Roleplays

Stranger: I've been thinking. MH

You: Always a dangerous habit. SH

Stranger: You might feel differently, if you listen. MH

You: ..Go on. SH

Stranger: Last night. Did you mean it? MH

You: What do you think? SH

Stranger: Of course you did. MH (delay) I've thought about your...expression of sentiment. MH

You: And? SH

Stranger: I feel the same, as a matter of fact. MH

You: Good to hear you've come around. SH

Stranger: Quite. MH I have questions. MH

You: Of course you do. SH

Stranger: What do you want out of this? MH

You: You, obvious. SH

Stranger: Right. MH What I'm asking is in what way. Emotionally, physically. I need to know what you want. MH

You: [delay] I know you may.. disapprove of the level of my sentiment, but I love you. I would like.. as much as possible, a romantic and physical relationship with you. SH

Stranger: If I disapproved, I wouldn't have confessed to feeling the same. MH (delay) I'd like that, too. I simply asked because of. Well, the doctor. MH

You: What, John? SH

You: Not you too, Mycroft. SH

Stranger: I am smirking into my mobile. MH

Stranger: No, I know you better than that. MH

You: Good. SH

You: John is a good friend, and objectively handsome, yes, but I don't love him. SH

Stranger: Good. MH

Stranger: I did think I wouldn't be your type, though. MH

You: No, I like taller, older, ginger men with a lot of money and power. SH

Stranger: Damn. MH

Stranger: If only I were older. MH

You: So close.. SH

Stranger: Very funny. MH Are you free tonight, brother mine? MH

You: For you, yes. SH

Stranger: I shouldn't go to Baker Street. MH

You: Send me one of your cars, then. SH

Stranger: How soon? MH

You: Now? SH

Stranger: Already on the way. The key should be in your coat. Let yourself in, please. MH

You: Too lazy to greet me are we? SH

Stranger: I'll meet you in the foyer, of course. I just want you to use the key. MH

You: Why? SH

Stranger: Sentiment. MH

You: Honestly.. SH

Stranger: Yes, yes. You can poke fun at me later. MH

Stranger: Did you get into the car? MH

You: Of course I got into the car, I do want to see you. SH

You: I very much want to see you naked, too. S

Stranger: Very forward, brother mine. MH

Stranger: Though I can't honestly say I don't feel the same. MH

You: I've been forward my entire life don't act surprised. SH

Stranger: I didn't say I was surprised. I appreciate it, in fact. MH

Stranger: I'm in the foyer. You're taking far too long. MH

You: I am, aren't I? SH

You: I'm outside. Give me a moment. SH

Stranger: Of course. MH

You: ((paras? i can start

Stranger: ((sure thing! ))

You: Sherlock pocketed his mobile, giving himself a few more seconds on his brother's stoop. Of course, he wasn't really nervous, he'd known the man his entire life, and he'd wanted him for nearly half of it, but that didn't mean he ever had expected for this to happen. Even when he had his suspicions his sentiment was returned, even after he told Mycroft how he felt, he still half expected some form of disgust rather than this acceptance. Steeling himself, Sherlock took a breath, turning the key in the lock of the front door and let himself into the familiar flat, already a bit at ease just at the surroundings, spotting Mycroft as he turned into the front hall. "Hello," he said, pocketing his key as he closed the door shut behind him.

Stranger: It was an interesting thing, watching Sherlock turn the key into the door. Usually he'd had to break in, or was simply invited - yet there was something dreadfully sentimental about welcoming Sherlock completely into his home. The elder Holmes found himself liking the feeling. "Hello, Sherlock." The corners of Mycroft's lips curve just the smallest bit upward while he glances at the younger man in front of him, fingers flexing into his palms. "Would you like a drink?"

You: Seeing a very rare sincere smile on his brother's features, Sherlock returned the expression, licking his lips slightly. "Hi, Mycroft, again," he mumbled, taking a few steps closer to the older man. "A drink, you know I don't usually drink, but in these circumstances.. Yes, I'd love one," he said with another short smile, hands itching to touch his brother already but still wasn't quite sure about the right etiquette of this.

Stranger: Mycroft was fortunate to have had experiences with the physicality of these things, at least. After only a brief second of hesitation, his hand comes to rest near Sherlock's own. "Quite. The study then, if you will." He doesn't take Sherlock's hand - rather, he leaves it close enough that should the younger wish to touch him, the opportunity was there. "I will ask though - why tell me now, after all this time?"

You: "The study, yes.. You've stayed just as posh as any Holmes is expected to be," he said with a small smile, heart racing a bit despite his reminders that there was nothing to be worried about. Sherlock glanced down at the elder Holmes's hand, and took it after a moment when they were starting down the hall already. "I didn't.. I'd waited long enough and it occurred to me that in both our lines of work, neither of us are promised a long life.."

Stranger: "Posh? Oh, dear brother, how you wound me." The jokes are easy, as they had always been when they were alone and without stress and unwanted tension. As Sherlock takes his hand, Mycroft squeezes, glancing at the younger while they walk. "Yes, well. I do wish you'd be more careful, if you'd like my honesty. I'd rather not find you blown up one day."

You: "Oh yes, such a personal attack on you, pointing out the truth," he smirked, humming as he felt Mycroft's fingers squeezing his own. Sherlock let Mycroft lead him into the study, only dropping his hand when the other went to pour them each a drink. "You always want me to be more careful, someone could just as easily blow you up," he said with a small frown, stepping closer as his brother returned with the drink.

Stranger: Mycroft is scoffing even as he hands over the glass, now filled with amber liquid. "Just last week, actually. A bomb planted underneath my desk. Hardly original." He'd refrained from telling Sherlock of it at all, only because the younger had been so busy on a case. He takes another step closer, his fingers moving to the side of Sherlock's face. "I will always tell you to be more careful. Part of the description, I'm afraid."

You: Despite Mycroft's casual air about the ordeal, Sherlock frowned at that news, glancing over at the desk in the study,t hough he assumed his brother meant the one in his offices at work. "It could have gone off," he murmured, curling his free hand in the fabric of his brother's suit at the man's waist as Mycroft brought his own hand to his cheek. "I do try, when I can remember," Sherlock promised, taking a small sip from the glass, his cheeks warming.

Stranger: Keeping the fingers of his right hand along Sherlock's face, Mycroft uses the other to raise the glass of brandy to his lips, taking a slow sip. "Almost did. Before you become too worked up, however, allow me to remind you that 'almosts' do not count. I'm obviously alive and well, standing right in front of you." He watches carefully as Sherlock's cheeks flush, another small half-smile ghosting his mouth. "You've always been so expressive."

You: Sherlock was on the verge of speaking up, though Mycroft kept speaking, refusing him to react before he was done. "Almost's don't count, no, though if it had been me you'd be just as upset to hear," he said, taking another small sip after watching Mycroft do the same, following his brother's lips with his gaze as they rested on the rim of the glass. As his brother smiled again, Sherlock licked his lips, raising a brow. "Not around everyone.. You could take some of my expressions.. It's taken decades to know what you're feeling."

Stranger: "I work in politics." The thought almost brings a grimace to the older man's mouth as he steps closer still, eyes flickering down to Sherlock's own. He notices the gaze, deduces where it focused on, and finds himself smirking. He bites his cheek, a gentle tug of teeth against the flesh while he leans forward, closer to Sherlock's own mouth. "And how am I feeling now?"

You: "That you do.. still, it can be frustrating, I don't know if you've laughed in ten years," Sherlock said with a small smirk of his own, though it slipped from his expression as his brother leaned in closer to him, the two of them just inches apart now. "You.. you're feeling a bit apprehensive, excited, and aroused, your heart rate is most assuredly elevated, and I can see.. your pupils are dilated," he rambled, licking his lips again as his cheeks turned redder.

Stranger: The deductions are what do it, really; contrary to Sherlock's prior statement, Mycroft is soon laughing, a warm sound pulled from the bottom of his stomach while the edges around his eyes crinkle. "Very good." He doesn't move away from Sherlock's mouth though, fingers still a bit tight on the other man's jaw. "And if I were to kiss you?"

You: Seeing Mycroft's face light up in a proper smile, then a real laugh, Sherlock's heart nearly melts, and he struggles to keep ahold of his glass, his hand at the other's waist tightening still in the jacket fabric. He smiles at the praise from the other, something he's always cherished, as they both knew Mycroft was truly the smarter of them. "If you dont, really, is what you should ask, because if you don't," Sherlock started, all the while moving millimeters closer. "I'll be forced to take very drastic action."

Stranger: He doesn't miss the tightening of Sherlock's grip; Mycroft leans into the grip, in fact, breath warm on Sherlock's face. "Close your eyes, brother mine." It takes only a few seconds of hesitance before Mycroft is pulling Sherlock's face towards his own, his mouth a gentle press against the other man's.

You: Sherlock tries to ignore the shiver that runs down his spine as he feel's Mycroft's breath against his face, against his lips, but he can't entirely, knowing it's all making his face turn redder. He doesn't hesitate to listen as Mycroft softly speaks, waiting, for what seems like hours until finally he feel's his brother's hand moving him closer, finally he feels the other's thinner lips pressing ever so lightly against his own. Again, he nearly drops his glass as he steps in, forcing his chest against Mycroft's as he kisses back.

Stranger: The glass in Mycroft's hand is placed slowly onto one of the tables they're standing by, his now free hand reaching around Sherlock's waist. They're as close as they can be, truly, and yet Mycroft wishes they could be closer, his own cheeks finally starting to tinge red. It is with reluctance that he finally pulls back, after a moment or two, opening his eyes as he takes in Sherlock's appearance. "Sherlock?"

You: As the kiss continues, Sherlock reminds himself how to breathe through his nose, clutching onto the glass and Mycroft's jacket for deal life as his heart threatens to beat from his chest. Feeling Mycroft's arm wind tightly around his waist, he whimpers against his brother's lips without thinking, frowning as the other pulls his head back a few moments later. "Mm?," he mumbles, taking a few moments to open his eyes and look back at the other, glad to see he's not the only one with a blush.

Stranger: "You were forgetting to breath, for a moment." There's fond amusement in Mycroft's tone as he reaches for Sherlock's glass and places it aside, hugging the other man to him tightly. "Thank you for telling me, Sherlock. I don't think I ever would have approached you first." The hand previously on Sherlock's jaw has moved, into Sherlock's dark curls, twisting there while he speaks.

