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Oh John, My John

Chapter Text


He’s not even paying attention to me! John growled as he looked up at the man on the couch. Sherlock was typing on his phone rapidly, not even faintly aware of his tied up flat mate at his feet. All it took was getting one twist of his wrist or one finger under the ropes and he would be free to tackle the infuriating man. After all, John was an expert escape artist, but Sherlock…well Sherlock was a master at all things that kept the Doctor restrained.

Whether it was rope, zip ties, collars, clothing, or chains, Sherlock knew exactly how to tie them to keep John from escaping; which was why the Detective always felt comfortable making bets involving John and bondage.  “You’re only going to hurt yourself twisting around like that, John.” Sherlock’s voice only angered him more because he knew he’d lost the moment he’d agreed upon his birthday present.

They always did this on John’s birthday, but he thought for sure he would be able to get out of the ropes this time. Once a year, Sherlock would lay out five different devices in front of John and let him choose which one he thought he could get out of. If he did, which was a very big if, he was allowed to top Sherlock. If he couldn’t though, then he would be fucked raw while he was tied up in whatever trap Sherlock put him in. No matter the outcome, John loved it and Sherlock loved it.

“Mmm nnmmt,” John tried to say through the flannel Sherlock had shoved into his mouth. It was a nice touch, John thought, even though he could feel a slight string of drool running down his chin. Everything added to the experience, from the way Sherlock tackled him as soon as he entered the flat, to the slight rope burn he was getting on his wrists, chest, and ankles.

“What’s that?” Sherlock asked, keeping his eyes on his phone.

John grunted again, giving one last go at untying himself before he submitted to Sherlock’s will. The rope on his chest, though beautifully intertwined, was tactfully attached to his wrists behind his back. His hands were then connected to the soft rope wrapped around his ankles and then pulled taught so John’s body arched backwards, leaving him no chance to reach the ropes that would release him.

He rocked back and forth on his chest, trying desperately to reach the rope at his feet. It was useless though, and deep down John knew it. Sherlock was a bloody genius and had stored every measurement of John’s body and reach in his mind palace. So basically I’m about to get fucked in the arse. Perfect!

“Mmmph,” he groaned and huffed out a deep breath through his nose. Then suddenly, John got a brilliant idea. He started slow, but soon he was rutting frantically against the carpet, smearing precome all over the fibers. The roughness of the carpet felt amazing against his aching cock, and after a dozen awkward thrusts, John could feel the heaviness in his lower gut signifying he was close.

“Ah, ah, no you don’t,” Sherlock said when he realized John wasn’t randomly flailing and actually trying to get release.  He quickly grabbed the riding crop he’d set on the table for just such an occasion, after all, John did enjoy being naughty sometimes. With a snap of his wrist, Sherlock smacked John twice on each arse cheek, leaving four pink marks against a pale backdrop.

“Smma,” John tried to apologize, but the flannel, which had become soaked, inhibited him from asking for forgiveness.

“Now, now, that was very naughty of you John. And on your birthday,” Sherlock said, lightly scolding his Sub, who knew better than to rut like some mindless animal. “I don’t know if you even deserve your present now,” he put the crop to his lips and tapped them as if pondering what he was going to do next.

John screamed again and rolled on his back as much as he could to show Sherlock he could be good and wait for his Dom to take care of his need. His cock had grown even harder from the smacks and now he just wanted Sherlock to fuck him senseless until they both came.

“Oh, now you want to behave?” Sherlock asked him, placing the crop on John’s left nipple and tapping it with enough snap to send jolts to John’s already dripping cock. “Perhaps you deserve your birthday spanking.”

John enthusiastically nodded his head, not thinking of the consequences for acting so excited to get his bum smacked.

“Hmm,” Sherlock put on the serious face John loved, “but that wouldn’t be punishment, now would it.” He continued to drag the edge of the crop down John’s chest, to his belly, and then to a ruby red cock. John’s senses lite on fire when the black leather gently tapped on the soft skin,

“Mmmga,” John closed his eyes and couldn’t stop his hips from bucking. The precum leaking from his cock smeared onto the top, leaving a pearly white gloss.

Sherlock grinned at the site of John writhing on the ground, lowering the crop even further to John’s bullocks. He placed it underneath the sac, weighing it experimentally at the top of the leather. John knew Sherlock was able to calculate the exact weight and how close he was to shooting off like a rocket, and this made him almost come without being touched. To be read so easily and so completely made him feel like there was nothing to worry about, nothing he had to try and hide.

With the crop still roaming teasingly over John’s body, Sherlock used his other hand to easily untie the sub’s hands from his feet. With a thud, John’s feet hit the floor so that he could roll over completely onto his back now. His hands were starting to tingle a bit from his own weight, but it just added to the sensation. Plus, Sherlock always seemed to be aware of what was happening with John’s body, so everything was alright.

“Hmm,” Sherlock mused with a devilish smirk on his face. As Sherlock scanned his body like it was something to be devoured, John caught the other man’s eyes just for a moment. In that one second, love, trust, friendship, and so much more exploded between them, making John smile and drop even further into headspace.

“I know just what to do with you,” Sherlock said, placing his riding crop on the sofa and going to pick John up. He placed his hands under the blonde’s arms and lifted him easily until he was standing up on wobbly legs. With support from his lover, John was able to make his way over to the couch and hover above Sherlock’s lap.

John was facing away and braced his knees on the cushion as his inner thigh and calf pressed against Sherlock’s warm dress pants. As he hovered just above Sherlock’s crotch, he could feel the man unbuttoning himself and the tell tail sign of a zipper made John grind down eagerly. “Patience,” Sherlock purred, rubbing his free hand up and down Johns flank and chest.

