will tell you exactly what to do.” And that he did.
A few minutes later he had shoved his cock half way in and Greg was drooling
around it.
Mycroft felt his tongue caressing his prick and his lips pressing around it.
Oh, how he liked that! Getting his cock sucked by a novice was always an
experience.
“Now suck, Greg!” He did hollow his cheeks and the head almost touched his
throat. His jaw hurt but combined with the heat inside him and his throbbing
prick it was delicious. He just realised he was into pain. Fuck.
“You are doing really well, Greg. I’m impressed.” And he grabbed his hair and
held him in place starting to fuck his mouth with abandon.
Greg started to wiggle but couldn’t get away. Instinctively he started to
swallow when the head touched his throat and even went a bit deeper. He deeply
moaned and felt Mycroft’s cock twitch. His own was close to combustion.
“You won’t come until I tell you to! Do you understand?” Greg whined but tried
to hold back. He was still on his knees moving his lips and tongue up and down.
His head was bobbing and at the thought of all the women having given him blow-
jobs in the past. It made him change his tactic.
Mycroft’s grip had loosened a bit and Greg slowed down. He gave it to Mycroft
in slow motion now and he could feel him tremble.
One move and he straightened on his knees taking him completely in. Mycroft
threw his head back panting wildly. And then he came deep down Greg’s throat
who really tried to swallow it all but couldn’t manage the load of cum shooting
out of Mycroft’s cock. Some of it leaked out of his mouth and over his chin. He
licked over his swollen lips tasting him.
Mycroft’s hands were fisting his hair and he was pulling rather hard. His scalp
prickled and burnt but he was still rock hard. When Mycroft let go and pulled
out they locked eyes again.
“You were topping from the bottom, Greg. I will let it go this time, but you
need to be taught your manners.” Greg had already picked up the rules.
“I am sorry, Sir.” He got his hair ruffled.
“I am not complaining, Greg.” His eyes lingered on Greg’s erection, which
showed rather clearly. He grabbed his biceps and pulled him up. He pressed his
leg between Greg’s thighs and pressed. Greg bit his lip and needed all his
self-restraint to keep himself from coming. He felt the wetness against his
boxers. He was leaking rather badly. His head fell forward and he rested it
against Mycroft’s shoulder. He just let him.
Suddenly Greg felt Mycroft’s palm pressing on his cock and he let out a
guttural moan. It came from deep down his body and made Mycroft moan, too. Now
he opened his trousers and pulled them down. He pulled Greg’s cock out and held
it tight. Greg couldn’t hold back anymore.
“Please, Sir. Please let me come! Oh God, please!” He shivered all over. He was
very close but he also wanted to obey Mycroft.
“Why should I allow you to come? You are here only for my pleasure, slut! You
do what I tell you to do!” Greg felt his intestines tighten and the heat
boiling over. He threw his head back and screamed. He saw blinding white
lights. And then Mycroft shouted on the top of his lungs:
“Don’t you dare coming, Greg!” Said one gritted his teeth and whined. Tears ran
over his cheeks and he sobbed desperately.
“Please …” Snot ran out of his nose when Mycroft pressed his fingers around the
base of his prick to prevent his orgasm. Now it was becoming really painful but
he enjoyed it very much. Mycroft shoved Greg over to the sofa and made him sit
down. Then he straddled him placing his knees beside his thighs. He kissed Greg
violently and seated himself above Greg’s cock holding him in place. Greg felt
both the kisses and the touch of Mycroft’s behind. He wanted to look but he
wouldn’t let him.
Now he could hear his whispered swearwords while he positioned himself. Greg
could feel his own member disappear inside of Mycroft. He felt the ring of
muscles and the warmth inside. His own pre-cum wasn’t nearly enough. They would
have needed lube. It felt raw when his cock was pressed way up high Mycroft’s
passage. He seemed to like it a lot though.
He tried to move his hips but got slapped right onto his cheek.
“Don’t move, slut! No topping from the bottom!” Mycroft broke the kiss by
saying and doing that and looked into his eyes. Greg inhaled deeply and came
down a bit. Then Mycroft continued with the kissing, licking and biting. Greg
throatily moaned into his mouth but stopped bucking up. Instead he looked up
and was mesmerized by the picture he saw. A completely dishevelled Mycroft
being all sweaty and his hair tousled into damp reddish curls. He really had
reddish curls and Greg thought about how it would look if he let it grow a bit
longer. Greg was in awe and Mycroft took the opportunity and sank down with a
grunt. He went on with the kissing and Greg was just pressed into his sofa with
his cock stuffed into Mycroft fucking Holmes. Said one kissed his jaw and
wandered over to his pulse point sucking a mark on him. At the same time he
pinched and twisted his nipples and started to move up and down.
“I can’t hold it anymore! Please, Sir, please! Let me come, please, Sir?” His
moving increased and he was hard again.
“OK then, slut, come for me! Now!” Greg shouted loudly and came into Mycroft.
Greg’s eyes fluttered close and he slumped into the cushions. Now he was crying
again. Finally Mycroft came for the second time and shot his cum all over
Greg’s chest. He stayed seated and licked over his chest. Then he swirled his
finger through it and let Greg suck.
“Don’t cry, Greg. There is no reason.” Greg sobbed and looked up again. He was
speechless. His wrists hurt like hell but he had the best fucking time of his
life.
“Thank you, Mr Holmes, Sir. This was the best way I could have ever thanked
you! Thank you for letting me!” Greg’s voice sounded rough and throaty and it
turned Mycroft on. He greedily looked at him.
“You are welcome, Greg. Any time.” Roughly whispered but tenderly. Mycroft
climbed off Greg and loosened the handcuffs. Greg’s wrists were badly bruised
but not bleeding. Mycroft carefully massaged them while kissing Greg.
Greg had already left this planet and was floating through space. He felt being
kissed and his aching wrists but pain and pleasure were so good. How could he
ever have missed this? He tried to focus on Mycroft again and murmured
something unintelligible.
“Come on, Greg. I take you into bed.” He pulled him up and moved him over to
his sleeping room. Greg just swayed along. There he made him climb into his bed
and pulled the duvet up. He placed an almost chaste kiss on his lips and
whispered:
“You are having a day off tomorrow, Greg. Sleep, rest and think about
everything. I’ll text you later.” Greg fell asleep right away.
***** Doubts *****
Chapter Summary
     See chapter 1 for complete summary
Mycroft looked at the sleeping form of Greg for a few minutes. Greg was totally
relaxed and almost completely hidden under the duvet. He smiled and left the
room. He took the freedom to shower and then got dressed again. He looked out
the window and saw his car stopping in front of the complex. His estimated time
was proofed correct. Of course it was.
He left the handcuffs on the kitchen table and closed the door behind him. He
had pulled the plug of the alarm clock and hoped Greg would remember what he
had told him.
Outside he stepped into his car and sat beside his assistant. She was typing
furiously on her mobile and didn’t look up.
“World War III? Prime Minister dead? Prince Harry gay? What is it, Anthea?” He
smiled still being all warm and well.
“No, Sir, just your brother. He tried to break out of the rehab centre. He had
obviously faked his weakness, didn’t take the pills and just started to run
after he jumped out of a window dressed only in a hospital gown.” Mycroft just
stared at her.
“What happened then?” She shrugged nonchalantly.
“Two nurses ran after him and tackled him. He hurt them rather badly but was
over-powered quickly. He has some cuts, which needed to be stitched. Otherwise
he is unharmed. They had to restrain him.” She didn’t look at him.
Now Mycroft’s mood was bad. Everything he just had had gone poof. He thought
about the situation for a moment.
“I will take him out of detox and into our estate. He will suffer cold turkey.
It’s the only way. We will be leaving tomorrow. I will inform DI Lestrade and
have him come along. Sherlock knows him. Please arrange everything.”
***
When Greg woke up it was late morning the next day. He felt fantastic and
carefully checked if his wife had returned. She didn’t. He wallowed for a
moment with his eyes closed and stroked his cock. Then he sighed and got up.
Looking into the bathroom mirror his mouth fell open. Huge marks had been
sucked on his neck, shoulder and throat. First he was shocked, but then he
smiled. It was nice; it had felt nice. He liked it. He carefully touched his
bruised skin.
He would arrange his divorce and sign the papers as soon as possible.
Then he remembered he had a day off. Still smiling he prepared himself a bubble
bath and settled in the tub with a book. He filled up hot water several times
and finally was soaked and wrinkly. He climbed out of the hand-hot water and
towelled himself dry. Dressed only in his bathrobe he went into his kitchen to
brew coffee. He looked at his mobile and saw a text message alert. He opened
the message.
“Call me asap!”
MH
The message was sent about 5 minutes ago and Greg hit the dial button. What did
he want? Did he want to tell him to be quiet about their encounter? Would he
kick his butt? He had a bad feeling. Then Mycroft picked up.
“Greg! Thank you for calling that quickly. It’s Sherlock.” Greg became pale.
“What happened? Is he hurt?” He whispered only.
“Sort of. He tried to escape. I arranged transport to our family estate in
Devon. I want you to come with us. First, Sherlock knows you and I think it
will help him. Second, I need you there with me.” Greg swallowed. His throat
was dry. Mycroft said he needed him. Why him? He felt happy because he had made
him happy. It felt good.
“Of course I am coming. What do you want me to do?” Greg could hear him smile.
“I will be sending a car to pick you up. Be ready in about one hour. I already
excused you at the Yard. You don’t have to worry about your job. Just pack a
small bag. We will get you what you need later. I probably will be home with
Sherlock a bit earlier. Just come. Will you do that for me?”
“Of course! I will be there for you two. I will do anything possible to help.”
“Thank you, Greg.”
“See you later, Mycroft.” They ended the call and Greg got dressed at once.
Then he drank the rest of his coffee. He packed a second pair of trousers, some
underwear and his washing bag. He also took his weapon and some ammo. He didn’t
leave a note for his soon to be ex-wife. He just left. He had no doubts, none
at all.
***** Home *****
Chapter Summary
     See chapter 1 for complete summary
Mycroft stood beside Sherlock’s bed to which he was strapped by padded
restraints. Sherlock had already screamed at him until his voice broke. He
didn’t want to be brought home to the Holmes family estate. He didn’t want to
detox under Mycroft’s supervision. He just wanted to leave and forget about
everything again.
“Don’t you understand, Sherlock? I don’t want you to die! Please cooperate.
Otherwise I am forced to sedate you.”
“That’s great, brother-mine! Sedate me! More drugs!” He tore at the restraints
and had already burn marks at his wrists.
“Sherlock, please? This is your last chance!” A furious glance hit him.
“No! I won’t cooperate and I will try to run away again as soon as I have a
chance!” Mycroft sadly looked down and hit the button for the nurse to come.
She must have waited right outside because she was entering the room very
quickly.
“Yes, Mr Holmes?” But she looked at Mycroft, not at Sherlock.
“Please have him sedated and ready for transport in half an hour.”
“Yes, Sir.” Sherlock started to scream again but she just injected the medic
and then both of them waited until his eyes drooped and he was gone.
Mycroft’s eyes were burning but he couldn’t show any weakness. Not here and not
now. He had to wait. He left the room and slowly walked down the aisle. Outside
he stood on top of the stairs and held his face up into the sun. He breathed
open-mouthed and tried to come down. He mustn’t show any signs of weakness. He
was Mycroft Holmes. He repeated that in his mind over and over again. His hand
reached into his coat pocket and only found the empty bag of jelly-beans. He
quietly swore and finally entered his car. His mobile dinged.
“Mini-bar, Sir.”
A
Mycroft had to smile. Anthea was a Goddess. She had stocked his supply of both
jelly-beans and Lagavulin. Probably she had arranged the same for the estate.
“Thank you. We are on our way. What about DI Lestrade?”
MH
“On his way already, too, Sir.”
A
“Very well. You know where to find me.”
MH
“Yes, I do, Sir. All the best for you and Sherlock.”
A
“Thank you and good bye, Anthea.”
MH
He ended the conversation and poured himself a drink, even though it was only
late morning. Then he took the bag of jelly-beans and ate some of those.
Finally he felt a bit better. He would have liked to have a piece of cake or
chocolate but he had to wait until he was home.
He looked forward to meet Greg again. He was glad he had found him and his
assumption had been right. Greg was attracted to him and he liked to play. He
was also right about Greg being a sub by nature; his submissive streak was
miles long. He just hadn’t known. Mycroft really liked him and the lovely DI
seemed to return the affection.
He looked out of the window and saw he was close to home already. He sighed and
turned around in his seat. The ambulance was right behind. His driver stopped
in front of the flight of steps and he got out waving him good-bye. His things
had been brought here already. Now the ambulance stopped, too.
Sherlock was still unconscious when he was brought inside. He was taken into an
especially prepared room with no windows or mirrors. The door wasn’t made of
wood but reinforced metal and was only able to be opened from the outside.
He made sure Sherlock was comfortable under the duvet and attached the
restraints. It won’t work without; he just knew it. It would take some days
until they would have negotiated a treaty. He sent out the nurse and stayed
behind.
Now he finally could let go. He sat on the bed and took Sherlock’s hand. Then
he started to cry his heart out. Sherlock was his only family, he was
everything he had. He couldn’t understand why he behaved the way he did. What
had he done wrong? He sobbed and watched his sedated brother. He had no idea
for how long.
***
That’s how Greg found him when he arrived. The butler had told him where to
find Sherlock and Mycroft. He was surprised; this was a huge estate where money
lived. He wasn’t used to move around in these circles. But he knew Mycroft was
here, so he felt safe.
He could hear the sobbing when he walked over the aisle. It seemed that nobody
else was here. He followed the noise and stood in the door-frame. Mycroft
hadn’t seen him yet. Greg came closer and quietly said:
“Mycroft? What happened?” He looked up and Greg looked into red-rimmed eyes and
a blotchy face. He wanted to comfort him, touch him, but he didn’t know if he
was allowed to.
“Greg, thank you for coming. I was hoping you would.” His voice broke and he
slowly shook his head letting go of Sherlock’s hand. His fluttering fingers
found Greg’s hand and he pulled. Greg moved down on his knees. He took him into
his arms and just held him. He let him cry on his shirt for minutes until it
was wet. He stroked over Mycroft’s back until he became calm.
“Sherlock will sleep for a while longer, I think. Why don’t you go and change?
Put on something comfortable. You are at home. I will take care of you.” Greg
got up and shoved him out of the room. Mycroft went over to his wing of the
estate.
Greg carefully undressed him and made him sit on the bed. Mycroft blew his nose
and just watched Greg moving about. Right now he was staring into his wardrobe
and only saw suits. He sighed.
“Don’t you have something else to dress? Jeans, tee, something like that?”
“In the box on the floor.” Greg took it and opened the lid. Faded old jeans and
some tees were stuffed inside. Brands, of course. Greg held them up; they
should still fit. They even smelled nice, must have been washed recently.
Sentiment?
“Here, come on. Take these on and then we are going to prepare dinner.”
“Jonathan will prepare dinner for us.”
“No, I told him to leave. We will. It will distract you and help you relax.”
Mycroft was climbing into the jeans and pulling them up. They hung low on his
hips.
“I know something better to get me distracted.” Greg swallowed but said:
“Not now. You need to eat. Jonathan told me he had baked a cake for you.”
Mycroft licked his lips. He quickly pulled the tee over his head.
“That sounds great! Come on!” Greg followed him.
“No, no, no. First we cook. Cake is dessert.” Suddenly he turned around and
faced Greg.
“Are you giving me orders, Gregory?” Greg went pale and his throat became dry.
“No, Sir, I don’t. I only want the best for you, Sir. Please forgive me.” He
looked down.
“Don’t ever be sorry unless I tell you to, Greg. I know what you are trying and
I love it. Just go ahead with your plan.” He looked up again and Mycroft kissed
him. One hand was placed on Greg’s neck to hold him close and the second was on
his lower back stroking down over his bum and back. Greg opened his lips and
let Mycroft do what he wanted. His hands were fisting his tee. When Mycroft
grabbed his butt and squeezed he yelped and his hands moved up Mycroft’s body.
He had wished to touch his hair before and now he just did. He let his fingers
wander over his scalp and scratch on his head. He raked through the reddish
curls until they were completely tousled. He pressed against Mycroft and felt
his tongue touching his gum, his lips and his teeth and tongue. When he let go
of him his lips were swollen and he felt a bit nauseated. Mycroft smiled.