You: "Yes, well, breathing's boring," Sherlock said, a bit embarrassed at just how obvious he's showing the affect the other has on him, but he knows he wont' truly be mocked for it. Relieved to have the glass out of his hand, Sherlock winds it around his brother, hugging him back with a breath. "You wouldn't have.. you always think you have to take care of me, you would have felt selfish," he murmured, nearly purring as he felt his brother's hand twisting in his hair, pressing closer as he did. "I however.. have less worries about moral upstanding."

Stranger: "I still /do/ feel selfish." The words are honest, spoken against Sherlock's cheek while Mycroft's hold around his brother tightens. "But I don't care. It makes you - us - happy." The comment about having less moral upstanding earns Sherlock a snort, the huff of Mycroft's breath brushing across his mouth. "For once, I am actually glad about that. What would be less boring than breathing then, brother mine?"

You: Sherlock frowned, momentarily, at his brother's words, and one hand moved up from around his waist to the side of his neck, fingertips gently brushing against the freckled skin. "Don't feel selfish.. I know this was hard for you, to break that resolve.. If anything you're being very selfless, doing this for me," he whispered, tingling as he again feels his brother breathing against his lips. "Less boring than breathing? Well you could kiss me again.. or we could go to your room?," he suggests, heart racing even at the suggestion.

Stranger: Sherlock's gentle touch causes Mycroft's eyes to close; he lets out a breath, soft and almost relieved, his fingers tightening in Sherlock's hair. He wants to speak, wants to say that he could offer both, but his actions come first. Words are caught in his throat as he presses their mouths together again, tongue tracing Sherlock's bottom lip before he pulls away and offers a hand. "Come with me, then." He's almost breathless, eyes bright as he glances to his brother.

You: Looking back at Mycroft's expression, Sherlock's heart skips, first the laugh now this, Mycroft relaxed and almost pliable wrapped around him. It was more emotions he'd seen his brother express than he had in years, he thought, though his thoughts were cut short as Mycroft's hand tightened in his hair again, and he couldn't help the gasp that left his lips at the sensation. "Myc," he starts, cut off by another kiss that he happily accepts, pressing close quickly again before the contact is gone. Catching his breath, he looks at the offered hand, taking it tightly as he follows his brother towards his bedroom, his face redder than ever now.

Stranger: "Always with that damned nickname." There's no malice in his tone, however, as Mycroft brings them to his bedroom. He's fairly certain Sherlock has never even seen the upper part of his home, let alone where he sleeps. In truth, his bedroom is awfully sentimental - covered in pictures and old drawings, things he'd never actually admit to. "Well, come on then." He's opening the door before he can stop himself, keeping hold of Sherlock's hand even as he turns and shuts it behind them.

You: Sherlock relaxes a bit at Mycroft's teasing, and rolls his eyes at the back of his head. "You love it, don't lie," he scoffs, paying more attention as they climb the stairs, really realizing now that he'd never been in this part of Mycroft's house. It was odd, to think there was a place his brother way daily that he'd never seen, Sherlock felt relieved that wouldn't be the case anymore. "Not going anywhere," he assured, squeezing his hand again as he followed his brother into his room, nerves creeping back up a bit for a moment before his eyes laid sight on the walls, stopping still in the center of his brother's room as he scans over old photos of them both, drawings from his old school folders, and his brother's, even pictures of Redbeard adorn the walls, he notices, feeling his eyes well up despite his efforts.

Stranger: "I still have the drawings you made for me when I had been teaching you about the solar system, though I do recall you saying you'd deleted that information." Mycroft squeezes Sherlock's hand in return, eyes flickering upward towards the ceiling. "You can make fun of me later, of course. I'd appreciate you not telling Mummy about this - well. Sentimental shrine." He's trying to be lighthearted, afraid that he's made Sherlock too nervous. "Are you alright?"

You: Mycroft's hand squeezing his again is what brings him back from his thoughts, turning to face his brother, still speechless for now, too many thoughts whirring in his head. One tear escaping onto his cheek, he quickly pulls Mycroft in again, burying his face against his chest as he holds onto him as tightly as he can manage, taking a deep breath. "You..," he starts, shaking his head as he rephrases in his mind. "Could have just shown me this. I'd know. I'd have known. I can't believe.."

Stranger: "What was I supposed to say? I'm not supposed to love you, but I do, come to my bedroom?" He almost laughs, but the sound dies as he buries his own face into Sherlock's hair, arms tight around the other man. "I didn't mean to make you cry. That wasn't my intention."

You: "Didn't have to say /anything/," Sherlock mumbled, shivering at Mycroft's words, glad to soon feel the other's arms around him and his breath against his scalp. "You could have just brought me up here.. really it'd have been so clear," he whispered, shaking his head against his chest. "M'not.. it's okay," he said, though a few more tears slipped out more easily that his face was hidden. "You really love me."

Stranger: The statement is profound, Mycroft swallowing hard while his chest tightens. He'd never even allowed himself to imagine that this moment could ever be possible; and yet here they were, Sherlock in his arms, and himself feeling - happy. Loved, even. "I do. Yes. Of course I do." His fingers are soon carding through the dark strands on his brother's head, nails just barely scraping his scalp. "I've got you. It's fine."

You: Though he's anything but sad, Sherlock let's out a small sob against his brother's shirt as Mycroft speaks, somehow managing to hold him tighter. "You do, you've got me" he whispers, more to himself, another assurance, as he sinks into the feeling of his brother's fingers at his scalp. "I love you too," he murmurs, though he was positive Mycroft was aware of that fact.

Stranger: A smile, soft and completely genuine, breaks out across Mycroft's face while Sherlock speaks. He doesn't say anything for a few moments, his fingers still in the other man's hair. "I know," he finally breathes out, pulling his brother a bit towards his bed. "Here. You can sit, if you like. I'll grab water."

You: As Mycroft stills, Sherlock simply breathes, composing himself a bit against the other until he hears that comforting voice again, letting himself be pulled back and towards the bed. "Thank you," he mumbles, wiping the last of the wetness around his eyes as he perches on the edge of the bed. "I realize I ruined our previous pace..," Sherlock says, looking up at his brother. "I didn't mean to."

Stranger: The words prompt a short laugh, even as Mycroft is moving to the connected bathroom, filling a small glass with water. "Honestly Sherlock, you need not apologize. I'm glad that you liked everything." As he moves back into the room, he kneels down upon reaching his bed, handing Sherlock the glass and pressing a kiss to the corner of Sherlock's eyes. "You're alright."

You: Sherlock smiles weakly at the sound of Mycroft's laugh, watching him closely as he walks back to the bed with the glass. "Of course I liked it, idiot," he teases, taking the glass, and a small sip as Mycroft's kisses him. "I just.. I came here with the very set intention of seeing you naked, remember? Not to cry.. and you've not even removed your jacket yet," he said with a mock exaggerated pout.

Stranger: "True." He concedes he point with a nod, drawing himself back up to full height before removing his jacket with a smile. "There - better?" He places it upon his dresser, turning back to the younger while leaning against the wall. "Pray tell - there are to be no cake jokes, correct?"

You: Sherlock quickly places the now empty glass on the floor at the edge of the bed as Mycroft stands, his heart skipping a beat as the jacket slides easily off the other's shoulders. "A bit," he hummed, blinking at the next question, before frowning. "No.. Not a single one," he promised, standing and crossed the room to his brother, hands resting on his waist. "I never meant any of that. Well. You do have a sweet tooth, but the cruel words.. all false, I want to see you, Myc, I want to touch you.."

Stranger: "Mm." Mycroft's eyes are closing as Sherlock comes nearer to him, the proximity a bit distracting. "You can help then, you know. I've a lot of layers." For God's sake, he'd worn a damn three piece today. "I know." These words are only a tad sad, though fondness is found in Mycroft's fingertips grasping the younger's wrist. "It's how you deal with sentiment."

You: "Deflect with mean words, yes.. And for the longest time, I didn't want you to ever even suspect what I felt. I could deal with you being disappointed in me, but never disgusted," Sherlock admitted, sliding his hands around to Mycroft's chest as he spoke, starting to undo the waistcoat his brother so often wore, even with the other's hand at one of his own. "I'm more than glad to make up for all the things I said with compliments now."

Stranger: "They're just words, Sherlock. It's alright." His eyes glance to Sherlock's hands, now moving to his chest and undoing buttons, "And I could never be disgusted by you. Ever." Not even through the drugs had Mycroft been disgusted - disheartened, yes, but never anything so ugly. "I do so like compliments. Alright, brother mine, you have my explicit permission to stroke my ego." It takes a moment for him to realize his own joke, but when he does he's nearly laughing again. "I really should stop talking, hm?"

You: "They were, but I know they hurt, sometimes," Sherlock said, flicking his gaze up from the buttons to his brother briefly before focusing back on his work, finally getting the waist coat open and started instantly on the buttons of his brother's shirt, heart racing as a new inch of skin appeared to him just with the first button undone. He snorted, catching the joke, and stepped closer as he flicked another button open. "I'll stroke your ego, and anything else you like," he hummed, beaming at his brother's expression. His fingers made quick work of the rest of buttons before pushing the garments off his brother's arms, only then really pausing to look at him, his cheeks flushing all over again. "Oh Myc.."

Stranger: Sherlock's smile was, undoubtedly, the most beautiful thing Mycroft had ever seen. It was a genuine one, untainted by bitterness or resentment, and it nearly made Mycroft fall over. "-yes?" He almost hadn't caught Sherlock's words, mind racing to catch up to him. He's flushing like Sherlock now, eyes flickering to his brother's face. "What?"

You: Mycroft so rarely faltered, less so than he smiled, though the other had done enough of that already tonight that Sherlock shouldn't have been so surprised to hear his brother's stumbled reply. "You," he answered simply, stepping in again and pressed his hands against the other's hips, sliding them up his waist the over to his chest, feeling the small patch of auburn hair. "You're.. handsome isn't the right word, sexy...," he concluded, blushing even as he smiled again back up at his brother, heart skipping again. "Can I keep going?," he asked, one hand drifting down to hover over Mycroft's belt.

Stranger: In the part of his fantasies that Mycroft had always tried to keep at bay, he had always, always been worried about Sherlock finding him - inadequate. He doesn't realize he's holding his breath until he's asked a question, which prompts an almost breathless huff of an answer. "Yes - yes, though we're uneven. I would like to remedy that shortly."

You: Sherlock waves off the comment, glancing down between him, letting his hand find the buckle, beginning to undo it. "Shortly, yes, but you first.. Entirely. I asked," he reminded, bringing his other hand down to unbutton Mycroft's trousers before undoing the zipper, heart skipping again as he gently pushed down his trousers, letting the expensive fabric fall down to pool at his brother's ankles. Still looking down, now at just Mycroft's pants, and the growing bulge inside of them, Sherlock feels his mouth water a bit, his heart racing faster.

