docwithablog: (are you questioning your size)
Dr John Watson ([personal profile] docwithablog) wrote2020-04-13 07:11 pm
Entry tags:

storyline one.






chronology -

00. word association w/ Sherlock

1. gen texting w/ Sherlock

2. the case of the missing first violinist w/ Sherlock

3. the case of the missing first violinist w/ Sherlock

4. the case of the missing first violinist w/ Sherlock

5. the case of the missing first violinist w/ Sherlock

6. texting w/ Sherlock

7. texting w/ Sherlock

8. texting w/ Sherlock

9. texts from last night w/ Sherlock

10. the case of the dying detective w/ Sherlock

11. the case of the dying detective w/ Sherlock

12. the case of the dying detective w/ Sherlock

13. the case of the great game w/ Sherlock

14. the case of the great game w/ Sherlock

15. texting w/ Sherlock

16. otherwordly w/ Sherlock

17. the case of the navel treatment w/ Sherlock

18. the case of the navel treatment w/ Sherlock

19. the case of the navel treatment w/ Sherlock

20. the case of the navel treatment w/ Sherlock

21. texting - part one | texting - part two w/ Sherlock

22. the case of the navel treatment w/ Sherlock

23. texting w/ Sherlock

24. the case of a scandal in belgravia w/ Sherlock

25. texting w/ Sherlock

26. the case of a scandal in belgravia w/ Sherlock

27. the case of a scandal in belgravia w/ Sherlock

28. the case of a scandal in belgravia w/ Sherlock

29. truth or dare w/ Sherlock

00. texts from last night w/ Sherlock

30. the case of the devil's foot w/ Sherlock

31. the case of the devil's foot w/ Sherlock

32. the case of the devil's foot w/ Sherlock

33. the case of the devil's foot w/ Sherlock

34. the case of the devil's foot w/ Sherlock

35. the case of the devil's foot w/ Sherlock

36. the case of the devil's foot w/ Sherlock

37. texting w/ Sherlock

38. the case of the devil's foot w/ Sherlock

39. the case of the devil's root w/ Sherlock

00. word association w/ Sherlock

00. texting w/ Sherlock

00. penny for your thoughts w/ Sherlock

40. midnight texting w/ Sherlock

41. interlude w/ Sherlock

42. interlude w/ Sherlock

43. interlude w/ Sherlock

44. texting w/ Sherlock

45. the case of the sign of three w/ Sherlock

46. the case of the sign of three w/ Sherlock

47. the case of the sign of three w/ Sherlock

48. texting w/ Sherlock

49. texting w/ Sherlock

50. texting w/ Sherlock

51. anniversary w/ Sherlock

52. texting w/ Sherlock

53. interlude w/ Sherlock




acuriousincident: (16)

42.

[personal profile] acuriousincident 2020-05-18 04:15 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Oh. Oh, God, it's so... Christ! He pushes his forehead into the pillow and groans, loudly, as the thickest part of the fifth plug stretches him, for a second to such a grotesque degree that he can't think about anything but how open he feels. His hard-on flags a bit as the stretch pitches from crazy but oddly good into crazy and slightly painful before he finally pops it out. With a gasp, he drops it on the other side of the bed. He's washed off the other ones, just for the sake of some orderliness (in the midst of what feels like absolute chaos in his mind) but right now, he can't even envision getting off the bed to do so. Instead, he stares at the sixth plug.

Just. Stares at it.

His cock grows harder. Apparently, it really has no shame nor any regard whatsoever for his arse. The rim feels puffed up and tender to the touch as he fingers it lightly. Aside from the wetness of the lube, sticky still, there's nothing. No pain, no blood, no excessive tenderness. Okay then.

Lying down on his stomach, his cock trapped against the bed, he closes his eyes for a moment and simply breathes in. Out. In. Then, eyes still shut, he reaches out and grabs the lube from the bedside drawer and puts it next to the (giant) plug, waiting for John because he's going to need... help... with this. Well, technically he could just push it in, the same way as all the others, but for some reason he'd just rather not. He'll happily avoid over-analyzing any of it, thank you. Maybe some other time. He winces, shifting slightly.