“Let’s cook something up then.” He just continued to walk down the aisle and
downstairs. Greg followed and kept looking at Mycroft’s behind and bare feet on
the ground. It was rather sexy seeing him in this outfit. He felt a bit dazed.
When he stood in the large kitchen he really envied Mycroft. He rubbed his
hands together and asked:
“OK, let’s start. I need knifes, pots and a pan. Where are the groceries and
such?” Mycroft just shrugged and looked at Greg.
“I have no fucking idea.” And then he just sat on a barstool.
“What do you mean? This is your kitchen.”
“Yes, it is. But I have never ever been here. I sit in the dining room and have
my meals. I don’t cook them.” Greg was at a loss.
“Well then. I will do it. I will just have to look everywhere.” And then he
started to go through the cupboards and the fridge. He finally decided to do
some noodles with scampi and a creamy white-wine sauce.
After Mycroft had checked on the ingredients he licked his lips.
“I am rather excited, you know?” Greg was stirring the sauce but was irritated
by that kind of statement.
“Why?”
“I never had someone cooking for me except Jonathan or the cook in a
restaurant. This is new. I like it. I like you.” That made Greg smile and his
face lightened up.
“I like you, too.” Greg whispered making Mycroft smile. He sat on the barstool
watching Greg. He had his elbows on the counter and his hands folded under his
chin. When everything was stirring and sizzling Greg turned around and asked:
“What about Sherlock? Will the nurse feed him? Will he eat anyway? Is he alone
right now? What are we going to do?” Mycroft sat up.
“The experience with him taught me he needs to be force-fed the first days.
Either way we have him on the permanent venous catheter or just shove it down
his throat. He rarely eats when he is sane. And yes, the nurse will take care
of that. It is an ugly business. I know that. He is alone right now but the
room is under video surveillance. And what are we going to do? I decided to let
him cook in his own fluids for the rest of the day and this night. Beginning
tomorrow I will start to negotiate with him.”
“Negotiate?”
„Eating against restraints, for example.“
“Oh, I see.” Thinking he stirred the sauce. Mycroft lifted an eyebrow.
“What are you thinking, Greg? I can see you thinking about it. You don’t like
it.” Greg turned around.
“You are right, I don’t like the idea of force-feeding someone, especially
Sherlock. I know you are experienced in handling him, but just let me try it
once, OK? Let me try to feed him and talk to him. If it won’t work we do it
your way. Please?” Slowly Mycroft nodded.
“OK, Greg. Do what you think is right.” They locked eyes and smiled at each
other. Then Greg checked their dinner and looked around for plates. He found
beautiful bone china and placed everything on the kitchen table. Mycroft stood
there watching.
“What is it?” Greg was clueless again.
“I never ate here. We have a dining room.” Greg grinned.
“The kitchen is the comfy zone. Try it, please?” He shrugged and sat on the
simple wooden chair joined by Greg a minute later holding out the bowl with
noodles. Suddenly he jumped up again.
“I will get us some wine. I will hurry.” He ran out of the kitchen and Greg
heard him thump down some stairs. He was back after only two minutes bringing a
bottle of red wine.
“Here we go.” Greg had gotten them two glasses and Mycroft poured the wine.
Then they had dinner together. Under the table Mycroft’s feet were touching
Greg’s trouser clad legs. Greg was almost done when he asked:
“You are having cold feet, Mycroft. Do you want socks?” He nodded and got
himself more noodles. Greg got up and walked upstairs. He found some socks in
the drawer. On the way back he stopped in front of Sherlock’s door. He pressed
his ear against the metal and tried to listen. He wondered where he could watch
him over the video surveillance. He needed to ask Mycroft.
Downstairs Mycroft was done eating and leaned back into the chair. Greg stood
in front of him holding out the socks. Mycroft grinned and just held up his
long leg. Greg understood perfectly well what he wanted. So he went down on his
knees and tenderly pulled the socks over his feet. When he was done he sat back
on his heels watching Mycroft.
“Come closer!” Greg moved closer and was caught in his eyes. He couldn’t but
stare. Mycroft bent down and brushed his lips over Greg’s. Then he was being
kissed on the jaw, the throat and the neck until Mycroft whispered:
“Did you bring your handcuffs?” Greg shivered.
“No, Sir. Since I wasn’t on duty, I did not bring them.”
“Such a shame. Then I have to be inventive.” He placed a last kiss on his lips
and stood up. Greg made a move.
“Stay!” He ordered and Greg sank back on his heels, but Mycroft still shook his
head. He grabbed his earlobe and pulled until he was kneeling all the way up.
“That’s it. The kitchen might be a comfy zone, but not for you. Now, hands
behind your head and eyes on the ground!” Heat coiled inside Greg and he felt
his prick getting hard. Then he got slapped on his head.
“Did you just loose the ability to speak?” Greg winced and bit his lip. He knew
Mycroft needed this now and he wanted to play along; he wanted to be good for
him.
“No, I didn’t loose my ability to speak, Sir. I am sorry, Sir.”
“Now, what should have been your reply earlier?” Greg swallowed and answered:
“As you wish, Sir.” Very pleased Mycroft patted his head.
“Very good, Greg.” And he moved away. Greg didn’t move and stayed where he was.
He could hear Mycroft rummage in the drawers and finally return.
“Get up and hands behind your back!” He obeyed instantly and felt his wrists
being pressed against his elbows. Mycroft wound a rope around his wrists and
tied it to the opposite elbow. His shoulders were strained but it felt so good.
Greg exhaled slowly and Mycroft turned him around.
“I think we need a safe-word. What about “yard”?” Greg nodded.
“Yes, Sir.” Then he was moved back to his former position. Mycroft slung the
rope around his upper arms until he couldn’t move a bit. Then he heard fabric
being torn and he was blindfolded.
At once Greg tried to keep close to Mycroft and leant back.
“I am right here. I am not leaving you. Do you trust me?” Greg breathed shakily
but replied.
“Yes, Sir, I do trust you not to leave me.” A kiss was given and Greg relaxed a
bit.
Mycroft opened his jeans and pulled them down. Greg toed off his shoes and
socks and stood there only clad in his shirt, nicely tied up and blindfolded.
Mycroft tenderly touched his cock and balls and he moaned. Then he felt a cock-
ring being pulled over and he bit his lips. Mycroft didn’t talk, so Greg just
waited for the next thing to happen.
Mycroft moved him forward a few steps.
“Bend down, Greg. The table is right in front of you.” Greg did as being told
and felt very much exposed.
“Spread your legs!” Then these were tied to the table-legs. He felt Mycroft’s
heat close behind. He pressed against his bum and massaged his arse cheeks.
Greg was rather sure what Mycroft was up to. He had never been penetrated. He
hadn’t even touched himself there. He had no idea what to expect. But he
trusted Mycroft. He wouldn’t hurt him, not like that.
Now Mycroft moved his hands up and down his back. His hands settled on his
cheeks and held them apart. Greg inhaled sharply. There was a second long break
and then Mycroft’s tongue started to rim him. Teasingly he licked around his
hole and made Greg shiver. He had no idea there were such sensitive nerves. Now
he licked, kissed and sucked his hole and Greg started to moan.
“Quiet, slut! Or I have to gag you!” Greg moaned loudly at the idea of being
gagged, too.
“OK, you asked for it. Open your filthy mouth!” Greg obeyed and his very own
boxers were stuffed inside. He shivered and wiggled and got smacked on his
behind rather hard. He just couldn’t stop moving and Mycroft hit him several
times really hard. Greg was panting into the gag.
“You are a pain slut, aren’t you, Greg? Well, well!” Another piece of fabric
was securing his boxers so he couldn’t spit them out and was knotted tight
behind his head.
“If you need to safe-word, cross your fingers. Nod, if you understand.” Greg
nodded and Mycroft continued the rimming. It felt so good but Greg was still
tense.
“Relax, Greg. I won’t do anything you don’t want. I trust you to safe-word if
it’s too much.” Greg nodded. Then he heard a lid open and Mycroft warned him.
“It might be a bit cold first, but it will warm up soon enough.” A fingertip
pressed on his hole, then circled and then pressed. He kept doing this for
quite some time but Greg wouldn’t lose his tension.
Mycroft started to fondle his balls and Greg moaned into his gag. He was
wiggling on the table making very wanton noises, but he didn’t care how he
sounded. The pleasure was mind numbing. Mycroft distracted him while he pressed
further in. It was tight and it hurt, but Greg wanted to please him. He didn’t
safe-word.
He was thinking about Mycroft’s cock though. It won’t ever fit, no way. Greg
really tried to relax, but when Mycroft pushed his whole finger in he shouted.
That had hurt. Mycroft stopped, but didn’t pull out. His other hand rubbed over
his back.
Greg could feel his finger inside his arse. It was starting to move very slowly
in and out again. Mycroft had decided not to use Greg, but to pleasure him. It
was his first time, so he should remember it in a good way. He hit right on his
prostate now and made him scream into his wet and sodden gag. Weird noises
erupted but were muffled by the fabric.
When Mycroft had two fingers inside him he started to move back and began to
fuck himself on his fingers. His prostate was pressed on with every move. Greg
howled. He tried to get up, but was pressed down by Mycroft grabbing his neck.
“No, slut, stay down! You don’t want me to stop, do you?” Greg frantically
shook his head and Mycroft pushed his third finger inside stretching his hole
out. Greg whined and cried, snot ran out of his nose. Mycroft bent down close
to his ear.
“Do you want me to fuck you? Do you want me to come inside you? Do you want me
to plug you afterwards so my cum stays inside?” And he pressed down and rubbed
over his prostate. Greg nodded desperately.
“Very well. But before I stuck my prick inside your tight little virgin hole I
need to clean you out properly.” Now Greg shook his head. An enema? Here? No
way! But he didn’t cross his fingers.
Mycroft untied his legs and led him into a bathroom. He had him kneel with his
shoulders on the floor and his arse up.
“I want you to hold it in, Greg. I will fill you and then plug it inside. I
will wait for about 20 minutes and rub your stomach to move the water. Don’t
make a mess when getting up. I will repeat everything as long as needed. Did
you understand?” Greg nodded and shivered. Then he felt something cool and hard
being pressed against his hole. When it went in, it felt very rigid. This was
clinical, not pleasant. Greg tried to move and clench but got slapped.
“No, Greg, stop that at once!” And he did. Now it had completely disappeared
inside.
“I will start the water now. Relax.” Greg really tried, but when he was filled
and felt his swollen stomach, he started to keen. Mycroft rubbed over his belly
now and Greg had the urgent feeling to go to the loo. He tried to alert him.
“No, Greg, not yet. The cramps will stop soon. Just hold it.” Greg whined and
pressed his forehead on the floor. But Mycroft had been right, of course he
had.
When Mycroft saw him relax a bit, he pulled out the metal and inserted a plug
instead. It was uncomfortable and Greg just waited getting a bit dreamy in the
meantime concentrating on what was coming next. Suddenly he was being pulled up
on his feet. He swayed and Mycroft started to rub his prick. He was rock-hard
already, he suddenly realised, and the cock-ring was removed now.
This was pain and humiliation. What else would Mycroft coax out of him, Greg
wondered.
Now he was being moved over the tiles, it must be a large bathroom.
“This is especially designed. Just don’t worry; everything will be fine in a
few. I will pull out the plug now. I want you to sit down and just let go. It
will probably take about 15 minutes until you are done voiding. Then there will
be water. Don’t be afraid, I will be around, I do see you, but I know you need
privacy with this. I won’t undo your restraints. Just sit and let go.
Everything will happen in time.” Greg still shivered when he made him sit down
on something rather cool and metal. Then he heard him walk away. He was being
left behind, all tied up, gagged and blindfolded. He placed his feet flat on
the tiles and tried to relax and let go. He could feel the water inside him. It
made bubbling noises. It took him several minutes until he was able to let go.
The enema rushed out of him and he heard it splashing on the floor. He felt hot
and thought about how he might look right now. He had no idea for how long he
sat but finally water sprayed from underneath. Some minutes later he felt clean
again. He even felt good, relaxed and dreamy. He didn’t even notice Mycroft
close by until he touched him carefully.
“You are so good for me, Greg. Very well done, I am impressed.” Greg felt
proud; he had pleased him. Greg was happy.
He was pulled up and led out of the room. They climbed up the stairs. Greg
wondered but just kept moving. Finally Mycroft stopped and undid his gag. Then
he kissed him; tenderly, slowly and languidly. When he let go Greg inhaled
deeply. He shook a bit but still felt excited.
“You have earned your reward, Greg.” Greg felt him undo his bonds and his arms
just fell down. They hurt like being hit with tiny needles but Mycroft started
to give him a massage at once. Then he was being placed on a bed and the
blindfold was taken off, too.
Greg felt dazed, calm and perfect. His eyes were half closed and he looked up
at Mycroft and met his dilated eyes. Mycroft just shoved his damp shirt over
his shoulders. Now he was all naked and rock-hard.
“On your back, Greg. I will make it good for you.” Greg just breathed looking
up. Then he moved. He spread his legs all by himself, making Mycroft smile. He
felt weak and exhausted when Mycroft’s hands started to touch him. When he was
leaking and aching he shoved his legs up on his chest and lubed his hands. He
tried one finger and it went in smoothly. Two were OK; Greg was relaxed and
expected pleasure. Mycroft stretched him out and hit on his prostate. And
finally he moved closer and locked eyes with him.
“Are you ready?” Greg swallowed, he wasn’t so sure. And he told him.
“I don’t know. It feels good, but I …”
“I will fuck you into the mattress. Believe me, you will enjoy it. I will make
love to you, Greg. I love you.” Greg just looked up and met Mycroft’s eyes
again. He licked his lips and smiled.
“I love you, too. Please, make love to me.” And he completely relaxed. Mycroft
shoved a pillow underneath him and placed one leg over his shoulder. Greg
needed to see him. He would try other positions later. Not now.
His cock was swollen, rock-hard and leaking. He had used the lube very thorough
and now started to press against Greg’s hole. His fat head won’t pass the tight
ring of muscles though. Greg looked lost and in pain.
“Relax, Greg. It only will hurt for a second. Please relax for me?” He gently
kissed his inner thighs and fondled his testicles making him moan again. And
when he finally felt him relax he just pushed inside. Greg shouted and bucked
up but Mycroft distracted him by stroking his cock. The pain-pleasure was
intense, it felt so good and Greg started to enjoy.
The feeling of being filled, stretched and penetrated was alien at first, but
when Mycroft hit on his prostate with every single push he started to beg for
more.
“Oh God, Mycroft! Please! More! Again! God, please!” Mycroft smiled and
increased his fucking. Greg’s hands were into fists and pounding on the
mattress. When Mycroft felt his hole clench he stopped moving and held Greg’s
prick to prevent him from orgasm. Greg opened his eyes and tried to grab his
arms.
“No! Don’t stop! Please! No!” Now he had him.
“What did you forget, Greg? Think!” Think? How on earth could he think? But
then it hit him.
“Sir, please! I am so sorry, Sir! I owe you respect, Sir! Please, go ahead,
Sir! Please, Sir!” Greg almost cried. Mycroft smiled smugly.
“You are begging very nicely, Greg. I like that.” And he pushed only once.
“Please, go on, Sir! Oh God, please, Sir! I do whatever you want, Sir, but
please, don’t stop, Sir! Please!” Tears flew freely now and he was sobbing.
Mycroft revelled in the sight. And then he started to fuck him properly into
next week. Greg screamed at the top of his lungs and tore the sheet apart.
Mycroft twisted and pinched his nipples. He kissed everywhere he could reach
and then he felt Greg clench wildly around him. His back arched and his noises
were fantastic, he was so responsive.
Greg came all over his chest, even his face, and it took him minutes. Mycroft
just kept pounding teasing Greg’s over stimulated prostate. Greg cried and
still fisted the torn sheet. Finally Mycroft came, too. Exhausted he just
slumped on Greg’s body. They both were sweaty and sated. Greg’s arms were slung
over Mycroft’s back now. Mycroft pressed kisses on Greg’s neck and wherever he
could reach without moving the rest of his body. He felt Greg go limp
underneath him, his arms sliding down his waist.
“Greg?” He whispered, but got no reaction. He looked closer and found him
asleep looking completely sated and satisfied. He just let him and pulled out
of him very carefully and slowly. Greg didn’t move. Mycroft pulled the duvet up
over both of them and fell asleep, too. Sticky as they were, covered in crusted
cum.
