Nights When Boredom Strikes

Predator and Prey

Sherlock put both of John's wrists above his head and pinned them there one handed. He moved his lips to John's ear, purring up his throat. A little whimper escaped John and Sherlock smirked. 

"Tell, me John. What makes you think I'm like a jaguar? I'm curious." 

John tried to calm himself enough to answer.  "Well, you're very sneaky." 

Sherlock chuckled into John's ear, causing him to shudder and almost forget what he was going to say. 

"You do purr, and you pounce on things. That's three reasons. I don't know, but you have feline characteristics about you." John swallowed hard and arched his neck as Sherlock demonstrated that purr he had mentioned. 

"Interesting. Though you missed some things. For one, jaguars live alone, only in exception to their mate." Sherlock kissed John's collar bone before continuing. "Second, they are highly protective of said mate." He bit down on the side of John's neck, causing him to jump.

"Is- is that so?" John stammered between ragged breaths. Sherlock replied with a hum and nodded his head, curls brushing against John's cheek. Sherlock moved his free hand under John's shirt, brushing his fingers lightly across the skin of his ribcage. John arched his back in response and Sherlock nibbled John's lip, tugging lightly before letting it go. John wrapped his legs around Sherlock, pulling him down on top of him. They laid on the floor in almost this exact position, Sherlock's eyes a bit wide with surprise and John with a smirk of triumph as he caged Sherlock with his legs. His arms held behind his back by one of Sherlock's hands, only possible because of his incredibly long fingers. John came back to the present and pressed his lips to Sherlock's, postponing the inevitable. 

"When did I get promoted from prey to mate?" John mumbled against his lips, smiling a bit. 

"You didn't. It just depends on the situation."

John knew what that meant. Sherlock didn't know he knew what that meant, but he did. John wasn't really being harmed in any way, so he would play along with Sherlock's little game for now. 

"This situation would be?" John questioned quietly as Sherlock began working his mouth on the other side of John's neck. 

"A little bit of both." Sherlock bit down again, creating another crescent shaped mark along John's throat. John's stab wound had almost completely healed and was just a red line now, no need for caution. Sherlock moved his hand around under John's shirt and  pressed his fingers into the small of his back. John curled his legs tighter and arched up into Sherlock. "Damn it, John Watson. Do you have any idea what you do to me? I can barely even think around you sometimes and it is beautifully frustrating and arousing at the same time and I want you so bad it isn't funny. I'm trying to seriously seduce you here." Sherlock hummed and then bit into John's shoulder, a new eagerness about him. 

"If it compares to the way you make me feel, then yes, I can imagine. You can have me, any way you like. You're doing a perfectly good job." John whispered as he writhed under Sherlock, unable to touch him the way he wanted to so badly because he couldn't free his wrists. Sherlock was right, it was maddening and extremely irresistible all at once. Sherlock grabbed John's shirt and pulled it off. He was able to keep John occupied with his mouth for long enough that he wouldn't notice he let go of his wrists to get his shirt on the floor. John realized when it was already too late that he could have gotten free. "Damn it." He said, looking up at his bound wrists and Sherlock let out a deep chuckle, nearly knocking the breath out of John all by itself.

Sherlock removed his hand from the small of John's back and moved it to his own shirt, unbuttoning it as quickly as he could with one hand, slipping it off and all the way up to where his hand met John's bound wrists. He used the sleeves to tie John's wrists together, then tied them to the headboard. 

"See, I pick up some things from you." Sherlock smirked and John rolled his eyes when Sherlock moved down and bit his hip, making him yelp. He ran the tip of his tongue just above the waistband of John's trousers and John shivered, toes curling and legs wrapping tighter around him. Sherlock slipped his fingers into the waistband and tugged at them eagerly, forgetting for a second that unbuttoning the button would make this so much easier. When he remembered though, he wasted no time unbuttoning John's trousers and sliding them down with his pants. John released his legs from around Sherlock so he could get them all the way off.

Sherlock had to remember to stay observant. He was, after all, still conducting an experiment. With bound wrists, John is frustrated, but not angry, he likes it. He tests the restraints but never tries really hard to get out of them, he enjoys not always being in control. Mildly sexually sadomasochistic. Sherlock made notes as he transferred the rest of his clothing to the floor, studying John's body language, studying John in general. He created a little trail of bites along the inside of John's thigh as he moved back up from his position at his feet. Sherlock took John in his mouth and John let out a gasp. He manipulated John with his tongue until he was a blabbering mess, unable to form any other words than some obscenities and Sherlock's name. John's breath grew ragged and he was panting when Sherlock removed his lips. He bucked his hips, looking for friction, but finding nothing.

Sherlock was going to drive him mad. He loved to play his games and John had to admit that he liked the games sometimes, but other times they were utterly frustrating. John groaned and Sherlock shut him up by pressing their lips together and gripping tightly to John's shoulders. He was lost in the kiss when he felt Sherlock slide into him, sending waves of red hot desire running through him. John wrapped his legs back around Sherlock as he thrusted repeatedly against him. Sherlock slid his tongue into John's mouth, exploring every inch of it, John not exploring back but teasing Sherlock's tongue with his own. He came with a muffled shout, Sherlock's lips sealing the sound in, Sherlock only a few seconds behind. He pulled out and collapsed onto John into a sticky mess that he could care less about at the moment, murmuring John's name into his chest.

"Sherlock?" John asked after he could function half normally again. 

"Hmph." The figure laying on top of him mumbled a reply, unmoving. 

"Sherlock it's your turn to untie me now. I am slowly losing the feeling in my hands." John chuckled a bit, even though he could feel the pins and needles sensation already spreading throughout both hands. Sherlock didn't move. He just reached out with and incredibly long arm and pulled at the shirt. It instantly untied in his hand, and he let his arm fall beside John's head, not ready to move just yet. John smells really good, he always does. Sherlock observed as he nuzzled John's chest and inhaled the scent. He knew that he would inevitably have to get up, to leave John's warm body behind, but that time was definitely not now.

John sighed and rested his head against the headboard, shutting his eyes for just a second when everything rushed into his memory at once. He heaved in a lungful of air as his heart thudded against his chest, each beat pumping new information into him. The sudden burst of enlightenment left him dizzy and with a quickly fading headache. He opened his eyes too look down at Sherlock, who hadn't moved an inch. 

"I know." John said breathlessly. 

"Know what, John, and why is it relevant?" Sherlock mumbled into his skin. 

"Everything. I know. I remember." 

Oh bugger.