“Can I…?” John asked, looking up with his face flushed and his mouth wet, and Sherlock urgently said, “Yes, yes,” and John pushed two fingers inside. Sherlock clenched around his fingers, and her moan was echoed by John. He started a thrusting motion with his arm, fucking Sherlock with his fingers, brushing his thumb over her clit. Sherlock’s heavy breathing overlapped with the wet sounds of John’s mouth.
“You’re so good,” Sherlock said unsteadily, and cried out when John twisted his fingers inside her.
“So… so good,” she repeated over and over as John brought her closer to the tipping point, and when she came it was with a shocking intensity and a loud cry, and she almost smothered John between her thighs.
“God,” Sherlock gasped. Her face felt as if it was aflame, and John’s was no better. She could feel his skin burning against her thighs, and she had to make an effort to unclench her legs and let John go. He let his fingers slide out and looked up at her, lips parted and pupils blown wide, but still with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
“I trust that was enjoyable,” he said, looking a bit smug.
Sherlock put down the leg she had thrown over the arm of the chair. She slid forward a bit, took the hand John had used to finger her by the wrist, and brought it to her mouth.
“Quite,” she said.
She sucked two of John’s wet fingers into her mouth, swirling her tongue, and released them with and almost obscene plop.
“Jesus,” John said breathily.
“You’ve been good,” Sherlock said, pushing John’s legs open with her feet.
“So very good,” she repeated, as her foot slid up John’s thigh, getting very close to his erection without actually touching it. “Touch yourself.”
John unclenched the hand he had tightened into a fist and wrapped it around his erection, stroking himself slowly. Sherlock put her hand on his head.
“If I asked you to stop now you would, wouldn’t you?” she asked almost absentmindedly, petting John’s hair. John’s full-body shiver looked like a knee-jerk reaction to her words.
“Stop,” Sherlock said softly, as it testing it out, and John groaned and his hand stopped and unfolded, and he placed it shakily on his leg.
“Please…” he pleaded, squeezing his eyes shut, and Sherlock cupped his jaw, brushing her thumb over his mouth.
“Shhh…” she whispered, and kissed John affectionately on the lips. “Oh, but you’re beautiful. If you could see yourself now. Don’t worry, I told you you’ve been very good, yes? Just a little bit longer now.”
She rested her forehead against John’s, stroking his face, waiting for him to get his breathing under control.
“Touch yourself,” she ordered again after a minute or so, and leaned back as John stroked himself with his eyes closed. She watched John’s face closely, taking in the way his breath quickened and his mouth twitched, and as she saw him get closer and closer to his climax she said, “Stop.”
John dropped his hand hurriedly, almost as if he had been burnt. He let his head fall against Sherlock’s knee with a sigh, nuzzling his face against her leg like a cat.
“So very good,” Sherlock repeated, petting John’s head. She kept caressing him as John stroked himself and stopped before he could come, again, and again, and again, whispering praise and encouraging words, until John was panting and red-faced and looked almost on the verge of crying.
“Please,” he begged again, words bubbling out of him, “please, I can’t–” and Sherlock said “come for me, John,” before he could even finish the sentence, and he came right away, almost sobbing and pressing his face against her thigh.
“Shhh,” Sherlock soothed as John shuddered. “That’s it. You’ve done so well, John.”
They stayed like that for a while until John raised his head, looking a bit more composed. Sherlock put her hand on the arm of the chair, smiling at John when he glanced at her.
Fill: Untitled (3/3)
“You’re so good,” Sherlock said unsteadily, and cried out when John twisted his fingers inside her.
“So… so good,” she repeated over and over as John brought her closer to the tipping point, and when she came it was with a shocking intensity and a loud cry, and she almost smothered John between her thighs.
“God,” Sherlock gasped. Her face felt as if it was aflame, and John’s was no better. She could feel his skin burning against her thighs, and she had to make an effort to unclench her legs and let John go. He let his fingers slide out and looked up at her, lips parted and pupils blown wide, but still with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
“I trust that was enjoyable,” he said, looking a bit smug.
Sherlock put down the leg she had thrown over the arm of the chair. She slid forward a bit, took the hand John had used to finger her by the wrist, and brought it to her mouth.
“Quite,” she said.
She sucked two of John’s wet fingers into her mouth, swirling her tongue, and released them with and almost obscene plop.
“Jesus,” John said breathily.
“You’ve been good,” Sherlock said, pushing John’s legs open with her feet.
“So very good,” she repeated, as her foot slid up John’s thigh, getting very close to his erection without actually touching it. “Touch yourself.”
John unclenched the hand he had tightened into a fist and wrapped it around his erection, stroking himself slowly. Sherlock put her hand on his head.
“If I asked you to stop now you would, wouldn’t you?” she asked almost absentmindedly, petting John’s hair. John’s full-body shiver looked like a knee-jerk reaction to her words.
“Stop,” Sherlock said softly, as it testing it out, and John groaned and his hand stopped and unfolded, and he placed it shakily on his leg.
“Please…” he pleaded, squeezing his eyes shut, and Sherlock cupped his jaw, brushing her thumb over his mouth.
“Shhh…” she whispered, and kissed John affectionately on the lips. “Oh, but you’re beautiful. If you could see yourself now. Don’t worry, I told you you’ve been very good, yes? Just a little bit longer now.”
She rested her forehead against John’s, stroking his face, waiting for him to get his breathing under control.
“Touch yourself,” she ordered again after a minute or so, and leaned back as John stroked himself with his eyes closed. She watched John’s face closely, taking in the way his breath quickened and his mouth twitched, and as she saw him get closer and closer to his climax she said, “Stop.”
John dropped his hand hurriedly, almost as if he had been burnt. He let his head fall against Sherlock’s knee with a sigh, nuzzling his face against her leg like a cat.
“So very good,” Sherlock repeated, petting John’s head. She kept caressing him as John stroked himself and stopped before he could come, again, and again, and again, whispering praise and encouraging words, until John was panting and red-faced and looked almost on the verge of crying.
“Please,” he begged again, words bubbling out of him, “please, I can’t–” and Sherlock said “come for me, John,” before he could even finish the sentence, and he came right away, almost sobbing and pressing his face against her thigh.
“Shhh,” Sherlock soothed as John shuddered. “That’s it. You’ve done so well, John.”
They stayed like that for a while until John raised his head, looking a bit more composed. Sherlock put her hand on the arm of the chair, smiling at John when he glanced at her.