***** Coming Down *****
Chapter Summary
     See chapter 1 for complete summary
Sherlock woke up very slowly from his sedated state. He pulled at his
restraints and wildly looked around. He knew where he was; he had been here
before. Mycroft had brought him home. Home! Meaning the reason for his drug
abuse. Well, he never told him. How could he ever know? He never even tried to
deduce the reason Sherlock never wanted to return here. He snorted, because he
knew he had to wait until Mycroft was coming back to him. Force-feeding him.
Negotiating. He won’t tell anyway. He won’t ever know.
Sherlock felt the rod inside his urethra and the diaper. They were full, he
could both feel and smell it. He started to sob; it was disgusting and
humiliating. But it was all part of letting him bath in his own soil, dirt,
until he was ready to give up.
Why didn’t they just let him go?
***
Greg woke up with a sore backside. Mycroft was still asleep. Carefully Greg got
up and looked out of the window. Then the thought of Sherlock hit him. He had
forgotten about him. He quickly took a shower and dressed in yesterday’s
clothes. Mycroft didn’t wake up.
He decided to look for the nurse or Jonathan. He went down into the kitchen and
found it all clean. He felt the heat crawl up his face again, because he was
rather sure Mycroft left behind the ropes his legs were tied to the table with.
But probably the butler was used to these leftovers.
Yet no one was there. He moved back upstairs and went straight to Sherlock’s
room. He could hear him.
“No, don’t do this to me! Go away!” Then some gagging noises and muffled cries
erupted. Greg started to run and entered his room the door being wide open. He
looked at the restrained man crying. Sherlock’s mouth was held open by what
looked like a medieval torture device. His jaw was forced wide open and Greg
could see his tongue and hear the gurgling. The nurse hovered above him
brutally shoving food into him. Half of it hit the cushion since the tried to
move his mouth away from her; even though she held his hair tightly. He had
already torn off some strands of it while wildly moving. The room smelled
horrible. Greg stared but got a grip on himself soon enough.
“Stop that at once!” He shouted. Both the nurse and Sherlock looked at Greg who
was beyond angry.
“Leave. Now.” She didn’t even try to gather her things. She just left.
Greg walked up to Sherlock and first took his hand trying to establish eye-
contact. He felt Sherlock tremble and stroked his hand with his fingers.
Sherlock's grip was weak.
“I will take this away now. I need my hands. Please let go, will you?” Slowly
he pulled it back and clutched the sheets instead where he could reach them.
Greg leaned over and carefully unbuckled the device. He removed the metal
holding his teeth apart. Sherlock’s jaw slowly closed and cracked.
Greg wiped off the stains left from the food on his face with parts of the
duvet. It must be changed anyway.
Sherlock didn’t say a word but kept on crying desperately. Greg stroked through
his greasy hair and whispered:
“Sherlock, I am here, come down. I will help you.” Sherlock sobbed, but didn’t
answer.
“You are dirty. You need to shower and change.”
“No one would let me …” Barely heard.
“I will, Sherlock.” He threw the duvet down on the floor and looked at the
soiled diaper. It was more than full and some of its content had already leaked
out and down his thighs. Sherlock had closed his eyes. It felt so humiliating
and he was too ashamed to look at Greg.
Greg swallowed but moved on.
“I will undo your restraints now.” And he did. When Sherlock was free his hand
tried to reach out but he couldn’t manage. Instead Greg pulled him up into a
hug and let him rest his head against his chest. He still didn’t talk.
“I will take off the diaper now. Try not to move.” Sherlock very slowly laid
back and stared at the ceiling. Greg grabbed the bin and started to remove the
diaper. Sherlock started to sob louder and Greg soothed him.
“Lift up your bum a bit, please.” He did and Greg removed the over-full diaper
into the bin. They must have given him some laxative. The smell was horrible
but Greg managed not to get sick.
“Hold still some more now. I will pull out the rod.” Sherlock's breath hitched
and Greg pulled it out of his cock. He emptied the bag into the toilet.
Sherlock hadn't moved a bit and his eyes were shut tight. Greg looked at him
and tried to sooth him.
“Don’t worry, Sherlock. I will take care of you. No one will hurt you ever
again.” He could hear him inhale deeply and relax a bit.
“There we go. I want you to take a bath now. Will you do that for me?” Sherlock
nodded.
“Come on. Let’s get you to the bathroom.” He slung his arm around Sherlock’s
waist and his other arm went around his shoulder. He shoved him under the
shower first to get the heavy dirt off of him. He just let it happen. Then Greg
made him sit in the tub and turned the water on. Sherlock sighed and obviously
relaxed.
Greg knelt in front of the tub and poured some scented stuff inside. He also
washed his hair twice. When he was done and Sherlock was clean he helped him
out. Greg towelled him dry and held him.
“Do you have clothes here?” He nodded. “Will you show me?” He wildly shook his
head no.
“OK, we don’t need to go there, if you don’t want to.” He dressed him into a
bathrobe instead and brushed his damp hair.
“Please come to the kitchen with me.” Sherlock just followed him, still not
speaking a single word.
He made him sit at the table where he had been tied to last night. He made tea
for Sherlock and a toast only with salty butter on it. Sherlock eyed it but ate
it. His hands were shaking badly but he managed. When he was done he looked at
Greg.
“Could you cook scrambled eggs for me, please? Still a bit mushy?”
“Yes, of course. I am happy you are eating something.” Greg said smiling.
Sherlock’s hands held on to his mug. When Greg sat the omelette on the table he
dug into it and devoured everything. He finally looked a bit better. Greg sat
down now, too.
“Sherlock, you do know I only meant to help when I have you brought into
hospital after I found you almost dead in that warehouse?”
“Yes, I do. But you couldn’t know I wanted to die there. I couldn’t cope
anymore.” He only whispered.
“Would you tell me why you wanted to die?” Sherlock looked at him.
“Because of this.”
“Your home?” Sherlock snorted.
“Home!” He sounded disgusted. Greg was worried.
“Sherlock, what happened here?” Greg reached out and held his hand. He felt him
tremble and it took him minutes to collect himself. Finally he started to talk.
“I was raped; again and again. It started when I was about seven. My mother
came into my room at night. She touched me. She told me it was what mothers do.
I didn’t want her to touch me down there. She could silence me and hold me down
in my younger years, but when I became older, taller and stronger she brought
cuffs and ropes and stuff to tie me down. She taped my mouth shut or just
stuffed something inside. Or she would sit on my face.” Greg was horrified, but
let him speak. How could Mycroft not know about this?
“One day she started to bring plugs, dildos and cruel gags. She had a secret
chamber in the basement where she tied me up and whipped me, where she raped me
with a strap-on.” He violently shook now.
“Hush, Sherlock, I am here with you. Nothing is going to happen to you, I
promise.”
“Don’t you ask yourself why I never told anyone? Or why Mycroft didn’t know
about it?” He sobbed out the question. Greg looked and nodded.
“Because it only started when he went to boarding school. She threatened me by
hurting him. I didn’t want him or anybody else to get hurt. So I never told. I
just left after she died. And I wanted to forget. It didn’t work. I wanted to
die.”
***
When Mycroft woke up Greg was gone, but he could smell he had showered. He was
probably making breakfast. Mycroft showered, too, and walked downstairs. When
he heard Sherlock’s voice he stopped dead in his tracks. Silently he approached
and leant against the wall beside the kitchen door.
He listened to everything and tears ran freely down his face. He muted his
crying not to let them know he was here.
When Sherlock ended his story he just stormed inside, blotchy face and red-
rimmed eyes. He fell on his knees in front of his little brother and hugged
him. He started to cry again, couldn’t form any words. He just clung to him
shaking all over.
Sherlock wasn’t used to any affection and sat ramrod still not touching back.
But he didn’t break the embrace. He only had Greg touch him and felt the urge
to touch back. He trusted Greg and he had been right about it.
Finally Mycroft was talking. His words were muffled a bit, because he talked
right into Sherlock’s bathrobe.
“How could I not know that? How could no one know? If you had told me, I would
have killed her! I love you, Sherlock!” Now Sherlock looked at this brother.
“She told me she would hurt you. She told me no one would ever believe me. So I
endured.” Mycroft tenderly ruffled his brother’s hair.
“I will help you. I will never again hurt you. I will take care of you.”
Sherlock didn’t reply. But suddenly he asked:
“What are you doing here, Greg?” Said one didn’t know what to say. Helplessly
he looked at Mycroft for support. He just nodded but then looked towards the
table legs and closed his eyes. Greg knew Sherlock mustn’t know about their
play.
“I am with your brother.”
“So I see. And you two had sex. Violent sex. Don’t deny it, I can smell it. And
see it.” Greg turned slightly red and felt embarrassed. But he answered.
“Yes, you are right. I didn’t want to lie to you, but …”
“I know, what with me being raped and how. Don’t hide your feelings, please.
It’s OK.” They smiled at each other.
***
When everybody was dressed they decided to go back to London. Sherlock
shouldn’t stay here. Mycroft called Anthea and arranged everything necessary
for their return. Sherlock stood outside looking a bit lost.
“I have nowhere to go.” Mycroft’s hand moved over his back.
“You are staying with me.”
“I have nothing.”
“I will take care of everything.” Greg stood a bit apart and felt left out.
Mycroft’s focus was on Sherlock.
Was that him being jealous?
During the ride back Sherlock fell asleep and Mycroft poured a drink
questioningly looking at Greg who nodded.
“Will you please stay with me, Greg? I need you. I also need your help.”
“I thought you might want some time alone with Sherlock?” Mycroft just looked
at him.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Greg. I love you! I need you. Please don’t leave me.”
Greg really was surprised.
“I thought … I don’t know.” Mycroft sadly smiled.
“I know, I saw it in your eyes.”
“I want to be there for you. I want to help you. I love you.” He shyly smiled
at Mycroft.
“I love you, too. I want you close. I want you to move in. Sign your divorce
papers. I need you. I …”
“I got it, Mycroft, and I already signed. How … No, never mind.” He sighed and
Mycroft smiled.
“So you will move in with me?” Greg looked him into the eyes.
“Yes, I would move in with you. I only have one condition.” Mycroft raised one
eyebrow.
“Yes?” His guts coiled. What did Greg want? What was it?
“You must know, I won’t sub for you 24/7. I love to play, but it will be only
play. You may collar me, if you like, but only during our scenes.” Greg held
his breath. He was very much afraid Mycroft would say something he didn’t want
to hear.
“You have thought about us a whole lot, Greg. You are taking it very serious.”
“Yes, of course I do. I have feelings for you. I want you to be happy. I want
to be good for you. But I want to live a normal life.” Now Mycroft had to
chuckle.
“What kind of fantasies did you have, Greg? Fuck, I love you so much!” And he
pulled him close pressing kisses on his lips. Greg relaxed into his grip and
felt extremely good. Mycroft pressed him into the seat and started to touch his
inner thighs.
“Could you two stop for just a few hours?” Suddenly they heard Sherlock’s
annoyed voice and broke hastily apart. Both of them were blushing but when they
looked at him they saw him smile. Even though his eyes were rather sad it was
genuine. He felt happy for them.
At once Greg reached out.
“Sherlock, how are you doing?” He let Greg hold his hand.
“Better, I have to admit. For once I do feel safe. I am hungry, if anyone
wonders.”
“Chinese?” Mycroft asked.
“Yes, I want a selection of Chinese on the table tonight.”
“I will have Anthea to …” Greg stopped him.
“No, you won’t have her do anything. I will take care of our evening.”
“Did you just interrupt me, Greg?” And he poked him into his side.
“Yes, I did, Mycroft. This is family business and no playground. It’s not only
me who has to learn a lot.” Now that made him shut up for a while. Sherlock
reached out for his brother now, too.
“You know, Greg does you good. I never would have thought. Where did you find
him? Could we clone him?” Mycroft looked thoughtful and said:
“I might have to call Baskerville. Maybe I could have it arranged. Even though
he is no sheep or super-soldier.” Now he grinned and Sherlock very much relaxed
into his seat.
“You two are insane!” Greg laughed.
***
When they reached home they stood in the hall and Mycroft said:
“Sherlock, if you don’t want to be alone you are welcome to kip in our room.”
“No, thanks. I don’t want to listen to you snogging and shagging. I will stay
in the guest-room. Don’t worry about me.”
“Yes, I do worry about you, Sherlock.” Greg said. “Promise me, you will come
over if you feel bad.”
But at first Greg left the brothers alone and took Mycroft’s car to go
shopping. Before he left Mycroft scanned his fingerprints into the security
system and smiled at him.
Sherlock followed his brother into the living-room. They sat in front of the
fireplace and Sherlock unintentionally leant closer.
“Are you cold? Do you want me to put this on?” He nodded.
“Yes, please. I am always cold. If you don’t mind?”
“Of course not. Anything you want and need, Sherlock. Please don’t hesitate.”
“Actually I would like to have some comfortable clothes. I would like to have
pyjamas and a tee. Perhaps a dressing gown?” Mycroft got up again.
“Of course. I will get it. Just wait here for me. I won’t go away. I will leave
the door open.” Sherlock’s eyes followed him and he hurried to get the things
he asked for.
He handed them over and saw the beads of sweat on Sherlock’s face. He had been
afraid. He ruffled his hair when he curled into the armchair.
“I know it’s not the right thing to do, but would you like to have a drink?”
“Yes, please. And actually I also want a fag.” Mycroft sighed but handed both
over. Finally he could see his brother relax. He had his eyes closed and
inhaled the smoke.
Finally they heard Greg coming back. The rustling of plastic bags made its way
from the door into the kitchen and soon enough some sizzling could be heard.
Sherlock’s stomach rumbled and both of them moved over into the kitchen. They
both sat wordless on the barstools and watched Greg cook.
“I suppose you are not going to help?” They shook their heads and Sherlock kept
on smoking and both of them drinking. “Well, what was I thinking?” But all of
them smiled.
“This smells divine, Greg. I had no idea that I also found myself a cook.”
“I am not honouring this with an answer.” When he sat the plates on the counter
he grabbed another barstool and sat opposite the brothers. Sherlock dug in and
even ate Mycroft’s leftovers. They all retired into the living-room and had
another drink.
Greg watched Sherlock getting sleepy. His eyes were drooping.
“Sherlock, do you want to go to bed?” He nodded.
“Yes.” He stood and so did Mycroft.
“I will show you.” Greg stayed behind and watched them leave.
***
Mycroft got the dressing gown and shoved his little brother under the duvet.
Sherlock touched his hand and held it.
“Please, could you stay for another minute?” Mycroft sat down.
“I will stay until you are sleeping.”
“Thank you.” Sherlock wouldn’t let go of his hand and slowly closed his eyes.
It didn’t take very long until Mycroft could feel his limbs relax. Carefully he
pulled his hand out from under Sherlock’s touch. He left the bedside lamp on
and didn’t close the door when leaving.
He walked back to Greg who poured him another shot.
“How is he?” Greg asked.
“He is sleeping now. I left the door open, just in case. Our room is just a few
steps away, so we would hear if something is wrong.” He looked at Mycroft
having nothing to say. Finally he managed.
“Our room?” Mycroft smiled.
“Yes, our room, Greg. It sounds nice, doesn’t it?” Now Greg smiled, too.
“Yes, it does. I never thought … I like it to be our room. I am still not used
to this.” He made a wide gesture. Mycroft set the glass on the table and stood.
Slowly he approached Greg who was still sitting in the armchair.
“I want to thank you, Greg.” He looked up at him and asked:
“Thank me for what?” He shook his head. He was clueless. Mycroft bent down and
whispered into his ear.
“For taking care of Sherlock back in Devon and of me, too. For cooking dinner
and do the shopping. For everything.” Greg listened to those words and locked
eyes with him.
“You never would have asked, would you, Mycroft?” He shook his head.
“No. I am not used to ask for help. It’s a disadvantage to show weakness.”
“You are an idiot. It is just us. You can do. I wouldn’t ever use it against
you.”
“Do you know what happened to people calling me an idiot, Greg?” He swallowed.
“I think, I don’t want to know. But I am still waiting for you to thank me.”
Mycroft’s hand wandered up and his fingers scratched over his scalp. Greg
hummed. He liked that a lot. The other hand lay on Greg’s and entwined their
fingers.
Suddenly he kissed him languidly moving his tongue over his lips. At once he
opened up and tried to suck at Mycroft’s tongue. Mycroft’s long fingers grabbed
his hair in the neck and pulled once rather sharp. Greg stopped his movements
and just enjoyed his administrations.
“Just enjoy, please.” Greg relaxed and gave in once squeezing Mycroft’s hand.
