“Almost done,” he coos against the shell of John’s ear, “Now give us a kiss.”
John just wants it to be over with. So he doesn’t resist, he doesn’t give one last futile show of strength, he turns his head as far as he can toward Moriarty.
Moriarty leans forward, stubble brushing against his cheek, and then –
– and then John is brought back into himself as Sherlock rises up and snaps in front of his face. He can feel the air from the movement and hear Moriarty’s soft gasp as Sherlock and Moriarty’s breaths mingle, Sherlock straining forward and Moriarty pulling back.
“A bit late for shows of possessive aggression Sherlock,” Moriarty says as Sherlock collapses back against the bed, teeth still bared.
“You’re done. It’s over. Now stop,” Sherlock grits out.
John doesn’t protest the feeling of Moriarty pulling his limbs in, drawing their bodies even closer.
“It’s almost over. When it is I’ll toss you a knife and leave while you try to sort yourselves out. But Sherlock, if you’re going to be difficult, I’ll take that knife,” John thinks he can hear the twist of desire in Moriarty’s voice, “and I’ll penetrate your friend again.”
Sherlock snarls, opens his mouth, then clicks his teeth together as he shuts it.
“Smart boy,” Moriarty says, and leans forward again.
If Sherlock isn’t going to resist, then he isn’t going to resist. It’s so close to over, he just has to keep from resisting.
Moriarty’s lips meet his, and the angle is off, because he really can’t twist his head too far, but apparently it’s good enough because after several seconds Moriarty pulls back with what sounds like a contented little moan.
John looks back down to see Sherlock glaring up, over his shoulder and undoubtedly at Moriarty. He wonders if Sherlock watched the kiss. For whatever reason, he sort of hopes Sherlock had closed his eyes.
Moriarty chuckles again, says, “and one more for luck,” and pulls his body farther over John’s, pressing him down and leaning forward to press Sherlock’s unresponsive lips to his own.
John can feel the muscles along Sherlock’s body fully tensed. Sherlock doesn’t move until Moriarty pulls back and rolls off of them.
They squirm their way into a more comfortable position as Moriarty slides the condom off. John’s able to catch Moriarty slipping it in the glove as Moriarty picks it off the bed and turns it inside out before pocketing it.
The criminal looks remarkably unruffled as he tucks himself away.
Re: Bound (Warning: non-con) 11/12
“Almost done,” he coos against the shell of John’s ear, “Now give us a kiss.”
John just wants it to be over with. So he doesn’t resist, he doesn’t give one last futile show of strength, he turns his head as far as he can toward Moriarty.
Moriarty leans forward, stubble brushing against his cheek, and then –
– and then John is brought back into himself as Sherlock rises up and snaps in front of his face. He can feel the air from the movement and hear Moriarty’s soft gasp as Sherlock and Moriarty’s breaths mingle, Sherlock straining forward and Moriarty pulling back.
“A bit late for shows of possessive aggression Sherlock,” Moriarty says as Sherlock collapses back against the bed, teeth still bared.
“You’re done. It’s over. Now stop,” Sherlock grits out.
John doesn’t protest the feeling of Moriarty pulling his limbs in, drawing their bodies even closer.
“It’s almost over. When it is I’ll toss you a knife and leave while you try to sort yourselves out. But Sherlock, if you’re going to be difficult, I’ll take that knife,” John thinks he can hear the twist of desire in Moriarty’s voice, “and I’ll penetrate your friend again.”
Sherlock snarls, opens his mouth, then clicks his teeth together as he shuts it.
“Smart boy,” Moriarty says, and leans forward again.
If Sherlock isn’t going to resist, then he isn’t going to resist. It’s so close to over, he just has to keep from resisting.
Moriarty’s lips meet his, and the angle is off, because he really can’t twist his head too far, but apparently it’s good enough because after several seconds Moriarty pulls back with what sounds like a contented little moan.
John looks back down to see Sherlock glaring up, over his shoulder and undoubtedly at Moriarty. He wonders if Sherlock watched the kiss. For whatever reason, he sort of hopes Sherlock had closed his eyes.
Moriarty chuckles again, says, “and one more for luck,” and pulls his body farther over John’s, pressing him down and leaning forward to press Sherlock’s unresponsive lips to his own.
John can feel the muscles along Sherlock’s body fully tensed. Sherlock doesn’t move until Moriarty pulls back and rolls off of them.
They squirm their way into a more comfortable position as Moriarty slides the condom off. John’s able to catch Moriarty slipping it in the glove as Moriarty picks it off the bed and turns it inside out before pocketing it.
The criminal looks remarkably unruffled as he tucks himself away.