Maybe never. ]
acuriousincident: (3)

[personal profile] acuriousincident 2020-05-18 04:49 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He hears the sounds of John doing... whatever he's doing in the bathroom, his brain is actually at the point where individual impressions blend together and become blurry. When the other man joins him, he doesn't just step inside and await instructions; whilst John will do so, willingly, on a case because the soldier in him needs the work-out, he's not actually prone to self-doubt or passivity. Sherlock's known that about him, well, since the first time he saw him. Danger, he thinks as John leans down over him, he likes danger, he likes dangerous people and with something close to a moan, he turns his head, just to feel the other man's forehead slipping against the side of his neck.

He's warm, slightly sweaty. Quite evidently aroused. His voice is a gust of hot air against Sherlock's ear and he shivers, his back tingling all the way down to his - yes. Arse. Which feels open still, even now. ]


Yes. [ He grasps the plug blindly and more or less tosses it at John - not harshly, just a bit... uncoordinated. ] Yes, I - [ He swallows. ] - if you would.

[ With the other man suddenly so close, his naked skin hot and smooth and damp, his arousal keeps increasing with every passing minute. It's the scent, too, the proximity. All night, they've been relatively far apart at all times, solving the case, doing separate things in the flat. To have that distance breached, now, like this - it's startling. And it reminds him, very forcibly, of what he needs. ]
acuriousincident: (15)

[personal profile] acuriousincident 2020-05-18 05:40 pm (UTC)(link)
[ John catches the plug - nice reflexes, there - and proceeds to lube it up whilst Sherlock relaxes his back and the muscles along his hips, thighs - other places. He feels almost hyper-exposed. As the other man leans in over his back again, he very nearly shudders at the feel of it, anticipation making him tense up before he can properly catch himself. Then, John's voice - I'm not going to be that person - and he'd scoff, he really would (not that he isn't right, he's absolutely right and therein lies the problem because John's not supposed to be observant, he's not supposed to see through him) if John hadn't proceeded to push his fingers between his buttocks, slicking up his arsehole.

Instead, there's just a sharp exhalation as he spreads his thighs a bit, the sudden sensation of fingers, of something not hard and plastic touching him there making the heat in his abdomen gather almost to the point of pain. His balls draw up a bit and he bites his lip, hard, focusing on the sting rather than the building pleasure. Then, John's fingers disappear. Instead... oh. Oh... ]


Fuck.

[ It comes out a strangled, hoarse exclamation as he grabs onto the pillow with both hands, holding on for dear life. The plug feels impossibly large, even with just the tip inside. Earlier, when he'd inserted number five, he'd pushed past the resistance just a bit too recklessly which hadn't felt good at all (ow - really). But naturally, obviously, John isn't doing that. Instead, he's taking his time, pressing in carefully and pushing it further with each little give and he's going to perish from this, it'll be the end of Sherlock Holmes and they'll have to bury him somewhere with the words he got it good and it wouldn't even be true because John still hasn't -- ]
acuriousincident: (12)

[personal profile] acuriousincident 2020-05-19 02:50 pm (UTC)(link)
[ His focus has centered itself squarely and solely around his arsehole, the burning sensation of stretch, of the massive plug going in, in, in -

Then, John kisses his shoulder, telling him he's being good and sounding breathless from it, from whatever this does to him (his cock is rock-hard against Sherlock's thigh so that much, at least, is very evident). He's warm, his physical presence steady against his side. Sherlock breathes out shallowly, feeling suddenly completely overtaken with the combination of the plug, stretching him open and John, flush against him, naked and breathing and satisfied, really, with him. It shouldn't matter at all, whether John's... pleased with him or not and he ought to feel pathetic but, well, they've done this power-dynamic switch for more than a month now and quite frankly, he's been over it enough. It's pitiful. He shouldn't. But here they are and this is happening in real-time.

And despite it all, his heart is beating along with it.

