March 2014

“Forgive me, father,” John whispered, kneeling on the steps of the altar. “for I have sinned. I’ve coveted, I’ve lusted… Christ, how I’ve lusted…” “Taking the lord’s name in vain, Johnny? In a church? I didn’t think you could be so blasphemous.” Jim pushed him forward and ghosted his lips along his spine. “We have thirty minutes before Sherlock arrives. How many commandments do you think we can break before he finds you?” One finger, a second, a third, working him open, breaking the –CONT.

johnwantsit: silence of the cathedral with wet obscenities. John moaned and shuddered, eyes locked on…

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John knew Sherlock noticed things. Even when engrossed in an experiment or caught up in a case, part of Sherlock was always watching John. So when he walked into the living room with Sherlock on the couch he knew Sherlock would notice him reaching for a book on the top shelf, knew his shirt would ride up just so, teasing Sherlock with a glimpse of corset and lace. He didn’t expect to pulled onto his lap quite so fast.

johnwantsit: CORSET. CORSET. LACE. LINGERIE. LAP. alksdjf;anosrifuawosfih SOMEBODY KNOWS WHAT I LIKE.

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The leather of the sofa is sticky under John’s knees, breath leaving damp patches against the backrest. He shifts slightly, trying to balance as Sherlock finishes tying him wrists to elbows in a complex series of knots that makes John’s shoulders strain deliciously with every movement. He should be panicking, he thinks distantly, but the touch of Sherlock’s lips at the dip of his back soothes him, calms his nerves and gives him the confidence to finally let go, surrender, and submit.

mazarin221b: johnwantsit: MAZ *hyperventilates* (Seriously, everyone, there have been some great little smutlets posted for…

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