Stranger: For God's sake, it's nearly torture. He's never wanted anything this badly, not that he can recall - and to have his brother so close to him was making Mycroft almost desperate. He does wonder though, at Sherlock's confidence, and so he asks, softly, "Have you done this before, Sherlock?" He's not mad, not even jealous - curious, really, as he'd always assumed his brother to be a virgin. It's important information to know though, especially with how this night seems to be proceeding.

You: Just about to continue, Sherlock's halted by Mycroft's question, and he shifts on his feet, forcing his gaze back up at his brother, letting out a breath. "I've.. kissed other people, and there's been mild.. feeling up, but no. Nothing like.. this, or anything else we'll do," he admitted, having assumed that Mycroft was aware of his inexperience. "But I'm ready, very ready, Myc," he assured quickly, before the other could suggest they take it slow. To prove that, he sank down to his knees, finally at a better angle to reach for the band of Mycroft's pants and tug them down to join his trousers, unable to help the sharp intake of breathe as he looked up at his brother's arousal.

Stranger: It was incredibly hard to argue or provide any kind of protest when Sherlock had so quickly sunken down to his knees. Immediately, Mycroft is reaching out for his brother's hair, flexing into the curls as his erection is finally - finally - set free. "For god's sake, Sherlock." He doesn't know how to finish the rest of his sentence, pupils nearly blown with desire while he keeps his gaze fixed upon his brother.

You: Looking up at Mycroft, Sherlock's eyes widened at the sight of him, seeing the pure lust in his brother's face, his heart skipping another beat, his own trousers feeling much too tight now. "Oh, yes," he breathed, as Mycroft's fingers returned to his hair, finding himself leaning up into the touch. His hands found their way to the other's thighs, holding gently as he raised himself up a bit. "Can I, please?," he asked, licking his lips as he looked down from his brother at his cock, letting out a shaky breathe. "Please My.."

Stranger: Powerful though Mycroft was, the elder had never heard someone nearly beg in the way Sherlock now was. For their pleasure, yes - for his own? Never. "Yes. God, yes." On instinct, Mycroft's legs fall open a bit wider, relaxing a tad with the touch of Sherlock's hands. His own hand remained in Sherlock's hair, almost as if the curls would keep him upright.

You: He didn't need telling twice. Permission granted, and another shiver working it's way to his groin at the sound of Mycroft's voice as he'd spoken, Sherlock wasted no time in leaning in, slowly licking down the length of Mycroft's cock, one hand moving off his thigh to wrap around the base of his cock to help him as he brought his lips around the head, slowly sucking him into his mouth, getting himself used to the sensation, already loving the way his lips stretched around him.

Stranger: "-oh god." It's all he can manage as he groans, the usual control Mycroft dominated so well cracking and splintering with every one of Sherlock's touches. His mouth was warm, so warm that he felt it to his core, his fingers gripping tighter into Sherlock's hair. His cock is aching, throbbing while Sherlock licks him and takes him in; it takes a great deal of self-restraint to keep from thrusting into his brother's mouth, his breathing uneven while he looks down at the dark-haired man he's always loved too much.

You: Sherlock hums around Mycroft's cock, hearing his brother's panted words and groans above him, each one sending another shiver straight to his own erection. He get's used to the rhythm, taking Mycroft in a bit deeper, then a bit more, bobbing his head, flicking his eyes up to look back at his brother, heart racing at how disheveled he already looks. Pulling back after a few more moments, Sherlock catches his breath, licking his lips. "You can.. If you want, you can pull my hair.. Or anything. Just because it's my first doesn't mean you have to be so gentle.. I want to make you feel good," he practically purred, pressing a kiss to the head of Mycroft's cock before giving it a stroke, relishing in the groan he was rewarded with.

Stranger: It was all Mycroft could do to keep himself standing, really. As Sherlock spoke, he found his fingers tightening in Sherlock's hair, pulling a bit harder than he had before. As Sherlock continues, Mycroft slowly thrusts his hips - but he knows, truly, that he can't allow things to finish this way. "Wait - Sherlock, for god's - wait." He pulls Sherlock's hair again, sharply, his breath coming in pants. "If you want anything more, you have to stop."

You: Before Sherlock could return to his task, Mycroft tugged at his hair, making his eyes roll back a bit as a moan escaped him, quickly leaning in again after the buzz of pleasure subsided a bit, taking his brother deeper into his mouth than before. He hummed, groaning as he felt the pressure of Mycroft pushing forward, rocking his hips up, pushing himself deeper past his lips. Sherlock would have been happy to kneel there for hours, though he was abruptly yanked back, the pleasure of his hair being tugged mixing with his confusion. "What, why..? Wasn't it good, you're liking it," he said, gaze snapping up at Mycroft, transfixed as he watched the other's chest heaving.

Stranger: The lack of Sherlock's experience, instead of being frustrating, is actually quite endearing. "Yes," he breathes out, fingers splaying out in Sherlock's curls, "But if you continue, I'm going to finish, and I'm not exactly a teenager anymore." He's still almost panting, though he's trying to calm himself down, his cock needy and hard in between the two of them. "Stand up?" It's a question, not a command, though he'd like for his brother to oblige. "I want to see you."

You: Sherlock blinked, honestly not having thought Mycroft would be so close, and nodded, rubbing his hand gently against the top of Mycroft's thigh before sitting back a bit on his heels. "Right.. Though, another time.. I'd like to taste it," he said simply, standing with another nod, legs a bit wobbly he found, resting a hand on his brother's hip for balance still watching his chest rising and falling faster than normal. "So it was good, then?," he asked, leaning in against him.

Stranger: Ah. His brother must have lost track of time. A beginner's mistake, to be sure, and one that makes the corner of Mycroft's mouth quirk. "You've been on your knees for nearly twenty minutes." His eyes flicker upwards, to the clock beside his bed, before he reaches out to steady the wobbling man before him. "Yes, Sherlock. Very good. Too good, really, as I usually wouldn't have needed to pull you up so soon. Apologies." His fingers are already working on the buttons of Sherlock's shirt, eager to be rid of the fabric.

You: "Twenty minutes, really?," he asked, blinking again, surprised as he glanced at the clock. "It felt like five," he mumbled. Looking back at Mycroft, Sherlock smirked at the praise, shaking his head. "It's fine..there'll be more times," he reminded Mycroft, and himself, if he were being honest. "I really do think I could do that for hours.. Could be fun to try," he hummed, blushing as he looked down, not having noticed Mycroft undoing his shirt until the other was already pushing it off his arms.

Stranger: A groan, broken a bit while Sherlock speaks and Mycroft's head presses into the other's bare shoulder. "You might actually ruin me." Even with his head at Sherlock's shoulder, Mycroft's hands move downward, working on opening the button of his brother's trousers and unzipping them soon after. "May I?" His lips are at Sherlock's neck, pressing tiny little brushes of lips at every inch of skin he can get to.

You: Sherlock chuckled, a hand trailing lazily along his brother's spine as he shook his head. "Never ruin, Myc.. But I think I could get very close," he mumbled, blushing as he felt his brother's hands at his belt, hands moving back up to Mycroft's shoulders to hold on a bit tighter as his fly was undone. "Hm? I.. Oh, yes," he whispered, shivering at the feel of lips against the curve of his neck. "I.. don't think I'm as.. impressive, you know."

Stranger: "Hm?" Mycroft is pulling back before his hands go any further, face suddenly serious while he takes in his brother's face. "Sherlock Holmes - listen to me." Mycroft is kissing his way up to his brother's face, dragging his mouth along Sherlock's jaw before he speaks, "You will always - always - " A kiss to Sherlock's cheek, then his mouth, "be impressive. Never doubt that." Only after this do Mycroft's hands continue their work, finally relieving his brother of both trousers and pants at the same time. As if to narrate his point, Mycroft's eyes flicker downward, his own hand wrapping around Sherlock's cock and squeezing just so. When he speaks, he's looking into Sherlock's face, mouth still against his brothers. "You have always been exquisite."

You: Stilling as Mycroft stops, watching a serious expression return to the other's face, Sherlock momentarily panics, tensing as he hears his full name, historically never being a good sign. Then, Mycroft is kissing him again, peppering his lips against his face, and he lets out a breath again, blushing as the other speaks, complimenting him. "Myc, I didn't.. I just meant," he started, cut off by another kiss, and decides to give up arguing. He shivers as he feels his clothes slip down to the floor, watching Mycroft before feeling his hand closing around his cock. "Oh god," he breaths, breath hitching against Mycroft's lips as he looks back at him. Mycroft's hand squeezes again and a moan escapes him, eyes rolling back again as his hips shift to push himself further into his brother's fist.

Stranger: "I know what you meant, and I don't care." He's kissing Sherlock again before he can help himself, free hand moving to curl around his brother while his other hand pumps, slowly, up and down his brother's cock. He lets this continue for a few minutes before he pulls from their kiss, breathing against the other man's face. "What do you want, Sherlock?" Anything. He can ask for anything, and Mycroft will oblige him; his usual pristine auburn hair is in complete disarray, face tinged red and lips even more so. All from Sherlock.

You: "I..," he begins, not even knowing why he's trying at this point, as Mycroft just kisses him again, though he happily melts into it. Sherlock shudders as Mycroft's hand keeps stroking him, glad they were snogging or he was positive he'd be making rather embarrassing, loud noises from all the sensation. As they part, Sherlock sucks in a breath, resting his forehead down onto Mycroft's shoulder. "I don't.. Anything? I want to lay down," he said, chuckling at his own request, pressing his lips lazily against his brother's skin before moving back and walked to the other's bed, climbing up and lay down in the center, patting the space beside him.

Stranger: It's truly almost comical, and the warmest of ways. As Sherlock disengages from his touch, Mycroft scoffs, rolling his eyes in good humor while he takes his place beside his brother. "Better?" He rolls over onto his side, propped up on an elbow as he looks at Sherlock's face. "You should see the state of your knees." He chuckles, reaching out to push a small bit of dark hair away from Sherlock's eyes.

You: "Mm much, legs weren't.. working," Sherlock said with a chuckle, turning his head to look up at his brother, though not moving an inch to sit up. "Rug burn?," he asked, flicking his gaze down as he raised one of his legs, smirking. "Only you'll be able to deduce what I've been doing once I'm dressed again," Sherlock shrugged, reaching up to catch Mycroft's wrist before his hand could pull back, leaning up to press a kiss against his palm. "What do you want?"