Groaning loudly this time, he presses back, first against John's lips, then against the plug. He focuses on relaxing his muscles as much as possible, feeling John push a bit more forcefully at the base of the plug and following his initiative because really, they're here, they're doing this. In a matter of minutes, it'll be... John. Just him and nothing else. His cock twitches pathetically against the mattress, a wet spot forming between his thighs and he forces out, voice a lot lighter than usual: ]


Just - you can push it in, just do it.
acuriousincident: (Default)

[personal profile] acuriousincident 2020-05-19 03:45 pm (UTC)(link)
[ John follows his lead and pushes the plug the rest of the way inside him and Sherlock, in turn, gasps and buries his face in the pillow again, feeling almost obscenely full, his arsehole stretched open around the stem of the plug. He breathes fast, getting lost for a moment inside his own head, John's lips against his shoulder, his breathing, the feel of his cock against his thigh, all happening in the very periphery of his consciousness. He blinks. There's water in his eyes, though he manages not to actively weep. God knows what'll happen once John's actually... Christ.

You're amazing he says and Sherlock really, really likes hearing him say that. He will never get tired of it, even if he likes to pretend to find it ridiculous or overbearing. Opening his eyes slowly and raising his face from the pillow, he cranes his neck sideways, enough to look at the other man out of the corner of his eyes. Then, very gingerly, he turns onto his side (oh, oooh, prostate, right there, oh) enough to slip his arm around John's side, spreading out his palm against his back. With a shudder, he presses his forehead against whatever he can reach of John's face, neck, really, whatever, he just... needs it. Here. Come here, it means. ]


Don't pretend your cock isn't begging for it, though.

[ It comes out rough around the edges, like his throat's too dry for actual speech production and he swallows, hard. Shifts, just to - at this angle, the plug's doing all sorts of funny things inside of him and he can't actually think to make his point, hoping faintly that he's already done so somehow. Instead, he kisses John's jawline, leaving a wet track along his skin, his fingers digging into his back almost convulsively. Stay, it says. Come closer. More. ]
acuriousincident: (2)

[personal profile] acuriousincident 2020-05-19 06:05 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He'd raise an eyebrow at John's reply - nonchalant, isn't it, for someone who's currently waiting to stick his gigantic cock in his arse - but he's busy being full and oversaturated with physical impressions and all he can manage is a moan from the very back of his throat. When John slips his hands into Sherlock's hair and tugs his face up for a kiss, he can feel his entire body going lax for a moment, tension bleeding out of his muscles. He parts his lips and pushes his tongue into John's mouth. It's not particularly elegant but quite possessive in its own right; the man is about to fuck him, something must be done to balance things out. He groans into the kiss, raising one leg and sliding his foot up John's shin, feeling out the strong lines of muscle, the soft hair. It's so good. It's - oh God, they can't just lie here, he's got to - uh -- ]

John, let's just... [ He speaks against the other man's lips for a second before pulling back, breathing erratic. ] Let's just do it.

[ As he speaks, he reaches behind himself and fumbles for the plug, fingers sliding over the large (large) handle a couple of times before he manages to get a grip. He digs his fingers in and flexes his wrist. Pulls at it very slowly.

Then, his eyes widen.

How in the world is he supposed to get this - out... oh! He stares at John's face, somewhat cross-eyed as he pulls at the plug, realising gradually that his arsehole doesn't want to loosen up enough - at least not at this angle, Christ. He bites his lip and wriggles his hand back and forth, feeling the muscle give very slightly in response. This, in turn, sends a spike of pain up his spine and he gasps, his fingers tightening. He knows, logically, that he needs to relax, breath, push back and let it happen but he can't, at this very moment, figure out how. Instead, he pulls at it a bit uselessly, which doesn't really help but at least it takes care of some of his arousal, his cock somewhat less excited by this particular turn of events. ]
acuriousincident: (9)

[personal profile] acuriousincident 2020-05-19 07:07 pm (UTC)(link)
[ It takes John precisely no time whatsoever to take over, pushing Sherlock onto his front and seating himself between his thighs. Sherlock breathes in sharply as the other man starts working the plug out, the pressure of it alternating between mind-numbingly good (nerves in the arsehole, quite a lot, prostate, also there) and painful. He digs his toes in as he feels it move towards the thickest part, his arsehole stretching once more, more, more - and then, out it pops. He shudders. Tries, instinctively, to clench and feels quite incapable of it, even as he knows it ought to still be physically plausible. It's not like the sphincter is dead, he's certain he would know if it were. It doesn't hurt in any way that says damage, it just feels... very open, still. Very wet. He swallows. Realises that John's asked him a question and tries to remember what it was, precisely, nevermind how to answer. The sound of the plug hitting the floor somewhere close to the closet seems loud in the stillness between them.

