Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3704739.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Sherlock_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Sherlock_Holmes/John_Watson
  Character:
      John_Watson, Sherlock_Holmes
  Additional Tags:
      Teacher-Student_Relationship, Extremely_Underage, Top_John, Bottom
      Sherlock_Holmes, Shota_Sherlock, Punishment, Humiliation, Dirty_Talk,
      Rough_Sex, Dom/sub_Undertones, Anal_Fingering, Anal_Sex, Desk_Sex,
      Virginity, Size_Kink, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot
  Series:
      Part 1 of scholar_bonding_(of_a_sexual_nature)
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-04-08 Words: 1601
****** the simple cure to a rebellious attitude ******
by LilMysterios
Summary
     Sherlock Holmes is John's new private student, but apparently doesn't
     intend to submit to his authority...
     So John bends him over the desk and forces him to.
Notes
     As always, everything is in the tags. Don't like, don't read!
     Work beta'd by the lovely harleyquinnnapier. ^^
See the end of the work for more notes
 
John hadn’t always wanted to become a preceptor.
He had had his doubts, like countless other professors, about his ability to
guide young minds, about how his temper would have to remain gentle and firm at
the same time if he wanted to both reassure and educate… plus, after teaching
only classes of ten or more students for the better part of his career, John
wasn’t so sure if the one-on-one teaching format would suit him.
That was why he had hesitated for so long before accepting Lord Holmes’ offer
to be one of his sons’ private tutor… but the man was so charming, had cajoled
him so insistently, that John had ended up saying yes, and he had settled at
the castle immediately, ready to bolt at any moment if the job wasn’t
convincing.
However, any desire to flee and return to his packed classes disappeared when
he saw his new student for the first time.
Pale, skinny legs revealed by short trousers, the kind that every young boy
wore at that tender age.
A slender, narrow torso fitted perfectly in a silky tailored waistcoat.
Tiny, delicate hands, fingers as thin as needles, clamped tightly against his
smooth thighs.
A plump, full, utterly obscene mouth, slightly open in its curiosity.
Wide, bright eyes, so pale they seemed silvery, and filled with a devastating
innocence that had John’s throat tightening.
Sherlock Holmes took a step towards him, watching him timidly from under his
long, dark eyelashes, and John felt his mouth go dry.
“Are you my new preceptor?” the young boy asked sweetly.
John nodded, dumbfounded.
“You won’t last more than two weeks,” said Sherlock as suddenly he dropped all
pretences of nervous shyness, his lips forming a mean smile.
He cast him a mean look as he turned heel and walked away, pert little ass
bouncing in his trousers and John, still shocked by the sudden change in the
boy’s demeanour, couldn’t think of anything to say.
 