The smooth hands had learned every millimeter of John’s body and now they were being used to calm him and excite him at the same time. John closed his eyes as the hand roamed his body, scratching at some parts and pinching at others to gain maximum effect. He was helpless to fight what Sherlock did to his body, all he could do was sit there and enjoy every minute.

Sherlock grabbed his short hair and pulled John’s head back so he could whisper in his ear. “You’re going to ride me, Captain,” he said and smacked John’s thigh with the crop. The sting was intense and almost overloaded his brain with the different sensations going on through his body. “Would you like that?”

John nodded his head eagerly, using his knees to bounce up and down to show he wanted to start his ‘punishment’ as soon as possible. Sherlock chuckled behind him, filling his ears with a deep rich rumble. Lifting himself up to half kneel half straddle Sherlock’s thighs, John arched his back to allow for a better angle.

Sherlock placed one steadying hand on John’s hip and the other on his own hardness to line himself up. John groaned, closing his eyes as he could feel the first burn and stretch of the night. It went slowly, but eventually with Sherlock’s help, John was fully seated on the other man’s lap.

He squeezed his hands into fists at the over fullness he felt from Sherlock being inside him. He felt complete, whole, and John wished it would never end. If Sherlock never let him go, never stopped looking at him, never stopped holding him, it would be too soon.

He was immediately brought out of his wishing by a loud crack and a sting in his left thigh. “Stay with me,” Sherlock told him, grabbing his side to steady him. “Move,” he whispered, and that was all John needed to lift himself up and fall back down. He moved slowly at first, but when Sherlock continued to smack different spots on John’s thighs, the shorter man picked up the pace.

Sherlock’s grabbed ahold of John’s hair, pulling his neck back as the Sub rode him. “That’s it,” he encouraged, humping up to meet John’s arse. Every other thrust, John moaned from Sherlock’s cock hitting his prostate head on. “You wanna come? Hmm?”

John nodded, still moving his body up and down, pleasuring himself and Sherlock at the same time. “Are you sure?” Sherlock teased him, but reached around and grabbed ahold of John’s bouncing cock. He squealed at the touch, moving faster to reach their completion. “Not until I come, do you understand me,” he said, squeezing the head and moving his hand down to the base.

John whined and tried to think of dead puppies as the heat in his lower belly attempted to boil over. If Sherlock didn’t want him to come, he would never do it again…or, at least until his bullocks exploded.

Finally, Sherlock gripped John’s hips with both hands and slammed him down onto his bony thighs. John could feel the slight pulsing as warmth filled him. With that feeling inside him and Sherlock’s hand still on him now, John’s stomach muscles tightened as he came rope after rope of white pearly fluid.

Sherlock pulled out his cock, making John wince slightly at the tenderness of his raw skin. They both sat there as come dripped from John’s hole onto Sherlock’s lap. As if the whole experience wasn’t enough, Sherlock ran his finger through the semen and began rubbing it along John’s back, marking him. “Mine,” he said gnawing playfully at John’s shoulder.

John moaned while Sherlock untied his hands and pulled his lover to rest up against him. Sherlock rubbed circles on John’s stomach and planted a kiss on the side of his head, showing John he was loved. “Happy birthday,” he panted, taking out the flannel in John’s mouth.

“Thanks,” John laughed, his voice watery from being stifled. “Love you.” John curled up on Sherlock’s lap, nuzzling into the taller man’s neck.

“I love you too.”                


Chapter Text


Greg wasn’t sneaky, or devious, or even an expert at keeping John tied to one place. He was however, the one Dom who could drop John the farthest into headspace without even trying. They had no idea how the man did it, but for some reason, Greg was the only person who could take care of John when he had worked himself into an intolerable state.

That’s why Sherlock was quite pleased when Greg was at the crime scene when they showed up. John had been agitated for three weeks and no matter how hard the Detective tried, he couldn’t put him far enough down to let him relax. The Doctor had gone three weeks with an average of four hours of sleep a night, and barely two meals a day. John was in a rut, to say the least, and Sherlock knew it would only take one glance and Greg would take him home for a couple of nights to get straightened out. He loved John, and if it meant putting him in another’s hands for a while to get better, then Sherlock would do it. Plus, for all his faults, he trusted Greg with his life, and John’s life.

“What do you mean he left again?!” John shouted at Donovan as he threw his hands up in the air. “God damn him!”

“John,” Donovan tried to calm the furious Doctor, “it’s alright. I’ll just call you a cab, yeah?”

“Don’t bloody bother! I’ll just walk,” he kicked at the dirt, his anger swelling to the point of bursting.

“John!” A voice from behind him called. “Wait up a minute, will ya.” It was Greg calling him as he walked away from the crime scene. John figured if he just kept walking he wouldn’t have to put up with anymore crap and Greg would stop following him. He was wrong.

Suddenly, there was a hand on the back of his neck, squeezing hard enough that John lifted his shoulders and winced. “I said, stop,” Greg growled, sending shockwaves through John’s entire body.

“Greg I-“ John tried to amend his mistake, thinking he still had a way out. He liked Greg, maybe even loved him, but right now, he didn’t want to deal with anybody. All the Doctor wanted to do was go home, drink a cup of tea and go to bed, but it appeared Greg had other ideas.

“You are going to shut your mouth, walk back to my car, get in, and then wait for me to take you home. Is that understood, John?” His voice was low, almost as low as Sherlock’s, but the natural rasp made it unique.

“No, Greg, I’m fine,” John tried one last time, but his head dropped in submission, betraying his little act of rebellion.