John then proceeds to lean in over him, his cock sliding up between his buttocks. It's wet, warm and very hard. Large. Quite... large. He props his chin onto his forearms, his spine curving very slightly. Like this, John leaves traces of precum along his skin, the small of his back and he'd rather like to lick them all up, to taste him on his tongue. Not now, though. Not tonight. He tries to breathe normally, realising only then that he can't, actually. What? Is he - is he...

Christ, is he nervous??

He wrinkles his nose, then pushes his face against the pillow again, hard. Deciding that this simply won't be tolerated, he takes a deep breath, shoulders actually rising at the movement, clears his throat and says, words only slightly muffled: ]


Please go slow.

[ He wants to press back against John, feel the whole length of him against his own back, maybe shift his hips a bit so the other man's cock slides back and forth between his buttocks. It would be delicious. Except right now, he feels empty, he wants to get going and have John fill him up all the way and simultaneously, he's quite... worried (scared, shut up) though he doesn't know what for or why. Naturally, that's the worst part of it. ]
acuriousincident: (13)

[personal profile] acuriousincident 2020-05-20 04:03 pm (UTC)(link)
[ There's a moment when John lies down on top of him, chest to back, his cock pressed up between his buttocks, that Sherlock's reasonably certain he just wants him to do it. His warm weight and the scent of sweat and arousal is making him decidedly light-headed; really, he'd like for John to just. Stay there. Exactly there. Pause the moment.

But then, John rolls off him and his weight disappears, at least partially. He glances at him sideways, on the verge of telling him to get back there, when John says trial and error before kissing his ear and lubing up his hands. Sherlock swallows. Thinks about the implications (meaning John's bottomed, obviously, but never topped - for some reason, this realisation makes his shoulders sink a fraction, some of the tension going out of them). He shifts, from one hipbone to the other, his cock rubbing against the bed, growing harder once more. The past seven hours have been a seemingly endless circle of growing and receding arousal, to the point where he can't currently remember what it's like not to fluctuate. To ride the wave all the way to the finish line.

Wetting his lips (nervously, for God's sake), he leans against John slightly as the man lies down by his side. Spreads his legs a bit as John reaches down and fingers the rim of his arsehole. Wet, he thinks. Slick. He shivers, nerve endings impossibly sensitive at this point and pushes back. Just a bit. ]


Yes. [ It comes out as a groan. ] Yes, you can - if you want...
acuriousincident: (16)

[personal profile] acuriousincident 2020-05-20 04:55 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He scowls at John's comment - thank you, he's aware that he's currently not exactly linguistically brilliant - but then, the other man pushes two fingers inside of his arse and he can't breathe. It's not that it feels particularly overwhelming; the butt plug's left quite a lot of room, it seems, back there. But there's something incredible about having John's actual fingers inside of him once again. While he doesn't mind the butt plugs, they are very... artificial. They are things, obviously.

Where as John's fingers... ]


Ah! [ He moans out loud when John adds another finger and buries them all inside of him, spreading them enough for him to really feel the stretch. Gasping, lips more or less permanently parted at this point, he reaches out on impulse and grabs hold of John's wrist next to his shoulder, fingertips digging in along bone and muscle. ] Ah, no - no, you absolutely can't - [ He gasps, nerve-endings doing something to his nervous system that he can't even properly comprehend as John's fingers work inside him. ] - John, you can't - we've waited for hours.