Stranger: Only they would be able to exert enough self-control and restraint to be able to have an entire conversation while aroused. The thought makes Mycroft proud, his mouth quirking the tiniest bit while Sherlock reaches over to kiss his palm. The sentiment is there, dreadfully affectionate, and yet Mycroft doesn't mind. "Yes. I'd also be able to deduce that judging by your mouth. No one else will notice. They will see, but will not observe." He pauses, just to take in a breath, "I want whatever you wish for, Sherlock. Whatever you desire most in this moment, you shall have."

You: Still holding Mycroft's hand in his own, he brought one of his fingers up to trace against the back of his hand, able to ignore his arousal enough to continue on like this, though he knew that wouldn't last long. "Nobody else will notice, but you will.. you'll get to look at me and go back to your photographic memory," Sherlock hummed, smiling a bit at that thought. "Mm don't say that, because I might want your cock back in my mouth.. But you don't want to end it like that. You're the one who know's what he's doing My," Sherlock reminded, dropping his hand to move up, crawling up over his brother so he was hovering above him. "Teach me?"

Stranger: Mycroft allows himself to fully enjoy the feeling of Sherlock holding his hand, his head pushed back into the pillows while he thinks on Sherlock's observation. He's cataloging everything that's happened so far, storing it away so securely in his mind that it will never be forgotten. "I always notice," he smiles, watching as Sherlock moves above him. "Mm, that depends Sherlock. If that is truly what you want, I will concede it. If you'd like for us to help each other, we can do that as well. If you'd like to actually have sex - well, that will take preparation. And," he continues, reaching his fingers upward to touch Sherlock's face, "I am okay with any option, and will oblige teaching you, whichever you choose."

You: "You do, always watching.. Big Brother," Sherlock teases, leaning down to press a kiss against Mycroft's collarbone, threading a hand through his brother's thinner hair, contemplating his options. "I.. not that I don't want to have sex," he started, turning to lean into his brother's palm. "Because I do.. I want you to fuck me very much, but I think tonight.. I'm too excited," he admitted, blushing as he kept moving his fingers through his hair. "Don't think I'd relax, or last long enough for it.. We could help each other."

Stranger: A very pleasing option, in Mycroft's mind. He's not disappointed, considering this is their first time together, and so he's raising a brow with a small smirk. "Fair enough, brother mine. Allow me to begin." While his head arches into Sherlock's hand in his hair, Mycroft's hand moves downward, between them both, wrapping around Sherlock and squeezing again.

You: Sherlock smiled, letting out a breath at Mycroft's smirk. "Thank you," he mumbles, carding his hand though Mycroft's hair again as he feels the other's hand sliding down between them. As Mycroft's slightly stronger fingers wrap around him again, Sherlock shudders slightly, head dropping a bit. "Oh," he breathes, sitting back up a bit more when he can manage, and brings his free hand down to wrap around Mycroft's cock, giving it a firm stroke.

Stranger: "You're welcome," he replies easily, wanting nothing more than to kiss the other man in his bed. Sherlock's shudder drives him onward, his strokes almost teasing while they alternate between too-slow and steady. As Sherlock's own hand wraps around his cock, Mycroft lets out a moan, stretching out a bit while his eyes close and he focuses upon the feel of Sherlock's fingers, both on his cock and in his hair. "Sherlock - god, roll on top." He wants to be able to hold the other man to him, wants to be able to kiss him while they do this.

You: Humming, Sherlock smiled a moment at Mycroft's reply, though the smile is soon replaced with another moan as Mycroft's hand tugs at him again before the touch turns feather light. "Myc," he whines, trying to push forward against his hand. All the while, he keeps the same firm hold around his brother's cock, twisting his hand each time he strokes up, watching the other's face contort a bit once Mycroft's closed his eyes. "Yes, yes," he breathes,letting go for a moment to lay back down on top of his brother, knees still holding him up a bit on either side of his lap, though now he can drop his head down to kiss Mycroft's cheek, which he does while his hand returns to it's previous place.

Stranger: "Allow me to teach you." The words are meant to sound far more confident than they do, thanks to the breathlessness inspired by Sherlock's ministrations. As Sherlock rolls atop him, Mycroft moves his hand back down, batting Sherlock's away in order to hold both his and Sherlock's cocks together. His strokes are firm, hips moving just slightly while he presses his mouth to his brother's lips. "Good?"

You: "Mm, yes Professor Holmes," Sherlock teases, even if he is just as breathless as his brother, if not moreso at this point. He allows his hand to be moved back, and braces it on the mattress as he feels Mycroft's hand circling round both of them, pressing their cocks together and strokes. "Oh," he groans, head dropping onto his brother's shoulder fo a moment as his hips stutter, rutting along his brother's length. "Good.. yes, Myc," Sherlock manages, turning his head to attach his lips against his brother's neck.

Stranger: The name does far, far more than it should, and Mycroft feels another rush of heat overtake his face. Both of their hips are moving now, Mycroft's hand setting a steady pace while he pants into the sheets, arching his neck for Sherlock's lips. He'd told everyone else - no marks. Yet for Sherlock - well. The physical manifestation of a mark already there hardly mattered. "What do you need?" He's near gasping, free hand wrapping around his brother's waist and urging his thrusts into his hand and against his cock.

You: Even in his current state of arousal, Sherlock doesn't miss the brief reaction to his teasing, storing that information away for later. They'd have time to toy with that fantasy another day, among many other he was sure they'd find together. One of Sherlock's hands is tight on Mycroft's waist as his hips keep rocking down, meeting Mycroft's with each rut, the both of them near panting. He breaks his focus on Mycroft's neck as he hears his voice, looking briefly at the two small hickey's he'd left a bit triumphantly. "You, I need you," he breathed, moaning as Mycroft's arm holds hum tightly, tugging him harder and faster along with their movements, Sherlock nearly forgetting how to breathe. "I need to come, Myc.. Please, please.."

Stranger: With a sharp nod, the pace of Mycroft's hand quickens, his grip stronger, tighter around the both of them. His own lips find Sherlock's jaw, teeth pressing tiny nips at the skin while his own hips thrust, cock grinding up against Sherlock's while his free hand forces Sherlock to press down hard. "Then do so," he pants, nipping still at his brother's skin, nails digging into the other man's hip.

You: Sherlock let's out a whimper as Mycroft speeds up everything, really all that he can manage as he focuses on pushing his hips down faster, harder against the other's. Vaguely, he's aware that his brother is doing most if not all the work, but he's too overwhelmed to do much of anything except for continue the string of gasps that've been leaving his mouth, and holding on as tightly to Mycroft as he can. Feeling a familiar building, Sherlock squeezes his eyes closed, rutting down once, twice more before his climax hits him. He shudders, body shaking as Mycroft's name barely makes it out of his lips before he's pulsing between them, wobbling arms holding up only a moment longer.

Stranger: Mycroft knows he'll only have a few seconds for himself once Sherlock's finished; it's easy to become overwhelmed, especially when both sentiment and physicality are involved, and so Mycroft simply holds onto his brother, allowing every sound he makes to wash over him while they move. When Sherlock's climax hits him and Mycroft's name is torn from his mouth, the older Holmes lets out a sharp groan - he stills, as Sherlock wobbles on top of him, Mycroft's own release finally overtaking him. He nearly sees white, eyes closing while his entire body arches upward. His hand falls then, releasing him and his brother; it takes a few minutes for his mind to come back though, before he brings his sticky fingers to Sherlock's mouth. "You did say you wanted to try it, and I'd very much hate to disappoint you."

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You both like johnlock, mystrade, and bdsm!lock.

Stranger: [Porn Actor AU. They have a lot of chemistry off and on screen so get a lot of scenes together. Sherlock is the 'mentor type' and legend. John is fresh on the scene. Just switched over from straight porn.(Older!&Top!Sherlock)] Ready for our scene tonight? SH (35)

You: I mean, as ready as I can be. JW (26)

Stranger: Are you worried? SH

You: Well, a bit, honestly. JW

Stranger: Can I help ease your mind? What's the problem? SH

You: I don't know, honestly. I know the scene isn't something that we've done before, but it's not as if I'm not comfortable with you. JW

You: I trust you completely. JW

Stranger: Well, I'm glad to hear that. SH Though, I do understand. I haven't done many like this either. I suppose I'm getting to that age where 'daddy' roles is what I'll get. SH

You: Oi, you don't look old. JW Are you nervous then? It's just.. yeah calling you that is going to be a bit odd. JW

Stranger: A bit. I haven't had someone over my lap before. SH

You: Oh, you're worried about that? JW

Stranger: Well, no. I'm worried about it looking dumb, since it's bot out firsts. SH

You: Dumb. JW

You: Sherlock, you're famous, you know that right? Anything you do is good, it won't look stupid, at least not on your end. JW

Stranger: Famous? I wouldn't say that, but I've been around a while. HS

You: Famous, Sherlock. JW

You: You are famous. JW

Stranger: In the porn industry. I'm so happy. SH

You: Well. You did make it a career.. At least you're excelling. JW

Stranger: I suppose you're right. SH

You: Is there anything I can do to make you less nervous? JW

Stranger: I think I'll be alright. Just let me know if I'm too much. SH

You: Me too, I feel like I'll overplay it. JW

Stranger: I agree. SH

You: Sorry. JW

Stranger: No. I mean I will overplay as well. SH

You: Well, I mean.. Certain scenes are fine like that. Maybe this'll be one of them. JW

Stranger: I think we'll be alright, but I can't help but think about it. It is my job. SH

You: And you've got enough reputation behind you that you'll still be fine if this scene tanks. JW

Stranger: I suppose so. How was class today? SH

You: Oh, it was fine.. JW

Stranger: I know med school is hard. SH

You: Especially with half the girls in a certain lecture hall look at me.. they /know/. I think a few of my videos have circled around. JW

Stranger: Well, some girls don't mind. They know how this industry works. You go where you're needed. You can still get married John. SH

You: Oh cheers. JW

You: It's not that. JW

Stranger: What? sh

You: Well, I mean, they just all think I want them. And some of the blokes too. JW

You: Just because I'm doing this to put myself though school doesn't mean I'm a slag.. JW

Stranger: Oh, I see. SH

Stranger: Well, that's unavoidable. SH

Stranger: Especially at your age. SH

Stranger: I'm at the age now, where if anyone recognizes me, they keep their mouths shut and their eyes averted. SH

You: Right, well, at least it'll go away then. JW

Stranger: Once you've been in enough videos, people start to realize that if they say they know you, they're just making it obvious how much porn they watch. SH

You: True, right. JW

Stranger: It doesn't deter some people though. I've had a few stalkers. SH

You: Christ, well luckily hasn't gotten to that point for me. JW

Stranger: Yeah. Some are lucky enough to go through life without one. You'll only be in this business for a few years. You have a better chance. SH