“Is that so?” Greg chuckled darkly. His breath hit the back of John’s neck as he pulled him closer. “Because the John Watson I know doesn’t shout at people who are trying to help him. But,” he let go of John’s neck. Please put it back. John stopped the whimper that wanted to escape his throat. “If you think you’re fine then by all means walk back to Baker Street. If, however, you decide to get into that car, I will take care of you how I see fit, whether you like it or not.” Greg caressed the back of his neck once more, then turned around to walk back to the scene. “Your choice!” he shouted over his shoulder.

John sighed and took a few more steps, then paused again. He looked down at the ground, watching one stray tear hit the pavement. With his head hung low, the Doctor made his way back to the crime scene and slipped into the back seat of Greg’s car. He had hoped to be discrete, but he felt eyes watching him from everywhere.

It took twenty minutes before the front door opened and Greg got into the front seat. “Get out and climb into the front passenger seat, John.” His voice was still low and allowed for absolutely zero negotiation. John loved it, needed it, so he got out and sat down in the seat next to Greg.

John closed his eyes during the silence, his mind racing too fast for him to sleep. I shouldn’t be doing this. Maybe I should just go home. As soon as he opened his eyes to question what was happening, Greg stretched out his arm and placed his hand on the far side of John’s head. He petted his cheek and over his hair until John closed his eyes again. “Down,” he ordered and applied slight pressure to the side of John’s head.

He let out a long slow breath as he let himself be pushed. As soon as John’s head landed softly in Greg’s lap, a warm calloused hand combed through his hair aimlessly. It was bliss, and John was falling in, head first, literally. “That’s it,” Greg rasped out, the smile on his face audible.

John nuzzled into Greg’s crotch, feeling the warmth and semi hardness below his cheek. John, you idiot, he wants a blowjob, not a cuddle. Realizing his mistake, John lifted his hands to undo the zipper when there was a sudden pain in his neck. “Did I say I wanted that?” Greg asked, pinching the skin right under John’s ear. It was an act a parent dog would use on their wayward pups, and not too surprisingly, it had a similar effect on John.

The Sub rolled over slightly and then went lax, letting his hands rest at his side. “S’rry,” he slurred, snuggling deeper into the comforting smell of musk, coffee, and tobacco.  

“That’s okay, John. I’m not mad,” Greg told him, putting his hand back on John’s head.

It was so grounding to feel that heavy weight on his head, but the bumps and turns in the road stopped John from falling deeper into ecstasy. He kept his eyes closed though, because this was the first time in while he was able to somewhat let his guard down.

“We’re here,” Greg announced, which surprised John at how quick the ride seemed. “As much as I’d love to carry you,” he said, planting a kiss on John’s cheekbone, “I need to save my strength for later tonight.” His voice was cheeky, making John grin and blush from the anticipation of what was going to happen.

With an annoyed groan, John, with the Greg’s help, sat up and exited the car. His muscles still ached something horrible, but his mind felt much calmer just from those few minutes in the car. “Come on,” Greg called from the front door of his flat, making John jog a little to keep up. “I have some work to do before dinner.”

John frowned, confused as to why he was even brought here if Greg was going to be busy with work. He had a million other things he should be doing right now and-

“Strip!” Greg barked, closing the front door and looking at John expectantly.

This was not what John had expected, not at all! But if Greg still has work to do, then why does he need me naked?

“Don’t make me repeat myself, boy.” With that, John pulled his shirt off, then shoes and socks, then his trouser. He gripped the elastic of his black briefs, but was halted by a hand on his shoulder. “Keep those on for now. We don’t want you staining the carpet, now do we?”

John’s eyes grew wide at that, unsure, and honestly, a bit afraid of what Greg was planning for him. If he couldn’t get into the right state of mind, John hated being a Sub and playing sex games. Nevertheless, he followed Greg into a small office with a desk, a chair, and numerous book shelves and file cabinets.

“Pull your pants down and lean over the table,” Greg commanded, pulling something John couldn’t quite see from his jacket pocket. “Let me see that sweet little bum of yours,” he added, rubbing his hand gently over the two fleshy mounds presented to him.

Is this it? He’s just going to fuck me, then do his work? Whatever, just do it and be done. Normally, John would be the first one on board for desk sex, but right now, he didn’t even feel like jerking off, let alone be nailed by a larger than average cock.

Greg slowly ran his hand up and down John’s back, causing goose bumps to sprout along his whole body. The comforting movement continued even as a finger began petting and prodding at his entrance. John gasped slightly when Greg pushed his finger in all the way. It felt good, it always did with Greg, but John couldn’t bring himself to moan. He was just in one of those moods. It wasn’t Greg’s fault, not at all, but John did feel bad for the man and his losing battle to bring him down into subspace.

When the finger was removed, John expected two fingers to replace the one. Instead, a smooth device, most likely silicone, was easily pressed into him. John realized they were anal beads when the two largest at the end popped in with a little more strain. “Gaaa,” John groaned when Greg adjusted them so the ring on the end could go back inside his pants. He was already half hard, but that silver haired bastard yanked his pants all the way up so John was thoroughly    uncomfortable.

“Come on, I wasn’t lying about having more work to do,” Greg said as he sat down at his desk and patted the side of his leg. John just stared at him, expecting the older man to give up and let him go into the kitchen and make a cuppa while Greg finished his paper work. That didn’t appear to be the case though, when Greg continued to stare down John with a gaze that would make Mycroft fall to his knees.

“Are you testing me tonight, John?” Greg asked, scooting his roller chair back a bit, getting ready to stand up. “Because if you are, I’m more than willing to show you who’s in charge in this flat,” he said, placing both hands behind his head to display an aura of dominance.

