Sherlock Imagines

Kinktober Day 3; Subbing +Sherlock Holmes

deducingthedark this for you, ho. 🖤

This wasn't something you'd ever thought you'd be into, nor that Sherlock would ever be into. But with his wrists twisted carefully behind his back and thick strap of leather around his neck, he couldn't deny that he enjoyed this. His eyes were lit up in wild colours, desperate and pleading for something that you'd never give him.
"I'm sorry, is my poor little Sherlock not feeling well?" Your fingers danced lightly over his sharp cheek bones, smirk tugging at your lips. You shouldn't get off on it, you know that. Your job is to relieve people's pain, to help them, but here you were...hurting your boyfriend for your own satisfaction.
Then again, was it really applicable as the same type of pain? He was enjoying it, otherwise he wouldn't have been at full mast before you'd even the chance to touch him. You were just giving him what he wanted, in a way, you were helping him!
"P-Pl-nngh!" His head fell back, curls bouncing from the sudden force of impact. Desperate squirms pressed his hips into yours, and a sweet moan of pleasure slid through his lips. He was so...beautiful. That was the only word for it.
Your finger pressed to his lips, "Shhh, shh, shh, Darling, You'll tire yourself out with all that pleading. Let me handle everything..." You purred, kissing at his neck. You were confident that you were leaving bright purple marks that he'd have difficulty explaining away the next day, but Christ—you couldn't be bothered to care. Making your way downwards, you caught the light pink nib above his heart with your teeth, looking up at him with a wicked gleam in your eyes. A sharp inhale of breath made you pause, but only for a moment, then you were setting to work sucking and lapping at the sensitive bit of skin with an unusual fervor.
"Ahh—Y-/n—!" His broken pleas were falling upon deaf ears, as you hadn't a care what he wanted. And neither did he, not really. He wanted this, you controlling and dominating him in a way that was hard to express. And if this wasn't a dream come true, he didn't know what was.
With a satisfying 'pop', you raised your head, grinning mischievously, "I am going to use this now," you stroked him softly, barely enough for him to even feel it, "and you're going to sit here like a good whore and let me." He nodded vigorously, words clearly not working for him. In all honesty, you'd never done anything like this before, but the idea made something twist inside you and want it more than anything.
"Good boy." You breathed, positioning yourself before pressing onto him, slowly at first, taking deep breaths to steady your nerves. After the first intrusion, the rest came in one quick drop, a gasp leaving your lips. Sherlock's bottom lip was wet, teeth grinding into it to stop himself from making any noise. Placing your hands on his chest, you shifted experimentally, the friction causing whimpers to escape your lover's throat.
"Shush, Poppet," You jested, leaning forward and stroking your hand through his curls. You couldn't deny that the position was doing something to you, as well, but Sherlock wasn't in control here.
"Y-Yes, ma'am..." His voice was shaky and weak despite his efforts to control it and was replaced by a lewd gasp as you pulled nearly entirely off, only to return to just how you were before, eyes closed in concentration, to prevent yourself from slipping too far off. Your hands were shaky with want and lust and your thoughts clouded by the smell of sex.
Your nails bit into his skin as you went for another, but this time you didn't stop to let it play out. You continued moving up and down, shifting angles, just to see how it would feel and watch the way Sherlock's eyes would glow when you'd clearly chosen a good angle. How he was managing to purely enjoy this with his hands bound at such a painful angle was beyond you, but also was hardly any concern. His hips began following your set pace, burying deeper inside you with a gleam of excitement in his gaze when you shoved him back down after a few times of this.
"Who is in charge here, Sherly?" You ran your tongue along the hickeys covering his neck, stopping any movement. He whined, but obediently stopped moving.
"Y-You are, ma'am..." His voice was horse, eyes hooded, but brightly alive. You pressed your hand into his chest, pushing him down onto his hands, causing him to hiss in pain. 
"Don't do it again." You warned, voice biting seductively as he nodded in affirmation. When you began moving again, it was purely in attempt to finish you both off. Steadily, you picked up speed, Sherlock's soft noises becoming increasingly louder until he couldn't hold it in any longer, finishing off with a loud cry. You yanked on the collar, forcing him up and kissing him roughly as your own orgasm came over you, Stars blinding you. Once it had passed, you slumped into his chest, pulling yourself off carefully.
A bashful blush crept to your cheeks as you listened to his labored breathing, "How did I do..?" He smiled slyly down at you, leaning forward as best he could.
"Bloody brilliantly..."