You: Sometimes you talk about it like you don't like it at all. JW

Stranger: I do. It's not boring. SH

You: That isn't synonymous with enjoyable. JW

Stranger: I enjoy having sex. I enjoy being good at having sex. I enjoy getting paid to do it. But It's not the best job in the world, no. HS

You: What would be, ideally? JW

You: And you are good, by the way,very. JW

Stranger: Thank you. SH I suppose some kind of detective work. I like details. HS

You: Detective, really? JW

Stranger: Or a beekeeper. SH

You: Oh, that'd be nice. JW

Stranger: I think so as well SH

You: You could still do that. JW

Stranger: I could. Maybe when I retire. SH

You: I can see that. Better sell your honey though so I can try it. JW

Stranger: Oh, I'll invite you over for lunch. SH

You: I'll keep you to that JW

Stranger: My tea and honey scones will be legendary, Mister Watson. SH

You: I don't have a doubt in my mind about that, Mr. Holmes. JW

Stranger: I suppose I'll see you in half an hour. Make sure you get prepped well. SH

You: I will, don't worry, I don't ever skip that. JW

Stranger: Be thorough today. It's a punishment scene. I won't be doing much on screen prep. SH

You: Don't worry. JW

Stranger: Alright. I just never want to hurt you. SH

You: You won't, well, anymore than you're supposed to anyway. But I won't mind that. JW

Stranger: If nothing I am a careful man. SH

You: I know, I appreciate it, not everyone's like that. JW

Stranger: Has anyone hurt you? SH

You: They're just not as.. considerate. Not as careful as you. JW

Stranger: Has anyone hurt you? SH

You: They're just not as considerate, Sherlock. JW

You: Doubt anything was ever intentional. JW

Stranger: I know. I just worry. I have a standard for the industry. HS

You: It's fine, I appreciate it, really. jW

Stranger: Alright. I'll see you in a bit. I've got to shower. Just finished my run. HS

You: Oh, well have fun. JW

You: I'll see you soon, Sherlock. JW

Stranger: See you soon. SH (Paragraphs?))

You: ((Sure :)

Stranger: Sherlock arrived at the studio 30 minutes later, heading to the trailer to get his hair styled and into costume, a simple business attire outfit. He was told not to shave, to make him look older, and John would be made to look younger by his clothing. He was made up, and he applied cologne to his neck and wrists, knowing John didn't like a smelly man. He walked up to the director, Garrison, and began to chat with him, waiting for John to emerge from the trailer in some young outfit.

You: Arriving at the studio earlier than Sherlock, John spent most of that time trying to bargain on the outfit that the director had given the final approval of. Even during hair and make up, John tried suggesting something a bit less 'twinky', though he stayed away from that word when actually speaking. Though, eventually he emerged from the trailer with tight black skinny jeans on, and a colored v-neck t-shirt that was most assuredly too small for him. Seeing Sherlock, he briefly forgot about his own clothes as he gazed at the other's, and the subtle stubble on his face. At least one of them looked good, he thought as he walked over to him and the director.

Stranger: Sherlock turned to John and swallowed. Christ, the clothing was practically painted on. He exhaled. No. This was wrong. John wasn't a twink. "Garrison..." he said, "Wouldn't John look good in a rugby jacket?" he asked. "Grades falling... athlete?" he said. Garrison blinked and thought about it. "Watson, go get some boyfriend jeans. And a rugby letter jacket. This is too tight."

You: Seeing Sherlock's reaction to him, John cringed. It really was that bad then, at least he wasn't the only one to think so, he thought, and raised a brow as Garrison looked him over. As the man spoke, he let his shoulders relax a bit, already feeling less tense as he nodded. "Won't take long," he said, shooting Sherlock a look of thanks as he headed all too eagerly back to the trailer. As he emerged again a few minutes later, he already felt better, sporting still well fitted boyfriend jeans, a snug but not tight white t-shirt, and a dark green rugby jacket, still aging him down, but he didn't feel as exposed as he walked back to the other men with a smile on his face this time.

You: ((did that send?

Stranger: ((No. I dont think so))

You: ((ah alright, hang ong

You: *on

You: Seeing Sherlock's reaction to him, John cringed. It really was that bad then, at least he wasn't the only one to think so, he thought, and raised a brow as Garrison looked him over. As the man spoke, he let his shoulders relax a bit, already feeling less tense as he nodded. "Won't take long," he said, shooting Sherlock a look of thanks as he headed all too eagerly back to the trailer. As he emerged again a few minutes later, he already felt better, sporting still well fitted boyfriend jeans, a snug but not tight white t-shirt, and a dark green rugby jacket, still aging him down, but he didn't feel as exposed as he walked back to the other men with a smile on his face this time.

Stranger: Sherlock exhaled. There we are. That was natural. That... was John. He looked far more attractive this way. Garrison paused. "Nice call, Sherlock." he murmured and walked past to greet John. "Very nice. Now, we'll change the dialogue a bit to fit your character, but everything else is the same." he said with a nod, looking over John. "Much better." he agreed. "Alright, I'm going to play with the lights, I'll tell you two where to go in a minute." he said, patting John's back and walking past. Sherlock greeted him. "I like you in letters." Sherlock said with a grin. "Did you play in high school?"

You: John smiled back at Sherlock as the other looked over at him, and he glanced to the director with a nod. "Should be a bit more natural from me anyway, like this," he said in agreement, letting Garrison go off before looking back to Sherlock. "Thank you," he said, before returning the grin. "Course, I was the Captain, if we'd gone with this from the beginning I'd have brought my old jersey to use. Name and all," he chuckled. "You though, Don't think I've ever seen you in an actual tie, you look sharp. Not just posh, but very..CEO."

Stranger: Sherlock chuckled, shaking his head. "Most of these aren't very formal. But I have a feeling I'll be doing suits for often now." he exhaled. "Business men, dads, husbands." he said with a shrug. "You've still got some time in jeans." he said, looking John up and down. "Well. I feel better about it now. You look like you." he said with a nod. "I'm pretty sure this is a shoot where your grades are failing, you hide the report card under the pillow..." he hummed, looking over at the set, "I storm in, bad day, short fuse to begin with and you're flippant with me... I spank you, and we mvoe on from there." he said.

You: "Well, I mean.. If it's any consolation you look really good in suits. Course, you'll always be amazing in some tight jeans, but this does suit you really well," John had to admit, looking Sherlock over with a small smirk. "Yeah, yeah I look alright. Honestly without the jacket I'd just wear this daily, not that mine will stay on for very long," John said. "Though suppose they'll want you to stay in yours? Goes along with the power trip," he hummed, nodding as Sherlock explained the scene. "Could be worse, honestly," he said, moving over and squeezed the man's arm. "Glad first time with something like this is with you though."

Stranger: Sherlock hummed. "Yeah, they might let me unbutton the shirt, but that's about it." he sighed. He licked his lower lip to moisten it and cleared his throat. "It'll be alright. Garrison's on a passion kick. It won't be like this for long."

You: John nodded back at him, glancing briefly again at the shirt. "Honestly? I think it'll be hot," he said, smirking slightly raising a brow as Sherlock cleared his throat. "Yeah, no I'm not worried, I'm actually a lot less nervous now," John assured, again squeezing Sherlock's arm. "I'm sure we'll be back to our usual route though."

Stranger: ((Did that send?))

You: ((No sorry i don't think so :/

Stranger: Sherlock nodded in agreement, thankful that John was relaxing. "I'm glad." he said. "I'd be more comfortable with that." he said. Garrison's voice was heard, distantly. "Alright, places. John, across the bed, on your mobile. Be angsty." he said with a chuckle. "Sherlock, behind the door ready to enter."

You: "Angsty, christ," John breathed, though chuckled, smirking back at Sherlock briefly. "See you soon then." He walked towards the set, raising a brow a bit at the posters on the fake walls they'd set up before letting himself flop down on the bed with a slight huff, tugging his mobile from his back pocket, pretending to text as he waited for the scene to start.

Stranger: The camera rolled for a few minutes and then Sherlock was signaled in. He opened the door, briefcase in hand, looking tired, his hair even disheveled. He put it down on the table with a loud /thunk/ and he began to take off his over coat, hanging it up. He turned to see John. "How was school?" he asked, his voice practically a growl.

You: Hearing the door open, John still didn't look up, ignoring the other until the sound of the briefcase hitting the desk made him jump a bit, and he finally turned his head, looking up at the other with a shrug. "Was alright, just school," he said before going back to looking at his phone, for now ignoring Sherlock's rather obvious annoyance to 'send' another message.

Stranger: "Cards came out today." he muttered. "How'd you do?" he asked, looking over at John, loosening his tie.

You: "Did they? Didn't know," John said, his tone growing a bit quieter, hearing Sherlock's still distinctly disappointed tone in his own voice. "Bet I did alright. Not like it matters really, as long as I pass," he shrugged, still just staring blankly at the phone. "What do you care anyway?"

Stranger: Sherlock turned, facing John, impatience evident on his face. He looked over him, blank expression, softer voice, obviously lying. He made it obvious that he could see it peaking out from under the pillows and went to yank it out, reading over it. He gripped it, hard, wrinkling the paper. "You promised." he huffed. "You told me you were going to a tutor." he said, turning to look at John. "You've been with your friends. Or that slut of a girlfriend haven't you?" he said, angered. "I want you to get into university, dammit. You can't with shite grades like these."

You: Trying at the last moment to grab the paper back from Sherlock, the phone finally forgotten as the other snatched it, John frowned. "Yeah, so I lied? It isn't like it matters. I'll still go to uni," he said, folding his arms, defensive. "I'm captain of our team, we're undefeated right now, I'll get a scholarship, I know I will. Not like I'll need maths anyway," John said with a huff. "..And she's not a slut! Besides, I broke it off with her anyway, not like you'd /care/."

Stranger: "How dare you talk back to me like this?" he asked, grabbing his arm. "I ought to have you over my knee." he said, "You're testing my patience, son."

You: John tensed as Sherlock grabbed his arm, but didn't pull back. "You wouldn't dare, I could take you out if you even tried," he boasted, though a bit of his surprise at the other's reaction shown through. "You wouldn't hit me."

Stranger: "I wouldn't." Sherlock said, an odd look on his face. "Try me." he said. And in one easy movement, he had the two of them on the bed, John over his knee, his arm pinned behind his back and a hand mid air. "Don't underestimate me, son." he growled, whacking his arse hard enough to make a solid sound.

