sherlockbbc_fic | Prompting Part XXXIV

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Prompting Part XXXIV

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MEME LINKS
Pinboard Archive - Delicious Archive - Guide to the Archive
Filled Prompts Posts: Parts 1-23 - Parts 24+ - Spoiler Free
The Glorious FAQ - Page-A-Mod

Flat View of This Page - Newest Page in Flatview - Newest Page of the Meme

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Links to previous prompting parts

OTHER LINKS AND AFFILIATES

sherlock_rant: A place to rant about or discuss anything with few to no restrictions.

sherlock_rpf: This is a kinkmeme for RPF about the show.

sherlockcrit: A multi-fandom betaing/concrit community, with a focus on BBC Sherlock.

sherlockbbc: A community dedicated to the BBC adaptation of Sherlock Holmes.
Useful resources for Sherlock and LiveJournal.
Sherlock screencaps.

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“I had a very satisfying orgasm last night,” Sherlock said conversationally, idly circling her clit with a finger.

John huffed a laugh. “I know. I was there.”

He pushed his trousers and his boxers down, letting them fall to his ankles and then kicking them to the side. The removal of his socks wasn’t quite as graceful, but he was admittedly distracted and Sherlock did not mind. She kept her eyes on John as she pushed one finger inside of her with a small sigh.

“And did you enjoy the show?”

“I always do,” John said, not even trying to look away now that she was slowly fingering herself.

“Hmm. Come back here.”

John promptly obeyed, falling to his knees with a thud. The scent of Sherlock arousal lingered in the air, and she knew they could both smell it. She took her wet fingers out and wiped them clean on John’s face. He licked his lips, perhaps unconsciously. Such a beautiful sight. Always prime and proper but not now, not with her.

“Now,” Sherlock said, business-like, and fisted a hand in John’s hair. “If you’re good I might even let you come.”

It wasn’t an empty threat – she had denied John release before. But she did it because she knew that John found it a huge turn-on, too. Sure, he would get frustrated, and sometimes he would snap at her (especially the first few times) but so far he had never come without Sherlock’s permission, once needing Sherlock’s permission had become an established rule between them. And well, Sherlock didn’t even try to frame it as an order anymore, by now it was quite clear it was a mutually beneficial arrangement – once, when John hadn’t come in three weeks and had been in a strop he’d threatened to take care of the matter himself, and Sherlock had just shrugged, affecting an indifferent look. “If you like, John,” she had said, and John had huffed and stomped away, grumbling. He hadn’t touched himself though – Sherlock could still read the frustration in his gait and his tense shoulder, as clear as if he had screamed it at her. That night, she had slipped in John’s bed and sneaked a hand in his briefs, whispering in John’s ear how good he had been for her. It’d taken barely three strokes to bring him to orgasm.

She startled a bit when John put his hands on her knees. He smiled slyly up at her, and Sherlock rolled her eyes and tugged on his hair.

“Get on with it, then,” she commanded, spreading her legs a bit wider. John leaned closer, and exhaled against Sherlock’s thigh what sounded suspiciously like a breathy laugh.

Sherlock’s head snapped up. “Are you laughing at me while you’ve got your head between my legs?” she asked in a prickly tone.

John grinned. “Of course not. I do have manners. Unlike you.”

Just as Sherlock opened her mouth to reply John leaned in, licking a wet stripe from her entrance up to her clit. Whatever Sherlock intended to say was lost in a startled gasp.

“Though I do enjoy shutting you up, if you must know.”

Sherlock rolled her eyes again and tugged on John’s hair a bit harder, and John chuckled again, doing nothing to hide it.

“Always so impatient,” he murmured, stroking Sherlock’s inner thighs.

Sherlock relaxed as John started kissing his way up at a leisurely pace, his lips warms on her skin. She shivered at the first touch of his tongue, and her body went slack, her hand falling from John’s head. Usually she liked to dictate the pace, to give instructions and pull John’s head to this or that spot, and John liked being ordered around just as much. But today she was feeling self-indulgent and lazy and pliant, and she let John take the initiative. He was quite good at it, after all.
She closed her eyes and let her head loll back while John’s tongue worked at her, tracing sloppy circles, parting her folds, applying a gentle pressure.

“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.

“Well,” John said, and cleared his throat. Sherlock’s smile grew wider.

“I can feel the tedium threatening to overwhelm me again, John,” Sherlock announced, and stood up. John looked puzzled by the apparent non-sequitur, and watched Sherlock as she shrugged out of her gown, letting it fall to the floor along with the rest of their clothes before walking out of the room.

“Well?” Sherlock said, peeping from the doorframe a few seconds later, “do you require a written invitation?” and John got to his feet and followed her to their bedroom.

UNF! oh my gosh is this hot! You cannot leave it at that! This fandom needs more of this femdom hotness!

Glad you liked! :) (I doubt there will be more because ugh, homework, and I'm not a native speaker which means I have to double check lots of things and you wouldn't believe how time consuming that is! but maybe in the future, idk) thanks for commenting <3

This was just lovely. Thank you so much for writing this wonderful fill!

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