===============================================================================
 
 In the following days, Sherlock tried his best to discourage John and force
him to leave.
Gratuitous provocations, cruel jokes and deliberate ill will during their
lessons, tardiness, random projectiles and insubordination, Sherlock tried
everything… and would probably have kept going if John hadn’t put his foot
down.
“That is enough, Sherlock.”
Sherlock stopped his insolent monologue about social class and shut up, his
mouth hanging open in surprise.
“Get up,” ordered John. “It’s time I give you what you deserve.”
The air in the room was suddenly charged with electricity, and even John could
feel the tension. He watched as Sherlock slowly went around the edge of the
desk and came to stand before him, hands behind his back and a supremely bored
look on his pretty face.
John let the tension drawl out for a few seconds more.
“Bend over the desk.”
Sherlock’s eyes squinted in despise.
“Are you going to spank me?” he laughed. “So original, professor Watson,
really…”
But John, ignoring his gasp of surprise, gripped him by the nape and forced him
to bend over the desk, lean chest flat against the wood and behind presented,
slightly unbalanced by his legs that didn’t quite reach the floor in this
position.
John pushed abruptly Sherlock’s shorts down, uncovering a delicious-looking,
white little arse, and brushed a possessive hand over the round curve of a
small, soft cheek…
“Really, professor Watson, I pegged you for having much more interesting
methods up your sleeve… spanking won’t do with me, you can ask anyone.”
But John ignored him and, spreading Sherlock’s arse cheeks with a hand to
reveal the tight, pink pucker of his virgin hole, he pushed the tip of his
thumb inside.
“What—what are you doing?” asked Sherlock, his tone suddenly edged with a tinge
of nervousness.
John chuckled.
“Oh so I’m not unoriginal anymore, boy? Has nobody played with your hole
before? That is such a shame.”
The hole clenched and tightened around John’s knuckles as he pumped it in and
out, and he delighted in hearing Sherlock’s high whine when he put in another.
“You c-can’t,” Sherlock stuttered. “You can’t just—touch me...”
“Oh I’ll do a lot more than that,” John said with a smirk. “You just said the
last impertinence of your life, boy.”
With that and not waiting a second more, John opened his fly, took out his
already-hard, leaking cock out, and forced himself inside Sherlock.
The young boy let out a cry of pain as the huge member breached his entrance,
and John snickered when Sherlock clenched helplessly around his cock. He was
obviously a virgin and the passage was still tight, but John knew that it would
end up opening up for him and welcoming him in… plus, it had to hurt if he
wanted the little prick to remember his lesson.
So John kept pushing in, ignoring Sherlock’s complaints, and didn’t even wait
when he bottomed out before he started fucking into the boy earnest, dragging
broken cries at every thrust of his pelvis and breathing hotly in Sherlock’s
hair.
“Do you let all your professors fuck you like that, little Holmes?” he
whispered hotly against his ear. “Do you present your tight little arse to them
as soon as they come in, knees spread like a whore? Do you beg them to fuck you
deep and hard, to make you scream so much you forget your multiplication
tables?”
John thrust sharply and he must have hit Sherlock’s prostate, for the boy
howled and squirmed in John’s big hands, trying to get away from him… John
simply placed a big hand between his shoulder blades and pushed him flat on the
desk, thrusting harder and faster, relishing the delicious friction as his cock
raped forcefully the tight passage.
“That’s all you wanted, am I right?” he hissed. “You act like a rebellious
little shit but really the only thing that can make you happy is a big, hard
cock shoved deep inside your little hole…”
John slipped a hand under Sherlock’s crisp white shirt, pinching a peaked
nipple, and the boy whined, a high, exquisite sound that went straight to
John’s groin.
“What would your parents say if they saw you right now, Sherlock? Bent over
your professor’s desk, with your little boy’s pants around your ankles and a
huge adult cock stuffed so deep in your virgin arse?”
He lowered his voice to a hot whisper, murmuring against Sherlock’s glossy
curls.
“Do you think they would stay to watch the show? Do you think they’d close the
door behind them, watch you getting your little arse pounded and liking it?
Maybe they’d even thank me for finally shutting you up, don’t you think?
Because you’ve been such a bad boy, Sherlock. Such a bad boy.”
“Y—yes, I—aaah, I’m sorry,” sobbed Sherlock, his words cut by gasps whenever
John’s cock hit his prostate. “I’ll be good, I—uuhh, I promise, I swear…”
“Is that true?” doubted John. “Do you really want to be a good boy? Are you
even capable of being good?”
“I—I swear, I can ch—change” stuttered Sherlock, “I can—aah, I can be a good
boy, I can be good! Just—uh, uh, just… let me…”
“That I let you what? That I let you come? You think you’ve been good enough?”
“N-No, I… ah, uh, I just need… please, I’m begging you!” Sherlock sobbed.
John sneaked an arm around the boy’s waist and easily lifted him up, pressing
him against his chest and impaling him even further of John’s cock – Sherlock
let out a choked breath.
“If I let you come…” murmured John with a sweet voice, still fucking up into
Sherlock’s hole.
“Yes, yes—ahaaa, yes, please,” begged Sherlock, bouncing up and down on John’s
cock like a puppet without its strings.
“If I let you come,” said John, “will you be a good boy for me? Will you be
quiet and diligent? Will you do your homework and listen in class?”
“Yes, yes, I swear!” chanted Sherlock, nodding emphatically as his black glossy
curls bounced around his head like a dark, sinful halo.
“Will you show me respect and obedience in all things?”
“In all things,” moaned Sherlock, going mad from the pain and the frustration.
“Please, Sir…”
John chuckled, low and throaty, and put a hand around Sherlock, squeezing
lightly his small, neglected cock.
“That’s a good boy. You can come… now.”
Sherlock came with an inarticulate cry, spilling himself all over John’s
fingers and desk while John kept fucking him trough his orgasm. He held
Sherlock tight against his chest as the boy rode his orgasm, and the clenching
and unclenching of the boy’s hole around his cock finally pushed him over the
edge. John pulled out, easing Sherlock back on the desk, and came all over the
boy’s arse and lower back, painting the pale, smooth flesh with thick ropes of
his come… Sherlock moaned, soft and kitten-weak, his hole twitching helplessly
around its sudden emptiness.
John then wiped his cock with a handkerchief, tucked himself back in his
slacks, and readjusted himself. In front of him, Sherlock feebly stood up on
shaking legs and faced him, his trousers still at his knees and his shirt
almost ripped open, eyes wet and huge and chest heaving to regain his
breathing.
“This has been most productive, Mr Holmes,” said John, his voice polite and
seemingly not at all affected by the fact he had just fucked his twelve year
old student to exhaustion. “I do hope you’ll remember today’s lesson.”
And with that, he calmly left the room.
 
End Notes
     So this work is first part of a series, as you could all see, and
     I've already written the second part of it, but if you have any ideas
     of what could happen to pretty little Sherlock next, I would be
     delighted to hear them, share some perspectives... I would really
     love that.
     Also, don't be shy if you saw any mistake (especially in the British
     language which I probably haven't mastered like, at all, in addition
     to the fact that English isn't my first language) or if you feel like
     a tag or warning should be added, just tell me!
     And don't forget: comments? Are unicorns. And rainbows. And just make
     my DAY like kittens in mittens and frozen Snickers bars. ^^
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!