[ooops..looks like the warning part actually goes with 9b. Didn't realize I would have to split the chapter...so...serious consent issues/dub con/non con]
John wasted no time pulling them off and wrapping his hand around Sherlock's cock. Sherlock raised himself up, just to see John's hand wrapped around him, and fell back onto the pillows. "John."
John began to stroke him slowly, taking his time, with a sort of reverence. It felt like a trance, a dream, this hazy state. Sherlock's eyes drifted closed. All warmth, then rapidly building tension as his body rocked forward into John's hand, arcing. He smiled, wishing for John's pattern with Mary, to feel his mouth on his skin, following his hands.
"I know what you need, Sherlock." But it wasn't John's voice. And it was no longer John's hands. His eyes shot open as he looked down to see Mary, her red fingernails moving along his shaft. John had moved to his side. Sherlock lay back down and closed his eyes a bit too tightly. He felt Mary take him in her mouth. A gasp from John, and Sherlock turned to focus his gaze as John palmed himself. Sherlock felt the heat spiral within him. John's here. John's watching. John's aroused, watching me.
John crawled next to Sherlock and began to kiss his stomach; pools of heat formed wherever his lips touched Sherlock's skin. Lava...radiating upward to catch up to John's kisses, as John made his way up Sherlock's body, pushing back his shirt...and as Mary took him in deeply, the shirt had rode up just enough to reveal an angry, red scar. John froze, then shifted backward...reeling as much from the physical evidence as from his not having anticipated seeing it. The vivid contrast to Sherlock's pale skin: incongruous. This should not be there, never should have been there, had had no purpose. His mouth a thin line, John shut his eyes and tried to regain his composure quickly... as Sherlock... thought of Mary. Thought of her mouth on him. Thought of her teeth. Sherlock felt Mary's grip, red nails around the base of his cock, and thought of claws, digging into his skin No. No. I ...breathe, come on... this is nothing. This is physical sensation and it would...it would feel the same no matter who was causing it...
John read the tightness in his face, touched the scar gently. Sherlock wanted to say that it was all right. That it was in the past, he had said all was forgiven and John should feel fine about his choice. About having chosen her. But he couldn't. He just couldn't. Now John was kissing his scar, fighting the tears, and losing the battle. He felt a drop fall on his skin. JohnJohnJohnJohnJohn. Sherlock groaned, and John rushed to his face, to claim his mouth in a deep kiss, and for a moment, it felt glorious. But then it was Mary he smelled, and Mary he... tasted on John's tongue. And it was Mary who grabbed at his arse and pushed him deeper into her, and Mary who now trapped him at two opposite points and was pulling an orgasm out of his body... reaching in and yanking it out and John was gone and ....not...he would not... breathe.... not.here.not.here.not.here.
FILL 9b/? "Three" (Threesome fail)
John wasted no time pulling them off and wrapping his hand around Sherlock's cock. Sherlock raised himself up, just to see John's hand wrapped around him, and fell back onto the pillows. "John."
John began to stroke him slowly, taking his time, with a sort of reverence. It felt like a trance, a dream, this hazy state. Sherlock's eyes drifted closed. All warmth, then rapidly building tension as his body rocked forward into John's hand, arcing. He smiled, wishing for John's pattern with Mary, to feel his mouth on his skin, following his hands.
"I know what you need, Sherlock." But it wasn't John's voice. And it was no longer John's hands. His eyes shot open as he looked down to see Mary, her red fingernails moving along his shaft. John had moved to his side. Sherlock lay back down and closed his eyes a bit too tightly. He felt Mary take him in her mouth. A gasp from John, and Sherlock turned to focus his gaze as John palmed himself. Sherlock felt the heat spiral within him. John's here. John's watching. John's aroused, watching me.
John crawled next to Sherlock and began to kiss his stomach; pools of heat formed wherever his lips touched Sherlock's skin. Lava...radiating upward to catch up to John's kisses, as John made his way up Sherlock's body, pushing back his shirt...and as Mary took him in deeply, the shirt had rode up just enough to reveal an angry, red scar. John froze, then shifted backward...reeling as much from the physical evidence as from his not having anticipated seeing it. The vivid contrast to Sherlock's pale skin: incongruous. This should not be there, never should have been there, had had no purpose. His mouth a thin line, John shut his eyes and tried to regain his composure quickly... as Sherlock... thought of Mary. Thought of her mouth on him. Thought of her teeth. Sherlock felt Mary's grip, red nails around the base of his cock, and thought of claws, digging into his skin No. No. I ...breathe, come on... this is nothing. This is physical sensation and it would...it would feel the same no matter who was causing it...
John read the tightness in his face, touched the scar gently. Sherlock wanted to say that it was all right. That it was in the past, he had said all was forgiven and John should feel fine about his choice. About having chosen her. But he couldn't. He just couldn't. Now John was kissing his scar, fighting the tears, and losing the battle. He felt a drop fall on his skin. JohnJohnJohnJohnJohn. Sherlock groaned, and John rushed to his face, to claim his mouth in a deep kiss, and for a moment, it felt glorious. But then it was Mary he smelled, and Mary he... tasted on John's tongue. And it was Mary who grabbed at his arse and pushed him deeper into her, and Mary who now trapped him at two opposite points and was pulling an orgasm out of his body... reaching in and yanking it out and John was gone and ....not...he would not... breathe.... not.here.not.here.not.here.
He shuddered, jolting violently when he came.