Sherlock BBC Prompting Meme

"we get all sorts around here."

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Giggles at the Palace
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Re: Bound (Warning: non-con) 8/12

It does not hurt as much as being shot.

It’s horrifying. It’s painful on multiple levels, and humiliating, and emasculating, but it’s not dry and he’s tried to relax and he’s sure he can survive, so it doesn’t hurt like being shot.

It hurts in an entirely different way. And maybe the repercussions are going to be, he doesn’t know, he just doesn’t know. But on a physical, 1-10 pain scale, he has been through worse. He can deal with this.

His body is collapsing. His arse is being pushed inward. But that’s just physical sensation. He knows how this works. People do it all over the world, even if it should be wanted – less tense, more slicked. It’s nothing extraordinary. His body can deal with it. He can deal with it.

Moriarty pulls almost all the way out before pushing in again, deeper. He can deal with this. He can cope. He can deal with being rocked by a rapist’s thrusts over his best friend’s body – while his best friend looks up at him with wide, watchful eyes – because what other choice does he have.

He cannot deal. He can’t. He can’t cope with this. It’s nothing he ever wanted, nothing he expected. It’s nothing he’s prepared for. Because bad things have happened, bad things have happened to him, but they’ve been –

Sherlock is chanting his name again. John locks eyes with him again, seeing him rather than staring through him.

“Keep –” there’s a hesitation in his speech, as though now that he has John’s attention, Sherlock doesn’t know what to do with it. “Keep moving with it John. Don’t fight it. It’ll be over before you know.”

“It won’t.” Moriarty’s voice pours over his shoulder.

“He’s thinking,” Moriarty leans hard against his back as he speaks, continually moving inside him, “that if he were inside you,” Moriarty interrupts himself by placing the mockery of a tender kiss on John’s shoulder, above his scar, “it would be almost over.”

Moriarty pulls back again. John loses Sherlock’s gaze, watches Sherlock’s eyes flick over his shoulder to Moriarty.

“I don’t have that problem.”

Struggling won’t get him anywhere and might hurt Sherlock. So he doesn’t. There’s nothing he can say that won’t make this worse, so he lowers his head, stares at a bit of sheet off to the side, bites his lip, and tries to stay relaxed. He can suffer this, wait for it to be over. Sherlock is right, really, unless Moriarty has taken something it can’t go on for too long.

He counts the seconds in his head. Twenty-eight adds up to an eternity as Moriarty moves inside him and Sherlock wriggles under him, occasionally saying his name.

It’s at a particularly sharp “John!” from Sherlock that he looks back up at him.

He catches a quick flash of relief when he meets Sherlock’s eyes again.

“Name the muscles in the hand,” Sherlock commands, and John complies without thinking. It’s good. It’s helpful to focus on hands, to focus on the pressure on his hands, rather than on the movement behind him and the burning stretch and push and pull.

“Abductor digiti minimi,” he starts, and falls into a rhythm, whispering names like secrets, “flexor digiti minimi, palmaris brevis, opponens pollicis, adductor pollicis.”

It works. He doesn’t forget, but he relaxes. His body shifts to reduce strain.

And then he loses his train of thought as Moriarty starts pulling out and pushing back in harshly, quickly.

He loses his balance, his weaker leg sliding on the sheets as Moriarty pounds into him. He slips, and there’s a pained grunt from Sherlock as John crashes into him.

Moriarty slips out, but all he does before resheathing himself is push John’s other leg out from under him so his weight rests almost completely on Sherlock.

The position is more painful, and not just for him.

He is crushed nose to jaw against Sherlock. He can feel every one of Sherlock’s shallow breaths through his torso. He can feel both of their bodies panic against the pressing weight. From above him Moriarty presses down, intentionally, and John finds himself crushed into Sherlock’s sharp angles and surely crushing him.

Re: Bound (Warning: non-con) 9/12

He tries to move as much of his weight to his arms as possible, to push himself up. But Moriarty, strokes slower now, presses a heavy arm across the back of his shoulders.

John breathes against his friend’s throat. Everything is sharp and clear and tense and painful. And he is going to kill Moriarty, he really is. He struggles against Moriarty’s weight, tries to push himself up so that he can at least breathe properly, so that Sherlock can breathe properly.