“No, sir,” John grumbled and slouched his shoulders as he walked over to the other side of the table. The small, but long, string of beads in his arse shifter slightly when he walked, but they never pressed against that one spot he needed. He dropped down to his knees with a thick thud and looked up expectantly at Greg, who gave him a warm, if not amused, smile.

“That’s my boy,” Greg whispered, placing his hand on John’s head and pulling him in until the sub rested his cheek against the dom’s thigh. “Now, you just sit there and I’ll wake you when it’s bath time.”

“’m not tired,” John said, as drool pooled out of his mouth and started to soak Greg’s trousers.

“Of course not,” Greg chuckled. “Now be quiet,” he said, pulling a touch harder on John’s hair and then leaving the sub be.

John watched the carpet for ten minutes, waiting for Greg to be done, when a warm feeling of pins and needles started at the base of his spine. The feeling made its way up through his body, clouding his mind until John was forced to close his exhausted eyes. Slowly he began to float in space, the only thing holding him down being the warm thigh his face was pressed against.

He was safe, he was happy, and Greg was going to make sure of it. There was no reason to keep the tension in his spine or the constant vigilance in his mind. All John was responsible for now was to sit at Greg’s feet and wait for his dom to tell him what to do. Subspace rocks, was all John could think as his mind floated off to lay in a beautiful field were no body could hurt him.

“John,” a voice from the clear blue sky called to him. “John, sweetheart,” the voice pulled at him, lifting his body from the warm fragrant grass until he was being lowered onto a familiar carpet. “That’s it, just a little bit more,” Greg?

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of being wrapped in a velvet world, John opened his eyes to see chocolaty brown ones staring down at him. “Hello, there,” Greg smiled and ran a hand from John’s hair to his nape, giving the now relaxed flesh a gentle squeeze.

“H’llo,” John said, his thick tongue not allowing for clear speech. His head still felt light as Greg pulled him into his lap, splaying his warm hands along John’s belly and hip.

“Feeling a bit better?” Greg said into his ear, nipping playfully at the lobe.

“Mmhmm,” John nodded his head and giggled tiredly. He felt so much better just sitting on the other man’s lap, feeling a familiar hardness pressing into his left arse cheek. The beads flexed inside him, sending a long shiver through his body.

“I think we’re ready for a bath, eh?” Greg asked, massaging the lax muscles on John’s stomach.

“Mmhmm,” John mumbled again, enjoying the warmth below him. It was taken away however, when Greg pushed John to stand up, but immediately wrapped an arm around his waist as they made their way upstairs.

With his head still down and a lazy smile on his face, John just stood there when Greg turned on the tap and added bubbles to the running water. “Alright, lean up against the wall for me, John,” Greg said, leading John towards the opposite wall. “I guess I don’t need to tell you to relax.” Greg ran his hand up and down John flank again, in awe of how much the sub’s muscles had relaxed since he’d been in subspace.

One by one, Greg gently pulled out each bead, leaving John’s hole open and clenching. “Beautiful,” he gasped, running a finger along John’s rim, earning a real moan from the sub. “Come.” John was then led over to tub and helped to step over the rim and sit down so his back was resting on Greg’s chest. “There we go,” Greg cooed, yes actually cooed at the adult sitting between his legs.

John let out a long breath as his body was enveloped by the warm bubbly water. It felt amazing and Greg’s hard body below him only added to the feeling of safety and calm. Then, there was a hand on his half hard cock, moving up and down slowly, but adding the right amount of friction. “Greg,” John breathed, not having enough energy to even cant his hips.

“You like that?” Greg smiled, moving his other hand around and rolling the subs drawn up bullocks around gently.

“Mmhmm,” John want back to sounds rather than words when Greg gave an extra quick jerk of his wrist. His body didn’t even tense up when Greg shifted below him, lifting John in the air slightly and placing his fully erect cock just at the sub’s entrance. Slowly, with hands gripping John’s hips, Greg let the other man slide down onto him, allowing gravity to do its work.

“God,” Greg grunted when John was fully seated. He continued moving his hand up and down John’s now leaking cock as he rolled his hips against the other man’s arse.  

John groaned and closed his eyes, letting his head fall back on Greg’s shoulder. There was nothing that made him feel more secure than having Greg completely inside of him. Nothing could happen to him, save for having his brains fucked out.  “Hnng,” John gritted his teeth when Greg sped up and deepened his thrusts.

Abandoning John’s cock, Greg grabbed both his hips, suspending him in the air so that he could thrust up into John’s clenching hole. “You want my come, John?” Greg asked as if they were talking about grabbing a pint.

“Please,” John said, flying high above his body as Greg pulled him down hard on to his cock. He could feel twitching and the gentle spray of Greg’s come shooting deep into his bowels.        With only one more strike to his prostate and the feeling of Greg unloading inside him, John held his breath and came, shooting strips of white onto his belly and chest. “Tsss,” he hissed when Greg lifted him again and let his cock fall out and back into the water.

“Shhh, love, shhh,” Greg whispered, pulling him back to lie on his chest. He stroked a hand lightly over John’s chest, drawing little patterns in the come. “You made a mess,” Greg said playfully. John was nodding off as Greg took a flannel and cleaned him off.

It took a lot of work to convince the zonked out John into some comfy pajamas and into bed, but Greg went as slow as he needed to. As John slept curled up against Greg’s chest, the DI pulled out his mobile and texted Sherlock.