Then he was being pulled up and his hand moved down from his neck over the back
and came to rest on his bum. Greg swallowed and moved his body closer to
Mycroft. They were still kissing and Greg tightly held his hand.
When Mycroft broke the kiss Greg drowsily opened his eyes and looked directly
into Mycroft’s dilated pupils.
“Come!” He roughly whispered and pulled Greg upstairs into their room. He got
rid of Greg’s shirt rather quickly soon followed by the rest of his clothing.
Greg was stark naked while Mycroft was still completely dressed. It aroused
Greg more than anything. It gave him a feeling of utter helplessness when he
saw Mycroft looking at him admiringly. Or was it more greedily?
Mycroft sat him on the bed and made him move up and in the middle. He knelt
beside him and stroked over his skin. Greg’s eyes lingered on his well-clad
figure and wondered. It must have shown in his eyes because Mycroft palmed his
face and made him look into his eyes.
“What is it, Gregory? What do you need?” Greg sighed.
“I wonder why you want me.” Mycroft kissed him.
“I was checking you out for quite some time already. I wasn’t sure about my
approach and waited for an opportunity. I’d rather had a better one, but it
doesn’t matter now. I wanted you for a very long time.”
“You.” The answer to the second question and Mycroft smiled and kept on with
the kissing. Finally he was beside Greg on the mattress and kissed down his
body. His fingers teased his nipples and his lips sucked on his stomach. Greg’s
blood shot south and his cock was hard by now resting on his thigh. Now Mycroft
palmed it and rubbed tenderly. Greg sucked in his breath but didn’t move. He
felt Mycroft’s breath ghosting down on his prick and then his lips engulfed the
head. A soft whimper escaped him and he started to clutch at the sheets. He
felt his lips moving up and down, he felt his tongue licking around the head
and press into the slit.
Greg felt like being in heaven. Mycroft gave him a fantastic blow-job and his
arousal increased by the second.
“Please …” He moaned. Mycroft let go and roughly whispered.
“What is it, Greg? What?” He licked some pre-cum away.
“Please don’t stop, oh God, please. You are amazing. I can’t hold it back any
longer. Please let me come? Please?” His eyes were closed and he was panting.
“Now is not the time for begging, Gregory. Now is the time for receiving
rewards. Whatever you want, I will give it to you.” Slowly Greg’s eyes opened
and focused on Mycroft. He once licked over his lips and said.
“Make love to me.” Mycroft just looked back at him and his eyes watered.
Quickly he turned away and got off the bed. Even more quickly he started to
undress. When he was naked, too, he climbed back to Greg’s side and between his
legs.
Greg just pulled his legs up and planted his feet flat on the mattress
spreading his knees. His hand reached out for Mycroft and got hold of his hair.
He carefully tugged at it and pulled him closer.
“I love you.” And he planted a kiss on his cheek closing his eyes. Suddenly he
felt tears spilling and heard quiet sobbing. He held him a bit apart and
Mycroft moved a bit backwards.
“Why are you crying?” He wiped over his eyes and sobbed some more.
“I never had something like this. I never felt like this.” He slowly shook his
head.
“Then go and revel in it. Love it. Love me.” Greg pulled him close again and
pushed their mouths together in a greedy kiss. His hand moved through his hair.
He could feel Mycroft loose his tension and soon enough he took over again.
He knelt between his legs and lubed his fingers. Slowly he started to rim him
and circled his fingertip over his hole. Greg moaned when being stimulated like
this and his legs started to tremble. He knew now what to expect and Mycroft
could push his finger in really quick. Soon he moved up to two and touched
digit. Greg made wanton noises and moved his hips. This time Mycroft just let
him do as he pleased. He made it three fingers and rubbed over his prostate
eliciting small cries from Greg. Finally he removed his fingers and started to
fondle his testicles and rub his prick. Greg’s eyes rolled back in his head and
he keened. He felt Mycroft push and pushed back. This time he forced it inside
by himself. Mycroft was surprised but moved with it. He moved both of his legs
up to his chest and pressed down. His hands shoved his arse up on his legs to
get a better angle. Then he really started to fuck him.
“Harder! Faster! Mycroft, just don’t hold back! Go on!” They locked eyes again
and Mycroft said:
“As you wish, Greg.” And he started to fuck him with ruthless abandon. He went
wild. This was no tender lovemaking; this was a fuckfest. Greg’s hands were
kneading Mycroft’s arse and his prick rubbed over Mycroft’s stomach.
When Greg was close he fisted Mycroft’s reddish curls and pulled hard. He could
hear him growl and he came loud and intense. It lasted quite a bit and when he
looked into his eyes he saw only love and desire. He could still feel his hard
prick inside him being pushed slowly in and out now. Mycroft took his time and
Greg evilly started to clench around him.
Suddenly he sat up and pulled Greg with him so he sat on top of Mycroft. The
angle changed and Greg suddenly felt himself becoming hard again. He also felt
young again. He straddled Mycroft who looked up at him.
“Move, Greg! Come on!” Carefully Greg started to move up and down and sway his
hips. His hands were flat on Mycroft’s chest and he stared into his eyes. He
clenched some more and he felt him tense. Then he came deep inside him. He
still sat there when he felt cum dripping out of him. It felt extremely filthy
but also extremely sexy.
Mycroft started to touch his prick again and it just needed a few touches and
his torching eyes to make him come again. He slumped and fell off of Mycroft
groaning a bit. They lay side by side panting, sweating and absolutely undone.
Greg’s hand found Mycroft’s and he squeezed it once. Mycroft turned his head
and smiled lazily.
“You are the death of me, Gregory.” He smiled, too.
“I love you, too.” Mycroft grabbed the duvet and pulled it up. He slung his arm
around Greg and pulled him closer. They fell asleep together. Entangled and
dirty.
***** Dealing *****
Chapter Summary
     See chapter 1 for complete summary
Sherlock was holding his brother’s hand and finally fell asleep. He slept for
some hours but then the nightmares started again. He woke up sweating and his
breathing constricted. He was glad Mycroft had left the lamp on and the door
open.
He listened but couldn’t hear anything. At least he knew he was safe here. He
knew both Mycroft and Greg were just a few steps away. Not here. Away.
Sherlock sighed. He was thirsty. The bottle of water was empty already. But he
wasn’t able to get up and walk into the kitchen. He felt paralysed. Was this
fear or some psychic disturbance?
He only knew he mustn't be alone. He tried his luck and carefully got up.
Finally he just went into the bathroom and drank directly from the tap.
Afterwards he stood on the aisle and listened. There was still nothing to hear.
He opened the door to his brother’s sleeping-room and found them both asleep.
They looked adorable and Sherlock was happy for them.
Greg was on his side on the far right of the huge bed and Mycroft’s arm was
over the middle as if he was reaching out for Greg in his sleep. Sherlock
decided there was just enough space left for him. He stood at the foot of the
bed and looked for some more seconds. But they didn’t move. He carefully
climbed up the bed and crawled his way under the duvet. He faced his brother
and scuttled closer. He placed his hand on his chest and felt his breathing. He
concentrated on it and fell asleep again.
***
Greg felt body warmth when he reached out. But the skin felt different and so
did the body. He slowly opened his eyes to find Sherlock sandwiched between
them. He was still asleep and so was Mycroft who had one hand on top of
Sherlock’s hip. Greg moved closer. His nose was buried into his unruly curls.
He fell asleep again.
***
Sherlock slowly came to feeling hands on his body. He tensed. He almost
cramped. His breath hitched and his body twitched. His legs kicked by instinct
and he shot up.
“Ow, Sherlock, please be more careful!” He heard Greg’s voice and stopped
abruptly. He looked to his side. And there he was. It was Greg. Sherlock closed
his eyes and relaxed.
“I am sorry, Greg. I just, I …” He shook his head looking embarrassed. Greg
touched him.
“No, Sherlock. Don’t be. It’s OK. You didn’t hurt me. Just relax.” Sherlock lay
down again and rested his forehead against Greg’s chest. His breathing became
slower. Greg wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close. He looked over
his shoulder and met Mycroft’s eyes. He looked sad. Greg reached out for him
and Sherlock mumbled something. Mycroft moved closer until they had Sherlock
right in their middle. He moved his hand over his thighs and hips. They both
made him relax and felt him fall asleep again. He needed to rest.
***
Greg made it up to three more hours until he really needed to use the loo. He
carefully broke out of the embrace and left the two sleeping brothers behind.
He took a shower and went into the kitchen to make something to eat. First of
all he needed coffee. He looked through all the cupboards until he found
everything he would need for a proper breakfast. When he set up the table he
found his mobile. It had 23 missed calls and 10 texts. He recognised the
number, it was Mycroft’s office. Then he found Mycroft’s mobile on the coffee
table. He had even more missed calls and texts. They were from Anthea.
Then he heard the front door unlock. Meaning it must be someone the security
system knew. Since everyone was here who could it be? Besides, he was naked. He
didn’t know what to do and just stood there.
“Good morning, Detective Inspector.” It was Anthea with her weapon drawn.
“Good morning, Anthea.” He blushed and she smiled checking him out. She put
away her weapon.
“I am sorry to intrude, but Mr Holmes didn’t answer my calls or anybody else’s.
I now see why.”
“I am sorry. Do you want me to get him?” She just nodded and stowed her weapon
away talking into a headset. Greg left the kitchen with as much dignity as he
could muster, which wasn’t much. In the bedroom he grabbed his pyjamas and a
tee and lightly shook Mycroft’s shoulder.
“Wake up, love. Anthea is here because of some kind of emergency.” Mycroft
mumbled unintelligible things into Sherlock’s back but finally turned around
letting go of him.
“What? What does she want? Who was killed?” He slowly rolled out of bed and
stood.
“I will go back and entertain her. You will go shower and brush your teeth.”
“Yes, Sir. Your wish is my command.” He wickedly smiled and walked into the
bathroom. Greg’s gut coiled and he knew he was up to something later. He could
barely wait. Then he looked back at Sherlock who started to move on his back
now. He opened his eyes.
“What’s wrong? Where is Mycroft?” Greg sat on the bed.
“Anthea is here. Something has happened. His presence is needed.”
“Oh, I see. Did you make me breakfast?” The old Sherlock was back. This was
clearly a demand. It also meant he was feeling better and this made Greg happy.
“I actually made breakfast for all of us.” Sherlock moved his long limbs out of
the bed and stood.
“I don’t know if there will be enough left for Anthea to participate.”
“I don’t think she will be staying over for breakfast, Sherlock. We could offer
her some coffee at least.” He shrugged.
“If you wish.” He slowly walked into his bathroom and Greg could hear the
shower. He shook his head and smiled. He opened Mycroft’s wardrobe and pulled
out some clothes for Sherlock. They would be hanging a bit loose around his
thin frame, but they would be enough until Mycroft had organised some shopping
for him. Probably that meant he would have to do it. It won’t be hardship
though. He wanted to help Sherlock.
When both of them returned to the living room to meet Mycroft Anthea was
already gone and Mycroft was a bit pale around the nose.
“What happened?” Greg wanted to know.
“A breach of security. Somebody hacked into MI5, MI6 and the Prime Minister’s
laptop.”
“Wow! Must be a fucking genius!” Sherlock said admiringly.
“Instead of becoming a fan you could perhaps help me?”
“Yes, I can do that. Set me up with everything and I will start right away.”
“OK. Greg, I need you at the Yard to organise some tracing.” Greg nodded.
“We will have breakfast first. No discussion.”
“An hour more won’t be of importance now. Let’s have breakfast then.”
***** Introducing *****
Chapter Summary
     See chapter 1 for complete summary.
Sherlock sat at the desk in Mycroft's study and checked through the equipment
Mycroft's minions had set up. He was pleased with it; everything was the finest
money could buy, as expected. He typed furiously going through all the files
his brother had given him.
He found himself starving realising only then it was becoming dark outside. He
had worked for hours. He wasn't used to that but he found himself longing for
something to eat. He looked through his brother's fridge and cupboards, but
there was nothing he could just shove into the microwave. So he went online and
ordered some pizza.
When the doorbell rang he saved the file and got up. He opened the door and had
the money ready. He looked down at the delivery guy who was sort of small, but
well muscled under his hideous clothes. Blond, blue eyes and nicely tanned.
Interesting. Good looking. He also was very much older than a regular delivery
guy. Sherlock tilted his head and made a step back. The other man made a step
forward only barely glancing back at him. He placed the pizza on the table.
“This would be 18 pounds, Sir.” Sherlock handed over a 20-pound note and gave
another two. He wanted him to remember.
“Thank you very much, Sir.” His voice sounded honest and surprise shone in his
eyes. He meant it.
Then the shot rang and the window burst shattering pieces of glass all over the
place.
The pizza guy somehow straightened up, moved with incredible speed and pushed
Sherlock down onto the hardwood floor shielding him with his body until he had
shoved him behind the kitchen counter.
“Stay!” He ordered and Sherlock didn't move. Sherlock was stunned and obeyed.
He wasn't afraid though. The guy took a mug and aimed. Then he threw it across
the room and hit the lamp. It became dark. Only now Sherlock started to
tremble. He was alone with a stranger. It was dark. He tried to crawl away but
the guy was already back by his side and held him by his belt.
“No, stay. He might have night goggles.” The same minute Mycroft's security
dashed inside. The light on their rifles made it a bit better.
“You! On the floor and hands behind your head! Now!” Sherlock wanted to say
something but he just threw himself on the floor.
“Mr Holmes, are you alright?” He stayed put and looked up.
“I was shot at. The window is broken. He protected me.” No answer was given;
instead he talked into his headset.
“Sir, your brother is unharmed. The window is broken; somebody tried to shoot
him. No, he isn't hurt.” He looked down at the man on the ground.
“No, Sir, I have no idea who he is.” Questioningly he looked at Sherlock who
said:
“I ordered a pizza.” Now he could hear his brother screaming through the
headset. The security agent moved his weapon on his back and ripped off his
headset. Sherlock took it out of his hand and threw it into the room. Then he
looked at the smaller man again who was absolutely still on the floor. He
carefully reached out and touched his back.
“Are you OK?” His head turned and deep blue eyes met his. A thin smile showed
and he nodded.
“I am. What about you?” Sherlock nodded and made a gesture for him to relax.
Instead of doing so he looked up at the armed security agent who just nodded.
Only then he took his arms down on the floor and got himself up on his knees.
He sat back on his heels looking at Sherlock.
“Your pizza is getting cold.” And Sherlock smiled.
“Your brother is on his way, so is DI Lestrade.” Sherlock just nodded but kept
looking at the delivery guy.
“I think you can leave now.” The security tried to say something but Sherlock
just waved him off. They retreated back outside. One came back to change the
broken bulb and draw the curtains closed. Then they left the door open.
Sherlock didn't care. He got up and reached out for the smaller man. He looked
up at him and considered his next move. Then he grabbed his hand and got up,
too.
“Thanks for the generous tip, Sir.” He once brushed over his clothes and then
straightened. His stance said something, Sherlock thought. Probably military.
But why was he delivering pizza?
“Would you like to share a piece? Would you like to have a glass of water?” He
looked a bit taken aback but nodded and sat on the kitchen chair. Only now
Sherlock saw the tremor of his hand.
“I am sorry if this is affecting you badly. I shouldn't have ordered a pizza. I
am sorry.”
“Don't be. I am fine. I am worried a bit about you. You look stricken. Pale.
And in need of food.”
Sherlock couldn't stand his own curiosity. He just had to deduce. He just had
to ask.
“Afghanistan or Iraq?” His stance hardened.
“What? How?” And he explained about his stance, about his tan above the wrist,
about his haircut and about his tremor. He also mentioned his limp, which he
had witnessed when he entered the flat.
“You were sent home. Probably invalided. You ...” He was interrupted.
“Yeah, well, I need to go now. I have a job, you know? Thanks again.” He stood
up and almost stumbled. His lips were a thin line and he frowned.
“Please stay. You need to come down. Have some water. Please?” And he sat down
again.
Suddenly there was some noise outside and at once he got back up and
straightened. His hand was unintentionally moving to his hip where probably
once a weapon had sat. The tremor was gone.
“Sherlock! What the fuck happened? I got the call from security and … Who the
fuck is this?” Greg stood in front of Sherlock.
“This man brought my pizza and tried to save my life after the shot through the
window. I am fine, Greg.” And the next minute Mycroft dashed in with security
hovering behind him. He once looked over the scene and calmed. His gaze was
fixed on the delivery guy.
“Why do you deliver pizza?” The guy shrugged. Greg looked at him and felt left
out. Again.