You: John glared up at Sherlock, but it was a brief moment, soon finding himself manhandled over the older man's knee, his arm pinned down against his lower back. "Oi," he shouted, flinching as the other's hand smacked down against his arse, getting a yelp from him. "What the hell do you think you're doing?," he snapped, attempting a pathetic excuse for a struggle, squirming against the other's lap to try and get an upper hand.

Stranger: "What I should have done months ago." he said, "Teaching. You. A. Lesson." he said, smacking John's arse with each emphasized word. "You haven't given me respect from day one. And now, you're paying for it." he said, pushing down John's jeans and underwear, getting in a solid hit on bare arse.

You: "You can't just..," he started, cut off as Sherlock smacked him again, another yelp leaving him, already a strange shiver running down his spine, making his face grow bright red. Feeling the older man's hand yank down his trousers and underwear, he blushed more, squirming again. "Hey, what're you, you can't," he attempted, letting out a gasp as the man's hand smacked down on bare skin, the noise louder, another shiver running through him.

Stranger: "I can, and I will." Sherlock said lowly. "I am your father, and you will treat me with respect." he said, another smack. "You will listen to me, and you will do what is best for you." he said, gripping his thigh. "Do I make myself... clear?" he asked, another whack.

You: Each smack getting louder, more forceful, John gasped, wincing slightly as Sherlock's hand gripped at his leg. "You can't..," he started, ashamed to already feel his trousers growing tighter with every new smack, his cheeks burning red now. After a moment's hesitation, he nodded, now just desperate to get this over with before his father noticed. "I.. Yes," he mumbled.

Stranger: "Good boy..." Sherlock nearly purred. He ran a hand over the reddened cheek, soothing it. "I hate being forceful, you know that." he breathed. "I just had a hard day at work." he said, shifting his knee, deliberately rubbing John's growing erection.

You: At the name, John stifled another gasp, quickly bringing a hand up to bite down on. "I.. I know," he mumbled after a moment, not expecting Sherlock to shift, and didn't have time to stop the small moan that left his lips as the man's knee rubbed up against him, panicking the moment he realized he had to have been heard, and tried to get up again. "Please.. please Daddy.."

Stranger: Sherlock pushed John to his knees, his eyes flashing at the name, his own arousal growing. "Please... what?" he asked, leaning down close. "What do you want from... daddy?" he asked, his voice husky.

You: Letting himself be pushed away, briefly thinking he could leave now, and the other wouldn't bring this up again. Though, now on his knees, Sherlock shifting closer in front of him, he could see the other's now obvious arousal, and his eyes widened. "Oh," he breathed, licking his lips without thought as he looked up at the man. "I.. Can I touch you Daddy?," he asked, now intent on what he wanted, already bringing his hands up to rest on the other's knees, shifting closer between his legs.

Stranger: Sherlock leaned back a bit, resting, and looking to John, seductive. He breathed, lifting his leg a bit, brushing against John. This was going to be a good scene. John was clearly aroused, into it. In the right headspace. Perfect. "Ah..." he paused, making John pause. "Can you touch daddy..." he said, looking to John expectantly for a please.

You: John stopped as Sherlock still looked disapproving, thinking for a moment before shifting even closer, desperate for a yes. "Can I touch you Daddy, please?," he nearly begged, Sherlock's trousers now nearly as tight as his own, the other looming over him, still looking as composed as ever, confident, just as sexy as he was in all of their scenes together. It wasn't acting, at least on his own part, he wanted Sherlock, wanted to touch him, to please him. "Please.."

Stranger: "Yes... you may." Sherlock allowed, spreading his legs a bit wider. "Good boy. I like it when you ask pretty." he hummed, proud, aroused. This was really going well, and he loved the way John was acting.

You: Again hearing that praise, that name, John groaned, nodding quickly. "Thank you, thank you Daddy," he breathed, licking his lips as his hands move up to carefully undo the belt of the older man's trousers, sliding it open before unzipping him. He stared for a moment, debating before bringing himself closer, bending his head and mouthed against the front of Sherlock's underwear, groaning softly, his hands braced on the man's thighs.

Stranger: Sherlock watched John and shuttered as he mouthed him through his underwear. Oh, that was brilliant. One of his favorite moves. He exhaled. It showed how much someone wanted it, to have it in their mouth. He bit his lip and felt his hips roll on their own accord. He ran a hand through John's spiked hair, gripping slightly. "Very good." he praised.

You: John felt Sherlock press up against him, and he groaned, shivering at the praise, reluctantly pulling his head back to finally reach up and gently pull down the other's underwear just enough to expose him, glancing up at the man, his cheeks red, pupils already blown wide. "Please?," he asked softly, knowing his request was obvious, scooting even closer, pressing up against the edge of his bed as he looked up at the man.

Stranger: "Please...?" Sherlock asked. "Tell daddy what you want." he said, playing to the audience, Garrison gave him a thumb's up from the booth. It wasn't coming across as cheesy. Not yet. And besides... He wanted to hear John say it.

You: Flushing red, John hesitated, having to glance down from the other, still a bit ashamed of how badly he wanted this. "Please Daddy..," he started again, softer, his hands squeezing the other's thighs gently. "Please can I suck your cock? I want to so badly.."

Stranger: Sherlock smirked, what a reward it was. Oh Christ yes. He hummed, proud. He slipped a hand below his waist band, stroking his erection twice, getting it to full hardness. "Yes you can, pretty boy." he cooed. "You can have all you want." he said, pulling himself out of his pants for John to have easier access. He rubbed his foot against John's erection. "Good boy."

You: John let out a sharp breath, watching Sherlock's hand curl around himself, licking his lips again, nearly whining from impatience. "Thank you," he finally managed, shivering again at the praise, feeling the pressure against his own erection just as he was leaning down, and groaned, rocking his hips up against the touch as he brought one hand around the base of the man's cock. He stroked once before bending his head, parting his lips around the head of the older man's cock and let out a groan at the taste, swirling his tongue, wanting to make it good for Daddy before starting to bob his head, taking in more of him each time.

Stranger: "Very Good..." Sherlock groaned. "Very, very good." he breathed, letting out a groan and continuing to rub his leg against John's erection, to praise him other ways. "Such a good boy." he hummed. "That's right. Take it all in." he breathed, watching as John worked Sherlock down his throat.

You: John shivered each time Sherlock repeated that, his whole body tingling. He moaned around Sherlock, trying to take him in deeper, slowly working up to it, his hips still stuttering forward up against the other's leg, rutting against him with stifled moans. He took in a breath, forcing himself down more, trying to fit all of the other's cock down his throat, soon having to pull up for a breath, his face red, lips already swollen as he sucked in a breath.

Stranger: "Beautiful." Sherlock praised, stroking the side of John's face and brushing over his swollen bottom lip. "Such a pretty boy..." he said. "Tastes better than your whore girlfriend doesn't it?" he asked, humming. "You feel good around my cock, boy. Your lips are perfect for this." he said, teasing them with feather light touches, letting John catch his breath. "Do you want daddy to taste you?" he asked, his voice practically a whisper.

You: Hearing how vulgar Sherlock was, John shivered, leaning up against the other's fingers, letting out a soft sigh at the touch. "Yes, yes Daddy," he breathed, agreeing with another bit of shame at himself, knowing that was true even in real life, Sherlock was better than anyone. "Thank you," John mumbled, still getting his breath back as the other posed his question, and John's eyes went wide, nodding. "Please, please Daddy, yes.. Yes I want that."

Stranger: Sherlock chuckled lowly. "Strip." he said lowly, watching John, how eager he was, how ready he was to obey. "Then get on the bed. All fours." he ordered, unbuttoning his shirt and standing, watching John closely.

You: As Sherlock spoke, another shiver ran through him, and John barely hesitated this time before pushing back on his knees, shrugging off his jacket and tossed it behind him before standing. He pulled up his shirt a bit more slowly, but still not wasting time as he dropped it to his feet, sliding open his jeans and pushed them down, standing before the other in just his underwear not a minute later. Only then did he pause, looking back at the man as Sherlock finished undoing his shirt, and gazed at his chest before finally pushing down his underwear, showing just how desperate he already was before slowly crawling up onto the bed like the man had ordered, shivering in anticipation as he waited.

Stranger: Sherlock pushed his shirt off of his shoulders, not looking to Garrison for confirmation. He didn't care. It wasn't about that now. He hummed in appreciation at what he saw. John, bare, exposed, ready for him. He groaned, aroused, giving himself a stroke in anticipation. He went up behind John, running hands down his back and over his hips. "Gorgeous." he murmured, gripping his arsecheeks and spreading them. "You were made for this too." he noted, almost absent-mindedly complimenting his figure and his form. He lightly brushed over his entrance with a thumb, before going to grab the tube of lubricant. He placed is beside John, in his eyesight, so he could see what was coming. He slowly bent over, kissing, and biting at his arse cheeks, before hovering over his hole, and slowly, licking over it with the broad flat of his tongue.

You: Hearing the sound of Sherlock's shirt hitting the floor, John hummed slightly, his heart racing still as he waited, finally feeling the dip in the mattress behind him and shivered, arching his arse up just an inch more, making a good show for the other man, soon feeling his hands against him, getting a gasp out of him. "Daddy," he breathed, already the name sounding like a plead, groaning as he listened to the other, nodding in blind agreement now. "Yes, yes..," John begged, feeling Sherlock touch him, and he arched gently up again, his eyes going to the tube that had been set down before him and he let out a small groan. "Please..," he already breathed, shuddering as he felt Sherlock's lips against his skin, not expecting what came next, and cried out as he felt the older man's tongue against him, already his arms struggling to keep himself up, shaking beneath him. "Oh, yes.. please. Fu-.."

Stranger: Sherlock kept it up. He could do this for hours. He loved eating out. He loved to play with his bottoms, finding exactly what they liked, and making them weak. He kept it up, licking and sucking, kissing the puckered skin and teasing him open again with his tongue, soon, fucking him with the tip. When he knew he'd done enough, he grabbed the lubricant. "What do you want?" he asked. "What do you want from Daddy?" he asked, rubbing his cock teasingly over John's entrance. It was wrapped in a condom, which was done after John had sucked him off.

You: By the time Sherlock finally spoke again, John's limbs felt like jellow, his arms wobbling so much beneath him, ready to give out at any moment. His pleas barely to a whimper now, face still red and eyes watering, John's mind struggling to focus on an answer when he could feel Sherlock pressing up against him, hard, dragging against his entrance. "Please Daddy," he cried, shaking his head, trying to press back against the other. "I can't.. I can't wait anymore, I /need/ you," John begged, his voice raw now, not caring how wrecked he already sounded.