I bet u think ur a sneaky bastard, don’t ya? – GL

What ever do u mean, inspector? – SH

U left John there on purpose – GL

Now y would I do that? – SH

Greg smiled, looking down at John, who had a soft pout on his lips. He continued to stroke through the man’s blonde hair as he typed.

Things might have gone more smoothly if you asked me, Sherlock – GL

U seemed to have handled yourself quite aptly – SH

Yeah well, he fought it but he’s finally asleep – GL

There was a long pause before Sherlock responded.

Thank you – SH      


Chapter Text


After a ridiculously long tube ride, John finally arrived at 221B and was able to relieve himself. He ran into the bathroom, pulled down his trousers, and gently held the plastic encasing around his penis so he was able to hit his mark. Thankfully, or not so thankfully, the cock cage Mycroft was making him wear had a tiny hole in it for when he needed to go, so he never had to take it off. John loved the device and hated it with all his heart, but the eldest Holmes enjoyed the finer things in life and torturing John was apparently one of them.

“Ggrr,” John actually growled at the device forbidding him from getting hard. When Sherlock was there, John could use him as a distraction, but since the detective was on a two week investigation in the United States…well, let’s just say his restrained cock was dominating his mind. “Just relax, John, just relax.”

The doctor took a deep breath and pulled his pants up, but left his trousers and button up shirt on the bathroom floor. With only his forest green pants and a white undershirt, John went into the kitchen and started a kettle. Tea usually made things better, from fights with Sherlock to a rough day at Barts, but sadly not horniness.

Letting his tea steep, John sat down on the sofa and sighed, wishing Mycroft hadn’t put off their meeting for three more days. He loved the eldest Holmes brother, but it sucked beyond belief when the Government called his lover away and John was left in the device Mycroft put him in.

John was enjoying his sulking when something caught his eye. There was something shimmering below a stack of mags on the coffee table. “Hello, there,” John smiled as he put his cup down. He pulled out a set of metal sticks that John recognized as Sherlock’s lockpicking kit. Immediately, he raised an eyebrow, because let’s be honest, Sherlock is a meddling bastard who does everything on purpose.

Buut…what could it hurt? After all, Mycroft was out of town for three days, Sherlock was out of town for two weeks…sooo, what could it hurt?

A mischievous grin came over John’s face as he weighed the tension wrench in his hand. Without thinking of the consequences or how perceptive Mycroft Holmes could be, John pulled his pants down and placed the two pieces of metal in the tiny lock. After twenty minutes of grunting and cursing, the little click that came from near his crotch made John squeal with excitement.

He removed the plastic case and shivered as the fresh air hit his frustrated cock. “Oh, thank God,” John laughed, throwing his head back and rubbing a hand along his inner thigh. As if sensing its own freedom, his penis began to lengthen and harden.

John ran up the stairs, leaving his cage back on the sofa, and then bolting into his room, throwing his clothes off behind him. He jumped on the bed, sprawling out on his back, and then slowly started running his hand over his quivering chest. Boy did freedom feel good! And plus, there was no harm done. John would simply get himself off, clean up and place the cage back on and nobody would be the wiser.     

Visions of Mycorft crawling up between his legs filled John’s lustful mind as he took himself in hand. His flesh was so sensitive that his touches, or Mycorft’s mouth as his mind provided, caused his back to arch dramatically off the bed. “That’s it, take it Mycorft!” he shouted as he pressed the figments head down on his cock.

“Well, what do we have here,” the figment Mycoft said…wait, that voice was real. John opened his eyes to see his worst nightmare come true. The actual Mycroft was standing at the end of the bed with the scariest look John had ever seen. Oh shit.

“Mycroft,” John said, his voice thick with lust and pain from his unfinished business between his legs. His hand remained on his cock, but he knew better than to move it to bring himself off. “Umm, hehe…hi, I mean, hello,” John said, stuttering from the fear coursing through his veins and into his vocal cords. “I, uhh, didn’t expect you to be home for a couple more days.”

 “Obviously,” Mycroft said, and the scary part was, he didn’t sound mad. His face was impassive and his voice even, but John just knew there was a maelstrom below that cool façade that would eat him up. “Please, continue,” Mycroft motioned to John’s cock. “Who am I to deny you your release?”

“Mycroft, I-”

“Do it,” Mycroft snapped, his voice leaving no room for argument.

For a moment, John thought maybe he was in the clear, maybe Mycroft would let him finish and forgive him. Then again, it was Mycroft he was talking about, and the man loved to torture him mercilessly. So basically I’m royally fucked.

Not wanting to get into any more trouble, John started moving his hand again, squeezing in all the right spots. He kept his eyes on Mycroft, who was now watching him while he was taking his own clothes off. “Do it just how you like, John,” Mycroft purred as he removed his pants to reveal a very large, very hard cock.

“Aaahh,” John breathed when he felt Mycroft’s hands on his thighs, holding them steady with two strong hands. And like that, John came loads and loads of pent up come onto his belly and chest. He panted and closed his eyes, removing his hand from his spent penis and reaching out for Mycroft. “My.”

“What were you thinking about, John? Were you thinking about my mouth around you, hmm?”

John nodded lazily, still in a haze of pleasure. He smiled as he thought of Mycroft actually giving him a head. Then suddenly, too much pleasure rocketed through his cock all the way up his spine.

Mycroft had taken him in his mouth and started to lick the head while he stroked the base roughly. “Stop!” John lost himself and screamed at his Dom. His flesh was just so sensitive and Mycroft seemed to know just the way to make the pleasure turn into pain.

“Stop?” Mycroft questioned, cocking an eyebrow. He held John’s bright red cock in one hand, while his other was splayed out over the blonde’s belly, holding him down. “But you wanted to come, did you not?” He smiled cruelly, then deep throated John, taking him all the way in.

