Good Old Fashioned Nightmare

Part 4

Warning: Serious Non-Con in this chapter. 

     John ran through several scenarios in his mind where he might convince Sherlock to let him go up to his room.  If he could only get his gun, he’d put it right to Sherlock’s temple and demand the man remove the collar.  Mycroft told him he held the only “key” to unlocking the devious device around his neck, but knew Sherlock would never allow Mycroft all the control over John without keeping some of it himself.  If anyone could remove this thing without blowing his veins apart, it would be clever Sherlock.  John knew it would only be a matter of the right motivation.  He’d have to figure out what that motivation might be.

     Sherlock slipped his hands down to John’s wrists and held fast.  He placed both of them in one hand, he’d always been deceptively strong, and reached behind his back for something.   John caught a metallic glitter just before Sherlock snapped a pair of what could only be Lestrad’s stolen handcuffs around his left wrist securing the other to the metal bedframe.  Caught, John thrashed away from Sherlock.  He jerked his injured shoulder trying to test the strength of the bond, but it held him securely.  He put up his free hand up warningly but Sherlock caught it up in both of his hands and brought it to his lips.  He kissed John’s open palm holding it tightly secure, then licked a stripe from his wrist to the crook of his elbow ending in a gentle kiss.   The act sent an unwanted wave of pleasure straight to his belly.  He couldn’t like this, no way.  He wasn’t supposed to.

     “Please, let’s slow this down a bit,” John pleaded trying to pull his free hand from Sherlock’s grip.  Sherlock looked up at him with those ice green, beautiful eyes, and held his gaze for a long moment.

     “I don’t think you really want that, do you, John?”  Sherlock asked and cast a  pointed look at the growing bulge in John’s underwear.  “You seem to find this arousing.”

     Sherlock’s ardor continued to surprise him.  Up until this moment, John had no idea what Sherlock might want.  Apparently, he’d underestimated Sherlock’s sexual experience and even mistakenly entertained the idea he had none at all.  Either he’d been doing some serious research lately or he really had experimented at university.  John had no defense against this relentless onslaught. 

     “Lie back down.  I’ve got another pair of handcuffs, and I know your shoulder already hurts,” he threatened.  “I’ll go as slow as you need, John.”

     John kept the glowing thought of his gun sitting quietly under his bed in his mind, took a calming breath and stilled himself to stretch back out on the mattress.  Sherlock immediately plastered himself back against his side and resumed tracing his long fingers up and down John’s body.  It had grown cold in the room and John broke out in sudden goose bumps.  Sherlock’s gentle brushes over them sent tiny electric shocks throughout his system. 

      “Mmmm….I want to touch all of you.  I want to taste every inch of your skin,” Sherlock murmured.  “Let me.”

     “No,” John said.  “I won’t let you have any of this.  You’ll have to take it from me.  Is that what you really want?”  Sherlock stopped his caresses and looked at him with a searing intensity he usually reserved for examining corpses.  It unnerved John to have that look rake over him and he almost closed his eyes to escape from it.  Sherlock narrowed his gaze for a moment and John wondered if he might reconsider.

     “Give in,” Sherlock demanded in a low whisper keeping his voice deceptively gentle. 

     “Sherlock, I won’t,” John said setting his jaw firmly and wriggling back up against the headboard.  “Get off me.”