He can tell that he’s hurting Sherlock with his movement, but he needs to, he really does need to. He needs to breathe, he needs to gasp in air. He needs to move, to get away, just a little, just a bit. The pained grunts through gritted teeth don’t stop him. But then he tries pulling up not just his chest, but his full body. There’s a choked off gasp from beneath him, and it doesn’t just make him stop, it makes Moriarty stop.

Moriarty stops, and John can’t breathe. It’s not just from the pressure of him. It’s from anticipation, from fear.

Moriarty is listening to Sherlock. He’s paying attention to Sherlock. John doesn’t know what Moriarty intends to do next, but he can’t let it centre on Sherlock. He has already suffered too much to let Moriarty’s focus shift.

He shifts again, in part because the full stretch of Moriarty inside him is no better stationary than moving.

Moriarty laughs, the chuckle pounding through John, then shifts, moving his arm from John’s back to the bed. He pulls most of the way out and starts up again with swift, shallow thrusts that rock all three of them together.

John can feel the muscles along Sherlock’s body clench before Moriarty even starts speaking again.

“You sound exactly like I’d imagined.”

John’s gut clenches. He hadn’t thought he could feel more ill, but the thought of Moriarty imagining, fantasising about this makes him want to vomit.

He pushes himself up far enough to see Sherlock’s face. The bare hatred there is striking.

Sherlock’s eyes flick to his, and his face softens. He tightens his hands again.

John tries to shift again, pulling his body down along Sherlock’s because Moriarty’s thrusts keep pushing him ever so slightly up it.

He succeeds, but his movement draws another sound out of Sherlock, a choked off gasp.

Sherlock stares at him and then, face red, looks away.

John’s movement has made it so that Moriarty’s thrusts are just as short and swift as before, but deeper. It is, strangely, slightly less painful.

They will get through this, he thinks, focussing on the sensation of Sherlock’s hands clasped tightly on his own. Moriarty’s rhythm moves through him, unchanged, for what feels like forever, but with every thrust, he knows, it can’t be much longer.

Then he feels it.

Re: Bound (Warning: non-con) 10/12

He’s been actively ignoring that area. Their bodies are crushed together, so obviously there’s contact, but it’s nothing that he’s needed to focus on.

He can’t ignore it now.

Sherlock isn’t hard, but he isn’t flaccid either. He is growing as Moriarty’s rhythm moves their bodies together.

John doesn’t care. He doesn’t care. It’s stimulation, it’s natural. Maybe John would be having a similar reaction if his own discomfort weren’t so great. If his own distress weren’t so –

Sherlock catches his eye. John knows he knows John knows.

“It’s not –” Sherlock starts, but John just shakes his head at him once.

Maybe he shouldn’t begrudge it. Maybe this is part of Moriarty’s plan. Maybe this is Sherlock’s thing, the ropes and the helplessness and the humiliation. Maybe he can’t help it. Surely he can’t help it.

But still, the betrayal of it floods him.

“Please, John, look at me please,” Sherlock begs, voice tight, and John does because what good does resisting do? What good does any of it do?

“This isn’t – I don’t – I’m not getting off on this.” Sherlock’s voice is pleading. “I swear.”

There’s hard evidence to the contrary pressing against him.

“I’m sorry, but it’s not – you have to listen to me John –” He squeezes his hands tight again. “It’s the transport. It’s not me. It’s a physical reaction and I can’t control it and please –”

“Shut up!” John says, “Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up!” and his tantrum does do some good because Sherlock – miracle of miracles – shuts up.

“No, don’t.” Moriarty’s breath is hot against his back. “Tell us. Tell us you can’t control it. Tell us,” he slows on the slide in, “what you’re going to do to me the second you have the chance.”

Sherlock shuts his eyes, and swallows, and when he opens them again he ignores Moriarty to stare up at John.

“It will,” he hesitates for a brief moment, “decrease when the pressure does. It changes nothing. You are going to get through this. I promise. We will get through this and nothing needs to change –”

“But it will,” Moriarty interrupts him, “He’s felt it now.” John can hear the smile in Moriarty’s voice as he repeats the word with emphasis, “Now, and he’ll always remember it.” Moriarty presses another quick kiss to the skin surrounding his scar, and that’s just as violating as the rest of it. “The feeling of your cock,” he draws the word out, “pressing into him while he was being raped. Look at his face,” Moriarty commands, and John’s not sure who he’s talking to, but he clearly gains nothing from being contrary so he holds Sherlock’s gaze, “Remember this.”