The pleasure was starting to return now, but the pain at the very tip was excruciating and the bad part was…Mycroft knew it. John groaned and wiggled, trying to get away from the evil mouth consuming him.  

John was in too much pain to notice when Mycroft lifted his legs up and placed them on his shoulders. The red haired man looked down at him as if it was God himself appraising the Doctor below him.

Opening John was hard, but exquisite. With every sweep of Mycroft’s thumb over the sensitive head, John’s hole would spasm. He couldn’t wait to get his cock in there and feel the way John squirmed around him.

Finally, John was hard again and the little jolts of pain made his pleasure soar even higher. Mycroft slowly pushed into him, easily pressing pass John’s weak defenses. He took his hand away from John’s bright red cock, smiling as he started to move inside him.

John’s eyes went wide, his hands automatically going to his aching need. That was a mistake John realized when Mycroft’s features grew dark and ha grabbed both of John’s hands and pinned them to the bed. He put all of his weight on John while he continued to thrust his hips.

To make matters worse, the bastard would only hit John’s prostate on every three thrusts. If there was a ‘fucking arsehole teaser of the year’ award, Mycroft would destroy the competition. John whined, but kept bucking his hips to feel the wonderful push and pull of Mycroft inside of him.

“Do you want to come, John?” Mycroft asked.

Although John’s bobbing cock could have answered the question easily, John nodded his head frantically. He strained a bit against Mycroft’s hands just to feel the man dominate him and push him down further. Mycroft didn’t disappoint as he growled slightly and gave an extra deep roll of his hips. “I believe I asked you a question.” He continued to thrust lazily, as if he could last forever.

“Yes, please, sir,” John breathed, looking up at deep blue eyes.

“Hmm, I don’t think you deserve it. After all, you have been very naughty, haven’t you?” John winced at the word naughty and squirmed slightly in embarrassment. Sherlock had discovered that John hated being called naughty, so then the slightly less evil Holmes brother told the other three men John considered his Doms.

“Didn’t mean to,” John said, his hard cock like a colossal itch that he literally couldn’t scratch. “Missed you…please let me come, please.”

“Coming twice in one sitting? Now that seems a bit greedy to me, don’t you think?” Mycroft ran the tip of his pinky up John’s shaft just as he slowly dragged his own across the swelling bundle of nerves inside his Sub.

“Please,” John struggled, but kept his unpinned hand at bay. He knew if he tried to grab himself again he would never be allowed to come.

“Well since you asked so nicely,” Mycroft leaned forward and planted a soft kiss to the tip of John’s cock. He then proceeded to jerk and pound into John so fast that the Sub was sure he’d have a bruised arse and cock in the morning.

Mycroft came with a loud shout and slammed himself as deep as possible into John. He gave a few more masterful pulls on John’s cock and then the Sub was shooting off again, the pleasure almost painful this time. The aftershocks rocked through them both as they held on to each other for dear life.

Mycroft pulled out slowly, watching as white come started leaking out of John’s gaping hole. They both lay there for a little while until Mycroft was sure his wobbly knees could support his weight. “Up you go,” he grabbed John around the stomach and lifted him up to stand. “Don’t want you sleeping in all this, now do we?”

"Wanna sleep,” John whined. Two orgasms in such a short time span had worn him out, not to mention he could already feel the bruises forming on his wrists.

“I know. This will only take a minute, I promise.” Mycroft led them to the shower and set John down on the bench Sherlock had installed last year. He turned on the tap and grabbed a flannel and some soap. John sat hunched over but he continued to hold onto the older man’s hand while the other one cleaned him. Mycroft made sure to get all the come out and off of John before he washed his hair and body.

When they were done, Mycroft dried John off with a fluffy towel and brought him back to the bed. “No, don’t fall asleep yet,” he said, putting his hand behind John so he couldn’t lie down. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

John was confused. He was clean, warm, and really didn’t care about putting on pajamas. “I wouldn’t think you’d have a problem with me sleeping like this,” John laughed.

Mycroft merely chuckled, but then pulled out the cock cage that John had picked the lock on. John’s mouth made a slight ‘O’ but he didn’t say anything. “Do you want it back on?” Mycroft asked, unsure if John was still okay with their little arrangement.

John’s cheeks turned pink, because yes damn it, he did want it back on. As much as he wanted to get out of it and wank, he also wanted to be in it and under Mycroft’s control. Ugh, being a sub is so confusing.

Mycroft smiled, knowing exactly what the embarrassed look on John’s face meant. He held it out to the younger man, but John didn’t take it. “I um…well, I-”

“Would you like me to put it on you, John?” The man’s smile was kind, but behind his blue eyes John could see Mycroft was always assessing.

John nodded bashfully and stood up in front of Mycroft so the Dom could lock his limp and spent member back where it belonged. “Your lock picking skills are quite impressive,” he said, closing the lock.

“Thanks,” John cleared his throat and looked at the ceiling, anything to avoid eye contact with the man he disobeyed.

“Sherlock didn’t think you’d take them. I, on the other hand, know you John Watson.” John looked down at the man as he stood up to tower over the Sub. What?! He What?! Mycroft had a slight grin on his face as he pushed John back on the bed and scooted in behind him. “You didn’t really think it was a coincidence, did you John?”

“That’s entrapment, you know,” John pouted, but snuggled backwards to get as much skin on skin contact he could.

“Indeed it is, but that still does not change the fact that you don’t get to come for the rest of the week.” Mycroft placed his hand just above the cage so he could play with the little hairs leading down from John’s belly button.

