Compound a Felony: #teasertuesday

John Watson loses a bet

"I'd stake a tenner on it," Watson said, crossing his arms.

"You'll lose your money," I replied, smirking at him from my armchair. "I'll prove it to you now, if you like."

"Yes," he said, "I think now is a splendid time."

We went into my bedroom, and Watson went straight for the bottom drawer of my dresser, where a very expensive hysteria machine shares space with two twenty-foot lengths of silken rope. I undressed down to my drawers, but when Watson tried to take those off me as well I stopped him.

"I said no hands, not no stimulation."

He blushed deeply in understanding and stepped back. His cock was hard already. So was mine, which was good.

I lay on the bed and let him bind me hand and foot to the posts. Then he sat beside me to observe.

I closed my eyes. The pressure of my drawers on my erection was not much, but it was enough to get me started. I tugged on the ropes and rocked my hips, deepening my breathing. I imagined Watson's hands on my arms first, stroking and pressing, holding me down to the mattress. My cock twitched. I pulled again on the ropes, trying to spread my legs further, and my breath caught in my throat. Flexing the muscles in my pelvis, I made my prick jump and push against my drawers, the barest sensation amplified by my focus and my bindings.

I thought about Watson's mouth, how hot and sweet it was, and how I would like to fuck it. He loves to suck me, loves the way I squirm and moan, and I imagined pushing deep, my bollocks slapping against his chin. My hips twitched, my cock jerking upwards against taut fabric. I flexed again and again, rubbing myself there, making a wet patch where my excitement seeped through. I imagined what it would look like when I came as the ejaculation spurted through the fabric.

Watson hadn't moved, but his breathing was as ragged as mine. I groaned, humping the air, hanging onto the ropes that bound my wrists. He was right; it was helping. My arousal was compounding, being trapped for his entertainment adding to the urgency and the pleasure. I thought about being fucked like this, spread apart for his cock. I imagined the first stretch as he breached me, the way my body opened eagerly, hungry for him. I rolled my hips, tightening my abdomen, and dug my heels into the bed.

I could feel it threatening as if from a long way off. The spark was there, but I needed more stimulation. I began to thrust harder, faster, flexing and rocking and imagining a hand that wasn't there. I was desperate to come, positively aching for it.

I peaked with a cry, spending untouched in my drawers, jerking at the ropes. Beside me, Watson groaned deeply and clutched at my shoulder. I had damn well earned that tenner.

***

Want more? Pre-order COMPOUND A FELONY: A QUEER AFFAIR OF SHERLOCK HOLMES and read the whole story starting July 29th. http://fullfathomfive.com/writers/elinor-gray/compound-a-felony-a-queer-affair-of-sherlock-holmes/