“I need the extra money.” Mycroft gave him a once over.
“Army pension in London isn't enough, is it?” The guy thinly grinned.
“No, it's not.” He didn't even wonder about these guys knowing everything.
Mycroft's gaze wandered over to Sherlock. He saw him looking at the smaller
man. He in fact saw him checking him out. His eyebrow crept up.
“Would anybody mind telling me what the fuck is going on?” Greg was upset and
angry. Sherlock didn't bother to look at him. He didn't want to loose the sight
in front of him. Somehow he felt a connection to this guy. Strangely so, he
felt safe and protected.
“Just come down, Gregory. Everything is under control. I have a team of
forensics coming in digging out the bullet. Security will be increased.”
Sherlock walked over to the fridge and filled a glass with Perrier. He handed
it over to the delivery guy.
“Thank you, Sir.” Greg walked over to the pizza and carefully lifted up the
lid. It was just a pizza.
“Jesus, Sherlock. What is this?” Sherlock grinned.
“This is my favourite. Triple cheese, mushrooms, salmon and chocolate sauce.”
Mycroft came a bit closer and licked his lips.
“Not you, too!” Greg just shook his head obviously disgusted.
“May I leave now? I have to inform my employer. I may have lost my job anyway
by now.”
“You may leave. We have already informed your employer. Everything is fine with
your job. In case you want to keep it and not take the offer I am going to
make.” Mycroft came closer while talking. Normally people would try to get away
from him. Not this man. He stood right there looking up at Mycroft and coolly
asking:
“What offer?” Mycroft tilted his head only slightly. He was impressed; Sherlock
could see it.
“The offer to look after my younger brother. He doesn't like bodyguards around,
he doesn't approve of security agents. He seems to approve of you.”
“Well, I don't know you guys, but ...”
“It would also come in handy you being a doctor.” Sherlock said.
“We don't even know his name.” Greg said and the man opened his mouth to answer
when Mycroft stated:
“Dr John Watson, former army doctor with excellent marksmanship. Several tours
in Afghanistan being sent home invalided.” He gaped at him.
“How ..?” Then he just shook his head and smiled. “Never mind.” Sherlock looked
straight into his eyes. Greg had the impression he was begging for him to stay
with those intense grey eyes of his.
“Will you take the job?” And John looked at him. He had been hooked the first
moment this man had opened the door. Normally he never would have entered a
customer's flat. But this guy? He was looking strangely beautiful. Tall, very
thin but wiry. Posh clothes, even though rather wide on him. Wonderful longish
dark curly hair. He had felt protective the first moment he saw him and when he
heard the shot instinct took over.
“Yes.” No more. Sherlock smiled. So did Mycroft.
“Well then. I will have Anthea make all the arrangements. I need to go back to
the office. Greg, what about you? Are you staying?” He shook his head.
“No, I need to go back. There are some homicides left. I just need to pick up
the files I forgot this morning.” And he walked over to the couch and took
them. He looked at them and sighed deeply.
“Sherlock, I told you a hundred times to not doodle on my files!”
“I didn't doodle, Greg, I solved them for you.” Greg opened the folders and
looked through them. Then he looked back at Sherlock shaking his head.
“You are amazing. Thank you. I think I will be home earlier than expected.” He
left with Mycroft.
John stood there a bit lost looking around the place. Finally he took the pizza
box and walked into the kitchen. Sherlock followed right away hovering close
by. He only watched and just let John take over. He heated up the oven and put
the pizza inside. Then he switched on the electric kettle. He opened the
cupboards and retrieved two mugs.
When everything was ready he placed the plates and tea on the table and waited
for Sherlock who kept just looking at him. It felt weird and he asked:
“What is it? Aren't you coming? I mean, you ordered pizza in the first place.
And by the look of you, you really need to eat something. Please, come over
here and eat.” Sherlock felt warm and sat. He devoured half of the pizza. When
they were done he asked:
“Would you like to have a drink?” John nodded and followed Sherlock into the
huge living room.
“Is this your place?”
“No, it's my brother's. I am just staying here. Greg will be moving in soon.
You are to stay here, too.”
“Am I now?” He tilted his head. Sherlock's stare was intense.
“Yes, you are. There are enough rooms. Mycroft will arrange everything. They
will bring your stuff over here.”
“For how long?”
“What do you mean?” John shrugged sipping his drink.
“Well, we can't stay here forever, can we?” Sherlock bit his bottom lip and
John tried very hard not to get hard.
“We will find a place. We could share the rent.”
“You and me. Flatmates?” He considered it. Why not? He very much liked this
guy. He was even attracted to him. He wasn't gay. Well, perhaps a bit bi-
curious.
***
Sherlock showed him another guest-room, which happened to be right beside his
own. There even was a door between them. He tried to make the bed for him but
John took everything out of his hands. Then there was the door opening and
closing.
“It's me. Sherlock?” Somehow John was in front of Sherlock again.
“It's Greg.”
“He is your brother's boyfriend, isn't he?” Sherlock nodded.
“Yes, he is.” They looked at each other.
“Let's go see him then.” Sherlock rather wanted to be alone with John, but he
didn't say. They met Greg in the kitchen.
“I grabbed this from security.” He placed it on the counter. It was a box and a
duffle.
“These are mine.” John stated matter-of-factly.
“Mycroft said he would arrange to have your things brought over.”
“He broke into my flat.” Both Sherlock and Greg shook their heads.
“No, he gave them a key.” Greg said.
“He won't do that himself.” Sherlock said.
“You are all insane.” John said but smiled.
“Insulting a police officer is a criminal act.” Greg said grinning.
“I will move out as soon as possible.” Sherlock's breath hitched and the noise
made John look at him. His eyes were wide and he looked shocked. Then he
lowered his gaze and turned away leaving the kitchen. He locked himself in the
bathroom and sat on the tiles. His brain was cold.
***
“OK, what just happened?” John was clueless and Greg just handed over another
drink.
“You have to be more careful around Sherlock. He is very sensible, even if he
doesn't show it. Now he thinks you are leaving without him.”
“But we talked about it before!”
“Yes, but it doesn't matter. He is processing now. He will be brooding,
possibly crying. Listen, John. I don't know if I should tell you about him, but
I think you need to know. We will wait until Mycroft is home. Then you will
understand everything. Until then just wait here and I will look after him.”
“No, Greg. I messed it up. I will go and check on him. It's in my bloody job
description.”
“If I remember correctly your job description was about being a bodyguard?”
John smiled.
“Perhaps I make it a “body-and-soul-guard” then.” Greg smiled fondly.
“Don't touch, just talk.” John just looked and was really worried. What had
happened to Sherlock in the past? He so wanted to help him.
Greg had been right. He could hear him sobbing behind the bathroom door. John
knocked.
“Sherlock? Please let me come in. Please, don't cry.” He laid his forehead
against the wood and listened. The sobbing stopped but he didn't answer.
“Sherlock? Please! When I said I would move out I meant with you.” Now he heard
some moving about and then the door was opened and he looked into a blotchy
face with red-rimmed eyes.
“Really?” He wiped his nose with his hand and looked very young. His hair was
in complete disarray. He must have pulled it a lot. It looked wild and
adorable. John was in awe.
“Yes, really. Now Sherlock, please blow your nose and wash your face. You could
also brush your hair into some less Einstein. Your brother might think I can't
take care of you if you look like this.” That made him even smile and he turned
around to do what he had been told.
John sat on the bed in the meantime and waited for him to get out again. He had
left the door open. When Sherlock emerged again he was looking much better. He
approached John and stood very close. It looked like he wanted to reach out and
touch but he didn't. John stood up and led the way back to the living room.
***
“Mycroft, good to see you!” Greg moved up quickly and pulled him into a tight
hug.
“Greg, what's wrong?” He placed his forehead against his shoulder and sighed.
“It's John. I think he needs to know about Sherlock. He needs to act
correctly.”
“I see. Yes, well, but Sherlock needs to be here, too. I won't talk about him
when he is not with us.”
“He won't leave his side anyway. He follows him around like a puppy. It's
rather adorable.” Mycroft looked at Greg and licked his lips. His gaze wandered
over Greg’s face and body when he said:
“You know, when they have finally moved out, I want to shag you against every
single surface of this flat. I will lock you into the playroom for days on end
and fuck you raw. You will be needing all of your over-hours to have the time
of your life.” Greg could just stare at Mycroft who stood in front of him
looking him straight in the eyes. He had to clear his throat before he could
answer.
“Then we better start looking for a flat rather quickly. Sir.”
“Don't get too smug, Gregory.” He slowly licked over his lips and Mycroft made
a quick step. He took Greg's wrists behind his back and held them with one
hand. The other held his neck rather tight. Then he forcefully kissed him teeth
and tongue. Greg's knees buckled and he felt dizzy. He tried to suppress the
moan erupting out of him. In his head the word “playroom” was flashing.
***
Sherlock bumped right into John when he stopped dead in his tracks. He watched
the men kissing. No, it was more Mycroft devouring Greg. John blushed crimson
and became hard. He also felt Sherlock very close behind. He could feel his
body heat; which didn't help a lot.
Sherlock watched John close. He saw him blushing from behind but not turning
his eyes away. Did he like what he saw? Would he like to do the same? Perhaps
even with him? He had no idea if he would like that. He never had something
like his brother had with Greg. But since he saw them he wanted it, too. It
looked as they were happy. He wanted to be happy, too. If it needed physical
touching and such he would do it. He wanted John to be with him, he wanted him
to be happy, too.
John cleared his throat and Greg tensed. Mycroft just looked up and around not
letting go of him even though he was trying to wiggle out of his grip. He
grinned at John and slowly released Greg who had blushed, too.
John recognised a related soul and tilted his head.
“Well, there we are again. Let's have a drink.” Mycroft offered and looked at
Greg who at once walked over to the bar and poured the malt. He didn't even
think of it. Everybody took a seat and John sat on the armrest of Sherlock's
armchair. Then Mycroft faced Sherlock.
“You need to talk to John about yourself, brother-mine.” Sherlock looked back.
“I know. But not here. Alone. Only John and I.” Mycroft tilted his head.
“That's just fine.” John listened and watched Greg who looked very concerned.
Something awful would be coming up; he just knew it. But he would face it. For
Sherlock.
“By the way, Anthea found a nice flat for you two.” Sherlock looked up.
“Where?”
“Central London, Baker Street.” John swallowed. Way too expensive, he thought,
but didn't comment, not right now. “You know the landlady, Sherlock. It's Mrs
Hudson.” He lightened up.
“Oh, that's nice!”
“So I thought. You can have a look tomorrow, if you like.”
“Yes, we do.”
“Do we now?” John looked at Sherlock who frowned at that. But then he saw John
smile. He wasn't used to that kind of interaction. He had to learn at lot.
Then everybody had to listen to Greg's stomach. It rumbled rather loudly.
“Haven't you had lunch today, Gregory?” Mycroft sounded concerned.
“No, there wasn't time.” He sighed. “Does anyone want dinner? I will cook
something up.” Everybody nodded at once except Sherlock who had eaten half the
pizza. Greg walked into the kitchen and threw some dinner together. John
followed him and set up the counter. There was friendly silence between him and
Greg.
Mycroft and Sherlock looked at each other. Mycroft chewed at a piece of cold
pizza licking his lips.
“So, you like him, do you, little brother?” He shrugged.
“Yes, I do. I felt safe with him at once.”
“Promise me you will talk to him.”
“Tonight.”
“Dinner is read ...” Greg turned around and saw Mycroft bite into some cold
pizza. Mycroft swallowed the last bite and looked back innocently.
“I couldn't resist, Greg.”
“Well then, no dessert for you.” Mycroft raised his eyebrows but didn't reply.
Only when Greg sat the bowls on the table he pulled him down and whispered into
his ear:
“At least no food for dessert, Gregory.” They locked eyes and Greg had it
coming.
John watched them interact and liked the way Mycroft handled him. It was nice
seeing both of them together. Greg seemed to be new to this but coped rather
well.
John wondered if Sherlock knew about their kind of relationship. And if he knew
what did he think about it? Well, he would get to know more soon enough.
***** Truth *****
Chapter Summary
     See chapter 1 for complete summary.
After dinner everybody retreated and John carried his duffel and the box into
his room looking through the contents. Someone had packed everything very
neatly. He got out his pyjamas and a tee and went into his bathroom. It was
bigger than his old flat. He looked around and found everything he needed. He
looked at the plush towels, the fluffy bathrobe and the other amenities. He was
thankful for this chance. It wasn't only a job. He liked Sherlock. When he had
opened the door he was stunned by the look of him. He seemed to feel the same.
Even though there was something weird about him. Well, he would get to know
soon about that, wouldn't he?
When he came out of the bathroom he found Sherlock sitting on his bed waiting
for him. He was clad in pyjamas and a tee, too. He also wore socks. It looked
so young, so innocent. John wasn't sure if he would ever touch him the way he
wanted, the way he desired already. Although Sherlock looked as he wanted to
touch John. He felt his eyes roaming over his body and settle on the waistband
of his pyjamas which hung low on his hips and partly showed his six-pack.
“John, I am going to tell you about my past. I would like you to listen. It
won't be nice. But I want you to know. I need you to know.”
“OK, Sherlock. Just tell me. I will listen. I won't judge.” Sherlock sat cross-
legged on John's bed and folded his hands in his lap. Then he started to talk.
After a while John knelt on the duvet right beside Sherlock. He needed to be
close to him. He was listening to the most horrible story he had ever heard.
And he had been in Afghanistan.
When Sherlock was done he wouldn't look at John. He was afraid of his reaction.
But when John didn't say something he finally looked up. And saw him crying.
For him.
***
It took John some time to stop. When he realised how petrified Sherlock was he
tried to regain control. Sherlock had unfolded his long limbs to get off the
bed, but John grabbed his wrist and held him back.
“Don’t go away now.” He told him with a rough voice. Sherlock looked at his
wrist being held and started to sweat, but he didn’t pull away. John saw his
reaction. He didn’t let go though. Instead he moved his thumb over his pulse
drawing small circles.
“Aren’t you disgusted?” John gaped.
“What? No! I am just shell-shocked. This is horrible. I have no idea how you
could have coped with that.” Sadly Sherlock looked at their hands together.
“Drugs.” And he told him the rest of the story. And when he was done it was him
who felt John’s tremor. He just didn’t dare touch him. He had no idea how to do
this. He was very self-conscious. Well, John wasn’t. His upper body moved in
and he was as close to Sherlock as a stranger had ever been.
“Do you mind if I hug you? If I take you in my arms and hold you?” Sherlock
swallowed and imagined it. He had no idea how he would react. But he still felt
safe after all. So he nodded and closed his eyes. He felt the mattress move
when John got up on his knees. Then he felt his arms around his shoulders and
John’s warm skin against his neck. John’s breath was hot. He had no idea what
to do with his hands. He felt the urge to touch back. He felt something in his
guts. It was as if his intestines were knotted together and his blood pulsed
south.
Very carefully he lifted his arms and placed them around John’s broad
shoulders. His hands were on top of them. He wanted to see John’s face when he
touched him so he turned his head. He looked directly into John’s dark blue
eyes being only millimetres away from him.
Sherlock wanted. Now. Kiss John. John kiss him. Need. His brain was on
malfunction. He shuddered. This was new. He couldn’t analyse. It was almost too
much to bear.
John straightened on his knees being a bit taller than Sherlock now. His lips
brushed Sherlock’s only very lightly. No pressure, just the feeling of rough
lips and some stubble around them. Sherlock’s eyes fluttered close and his
fingers clutched into John’s tee.
***
John hugged Sherlock and felt his reactions. He felt his trembling fingers on
his body and was aroused as hell when Sherlock touched back. And he dared. He
brushed his lips only a little bit. He didn’t pull back. John felt his tee
being fisted and increased the pressure on his lips.
His left hand made its way up into Sherlock’s curls and scratched over his
scalp. He heard his humming sound and felt him melting into his arms. He licked
his tongue over his lips and Sherlock’s body twitched. At once John pulled
away, but Sherlock held him close.
“No.” He was barely heard. “Please, don’t stop.” John stroked over his head.
“Please promise me to tell me if it’s too much, Sherlock.” He nodded.
“Yes, I do.” John kissed him again and this time Sherlock opened up a bit.
John’s hand laid on his neck now and held him close. He moved his tongue inside
his mouth and licked over his teeth, gum and engaged his own tongue. Sherlock’s
breath stopped and it felt as if he was cataloguing his reactions and John’s
actions. He tilted his head a bit and John kissed him deeper. This went on for
some minutes.