“Damn,” John said yawning and closing his eyes. The heat behind him made him feel safe, he could let his guard down and just sleep. So, that’s what he did.               


Chapter Text


John was walking down the street, a newspaper filled with a delicious combination of fish and chips in his hands. It was dusk and the sky had taken on a purple and pink hue that made John smile. It was a good day today, and there was nothing that could turn it sour. That was until there was a slight pain in his neck, as if someone had poked him with a pen.

He dropped his meal and raised his hand up to pull out a small dart that had been launched into his neck. “Crap,” John slurred before two men came rushing out of the alley. One scooped him up under the legs, while the other hooked under his arms. The last thing John saw was a van door closing, leaving him inside with the people who had drugged him.


“Yes, yes, of course he’s with me. What do you want?” an angry Irish voice said. “I’ll have him back by morning, Sherly dear. Just need to work off a little…oh, I don’t know…” the man raised his voice an octave before busting into a shrill giggle. “Let’s just say Johnny needs to spend a little time with daddy,” he said, his voice growing serious. “Yes, yes, no marks, of course,” the voice was growing annoyed now as John was finally coming back to the land of the awake.  

“Jim,” John rasped out, recognizing the voice.

“Oh, got a go Sher-lock,” he popped the ‘k’ at the end and rolled his head dramatically to look at John. “Our little boy’s awake.”

John groaned, realizing he was lying in a large warehouse on a concrete floor that did not help the aches and pains he felt from a long day’s work. “Jim, damn it!” John growled, rolling over to push himself into a sitting position. It was always best to see what kind of mood the mad-man was in before making any sudden movements. John had learned that the hard way. “What did I tell you about drugging me? And in the middle of the street? Bloody hell!”

“Aww, someone’s a bit fussy tonight,” Jim said, dancing over to John. He tapped his heels and jumped in the air slightly, making John roll his eyes and stand up. Sometimes John thought Jim gave Sherlock a run for his money on the theatrics.

“Good night, Jim. I’m not in the mood for playing,” John said, smiling to himself at how goofy the man was sometimes. When John was half way to the door he heard a loud bang ring through the warehouse.  He stopped immediately, but kept his back to Jim, knowing he still might be able to leave if he didn’t make eye contact.

“I don’t believe I gave you permission to get up, Johnny,” Jim sang to him, his voice light and high, hiding the truth in the man’s intent.

“I don’t believe I asked for your permission,” John said, finally getting into the game. He loved the thrill Jim always gave him as he never knew where their meetings were going to go. One night Jim would want to be a doctor and John his patient, the other a headmaster and schoolboy. The list went on and on and apparently John got to be a petulant teenager in this little scenario.    

“Say that again!” Jim shouted, his character changing in an instant to something far more dangerous than a parent. “Say that again, and know if you don’t come back here right now, I’m going to pull you across my lap and you won’t like what happens next, little boy.”

Oh, so that’s how we’re gonna play this, hmm? John smiled to himself, then schooled his features before he turned around to face Jim. The man was sitting in a wooden chair, where the fuck did he get a chair? his leg crossed over the other and a no nonsense look on his face. “That’s better. Now,” Jim uncrossed his leg and leant forward, clasping his hands together were they hung, “be a good boy and come sit on daddy’s lap.”

John narrowed his eyes, his thoughts going a million kilometers a minute of where he wanted this night to go. Finally coming to the conclusion that it would be nice to feel a little pain in his sit spot, John shook his head and pulled his lips into a pout.

“No?” Jim said, making his mouth into a long ‘O.’ “Now that’s not very nice, Johnny. You’re going to make daddy rather angry if you keep up this poor attitude of yours. Now. Come. Here.” Jim patted his lap once more. John could see the tension in the Irishman’s body as if he was a jack in the box on its last note.

John debated on saying ‘no’ one more time, but decided to live dangerously in the end. “No,” he said and added a little foot stomp to emphasize his role as a child.

In a flash, Jim stood up and hit Jim in his bad shoulder, causing the blonde to hunch over with a yelp. His arm was taken in hand and twisted backwards so his entire body was being controlled by his wrist. Jim lead him over to the chair, where he sat down and pulled John into his lap, torso first. John’s feet were kicked out from under him and his wrists were brought to the small of his back. Within ten seconds, John went from standing up to lying helpless on a man’s lap.

“See,” Jim said, using one of his hands to attack John’s zipper, “this is what happens to naughty little boys.” He unlatched John’s trousers and then began pulling them down to hang by John’s knees. John’s feet continued to try and get a grip while his pants were also pulled down, exposing his bum to the fresh air. “They get their naughty little bottoms spanked,” he said, punctuating each word with a swift slap to John’s arse.

The man’s cheeks jiggled with every smack, making his face turn just as red as his bum. Jim continued to rain down mercilessly, making sure to cover ever part until the pale flesh was bright red. “You do not get to tell me, ‘no,’ young man!” Jim shouted, giving a few harder swats, making John’s eyes start to water.

It hurt, but it felt so good, which John knew was completely fucked up. He felt like the floor was falling away from him, taking him down a few hectic levels in his mind. Subspace was drawing nearer just from the quick, but brutal, punishment.

Finally, Jim halted and rubbed his hand over John’s arse, squeezing each mound as he did. “Now, I think you owe daddy an apology, don’t you?” He pinched little pieces of raw bum, earning a yelp out of John.

Before he could open his mouth, John felt a finger pressing at his hole. “Hnng,” John’s body tightened in pleasure then went lax on Jim’s lap. His cock hung hot and heavy between Jim’s legs.