Stranger: Sherlock lubed up his fingers, stretching him just as a precaution, before lubing himself up, aligning. "Alright, baby. Here you go." he said and slipped in, groaning and tossing back his head. Oh, it had been worth it, all that teasing.

You: John shivered, his body shaking, buzzing with anticipation again until Sherlock finally slid in, not stopping till he was fully seated in him, and John let out a relieved moan, sucking in a breath as he heard Sherlock's groan, glad to know he was still pleasing the other man. "Thank you, than you Daddy," he breathed, head hanging down, breathing fast as he waited for the man to start moving now.

Stranger: Sherlock knew just what John needed. Support. He grabbed him by the chest, pulling him upright, nearly back to chest, holding him close and kissing up his neck. "Good boy." he praised. "So good for me..." he hummed, rolling his hips and starting to thrust into him.

You: As Sherlock yanked him up, John let out a breath, one hand going back to hold at Sherlock's waist, supporting himself for a moment till he knew the other wasn't going to let him go, finally letting himself go boneless as the older man started thrusting up into him. "Oh," he breathed, head tipped back against Sherlock's shoulder, lips parted in a silent moan, the praise going straight to his cock, still leaking since it had been since Sherlock first touched him with his tongue.

Stranger: Sherlock widened his stance, allowing him to get to the spots inside of John Sherlock knew he liked. He kept it up, grinding upwards, searching for those spots that made John scream, groan, and sob for mercy. He kissed his neck and held his torso and waist close, eliminating space between them. "Fucking gorgeous." he breathed. "So good for me. You feel amazing." he praised, petting him, showering him with affection. He stroked his cock in time with his thrusts, using the drippage to speed it up.

You: Sherlocks thrusts grew deeper, and John's voice grew more hoarse, letting out a scream as the other finally reached that spot inside him that had him trying to double over, though Sherlock's firm grim around him wouldn't allow it. "Please, please Daddy," he begged, eyes watering again at the brutal pace the man set, each thrust dragging another cry out of him. "Thank you..,' he moaned, each bit of praise bringing him closer to the edge, shivering as he felt the man's lips against his neck, too overwhelmed to try and properly respond. Once the man's hand curled around him, John screamed, shaking his head even as his hips tried arching up against the touch. "Daddy.. Daddy please can I come? Please can I come...?," he begged, instinctively knowing he shouldn't unless he was given permission.

Stranger: The sounds were music to Sherlock's ears. He knew he was doing it right when he had John trembling and crying out for him. He was getting close himself, his pace fast and brutal, wanting to make sure John felt good. He clamped a hand around the base of John's cock to keep him from coming to quickly. He gave a few hard thrusts against John's prostate. "That's right. Come for daddy." he allowed. "Come on his big cock. You love it." He growled, wanting to keep that dark edge they had at the beginning, releasing John's cock and letting him come as he kept pumping into him, keeping it up.

You: John whimpered loudly as he felt Sherlock's fingers tightening around the base of his cock, an actual sob leaving him at the denied release, breath shuddering still as the man kept thrusting, cries still leaving his lips each time the other thrust up against his prostate, teasing him with the feeling of being so close to release. Hearing the other's voice again, John nodded fast, rocking up against the other's hand, heart pounding. "Yes, yes Daddy, I love it.. Please let me come, I love it, I love it, anything you-..," he was pleading when Sherlock finally released, his climax washing over him within a second, coming with a cry, shaking as he grew limp in the other's arms, chest heaving as his mind spun, one hand having reached back to grab onto Sherlock's hair without knowing, still holding a grip as the other pounded into him still.

Stranger: Sherlock's hair had always been a weak point for him. Once it was pulled, at the right time, there was almost no stopping him. He thrust hard, fast, loosing his pace. "That's right... You love daddy's cock." he breathed. "Fuck you feel good." he groaned, on the edge, loosing it. "I want to cum all over you." he panted. "Lay down." he barked, having John under him in seconds, stroking his cock in time to his thrusts, pumping into his hand. "Fuck..." he breathed. "So good. Such a good boy. So good." he praised as he slipped off the condom and came, in ribbons, over John's back. He shivered and ran his hands up and down John's back. "Yes..." he moaned, nipping his neck. "Good boy." he hummed.

You: Mind still swimming from the force of his orgasm, John was all too pliant, quickly moving down onto the mattress before him, going limp against his, still catching his breath as he felt Sherlock straddling his hips. He could hear the other, shivers still running through him, aftershocks even getting another groan from him at the pet name, arching his arse up for Sherlock, still wanting to be good for Daddy, even feeling a bit empty already. He moaned as he felt Sherlock's cum against his skin, listening to the man's heaving breathing above him, and shuddered once the other leaned down to nip and kiss against the back of his neck. "Thank you, thank you Daddy," he murmured, turning his head to lay against his cheek, glancing back up at him, finally catching his breath.

Stranger: Sherlock laid half across John, stroking his side, "Mm... Pretty boy." he said, stroking his hair gently. "Now... You'll be good for daddy and work on those grades." he said. "You'll be daddy's good boy, yes?" he asked, wanting to wrap up the film, holding John, nursing him through the end.

You: John let out a slow breath, humming against the gentle touches now, and nodded. "Yes, yes Daddy, I'll be good now," he promised, still basking in the after-glow, truly meaning it as he spoke. "I'll be good for you," John whispered, smiling very softly back up at Sherlock, letting him pet him, content if that were to go on, though his mind coming back to him, knew the scene was nearly over, any moment now Garrison would call cut from the booth.

Stranger: Sherlock did pet him, rubbing his thighs, the aching muscles of his arms and hips, kissing over his shoulders. "Good boy." he murmured, lips against his skin. It felt good, comfortable. He knew how to handle boys like John, but no one had ever felt like this before. He didn't really feel time pass, suspended in the bubble. Soon, Garrison clapped his hands together. "That's a wrap." he exclaimed. "Lovely job boys. Excellent, John. This is going to be a great film." he said appreciatively. Sherlock slowly lifted himself off of John, getting a towel to wipe the two of them up. "Excellent job, John." Sherlock praised.

You: Humming, John for a moment hardly even remembered they were just in a studio, that this was just another scene between them. Professionals. For a moment, or a minute, he felt entirely content, sated, feeling Sherlock's hands gently moving against his skin, the man's lips pressing against him, his voice still ever so quietly praising him. Garrison brought an end to that moment however, and John nearly jolted up at the sound of his voice, lifting his head up once Sherlock got up, already oddly missing the weight of him against him, and took the offered towel with a nod. "Right, thank you," he mumbled, managing a smile as he cleaned up his back best he could before standing, legs still a bit wobbling, though he managed. "Don't know what I was worried about, before, honestly," he admitted quietly, reaching down to the floor to pick up the shirt from earlier, tugging it over his head before sliding his pants back on,knowing he'd still very much need a shower as soon as he could manage it.

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and zipped up his pants, tucking himself back in and putting himself back together. "I think we handled it rather well." he agreed. "Now we know." he said with a gentle smile. "You alright?" he inquired, wanting to make sure he didn't push too hard. His guess was John was mentally invested in this scene, and he got snapped out of it too quickly.

You: John looked back at Sherlock once they were both presentable again, and caught the other's soft smile, letting out a slow breath. "Yeah, yeah m'alright," he mumbled, nodding. "Just a bit tired now, completely wiped out," John said with a forced on smile, though it wasn't entirely a lie, he did in fact feel like he could fall asleep right there on the set bed if anyone would let him.

Stranger: Sherlock chuckled good-naturedly "Yes, scenes like this will do that to you." he said. "I'm just going to grab dinner and head home." he said. "Do you need a ride?" he asked.

You: "Yeah, yeah suppose so," he said, nodding with another brief smile. "Erm, no. Not if you're getting dinner, I'm fine. I'll catch the tube back," John said, shaking his head as he carefully took a step back towards the trailer, much steadier now he realized thankfully. "I'm sure they'll have us do more scenes together, soon, like you said.."

Stranger: "Well, I think Garrison was very pleased. And... you looked phenomenal." Sherlock complimented, honesty written on his face. "I'd be surprised if you have many more to come." he said with a nod. "I'm not 'getting dinner' I'm just going to pick it up, it really isn't any trouble, but I understand if you need to get home. Study. Girlfriend. Decompress, whatever." he said with a smile. "Get some rest."

You: "No I um," he started, bringing a hand up to rub at the back of his neck, pausing at the compliment, a genuine smile showing up on his face. "Thank you..," John said, letting out a breath. "You did too, really.. You were amazing," he assured before dropping his hand down. "I just don't want to take up more of your night. I don't have anything to get back to except for a long shower. It's holidays, and I'm not.. Haven't been seeing anyone for a while," he said, though he was suer Sherlock hadn't actually been looking for an explanation. "A shower, whatever's in the fridge, and sleep.."

Stranger: "Sounds good." Sherlock said. "Well, if you find yourself lonely over holiday, you can shoot me a text." he said. "God knows I have nothing interesting to do." he breathed. "Or you could have dinner some night." he said. "I was in college once. I know what it's like to live on instant." he shrugged. "Well, I'll let you go then." he said. "Have a good night, John. See you later." he hummed, going to change clothes in the trailer.

You: John nodded, a bit surprised honestly at the offers, but smiled gently nonetheless. "Yeah, might regret that when I take you up on it," he said, nodding back at the other as Sherlock started heading off to the trailer. "You too, Sherlock.. See you soon," he called after him. Hopefully very soon, he thought, letting himself sink back down onto the edge of the bed, shoulders shaking a bit, having to wait for the other to leave before going to retrieve his clothes from the trailer, admittedly still worked up from the scene, though he hardly understood it himself, usually 'aftercare' wasn't necessary for them, and this scene had hardly called for it. and yet he found himself craving exactly that.

Stranger: ((Just a quick question, has John gone to get his clothes yet? Like, do you see Sherlock leaving?))

You: ((John's still just on the set, he's just waiting for Sherlock to leave from the trailer until he goes in and get's his

Stranger: ((Okay, gotcha.))

Stranger: Sherlock exited the trailer, dressed, and looked off to the set, seeing John on the bed, trembling. Christ, he hadn't given him enough time. He walked over quickly, wrapping his arms around John and running hands through his hair. "Hey..." he mumbled. "You're not done yet, hmm?" he asked. "No." he confirmed. "Go get changed. I'll take care of you, okay?" he asked.

You: John hardly even registered the footsteps till Sherlock sat down beside him on the bed, the man bringing his arms around him. "I..," he started, letting the other talk and instinctively curled up closer to him, though he couldn't help but feel embarrassed in doing so. "I'll be fine," he tried, though he knew it was evidently clear to them both that he wasn't at the moment. "Are you sure?," he asked, pulling back enough to look back at Sherlock, mixed feelings of guilt and an overwhelming need for him to stay swirling around him.