There are tears, actual tears, in Sherlock’s eyes. They sort of do actually make John feel better about it. He can’t associate crying with willing arousal.

“I will.” Moriarty presses the side of his face against John’s back as he speaks. “Fondly.”

And then Moriarty’s thrusts grow erratic and he pushes deeper. His body goes stiff and heavy for several seconds before he lets out a long breath and pulls out.

Re: Bound (Warning: non-con) 11/12

Moriarty pushes himself further up John’s back.

“Almost done,” he coos against the shell of John’s ear, “Now give us a kiss.”

John just wants it to be over with. So he doesn’t resist, he doesn’t give one last futile show of strength, he turns his head as far as he can toward Moriarty.

Moriarty leans forward, stubble brushing against his cheek, and then –

– and then John is brought back into himself as Sherlock rises up and snaps in front of his face. He can feel the air from the movement and hear Moriarty’s soft gasp as Sherlock and Moriarty’s breaths mingle, Sherlock straining forward and Moriarty pulling back.

“A bit late for shows of possessive aggression Sherlock,” Moriarty says as Sherlock collapses back against the bed, teeth still bared.

“You’re done. It’s over. Now stop,” Sherlock grits out.

John doesn’t protest the feeling of Moriarty pulling his limbs in, drawing their bodies even closer.

“It’s almost over. When it is I’ll toss you a knife and leave while you try to sort yourselves out. But Sherlock, if you’re going to be difficult, I’ll take that knife,” John thinks he can hear the twist of desire in Moriarty’s voice, “and I’ll penetrate your friend again.”

Sherlock snarls, opens his mouth, then clicks his teeth together as he shuts it.

“Smart boy,” Moriarty says, and leans forward again.

If Sherlock isn’t going to resist, then he isn’t going to resist. It’s so close to over, he just has to keep from resisting.

Moriarty’s lips meet his, and the angle is off, because he really can’t twist his head too far, but apparently it’s good enough because after several seconds Moriarty pulls back with what sounds like a contented little moan.

John looks back down to see Sherlock glaring up, over his shoulder and undoubtedly at Moriarty. He wonders if Sherlock watched the kiss. For whatever reason, he sort of hopes Sherlock had closed his eyes.

Moriarty chuckles again, says, “and one more for luck,” and pulls his body farther over John’s, pressing him down and leaning forward to press Sherlock’s unresponsive lips to his own.

John can feel the muscles along Sherlock’s body fully tensed. Sherlock doesn’t move until Moriarty pulls back and rolls off of them.

They squirm their way into a more comfortable position as Moriarty slides the condom off. John’s able to catch Moriarty slipping it in the glove as Moriarty picks it off the bed and turns it inside out before pocketing it.

The criminal looks remarkably unruffled as he tucks himself away.

Re: Bound (Warning: non-con) 12/12

“The knife,” Sherlock demands as Moriarty straightens his jacket.

“Oh, Sherlock,” Moriarty laughs as he looks up at him, “Did you really think I was going to give you a knife, after that, while I was in the room? Don’t be an idiot,” he draws the word out.

John can feel Sherlock’s leg spasm before he responds, “You’re not going to leave us here.”

“No. I’d like to see if you could get away given enough time, but no.” John dreads whatever Moriarty’s grin indicates. “I’m going to call your policemen friends and let them find you like this.”

“Won’t that be funny?” Moriarty asks as Sherlock pulls at the ropes in some sort of tantrum. Sherlock’s movements pull on John, straining him and spreading him open until he lifts their bound wrists up and slams them back into the bed just to make Sherlock think about what he’s doing.

“Before I kill you,” Sherlock says as he stills, “I am going to make you regret this.”

Moriarty sighs into a smile, staring at them with dark eyes. “Oh, God, I hope so.”

He turns and walks back behind John, who can only hear him leave.

At the closing of the door John lets himself collapse.

His arse isn’t the only thing that’s on fire, and his pride isn’t the only thing that’s been irrevocably damaged.

He can hear Sherlock’s frantic repetition of his name, but beyond a muffled “It’s fine,” he can’t be bothered to reply.