“Hmm?” Jim asked, pushing his finger all the way in. “What was that?”

“Jim,” John breathed. He started squirming on Jim’s lap, trying to get any friction he could find on his aching cock.

When Jim added a second finger the same time he squeezed John’s right arse cheek harshly, the Doctor groaned and stuck his rear up even higher. “If I don’t hear an apology, then I don’t know if you should get your present.” Jim halted his fingers inside John, using only his fingernails to keep the Sub open.

John wiggled around, thrusting his arse back to try and get the fingers deeper. Jim had other ideas though, and held him steady with a strong hand on his hips. “Ah ah ah,” he said, laying five smacks on John’s upper thighs.

“I-I’m sorry,” John ground out. He needed movement, needed to be filled by Jim.

“I’m sorry, what?” Jim prompted, shoving a third finger in slowly, making John feel every inch.

John balked, only for a moment until the fingers inside him ran over his prostate and john shouted. “I’m sorry, Daddy!”

“Good boy. Now, it’s time for daddy to give his little boy what he deserves.” With that, Jim lifted John off of him and situated him so the Subs arms were braced on the chair and his knees were spread wide. John yelped when a searing pain shot through his arse. He turned his head to see that Jim had dug his teeth into the burning flesh, with a manic look in his eyes.

John heard the tell-tale sign of a zip being undone. He prepared himself and arched his lower back until he heard a door slam at the other end of the warehouse. Jim was right at the man’s entrance, ready to take him when a voice echoed off the walls.

“Enough!” Sherlock boomed. The tall, angry looking man made a B-Line for John, his long coat billowing behind him. There was something primal in the man’s eyes, something that only came out when he wanted John’s soul.

“Sherlock? What are you doing?” John said, panicked as he tried to pull up his pants. It’s not like the detective had never seen his bum before, but not with Jim getting ready to mount him, he hadn’t.

Without so much as a word, Sherlock picked John up, throwing him over his shoulder, and growled low in his throat. “Hey! Sherlock, put me down!” John demanded, but he was not in a position to argue. All the doctor could do was beat on the man’s back and kick his legs, hoping his trousers didn’t fall completely off. “Knock it off!” John shouted as they left the building.

The next thing he knew he was being pushed up against a wall, his back scraping along the exposed brick. An indignant cry came from John’s throat when Sherlock ripped the shorter man’s trousers and pants off, throwing them on the ground like they were nothing but objects in in the way of getting his prey. Sherlock lifted John easily, wrapping the Doctor’s legs around his own waist.

“You smell like him,” Sherlock growled like some kind of wild animal. John’s cock was so hard by that point he thought he was going to burst if he didn’t get release immediately. “You were going to let him fuck you,” he accused as he kissed and bit down John’s neck. He sucked bruise after bruise until finally, he stopped and looked into John’s eyes. “You’re not his,” he said, placing his forehead against John’s and looking deep into the man’s eyes.

The kind, gentle Sherlock who John knew was gone and all that was left was this hungry lustful beast ready to reclaim what was his. “You let Greg fuck you,” he said, lowering his hands to undo his fly. “You let my brother come inside you!” With a hand on John’s hair and the other supporting his lower back, Sherlock thrust up, hitting his mark like he was made to be there.

John groaned at being filled so fully by his one true love. He loved what the other men did to him, who wouldn’t, but he didn’t love them like he did the man bracing him against the wall. “But you forget, my dear Doctor,” Sherlock licked a long strip up John’s throat all the way to his ear, where he whispered, “you’re mine.”

At those words, Sherlock sped up his thrusts, forcing John to hand on to the taller man’s shoulders for dear life. The full gravity of being brought down on Sherlock’s cock was so intense, John grabbed a handful of thick curly hair and brought lush lips down to meet him. After a few more deep agonizingly slow thrusts, John came, his cock spasming as it shot between the two men’s chest.

Following one step behind, Sherlock pulled John down and thrust deeply as he came. He gave a few lazy thrusts, feeling his come inside his lover, and then pulled out and lowered John’s feet to the ground. John wobbled slightly and had to grab ahold of Sherlock’s jacket so he didn’t fall over.

Come dripped down his leg, bringing a small smile to the Sub’s lips. He loved the way it felt, to be owned so completely, to have his best friend inside of him, filling him up. “Why is it always my trousers that get ruined?” John asked, enjoying the routine banter with his lover.

“I don’t see why you have to wear them, anyway. They just get in my way,” Sherlock said with a serious look on his face. The blackness in Sherlock’s eyes had turned back to their normal silver, but the jealousy and possessiveness was still there, hiding behind his calm façade.

“Well, not all of us can get away with wearing sheets.” John bent down, both his bum and his back angry at him, and put on his pants and trousers.  

They made it to the cab in silence, Sherlock’s long arm around John’s waist as they walked. John felt so sated, he could have fallen asleep right in Sherlock’s arms if it wasn’t for his growling stomach. He remembered how Jim’s men interrupted him while he was eating his fish and chips.

“I ordered Chinese. It should be at the flat by the time I’m done fucking you against the shower wall. Really, John, you shouldn’t be rolling around on warehouse floors. They are not the cleanliest places around and I’m sure your hair has sawdust in it.” Sherlock pressed his cheek to the top of John’s head and sighed.

John smiled, his cock stirring at the thought of what was about to happen when they got home. It was well known by now that Sherlock was okay with the other men enjoying John, but every once in a while, Sherlock had to restate his claim. As if you don’t know I’m already yours you stupid git. As they walked into the flat and Sherlock ushered him upstairs, John’s heart told him this was where he was supposed to be, at Baker Street, with Sherlock, forever.