***
Sherlock felt John’s tongue inside his mouth touching alien places. This was
different from everything he had to endure or read about. This was nice. It
felt good. He felt liked. Even loved? Small noises came out of him and he
wasn’t aware of making them.
He had the urge to lie down on the mattress and let John touch him, feel him.
He let himself sink back on the cushions and unfolded his long legs. John was
coming to kneel between them.
John watched him not knowing what to make of this, but Sherlock fisted his tee
and pulled him down. John’s arms were holding him up.
“What do you need, Sherlock?” His eyes were closed and he deeply inhaled.
“Please touch me. Hold me. Kiss me.”
“I don't know if this is the right thing to do, Sherlock. We barely know each
other.” Now Sherlock opened his eyes. He looked unbelievably sad.
“You don't like me. You don't want me. Nobody does.” He bit his bottom lip.
“You know that's not true. It just feels not right now. If I wouldn't like you
I wouldn't have taken the job as your bodyguard your brother offered me. I
don't want to take advantage of you. Do you understand that?”
“No, I don't. I want you. I want to feel. I want to be liked. I want to be your
Gregory.”
“Why, Sherlock? Do you have any idea about their relationship?” He nodded.
“I know nothing else. Both of them seem to be happy. I want to be happy, too.”
John looked a bit exhausted. This guy had no bloody idea what he was talking
about. He just wanted to be loved.
“I can't do this now, Sherlock. Please don't think it's because of you. But
please consider me only a human being, too. I am a bit overwhelmed by your
story. I don't feel like groping. I feel like hugging and tender kissing. In
fact I am in need of being hugged and kissed right now. But I won't have you do
it. Let's just go to sleep, please?”
Sherlock twisted his fingers into the sheets. He didn't dare touch him anymore.
He didn't understand, but he felt John being ill at ease. He wanted to make him
feel good. So he tried to understand.
“Do you want me to go to my room?” John almost sobbed when he heard his
murmured question, but he held it back.
“No, Sherlock. I want you to stay with me and hold me.” He just crawled under
the duvet and looked up at Sherlock. “Please?” And he lifted up the duvet.
Sherlock moved under the duvet, too.
“May I really touch you?” John had to close his eyes.
“Yes, please, touch me, hold me.” John replied. Then he felt Sherlock's hand
move over his hip and pull him close. Probably Sherlock hadn't ever heard of
spooning, but that's what he did right now. John just gave in and hummed his
approval. His head was against Sherlock's chest and it felt so good.
He felt one hand on his stomach drawing tiny circles. He relaxed into the touch
and when he started to place small kisses on his neck, head and arms he sighed
and revelled in it.
***
Sherlock felt he was doing something right. He held John and felt him fall
asleep in his embrace. He couldn't sleep. He needed to think. He needed to
process and sort things out. He needed to store his feelings, his emotions and
the pictures and movies inside his head into the rooms of his mind palace. He
needed to study the sleeping form beside him. He needed to catalogue
everything.
After several hours he fell asleep, too, still holding on to John.
***** Baker Street *****
Chapter Summary
     See chapter 1 for complete summary.
The next morning Greg and Mycroft stood in the door of John’s room and watched
both of them sleeping. Greg leant against the wooden frame and Mycroft’s hand
was around his waist. They were looking at each other now.
“This is nice, isn’t it?” Greg asked. Mycroft nodded.
“Yes, this makes me happy. He must have been sent by the Saints.”
“Sherlock’s earned some luck, too. He of all people.”
“Yes, he does.” Greg turned around and pulled Mycroft away. He quietly closed
the door and they walked into the kitchen to have breakfast. They sat at the
counter.
“Isn’t this happening too fast for Sherlock?” Mycroft shook his head.
“No, he wouldn’t do it if he doesn’t want it.” He looked at Greg. “He fell for
him the very first moment. I could see it.”
“You speak of experience, don’t you?” Both of them smiled.
“Yes, I do, Gregory.” Comfortable silence crept in while they had breakfast.
***
“Good morning.” Both of them looked at John and returned his greetings. He
stood there not knowing if it was OK to join them. Mycroft took over.
“Come over here and join us for breakfast, John. There is coffee and some warm
rolls left.”
“Thank you.” John warmly smiled at them. Greg was still worried about Sherlock
and John could sense it. He poured himself some coffee first and held to the
mug with both hands.
“Sherlock told me everything. He also told me about what he needs. Or about
what he thinks he needs. I have to find a way to cope with it.” He exhaled
slowly and looked at them. “I do have feelings for him. That's why everything
has to be handled carefully.”
“We saw you together.” John looked up.
“What?” Mycroft shrugged.
“I needed to check on Sherlock. You looked sweet together. I think you are good
for him.”
“What is he up to anyway?” Greg wondered.
“He is still asleep.” Both of them looked at him now.
“What? Him? Sleeping in? What did you do?” Greg grinned now.
“Nothing, really. We hugged and kissed. I snogged him down. It seemed he like
it.”
“Sherlock let you kiss him? Touch him?” John nodded.
“Yes, he did.” Mycroft looked John up and down but with a positive smile.
“The Saints, as I had said.” John looked questioningly at him raising his
eyebrows.
“Mycroft earlier assumed the Saints must have sent you over.” John just shook
his head.
“If they are wearing Afghan traditional clothing, it might have been Saints who
shot me.” At once Greg placed a soothing hand on John’s arm.
“You know what he means, don’t you?” John looked at his hand but he didn’t pull
back.
“Yes, of course I do. And I am not complaining about the situation right now.”
“So you will be looking at the flat with him?” John turned his head to check if
they were still alone.
“I think it is a bit too pricey for me to stay.” Mycroft shook his head.
“Don’t worry. I already talked to Mrs Hudson. Everything will be taken care of.
I could even arrange a part-time job at some surgery, if you like?”
“I thought I will be having a full-time job looking after your brother?”
“Not for long. He will try to consume most of your time, but you have to show
him life.”
“This sounds too good to be true. I will be looking forward to it.”
“It will be very interesting.” Greg said.
“That’s a way to express the situation.” Mycroft said.
“You two think it will be hellish.” John stated.
“It will be worth the video surveillance.” Mycroft grinned.
“There won’t be any in the flat.” John said looking at Mycroft.
“You are sure about that?”
“Absolutely.” Their eyes met and the fight began. Two very dominant persons
were trying to get what they wanted. Greg sensed the mood and started to get
cold. He reached out but didn’t dare to touch.
“Please?” He only whispered. “Don’t fight about it.” Both of them looked at
him.
“What do you think about it? Please tell us.” Mycroft told him and John nodded.
“I think you should try without video feed from their flat. Just outside and in
the streets. John will be taking care of him. He will be sort of living to
record.” Now they smiled again.
“I do like your advice, Greg, you helped before. Thank you.” Mycroft tenderly
touched his cheek.
“You are looking at this from another point of view.” John stated and brushed
over his neck while getting himself another coffee.
***
Sherlock woke up and was alone in bed. It wasn’t his bed. Then he remembered.
He had shared the bed with John. He had kissed John and John had kissed him
back. He had liked it.
He even had let him touch him. And he had dared to touch back. It had felt
fantastic. He closed his eyes again and sighed deeply. Slowly his hand moved
over his body where John had touched him. He was surprised to find his cock
being half hard. Soon enough it was starting to leak fully erected. He stared
down and had no idea what to do.
He remembered the times when his mother had made his body do this. He never
wanted to react like this but his body had betrayed him. Now it happened on its
own volition. But he was afraid; connected this with bad things. He didn’t know
what to do. And his first thought was to ask Greg. He trusted Greg. Greg had
saved him after his latest drug abuse and attempted suicide. He had taken care
of him and got rid of the nurse.
He liked John a lot, but he had no idea if he would like this. He sat up and
called out.
“Greg?!” It took Greg only a few seconds to stumble into his room holding his
gun in his hands.
“What? What is it, Sherlock?” His gaze roamed the room and right behind him was
John, also holding a gun.
“I need to talk to you, Greg. John, please leave me alone with Greg.” John
raised his eyebrow and murmured:
“Good morning to you, too.” Then he left.
“I need to talk to him about Sherlock and sarcasm”, Greg thought. Out loud he
said:
“Sherlock, you scared us.” He stuck the gun in his waistband and closed the
door.
“Why? I was just calling your name.”
“Never mind, Sherlock. Now tell me, what’s wrong?” He came closer.
“Look!” Sherlock said and threw the duvet off his body. Greg looked and had no
idea. Well, not at first, but when Sherlock started to pull down his pyjamas he
caught sight of his prick springing out.
“Jesus, fuck, Sherlock, don’t!” Sherlock looked hurt.
“I don’t know what to do with it. It happened before, of course, and I never
liked it. But now it happened without anyone doing anything. It won’t go away.”
Greg had no fucking idea what to do. He just sat on the bed.
“What did you think of when you woke up?”
“I thought of last night. I thought of John kissing and holding me.” His cock
twitched and he looked bewildered.
“Sherlock, you like John, don’t you?” He nodded.
“Yes, I do. I thought it was obvious.”
“It obviously is!” Greg pointed at his prick.
“You mean me thinking of him and the things he had done is related to this?”
“Yes, it is.”
“I want it to go away!”
“Doesn’t it feel good when you touch it?”
“I didn’t.” Greg had to close his eyes. He couldn’t possible teach him how to
wank, could he? Maybe he must.
“Just touch it. Carefully.” Sherlock reached out hesitantly and his cock
twitched again.
“Oh …”
“See? Now touch your balls.” He did that, too, and opened his mouth.
“Oh …”
“Now hold it. Lay your fingers around it and move your hand up and down.” He
also did that and started to leak some more.
“Oh God, Greg! What is it doing? It never felt like this before!”
“Yes, but it’s nice, isn’t it?”
“More than nice …” He started to pant and Greg wanted to leave.
“Maybe I should send John in?” Sherlock wildly looked up.
“No! This is my experience alone! Don’t! But please stay!” Well, Greg had no
choice and he stayed. He watched Sherlock wank and started to direct his
movements.
“Your thumb over the head. Twist your hand. Press some more. Stroke harder.”
After two minutes Sherlock came only barely able to suppress a scream. He came
over his hand, belly and partly Greg. Wide eyed he stared at Greg and he stared
back.
“So? Did you like it?” He just nodded.
“Greg?”
“Hm?”
“Will it be the same when John touches me?” Greg smiled and stroked over his
head.
“No, Sherlock, it will be much better, believe me! Now go and have a shower.
You are icky.” Sherlock went into the bathroom and Greg left the room. Outside
he met both John and Mycroft whose gaze right away moved over the creamy fluid
on Greg’s hand.
“Just don’t ask and let me wash up first.” He washed his hands in the kitchen
and when he turned around he saw both of them looking at him.
“I really don’t know how to start.” Mycroft looked at him and asked:
“Was he hurt?” He shook his head.
“No, but I think he didn’t like what had happened to him, not at first though.”
“What the fuck did happen, Greg?” John asked. And Greg started to tell. John
slumped against the counter in the kitchen and Mycroft giggled wildly. John
looked at him.
“This isn’t funny, Mycroft.” He really looked hurt and Mycroft stopped
giggling.
“I am sorry, John. But it was for a second.” He looked at Greg. “What did you
do?”
“I showed him how to handle it.” And he made a gesture with his fist.
“Jesus, Greg, I need to go and see him.”
“He’ll probably be a bit ashamed. Don’t push it.”
“What am I supposed to do now?”
“You are supposed to be better than him. I told him it will be better when you
touch him.”
“Fuck, Greg!” His blue eyes became dark and he was close to shouting at Greg.
Now Mycroft started to giggle again.
“Fuck you two!” He shouted and stormed off to see Sherlock.
Greg looked at Mycroft and shrugged.
“I am sorry, My. But he wanted to talk to me about it.”
“Don’t be sorry, love. I know you care for him. And I love you for doing all
these weird things.”
“Aren’t you upset?” He shook his head.
“Not at all. He wants you when it comes to help. He wants to keep John for
other things, I suppose. He trusts you. He always did. And he was right.”
“Are you jealous?” Mycroft stepped up close and towered over Greg.
“No, Gregory, no. I love you. As long as you can stand living with me and my
brother I am happy you are taking such a good care of these things. I can’t
manage them; I can manage countries and crisis’s, but not Sherlock.”
“I was worried about us. But I also wanted to help Sherlock.”
“Always follow your instincts. I do trust them.” And he kissed him.
***
Sherlock had just dressed into a pair of silk boxers when John stomped into his
room. He turned around and his face lightened up.
“John!” John stood in front of him fuming.
“Why, Sherlock?” Sherlock had no idea what John was talking about. Sherlock
sensed trouble and unconsciously made a step backwards. He felt exposed being
only clad in a pair of Mycroft's boxers and his eyes roamed the space around
John for an exit.
John sensed his trouble and knew he had overreacted. He knew he was jealous of
Greg. He pressed his knuckles on his eyes for a second and breathed deeply.
Then he sat on the bed and looked at Sherlock.
“I am sorry. I was jealous. I didn't mean to scare you.” Sherlock was clueless
but he felt like he needed to talk to him.
“I don't know what I did wrong. Please let me know. I try to be better.”
“You didn't do anything wrong. You asked Greg to help you because he has helped
you before. You trust him and you know him for a long time. I have just stepped
into your life, it was only yesterday. I understand. But I also want to earn
your trust.”
“I didn't mean to disappoint you by choosing Greg instead of you. If I wouldn't
trust you I wouldn't have let you touch me yesterday.”
“You didn't disappoint me, Sherlock. But if we are going to be flatmates there
will be only us. So if anything is wrong you have to let me know. Can you do
that?”
“Yes. It won't be easy but I will try to be good. For you. I want you to stay.
I want you to be with me.”
“I want to be with you, too. Come here, please?” He reached out for him and
Sherlock slowly walked over taking John's outstretched hand. John pulled him
close and made him sit on the bed beside him. Sherlock turned his head and
looked into his eyes.
“Is it true?” John had no idea what Sherlock was talking about. He tilted his
head.
“Is what true?” Sherlock entwined their fingers and looked at their hands
together.
“Greg said that if you would touch me it would lead to better results than when
I touch myself.” John coughed.
“Well, that is quite a clinical view. I think Greg meant that if we would touch
each other we would feel more intense feelings.” John knew he was talking
nonsense. Jesus, he was a doctor. But Sherlock wasn't his patient.
“I want us to be alone in our new flat when we are doing it.” John inhaled
deeply.
“Doing what?” John dared to ask.
“Whatever Mycroft and Gregory are doing.” John nodded.
“Yes, well. You know, Sherlock. First of all we have to take a look at our new
flat. We have to go shopping for furniture. I own nothing except what is in my
duffle and the box. What about you?”
“I own nothing but rubbish. Mycroft will take care of it. Or Anthea will.” John
shook his head.
“No, no, no. We will be doing this. It will be our home.” Sherlock nodded.
“Agreed. I will get dressed then. And I want coffee.” He stood and walked over
to Mycroft's room to grab some clothes. He met Greg on his way who was carrying
some bags.
“Sherlock? Mycroft and I did some shopping for you. These should fit better
than Mycroft's. Try them on, please?” Sherlock looked taken aback but took the
bags.
“Thank you ...” He looked into the bag and saw shirts, trousers and boxers. He
smiled at Greg and took them to his room. He unpacked and chose black trousers
and a purple shirt. He looked into the mirror and unbuttoned the two first
buttons. He looked nice. He also found a pair of shoes and some socks. The rest
he hung into the drawer. Then he took a jacket and went into the living-room.
“My, little brother, you look awesome!” Mycroft looked very pleased. Greg
turned around, too.
“Wow, Sherlock, these are perfect!” Sherlock held out his arms and made a full
turn. Then his eyes met John's who just stared at him with wide eyes. Slowly
his arms fell down again.
“Don't you like it, John?” John had to clear his throat. He was stunned.
“I like it a lot, you look great!” He thought of his own clothing and lightly
blushed.
“Let's go and look at the flat then.” John got up.
“OK, where is it exactly?” Mycroft gave him the address and they left.
***** Moving In *****
Chapter Summary
     See chapter 1 for complete summary.
They stood outside and Sherlock just raised his hand and hailed a cab. They
climbed inside and drove off. John gave the address and when they arrived he
was stunned. It was nice looking and right to the door was a little café.
Sherlock knocked on the door and a woman opened it.
“Sherlock, it's so good to see you!” Sherlock smiled one of his genuine smiles
and let her hug him.