Sherlock was right about one thing, at least. John’s no longer being poked by engorged flesh, so that’s nice. He can’t be bothered to move off the limp flesh, but he has no shame anymore, and if Sherlock does then that’s just too bad.

There is actually, despite everything, or possibly because of it, a calming effect from Sherlock’s worry.

John lets Sherlock’s concern wash over him. He doesn’t pay attention to the words – probably more pleas for forgiveness that he really can’t care about right now – but the tone soothes him. The familiarity of the voice soothes him.

They smell like panic, and sex, and faintly, terribly, like Moriarty, but he buries his nose against Sherlock’s neck and even if he perhaps shouldn’t be able to stand the man right now, the smell of him calms him.

He’s not fine. It’s not fine. But he got through it. He’s going to get through what’s to come. They’re going to get through it. Because there is going to be a they. Because he can’t deal with any other option. He can’t let Moriarty take that from him too. He can’t let Sherlock take it from him, or take it from himself.

They are going to deal with this, together, because that is what people in their position do. They are going to live with it, and they are going to continue as they were, even if only on the surface. They are going to be fine; John will not accept any other outcome. And they are, John would be willing to swear on anything, going to get Moriarty.

Re: Bound (Warning: non-con) 12/12

Oh my God, that was sick and disturbing and so well done, with such a great take on John's perspective--how he feels slightly betrayed when Sherlock inadvertently gets a bit hard and how he feels better when Sherlock has real tears in his eyes. John's amazingly tough. Really believable characterizations all around. I really hope they are able to get through this intact, even though it will be hard.

Re: Bound (Warning: non-con) 12/12

Thank you very, very much. ♥ I like to believe they’d be able to work it out too; I think they’d have the perseverance.

Re: Bound (Warning: non-con) 12/12

That. Was amazing. Intense. Gripping. I love how spectacularly unsexy it was. No pretty dub-con BDSM fantasies here.

I would love to see the inside of Sherlock's head here (the bite, yessss). I would love to see what happens after. These aren't requests for sequels. This story is complete and perfect in itself. It doesn't need a sequel.

I hope that you'll collect this and post it somewhere, because damn.

Re: Bound (Warning: non-con) 12/12

Thank you! I do hope to have it up somewhere else eventually, so I’m glad to hear that that would be wanted, though for the moment I’m enjoying the cover of anonymity.

Re: Bound (Warning: non-con) 12/12

I love how raw, horrifying, and utterly unflinching this is while still managing to be heartbreaking.

Re: Bound (Warning: non-con) 12/12

Thank you! ♥

Re: Bound (Warning: non-con) 12/12

Oh my. I really loved your ending.

I really liked the line "because there is going to be a they"

Re: Bound (Warning: non-con) 12/12

Thank you very much! I'm really pleased to hear that you liked it.

Re: Bound (Warning: non-con) 12/12

Wow, that was awesome. Very good.

Re: Bound (Warning: non-con) 12/12

Thank you!

Re: Bound (Warning: non-con) 12/12

Oh my GOD, that is one of the hardest, scariest, most awful of such scenes I've read. Ugh, I felt so awful for BOTH of them. Very well done.

Re: Bound (Warning: non-con) 12/12

Thank you very much!

Re: Bound (Warning: non-con) 12/12

holy /fuck/, this was, this was fucking brutal and amazing and i am in awful awe. fucking shit.

Re: Bound (Warning: non-con) 12/12

Thank you!

Re: Bound (Warning: non-con) 12/12

HOLY CRAP that was intense and incredible and even more than I had hoped for when I read the prompt.

I was hoping you'd have Sherlock become inadvertently aroused by a naked John rubbing against him when I realized the position they'd be in, that was perfectly handled. (And there we have a new #1 for most disturbing sentence I've ever written)

Also I really like how you ended on just the right note--a horrible thing happened, everything is definitely not OK, but John is determined to not to let it end his friendship with Sherlock. I hope this conveys how excellent the whole thing is. All the accolades!

Re: Bound (Warning: non-con) 12/12

Thank you. I'm really pleased to hear that Sherlock's response was well-received. I was a bit leery about adding it, but I couldn't resist the opportunity to add that extra heap of trauma. I'm also really glad to hear that the ending had the effect I'd hoped for, so thank you again, very much!

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