Re: non-con warning
anonymous
January 22 2011, 18:52:11 UTC
Oh god, why do I see any Sherlock/John/Moriarty non-con prompt, and my brain immediately starts screaming "YES! YES! GIVE ME THIS NOW BEFORE I IMPLODE! YES!!!"
Re: non-con warning
anonymous
January 23 2011, 18:36:25 UTC
This. Especially if John keeps struggling the whole time and Sherlock has to come up with ingenious ways of pinning him down, tricking him into bonds, etc. (Um, just a suggestion.)
Fill: Hold Me Down 2/?
anonymous
January 23 2011, 21:01:41 UTC
When Sherlock woke next he moved from sleep slowly, but to full wakefulness. His eyes had fluttered for a moment but he shut them quickly, holding himself still. He was still on the same hard floor, but the previous sounds had gone and he hoped, desperately, deep in his gut, that the hallucinations had been just hallucinations and were gone also.
Then the shuff of material - silk. Heavy, unsteady panting. Sherlock’s heart sank slowly, as if into cold water.
“You sick bastard,” John croaked in-between the gasps. The unmistakable sound of flesh hitting flesh, a heavy handed slap. “- the fuck off me.” Another slap, then another. Teeth clipping together, wordless noise of anger and helplessness.
Sherlock realised he was shaking. He opened his eyes as he sat up then fell back down as the handcuffs preventing the use of his arms unbalanced him, a short length of chain attaching him to a ring inset into the floorboards. He wriggled, inelegant but not caring, into a crouch.
Sherlock is forced to hold John down while Moriarty rapes him.
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He sets this whole thing up for the maximum possible harm to both of them, and there's really only one choice Sherlock can make.
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Anyway, yes.
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With the DESIRE to see it filled.
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Filling this. It started out small and is turning into somewhat of a monster...
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Then the shuff of material - silk. Heavy, unsteady panting. Sherlock’s heart sank slowly, as if into cold water.
“You sick bastard,” John croaked in-between the gasps. The unmistakable sound of flesh hitting flesh, a heavy handed slap. “- the fuck off me.” Another slap, then another. Teeth clipping together, wordless noise of anger and helplessness.
Sherlock realised he was shaking. He opened his eyes as he sat up then fell back down as the handcuffs preventing the use of his arms unbalanced him, a short length of chain attaching him to a ring inset into the floorboards. He wriggled, inelegant but not caring, into a crouch.
Moriarty was sitting beside John, and, oh fuck, ( ... )
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This is both sickening and very well written. Definitely reading through my fingers (and tracking). Yikes.
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(Seriously, though, this is fascinating.)
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