“This is Dr Watson, he will be moving in with me.” She turned her eyes on John
and he felt examined.
“Hallo, Dr Watson, I am Mrs Hudson. Come on in. Mycroft told me already.”
“Mrs Hudson, nice to meet you.” They were both pulled inside and led upstairs.
It really was nice and if Mycroft would take care of the rent and everything,
this would be it.
He felt Sherlock look at him.
“Do you like it? Would you like to live here? There is another room upstairs
meaning we will both have our own room but share the rest.” Sherlock talked
fast and faster until John took his hand.
“It's OK, Sherlock, I love it here. Let's do it.” Sherlock looked happy and
John felt his heart warm.
“What about the things in here? Could we have some of it?” Sherlock asked and
Mrs Hudson just shrugged.
“Take whatever you want, dear.” John wondered what Sherlock wanted with the
rubbish, but he would let him. Some of it looked even interesting. Sherlock
looked very pleased now and rubbed his hands together.
“We will go shopping now and have our things delivered, Mrs Hudson. We will be
moving in as soon as possible.”
“That sounds great, young man. I am really happy for you both.” She gave John
another once-over and fondly smiled. John felt accepted. Then he felt his arm
being grabbed and pulled outside.
“Bye, Mrs Hudson!” Sherlock called out and down the steps he rushed with John
stumbling behind.
“What are you up to now?” Just waving his hand he hailed another cab and shoved
John inside.
“Now we are going back to Mycroft's, take my computer and do the shopping.”
“You want to buy our furniture online?”
“Yes, of course. How else would I do that?”
“But I want to sit on my sofa before I buy it. And touch the stuff I buy.”
Sherlock looked bewildered.
“But then we would have to enter crowded shopping malls and talk to strange
people.”
“Yes, that's life, Sherlock. I am with you. Please come with me.”
“OK, if you want to do it that way we will do it.”
“Sherlock, it's not about what I want. It's just common sense to check on the
items you sit on.”
“If you say so.” John directed the driver to a furniture outlet. Sherlock
looked lost and clung to John. But as soon as he had started to look he found
he rather liked it. And soon enough it was him who dragged John along.
Finally Sherlock stopped short in front of a used Chesterfield sofa. His eyes
shone brightly and he looked at John.
“I like this one.” John liked it, too, but he thought of the still very high
price.
“It's very expensive.”
“Is it?” Sherlock shrugged.
“We can't have your brother pay for everything we buy.”
“But we both know we don't have a lot on our own.”
“That's true.”
“Did you check on your account lately?”
“No, I didn't. Should I?” Sherlock handed over his mobile.
“Yes, you should.”
“I don't do online banking.”
“You do now.” John closed his eyes and breathed. Then he slowly typed his data
as Sherlock told him. Then he saw the sum and swallowed. All his debts had been
taking care of and he had enough money to buy stuff.
“What is that?”
“My brother hired you. That means he has to pay you, too. Well, he did pay
you.”
“He obviously did.” He sighed. “OK, Sherlock. The sofa is really nice and I
like it, too. Let's have it. But I want an armchair, too. And we need beds.
Large beds.” They went on buying also two armchairs, a kitchen table with
chairs, some rugs and stuff for their bathroom.
“We don't have anything to decorate the walls with.” John had no idea of
decoration stuff. Tents in the desert doesn't invite one to hang paintings or
such on it.
“What are you thinking of?” He asked Sherlock. He pointed on some stuff and
John let him buy it. When they were standing outside again John was exhausted
and extremely hungry.
“Sherlock? I need to eat. Would you like, too?”
“Yes, why not? Where and what?” Finally they ended up with fish and chips from
a corner shop. But it was fantastic and when they were done Sherlock licked his
fingers clean. John just greedily looked.
“John?” And he woke up again.
“Sherlock? I am sorry, I wasn't listening.”
“So I saw. What's wrong?” He looked at him.
“I really want to be alone with you.” That was all John said and then he saw a
smile appear on his face.
“Shouldn't we celebrate in our new flat then?”
“But it's almost empty.”
“Not tonight.”
“But we only just bought everything.”
“I paid for extra quick delivery. Everything will be ready tonight. We just
have to tell them where to put everything.” John felt the tingling again.
“Money makes the world go round ...” Sherlock grinned.
“Yes, it does, doesn't it? Now let's go and tell Mycroft and Greg, shall we?”
John nodded.
“Yes, let's do that. I need to get my stuff anyway.”
***
Mycroft and Greg were surprised but how could Mycroft deny his brother's wishes
seeing him so happy? Greg mouthed “playroom” behind Sherlock's and John's back
and Mycroft got twitchy. John sent Sherlock grab his few belongings and turned
over to Mycroft.
“Listen, I want to thank you, really thank you for this. For everything. I will
take care of Sherlock. Nothing bad will happen to him and I will protect him
with my life.”
“I know that, John, and I hope you won't get it the wrong way what I did
today.”
“No, I don't. I appreciate it and will use it in Sherlock's best interest.”
“What did you do, Mycroft?” Greg asked suspiciously. John looked at him.
“Someone probably hacked my account and made it look much better than before.”
“Mycroft, you can't bribe John.”
“I didn’t bribe him, Greg. I paid his salary and only a wee bit more.”
“I don’t feel bribed. It’s fine, Greg.” Greg sighed. Mycroft went to see
Sherlock.
“How did it go, little brother?” Sherlock smiled dreamily.
“John said he wanted to be alone with me. I had arranged delivery for later
today. We will be moving in tonight. I am insanely happy, Mycroft.”
“No, I am insanely happy, little brother. I am glad everything turned out that
way. Just let me know if you need anything.” Sherlock nodded.
“I will. I promise. I probably will be needing advice with the sex thing.”
“I know John will be leading you through everything.”
“I know you wouldn’t let him come close to me if you wouldn’t know.”
“Are you happy?” Mycroft seriously asked.
“Yes, I am happy. I can’t wait.” Mycroft held out his arms.
“Come here. Let me hold you for a moment.” Sherlock at once moved forward and
let Mycroft hug him.
***
When John and Sherlock arrived at 221B the delivery guys had just arrived.
Sherlock started to move around quickly pointing where he wanted to have
things. John followed slowly and calmed down the insulted men. He also gave
generous tips without Sherlock knowing and everything ended smoothly with
Sherlock not being pushed out of the way or being punched in the face.
After two hours of moving Sherlock and John fell onto their new sofa. They
looked at each other and smiled. John got up again and slowly shuffled over to
the kitchen. He found himself a mug and prepared tea after having rummaged
through some boxes finding the electric kettle and the tea.
“Do you want tea, Sherlock?”
“No, I want to be with you, John.”
“We need to have dinner.”
“I don’t.”
“Well, I have, Sherlock. I will order something. Could you look up a number of
a Chinese take-away for me?”
“Sure.” He even called and ordered. Then he came over looking for some cutlery.
He made John sit at their new kitchen furniture.
“I will make you comfortable. You want food, I will get you food. Please
relax.” John was silently amused about his behaviour. But he also liked to be
cuddled sometimes, he admitted to himself.
“Thank you, love. I appreciate that.” Sherlock opened the door for the delivery
guy and threw some money at him. He placed everything on the table.
“I think I am joining you. We need bowls.” He got some and filled them. Then he
took the chopsticks and slowly started to eat. So did John.
John thought about later. He knew that Sherlock expected him to take action of
some sort. He just had no idea how to start. He would need to talk to him first
and explain what Mycroft did to Greg. Then he would make him experience. He
would give him a safe-word and start everything very carefully. Maybe just some
sound deprivation experiments first and no penetration. He shovelled food into
him and sighed. At once Sherlock was by his side.
“What’s wrong, John?” John looked up and right into his worried eyes.
“Nothing, Sherlock. I am just wondering of our being together. We need to
talk.”
“I have to make the beds. I also took some stuff out of Mycroft’s playroom.”
“He has a playroom?” John was envying him.
“Haven’t you seen it?” He simply shook his head.
“Such a shame. Greg seems to like it. I could hear him sometimes talking to
Mycroft about it.”
“What did you take?” They were done and John poured wine into glasses.
“Now?”
“Now would be just fine.” John’s voice had an edge to it suddenly and Sherlock
got up right away to retrieve the box from his room. He carried it back to the
table and John finished his dinner. He looked at his greasy fingers and licked
them clean. Sherlock just stared and handed over a napkin.
“Thank you, Sherlock, both for bringing the box and giving me a napkin.” He
just smiled and sat back down. John pulled the box closer and opened the lid.
He looked inside and held his breath. He looked at blindfolds, ball-gags, rope,
plugs and clamps. He dryly swallowed thinking of Sherlock’s past.
“Why do you want me to do this to you?”
“Because I want to please you. Because this is the only way I know. I love you
and if it takes this to have you I will do it.” Sadly John shook his head.
“That’s not the right thing to do. You don’t have to do anything you don’t feel
safe with. You were honest and told me everything your mother did to you. It
was very similar to this. I don’t think I can do this, Sherlock. Really, I
don’t.” Sherlock looked at him.
“But I know Mycroft is doing it with Greg this way and they are both happy. I
just want us to be happy, too.”
“I also want us to be happy. But let me do this my way, OK? I am not completely
against this, but we have to start everything very careful. We have to see how
the scenes affect you both mentally and physically.” Sherlock looked torn and
his whole body trembled.
“I just want you to love me.” He started to cry and buried his face in his
hands.
“I do love you, Sherlock, that’s why I don’t want to rush anything. Please stop
crying.” He heard him sob some more but he calmed down after some minutes.
“I don’t understand …” He wiped over his eyes and John handed him a Kleenex.
“Blow your nose, please.” He did and his lips still quivered a bit.
“You must think me horrible …” Now John took over. He got up and stood close to
him.
“No, Sherlock, I don’t. I love you. I don’t want to hurt you. We urgently need
to talk. Let’s get our wine and walk over to our new fantastic sofa you have
picked.” That made him smile and he got up. John pulled him onto the sofa.
“Do you have any idea what Mycroft does to Greg when they are having sex?” He
shrugged.
“I know his playroom, I have sneaked inside. I stole some toys. I observed them
being very, very happy. I monitored some behaviour between the two of them.
Mycroft tells Greg what to do and Greg likes to obey.”
“Yes, well, that sums it up, I think.” He sipped his wine. “When we first met I
didn’t have the impression you liked to be touched.”
“That’s true, I don’t like to be touched at all. But you are different. This is
different. I already let you touch me and kiss me. I even tried to
reciprocate.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s expected and did please you.”
“Wrong answer, Sherlock. You weren’t sure you liked the whole thing. You felt
the need to touch but it felt wrong. Even though you did because you thought I
want you to. But did you like it? Really like it?”
“At first it felt scary but I wanted you to stay. Later I enjoyed. I’ve had no
idea what it could be like. My mother, she made me feel things. You made me
feel everything.”
“Do you agree with me that we love each other?” Sherlock nodded wildly making
his unruly hair fly.
“Yes, I do.”
“Do you want me to make love to you?” Sherlock swallowed and sipped his wine.
“Yes, I do.” He smiled a shy smile and John’s heart warmed.
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes, I do. Absolutely.”
“That’s good then. Just give in. I will make it slow. I will make you enjoy
this. Trust me.”
“I give in. I follow you. I will do what you tell me.”
“What are you going to do when it becomes too much for you?”
“I will let you know at once.”
“Very good. Let’s find a safeword then. What about sofa?”
“Sofa it is.” It made both of them smile.
“Why don’t we go and set up a bedroom for tonight?” And that’s what they did.
When they were done Sherlock was a bit lost. John knew he was in charge now. He
had to lead him through.
“Do you want to play, Sherlock?”
“Yes, I do.” John nodded and suddenly his whole appearance changed. He even
seemed to grow when he widened his stance. Instantly Sherlock focused on him.
“Undress and place your things neatly folded on the floor.” Sherlock slowly
started to do as being told. He felt weird getting naked with John watching
him. But he managed. When he was only dressed in his birthday suit John
continued.
“Get on the bed on your front and fold your hands over your nape.” Sherlock did
that, too. He felt John climb up the bed and kneel beside him. He moved his
hands over his back and his bum. Sherlock twitched once but didn’t say a word.
He just closed his eyes and let him do.
John watched his reactions very closely. Soon he started to kiss his body and
he could hear his breathing becoming heavier.
“Do you like this, Sherlock?”
“Yes, John, I do …” He almost moaned the answer.
“Get your little bum up a bit for me, please!” Sherlock lifted it up and held
himself upright by putting his weight on his forehead. His folded hands didn’t
leave his nape.
“Very good, Sherlock.” John stroked over his cheeks and thighs. Very slowly,
very tenderly. From time to time he bent down and kissed his heated skin.
Sherlock felt his cock getting hard again. He wondered if it was because of
John touching him. It probably was. It felt good and he relaxed into his
touches.
John felt him relax and smiled. He reached under him and touched his prick. He
twitched.
“Hold still, love. Let me.” He felt him relax again and wrapped his fingers
around his length. He stroked it and moved his thumb over the head. Sherlock
started to make these noises again. He also touched his balls now. He pulled
them and weighed them. Sherlock swayed on the bed.
“Shoooaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnn …....” A loud and long moan, almost like his name.
John grabbed his hips and turned him on his back. His eyes were closed and his
arms and hands fell on the pillow beside his head. His cock was leaking.
John straddled him and Sherlock opened his eyes. His pupils were dilated and he
was flushed. John kissed him deeply and Sherlock just opened up closing his
eyes again. He obviously liked it.
John took his wrists and held them over his head. No wiggling and no response.
John waited for a second and then started to rut against his groin. Now there
was a response.
“Please John ...” Barely heard but John rutted again and asked.
“Please what, Sherlock? What is it?” He saw him swallow.
“Please. I need. I want ...”
“Hm?” More rutting.
“Please restrain me more. I just want to feel you.” John kissed him and took
the rope. He tied his wrists and attached the end to the headboard.
“Do you want the box, Sherlock?” Half open eyes looked at him and he nodded.
“Yes, please, John, I want the box. I need it. I need you.” John got up and
padded back into the kitchen to retrieve it. He thought of the content and
carried it back. He placed it on the bed and knelt beside him. Sherlock watched
him and licked his lips.
“I want to try everything. I want to change my memory. You are making it
better, John. Please?”
“Whatever you want, whatever you need, love.” He held up a leather blindfold
and he just nodded. He pulled it over his head and Sherlock moaned.
John took the clamps and took care of his nipples. He kissed around them,
kissed and sucked them up until they were erect. Sherlock made weird and wanton
noises. John closed the clamps around his nipples and he openly mewled.
John took a wide plug and moved it over his lips. Sherlock opened his mouth and
John held it against his lips.
“Suck it in and hold it. Keep suckling. Your greedy mouth needs something, I
believe.” Sherlock obeyed. It looked a bit awkward seeing him trying to hold
the plug but he made it.
John moved down his body and pulled his legs up. One went over his shoulder and
the other was planted flat on the mattress. He took the bottle of lube and
applied a generous amount on his fingers. One finger started to move over
Sherlock's hole. He moaned now behind the plug but didn't drop it. John rimmed
him for good and continued to tease his entrance. Sherlock sucked quicker and
started to fist the ropes above his head.
He was still tense and John fondled his testicles. He moaned again around the
plug and John pushed into him up to the first knuckle. Now he hissed and
stopped to move. The plug hung at an awkward angle between his lips but he
adjusted and sucked and it was back in.
John took off the blindfold.
“You OK, Sherlock? Just nod.” He nodded at once. His eyes were closed.
“Sherlock? Look at me!” He opened his eyes and John took the plug out. He
looked lost and in pain.
“What did you promise me?” He just shook his head.
“I want to be good for you! I just can't give up that easily ...”
“Yes you can, if you are hurt or don't feel good. I must be able to trust you!”
“I just felt a pang of fear, but it went away rather quickly. I don't want you
to stop. Please?”
“Sherlock, could you explain what you need?”
“You.”
“That's not enough.”
“Please proceed with what you were doing. I liked it. I enjoyed.”
“You just said you were frightened. I don't want to frighten you. I want you to
feel good.”
“I didn't say I was frightened. I said I felt a pang of fear. That's not the
same. And I felt good soon after. I feel good now. Without experimenting on me
we won't ever find out what I like you to do to me.” John stroked slowly over
his body. It seemed easier for him when he wasn't able to see. Or more when he
wouldn't look at him. He held up the blindfold again and Sherlock nodded. John
placed it over his eyes again and pulled it a bit tighter than before. His
hands rested on his chest.