Stranger: "I am positive." he said gently. "Now, I need you to go get changed." he said into his ear. "I'm going to take you to my place." he began, "Nothing out of color, I promise. But you don't need to be alone tonight, yeah?" he asked. "I know best. I promise. I'll take care of you." he murmured in his ear. "Now, go get changed for me."

You: Believing Sherlock, a bit of relief came to him, and he nodded though he would even have minded if it had been 'off color'. Looking back up at the man, he shifted a bit further back. "Thank you," he said softly, fighting an urge to use a title following that, despite all of this still embarrassed how much of an effect this was having on him. He stood, heading back towards the trailer, listening to Sherlock as he quickly changed into his own clothes, his bag over his shoulder as he re-joined the man outside the set a few minutes later,

Stranger: "Alright. Good." Sherlock said, taking John's hand in his own and leading him outside to his car, a sleek, black, sports car. "Alright, go ahead in." he said opening the door for him and getting into his own seat. He buckled John in, making sure he didn't have to worry about a thing. And he began driving home, holding John's hand all the way, soothingly stroking his thumb over his hand,

You: John had been wondering all while changing how close Sherlock would be comfortable with being with him out of a scene, and was instantly relieved at least to find the other taking his hand to lead him down to the car, even buckling him in, letting him relax even more, trusting Sherlock to take care of him. "Thank you," John mumbled, glancing down at their hands and gently squeezed Sherlock's back.

Stranger: Sherlock drove them home, soon arriving at a nice apartment complex. He helped John out, leading him into his building, and into the elevator. He looped his arm around John, holding him to him as the elevator went up.

You: His mind pleasantly floating even as Sherlock lead him inside his building, John was pliant, letting the man bring his back up against his chest and more than willingly leaned back against him, humming a bit until they reached the other's floor, again without a word letting Sherlock lead him through to his flat, following him inside and stood still just inside as Sherlock moved to turn on the lights.

Stranger: Sherlock turned on the lights and hung up his bag and coat. "Alright. We're going to have a shower. Or a bath, maybe." he said, looking down at John, "I'll heat something up, and we can go to bed. Sound good?" he inquired, arms around John again.

You: John nodded along with everything Sherlock said, only moving once the other brought his arms around him once more, leaning forward against him. "Maybe a bath?," he mumbled, thinking standing for so long,even with Sherlock's help might be too hard on both of them. Still in the back of his mind he felt guilty for imposing on Sherlock like this, but at the present time couldn't spare the energy to worry about it. "Thank you Sherlock.."

Stranger: "Of course, John. Anything." he said gently, brushing John's hair back. "Come now." he hummed, leading him to the master bath and running the water at a nice temperature, not too hot. He put in some soothing oils and began to undress John, slowly, carefully, doing the same with himself. He slipped into the water, helping John in.

You: Smiling a bit back up at Sherlock, John hummed as the man sifted his fingers through his hair, and very willingly followed him through to the bathroom, letting himself be stripped down and helped into the tub after Sherlock, naturally going straight to the other's lap, resting forward against his chest, arms draped around him in the water, already much more relaxed with the warm water soothing him.

Stranger: Sherlock hummed appreciatively, doing as they'd done in the bed, massaging and touching John to calm him down, cleaning him as well. They laid there for a while, quiet and relaxed. He rested his head on John's shoulder, absently brushing his lips against John's shoulder and neck. "It's all okay." he promised. "You're fine." he hummed, his voice melodious and calming.

You: John shivered a bit, feeling Sherlock's fingers gently move against his back,washing him up, the other's lips kissing feather light against his neck. He buried his face against the other's neck, shaking softly, letting out a slow breath as he very quickly went limp again, nodding slowly at Sherlock's words. "Thank you," he whispered, gently moving his hands against's Sherlock's sides where they were in the bath." Thank you Sherlock, again," he mumbled, getting slowly more back into his own headspace, still exhausted.

Stranger: "Of course." Sherlock said, holding him close, rubbing his chest and back gently, massaging his arms. "Anything you need. Anything at all." he promised, holding him and letting him know he was safe.

You: "Being so nice to me," he whispered, gently pressing his lips once against Sherlock's shoulder. "Really good to me, Sherlock..,' John breathed, letting Sherlock's hands still gently roam over his skin, calming him down.

Stranger: "Of course." Sherlock hummed, brushing over his back in soothing circles. "I want to make sure you are good and safe." he explained, calming him down slowly, and carefully.

You: "Mm no, you always are," he mumbled, resting his forehead down on Sherlock's shoulder, lips just against his collarbone, again kissing gently. "Nobody else would be so nice.. I feel so safe."

Stranger: Sherlock closed his eyes, content. "Sure they would. You're wonderful." he said quietly. "But... I like keeping you safe." he admitted.

You: John hummed, gently trailing soft kisses from Sherlock's shoulder to his clavicle, shaking his head softly." Nobody else.. has," he said, humming again. "Do you..?," he asked, tipping his head up to look at the man.

Stranger: Sherlock smiled gently. "Yes, I do." he said softly, massaging John's back.

You: John smiled softly back up at Sherlock, bringing his head back down to kiss his shoulder again. "I like you keeping me safe.. Feel's good."

Stranger: Sherlock hummed, stroking John's back and shoulders lovingly. "I agree."

You: "I like making you feel good," John admitted, resting his head agains Sherlock's neck, still able to trail his lips against the man's skin.

Stranger: Sherlock exhaled slowly, the feeling of John's lips on his neck, nice. He bit his lip and swallowed. "You do make me feel good. You did so well tonight." he praised.

You: John shivered at the praise, blushing slightly and kissed Sherlock's neck again, liking that he could feel the other's exhale after he did. "Thank you," he whispered, his hands still gently resting against Sherlock's waist. "I.. I liked being good for /you/."

Stranger: Sherlock swallowed, a flush creeping over his cheeks. He hummed. "You liked the scene." he said, obvious. "You like being good for me." he hummed. "You were very very good."

You: "I did..," John agreed, nodding, shivering at the praise, his hands tightening a bi around Sherlock's waist, kissing him again. "But.. But I always want to be good for you. Want to impress you, make you feel nice, good.."

Stranger: "You do, darling. You make me feel nice." he assured. He rubbed his back and held him close, arms around him, protective, instinctive. Possessive. "You're so very good for me. Good boy." he couldn't help but say

You: John shivered, letting out a small relieved whimper as Sherlock's arms moved tighter around him, pressing him close. "Oh," he breathed, letting out a shaking breath as the pet name returned, quickly kissing up Sherlock's neck to his jaw, peppering his skin with small kisses. "Thank you, than you Sir, I.. Sherlock.. "

Stranger: Sherlock paused, taking John's face in his hands, stroking over his cheeks and jaw. "Calm down, darling." he hummed. "It's all okay." he said gently, soothing. "Whatever do you or say is fine." he assured, kissing his forehead gently.

You: Feeling Sherlock's hands cup his face, John hummed, looking up at him for a moment and felt his heart racing again a bit, though Sherlock's gentle tone calming him down. 'Whatever?," he asked, calmed even more as he felt the man's lips agains this forehead, and scooted a bit closer to him, at least attempting to get closer.

Stranger: "Yes." Sherlock said, affirming. "I will never be upset with you." he said gently, stroking over his cheeks again.

You: John hesitated a moment at that, letting Sherlock sooth him before he leaned in and gently pressed his lips against Sherlock's properly, barely lingering before pulling back, not moving any further back however. "Is that.. Was that good?"

Stranger: Sherlock swallowed, looking at John with surprise. A kiss. He wondered what it meant. He gently brushed John's bottom lip with his thumb. "Yes..." he said quietly.

You: Seeing the look on Sherlock's face, John was a bit more hesitant, but nodded, letting out a small breath as he felt Sherlock's finger against his skin. "You.. We don't get to kiss, it's never written in," John admitted, again burying his face against the other's neck, resuming his previous actions. "I've wanted to.."

Stranger: Sherlock smiled softly. "I think Garrison has a newlywed scene written for us. It's all kissing and foreplay." he said gently. "Won't that be nice?"

You: John nodded after a moment. "Yes sir," he mumbled, gently kissing Sherlock's neck once more before stopping. "It'll be a good scene," he said quietly, knowing he was imposing too much on the other, of course this was just another kind of scene. Sherlock was just helping him, it wasn't.. real, John tried reminding himself. It wasn't as if they were anything more than professionals, friends at the most.

Stranger: Sherlock massaged John's neck and shoulders. "Yes, it will." he said. "I like kissing. It makes it feel real."

You: John paused, hearing that, tipping his head back up. "Real, yes, " he nodded, agreeing, heart skipping slightly, confused. "You want it to feel real? To be.. real?"

Stranger: Sherlock held onto John's face, bringing him closer. "Only with you." he said softly.

You: John's heart raced, looking back at Sherlock and he nodded softly. "It can be real.. We could be, please?," he whispered, looking up at the older man.

Stranger: Sherlock smiled gently. "Yes, darling. We can be real."

You: Smiling widely back at Sherlock, John leaned in again, once more pressing his lips up against Sherlock's humming as his hands moved down to his hips, holding himself closer against the man as he let the kiss linger longer this time.

Stranger: Sherlock held John close, kissing him and rubbing his back, holding the back of his neck, assuring him it was okay, and he was here.

You: Finally John pulled back, briefly catching his breath, buzzing with excitement as he gently kissed down the other's neck again, over to the other side. "Thank you..," he breathed. "I've wanted you more than just in scenes, Sir.. so much."

Stranger: Sherlock stroked John's hair and back lovingly. "I know, darling, it's all okay." he assured. "You can call me whatever you want. Sherlock is fine, so is sir, and so is daddy."

You: "Okay, yes, okay Daddy," John hummed, sinking more easily back into that role, letting out a breath. "Do you want anything, need anything..? I want to keep making you happy Sir."

Stranger: "You don't have to do anything for me, darling." Sherlock said, stroking John's hair. "Not unless you want to."

You: "I do, I want to Daddy," John promised, leaning into the touch. "If there's something, anything you want me to do.. please?"

Stranger: "Well, I can't think of anything right now." Sherlock admitted. "I want to make sure you're okay."

You: Nodding, John rested down again against the other's shoulder. "I am.. I'm much better now, just.. sleepy," he admitted.

Stranger: "We should sleep then." Sherlock said. "Let's get dry, and go to sleep. Yeah?"

trigger warning for a body image self conscious mycroft