“OK, let me ask another question.”
“Yes?”
“Do you have fantasies, Sherlock?” He blushed a bit and John had to smile.
“Yes, I do.” No more and John sighed inwardly.
“Please tell me.” Sherlock moved a bit under John and he grabbed his hips to
still him.
“I once saw Greg kneeling in front of my brother and suck his cock. Mycroft was
swaying and he looked like being in heaven. Greg's hands were tied behind his
lower back and both of them were making noises. I want to try it. I want to try
it because it is something entirely new since my, since she couldn't have done
this to me.” His voice became smaller the more he talked.
“Sherlock, I don't know. This is hardcore stuff you want to do. I am really
afraid I could hurt you in the process.”
“I do have a safeword, John, and I promise to use it. Perhaps you should have
one, too?”
“Perhaps I share yours.” He smiled down at him and continued with the touching
and kissing. He carefully turned him around on his front and listened to his
hitched breathing when he slowly lowered on the clamps.
“Kneel for me and spread your knees.” Sherlock got up moaning and John started
to kiss his cheeks. Soon Sherlock was panting and John ordered:
“Talk to me, Sherlock. Tell me what you feel.” He heard him swallow. Then he
throatily started to speak:
“I feel you kissing me, I feel your tongue on my cheeks. It makes me shiver. I
like it. The feeling of being blind and tied up is intense. But it is you
touching me, that's why it's good, so good.” He moaned when John bit into one
cheek.
“Yes, please, do it again, please!” John had to smile and bit down again. At
the same time he dug his nails into his plush arse. Sherlock's arse came up a
bit and he howled.
“Do you miss something?”
“I think I would be able to concentrate more, to enjoy more, when being more
restrained. I think I could feel everything much better.”
“Restrained how?”
“More ropes around my wrists and arms, my legs and thighs. Make me stop moving
completely, take away my sight, my speech, my ability to listen. Then I could
only feel you touching me.”
“That's what I thought about, too, actually.” John pressed down another kiss
and started to untie him. He got rid of the blindfold, too, and pulled him up
into his arms. Sherlock's face was crimson and he hid his face under his head.
“Break now, Sherlock.” He felt him nod but didn't move away. Instead his head
moved a bit down.
“John? What about you?” John was aware of his raging hard on.
“What about me?” He asked instead. Sherlock's curious long fingers moved over
his groin and made him groan. He closed his eyes and hugged him tight.
Sherlock became very curious now after having gotten a reaction from John. He
pressed down with his palm and pressed kisses down there. He could feel his
prick under his jeans. It was huge. He wanted to touch and look at it. He
swallowed and looked up at John. He saw his dilated pupils.
“Please, may I touch you?” John knew he needed the experience. He knew he
should give in.
“Go on as you please, love.” Sherlock straightened up and made him lay down.
Carefully he started to undress him. Everything flew less carefully off the bed
and on the floor. When there were only his jeans left he looked at his belt and
unbuckled it. He unbuttoned it and pulled it down and away. The last barrier
were black boxers. His cock was poking over the waistband already. The head was
dark red and leaking. He had seen that before coming out of his own prick.
At first he started to touch everywhere. He moved his palms and knuckles over
his biceps, his chest, his stomach and his thighs and shins. He even touched
his feet and toes. It was the most sensual thing someone had ever done to him.
John completely relaxed and hummed his approval. He gave in and closed his
eyes.
Sherlock looked up when he heard and felt the humming. The edges of John's
mouth were tilting upwards. He was smiling. Sherlock knew he was doing
something right and he continued to explore. He started to touch his left
nipple with his fingers. He rubbed his palm over it and finally dared to kiss.
His tongue moved over and around it and he sucked like he had the plug. He felt
John's body move up and heard him moan. This was good then. He saved it for
later.
He travelled south and reached his belly-button. He stuck his tongue in and
licked and kissed. Now he saw him fisting the sheets and the noises became
deeper. He was also leaking more. Everything seemed to be in order.
Now he could smell John's sex. He buried his nose into his pubic hair which was
also blondish and soft as was the hair at his nape. He twirled his fingers and
saw his prick twitch and heard him let out a breathy moan.
Sherlock's hand reached down and touched the inside of his left thigh. He
pressed a bit and John spread his legs. He very lightly scratched over his skin
and finally got a verbal reaction.
“God, Sherlock! You bloody tease! Don't stop! Go on! God!” Sherlock was
surprised. John seemed to like it and he started to press kisses on his thighs
moving up again. His prick laid hard and throbbing on the side.
Sherlock sniffed his cock and testicles. Musky, manly, soapy, sweaty. He licked
them to get a taste, too. It was salty and a bit bitter, but not bad.
He felt John tense and looked up at him. He met his huge blue eyes.
“If you don't want me to come into your face right now, you have to stop it.”
“How?” Sherlock didn't want him to come into his face. He wasn't done yet.
“Put your fingers around the base. Pull my balls sharply. It will make me come
down again.” Sherlock decided to pull at his balls once and John howled behind
his hand.
“Can I proceed now?” John was panting and sweating but nodded. Sherlock turned
him around and pulled his arse up. This wasn't John's common position in bed
but he let him. He let his shoulders down and placed his head on his hands. He
felt Sherlock's fingers on his bum. Then he felt Sherlock's lips on his bum. He
wiggled his arse a bit.
Now he spread his cheeks and John deeply inhaled. He hadn't been touched there
for years. He had once tried from the bottom but it didn't work for him. He was
the dominant, wasn't he? He clearly enjoyed this too much right now.
He felt his tongue licking over his hole which twitched. The nerves there were
sensitive and when his tongue lapped sensuously over his hole and around he
couldn't hold back his noises. He fisted his own hair by now and was trembling.
Sherlock was proud of himself. He made him feel good. He was eliciting these
reactions from John. His tongue poked at the hole and Sherlock pressed inside a
bit.
John mumbled incoherent things but didn't order him to stop. So he didn't.
Instead he pushed inside as much as he could and licked what he could reach. He
felt John shiver and heard him moan. He reached around for his cock and held it
at the base. He was a fast learner.
He pulled John up and pressed him against his chest. John was taken by surprise
but let him go on. He felt his fingers around his cock slowly pressing and
moving up and down. John pressed his body against Sherlock's and slung his left
arm around his neck to reach into his hair. His right hand was on his nipple.
Sherlock gave him a hand-job. He wondered how he knew how to do it. He must
have watched his brother and Greg a lot. Now his thumb moved over his head
while he twisted his wrist making John cry out. He straightened on his knees
and moved but Sherlock held him tight.
John could feel Sherlock's prick press against his back. He was rock hard, too.
But he couldn't reach it from this position. He would make it up to him later.
He felt his balls pull up and concentrated on his cock. He was close. He came
when Sherlock bit into his shoulder and pulled hard on his cock. He screamed
his name and came violently. John saw fireworks and slumped in his grip. His
arms fell down and he went completely limp.
He could hear Sherlock breathe but he didn't move. Finally he once shook John.
“John? Are you OK? Are you hurt? Please answer me! John, please?” Lazily John
opened his eyes. He was placed on the bed again and saw him kneeling by his
side. When did that happen? He must have blacked out. No wonder Sherlock was
worried.
“I am fine, Sherlock. I am not hurt. I just experienced the most bloody fucking
best orgasm in my life!”
“Then it was good for you? I was good?” John's half-lidded eyes looked at
Sherlock who seemed to be a bit shaken.
“Come here, love, because I can't move.” Sherlock ruffled his hair.
“I did hurt you then! Oh God, I am so sorry!” He wrung his hands. John willed
his limbs to move and pulled him down.
“Shut up, Sherlock. You didn't hurt me. I feel bloody fantastic. This was the
most intense thing I have ever experienced. It must be you.” He smiled at him
and tenderly touched his jaw.
Sherlock still knelt by his side.
“Really? I did this?” Now he smiled. He felt John pull and laid down by his
side. His cock brushed against John's leg and he hissed.
“Just wait a second longer, I will make it up to you, love.” John murmured.
“Oh, you don't have to, I know how to make it go away. Greg showed me.”
“It's not supposed to be that way when I am around, Sherlock. Please, don't
touch yourself. I will take care of it.” But Sherlock's hand was already
fisting his prick.
“Don't worry, John.” He started to move.
“Stop it, I said!” Parade ground sound. Sherlock stopped at once but didn't
take his hand away.
“But why? You are exhausted. You don't have to!” He almost whined not
understanding John's behaviour.
“You are not to masturbate, do you understand?” He stubbornly shook is head.
“No, I don't. I was shown, it was easy. You could rest now.” John closed his
eyes.
“I don't want to rest. I want you, Sherlock.”
“But ...” John had recovered and got up.
“Do I have to tie you up to stop you from doing it?” Sherlock tilted his head
and smugly smiled.
“Maybe?” He let his hands wander back to his prick. John grabbed him and threw
him on his front. He started to move and tried to escape but John was a trained
close combat fighter. He had no chance and was over-powered in seconds.
John had one wrist pulled up almost between his shoulder blades and the other
hand held some strands of his hair pulling his head off the cushion.
“I like you cheeky, you know?”
“Make me behave ...”
“As you wish, Sherlock.” He tied his arms so his fingers touched his elbows. He
bound a beautiful harness around his chest and arms. Then he tied his ankles,
knees and thighs. He found a leather mask in the box which he pulled over his
head. Beforehand he stuck earplugs in. The mask reached down to his neck. He
pulled it in place and closed it in his nape. He attached the blindfold to it.
He finished with a leather gag which had a plug on the inside being placed in
Sherlock's mouth. He rolled him on his back. His cock was still hard and dark
red.
John poked it and elicited a deep moan from behind the gag. He taped two vibro
eggs on his nipples and adjusted them to the lowest setting. Sherlock trembled
rather badly and started to move his hips to get some friction. John held him
down and pulled his testicles telling him no. It worked.
He started to move a wand over his helpless body shocking him with vibrations.
The noises didn't stop and the leaking increased. He tortured him some more
until he finally tensed and let out a feral cry. It was luckily muffled by the
gag because otherwise Mrs Hudson might come to his rescue.
Since John kept holding on to his prick he wasn't able to orgasm. John kept it
from him several times. Sherlock's body was limb and he only moaned quietly
behind his gag by now. But he still was rock hard. John took away the vibro
eggs. He carefully touched his nipples which were over-sensitive by now. He
keened and arched up into the touch.
John rolled him on his front and took away the ropes around his legs. Instead
he attached a spreader-bar to his ankles and widened it. He pulled him up and
attached a rope from his bound arms to the bar. He touched his body with his
fingers, palms, hands. He roamed over it eliciting all kind of noises from
Sherlock. He also won't let him orgasm. He listened to his quiet sobbing.
John took another piece of rope and slung it around both his dick and
testicles. Sherlock shook wildly but the noises he made were so wanton that
John didn't stop. He undid the rope between his arms and the bar and carefully
turned him around. He lifted up the bar as much as Sherlock could stand which
was a lot actually. He pressed down a bit and then attached the bar to the
headrest.
Sherlock's rear was completely exposed and he had stilled. John undid the gag
and moved his finger over his lips. Sherlock kissed his fingertips and roughly
whispered:
“Go on, John, please. Make me feel you. Take me.” John kissed him and chose
another gag. He attached it to the mask and pushed the gag between his lips
until it filled his mouth. Then he buckled the strap tightly over his lips.
Sherlock's body sagged and he moaned.
“Oh God, love, you are so responsive.” John knew he couldn't hear him but he
didn't mind. He lubed up his fingers and started to circle around his hole.
Sherlock twitched and shivered and John kissed the inside of his thighs. The
noises coming from Sherlock were obscene, needy and so very wanton, that John
had to tug his balls hard to prevent him from coming too soon. He dug his
fingers into his thighs and closed his eyes. Then he continued with his
ministrations.
He rimmed him and massaged his tight entrance. His puckered hole twitched and
clenched. It took John quite a time to get him to relax so he could push his
middle finger in. Sherlock stopped moving and his breathing had hitched. It
came only raggedly and slowly John's other hand stroked over his stomach. He
intently listened to the noises coming from Sherlock.
Very carefully he moved his finger and twisted it. He poured more lube into his
rim to make it easier. Finally he was able to slide in completely and Sherlock
bucked up groaning. His legs moved and the bar rattled. John decided not to
stop and wiggled his finger. He was a doctor and had paid attention during his
anatomy lectures. It took him seconds to find his prostate and he hit it at
once pressing down. Now Sherlock was howling behind the gag and his body almost
lifted itself from the mattress. John pressed down the bar and held him down
hard. Sherlock stopped moving and John made it two fingers. This went better
and soon enough Sherlock moved back fucking himself on John's fingers. Normally
John wouldn't allow this but it was their first time and he wanted him to
experience. He touched his prostate with every single push. Sherlock kept
howling. John knew he must be desperate. He needed to come. It must hurt by
now. Painpleasure. Sherlock obviously enjoyed it.
John opened him up more by using three fingers now. He pinched his prostate and
his other hand tweaked his balls. Sherlock yelled behind his gag and came up
again. John loosened the rope around his balls now and tenderly fondled them.
He extracted his fingers and looked at his clenching wide hole. He lubed up a
middle-sized plug and shoved it inside setting it to a lower vibration.
Sherlock shivered and trembled making the bar rattle again. John took away the
bar and let his legs down slowly. He massaged them. Then he got rid of the gag,
the blindfold and the mask itself. Sherlock's hair was wet and his eyes only
half open. John picked the plugs out of his ears, too.
“Look at me, love.” Slowly Sherlock moved his head and tried to focus. He
licked his lips and made unintelligible noises. John made him drink and sat by
his side.
“Are you ready?” He nodded.
“I need to hear you, Sherlock.”
“M eadie ...” John smiled and moved between his legs. He moved one up and over
his shoulder. The other one he pulled around his waist and made his bum rest on
his lap. He extracted the plug and poured a generous amount of lube on his
cock. He lined up and touched him with his head. He looked down at Sherlock and
found him looking back. Eyes full of wonder and trust. John's eyes watered when
Sherlock smiled up at him and nodded.
He slowly pushed and due to the preparation and Sherlock's more than willing
body it went in quite smoothly. Sherlock exhaled long and raggedly and tried to
adjust. John let him move a bit and when he stilled started to pull out again.
With every move he sank in a bit more and when he touched his prostate the
first time Sherlock yelled. His head came up and he shouted:
“Again! Do it again!” John did it again. And again. He was buried to the hilt
and fucked Sherlock six times to Sunday. He was very close and undid the rope
around his prick. It was dark purple and leaking all over his stomach. Sherlock
was keening and his upper body arched up. The venes running through his neck
showed strongly when he held himself only by his head.
John grabbed his cheeks and dug in pushing hard at the same time. Sherlock's
body shot up and he screamed when his orgasm hit him. John rubbed his cock to
prolong it as much as possible. Sherlock clenched several times and John came,
too. He shot his cum into Sherlock and finally let go.
Sherlock still sat with his forehead resting on John's shoulder. John's arms
were around his shoulders clinging to him. He still was buried inside Sherlock.
He felt his cum leak out of him when his dick slacked. It was filthy but it was
also sexy.
Suddenly he felt Sherlock kiss him. He kissed his shoulder, his neck and the
place right where his ear touched his head. He moved over to his jaw and cheek.
John loosened the harness in the meantime and Sherlock's arms fell down. He
hissed when the pain struck him like little needles pricking him. John pecked a
kiss on his lips and made him lay down again. He massaged his arms and when he
was done Sherlock sat up against the headrest looking at John. His mouth opened
and closed again several times as he wanted to say something but was at a loss
of words. John grinned and said.
“Stop doing that, love, you look like a carp.” Sherlock finally spoke.
“I had no idea ...”
“So I was able to please you?”
“That is not enough a word to describe it, John. What I just experienced was
the most powerful ever. I saw white lights, fireworks. My brain shut down. It
was intense and there wasn't a single moment I had doubts.” John took his hand.
“I love you.” And he looked up at him.
“And I love you.”
End Notes
     This fic hasn’t been brit-picked or even beta’d. I am sorry for any
     mistakes. Please feel free to mention mistakes via mail.
     I also hunger for constructive criticism or maybe even praise. And if
     you like to be my beta, contact me, too.
     Let me know, if you liked this and look out for my other works!
     Thanks for your kudos, comments and praise! Go and visit my tumblr:
     http://jimseviltwin.tumblr.com/
     I know, I will be going to hell …
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