[ He only just manages not to sound whiny, probably due to the utter desperation underlying every syllable. He's panting heavily, hips working in time with the thrusts of John's fingers, back and forth, his cock rubbing against the bed. He's completely hard now and sensitive. It probably wouldn't take more than a mere brush of his hand. He keeps thinking that he wants more of John, he wants him pressed up against his back, filling him up, and he - yes, it might hurt. It might be difficult. But as the seconds tick by and John's presence - next to him, inside him - seems to grow exponentially in his consciousness, the need to get there begins to outweigh the nervousness. ]
acuriousincident: (12)

[personal profile] acuriousincident 2020-05-20 06:18 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Oh - oh, it's a fourth finger, it's... He blinks, hard, feeling his arsehole contract slightly around the width of John's... hand? Most of his hand? Oh. He shifts, meeting the thrust of his hand with a backwards push, fucking himself experimentally on his fingers. It feels... good. It feels fantastic. He can - yes, he can take it. More. He can take more. John's warm and heavy against his back and when he licks his neck, he leaves a trail of wetness behind that cools in the aftermath, making his skin prickle. Micro and macro-impressions, he thinks, mindlessly and grinds back again against John's hand. It's a whole.

In a few moments, he'll be lost to it. ]


I -- [ He breaks off, panting, feeling his sphincter actually give again, though it shouldn't really be possible at this point. Afterwards, John's fingers feel just a little less, the stretch becomes less overwhelming and all he can think is nownownow, his cock jumping against his abdomen. ] Yes. Do it, John, do it.

[ And on impulse, without even truly knowing why, he reaches up and curls his fingers in John's hair, fingertips running over heated skin, damp from sweat. It's an awkward angle and he'll probably lose his grip in a moment as soon as John moves but all the same, he just... He holds on. Runs his fingers through John's hair slowly, soothingly, hand curving against what he can reach of his neck in a hold. You're fine, it says. Go on. ]
acuriousincident: (9)

[personal profile] acuriousincident 2020-05-20 07:01 pm (UTC)(link)
[ John moves, dislodging his grip on his hair in the process. Sherlock feels bereft as a consequence as he lowers his hand to the bed once more, grabbing onto the sheet. John slicks up his cock and lies down on top of him once more. He can feel the wetness of the other man's length sliding against his thighs, between his buttocks, before John goes please relax, sounding half-gone himself. He breathes out slowly. Feels a sudden and violent spark of anxiety as John positions himself before the feeling bleeds away entirely, replaced by... by... ]

Oh my God. [ His voice is thin, almost breathless but not as affected as John who sounds destroyed. His cock feels massive against his arsehole and he can feel himself stretching even further as the tip presses inside, his body adjusting slowly but surely to the intrusion. It's not really difficult, as such; it's more than before but not drastically so and he has no real trouble adhering to John's plea. Breathing raggedly, he reaches back up with his hand and strokes John's shoulder and upper arm, his touch light. ] Oh this is - [ He shuts his eyes. What? What is it? John's cock, breaching him, going in, the whole, hard length of it, inch by inch. John. JohnJohnJohn. ] - this is nice. You feel nice.

[ He can't recall feeling this... genuine, ever, in his adult life. It's like they're being ripped of layers and complications, leaving just the bared remains - John, taking care, doing his utmost to fulfill whatever he's expecting from himself and trembling in the face of it; and Sherlock, feeling... grateful because he has rarely been chosen (never). Blinking sweat out of his eyes, he shuts them again and relaxes into it. His cock is dripping precum against the bed and his stomach as he spreads his legs a bit further and angles his hips upwards, pushing back and taking John in another inch. Or two. ]
Edited 2020-05-20 19:01 (UTC)
acuriousincident: (14)

[personal profile] acuriousincident 2020-05-21 08:32 am (UTC)(link)
[ For a moment, there's just the sounds of their collective breathing, out of sync but equally ragged, as John slowly pushes in, the stretch in his arsehole becoming a familiar pressure rather than a burn. Sherlock rests his chin on his elbows once more, curls sticking to his forehead. He brushes them away a bit distractedly, feeling gradually more and more immersed in his body. His focus of attention narrows down to nothing but this - John's weight against his back, the sudden, brief wetness of his tongue against his neck again; his cock, buried in his arse, his body working to adapt. His brain is producing rapid, single-word registrations (full, heavy, warm, slick, nice, amazing) and he simply floats amongst them, feeling his mental state become... fluent. Indecipherable. ]

Mm. [ His voice is low, more so than usual, all words slower and more drawn-out. ] Good. It's good.

[ He tilts his head a bit to the side, craning his neck as a consequence, just to properly catch the next time John says his name like that, stuttering and weak and affected, it sounds better than normal even, which speaks volumes. God, John's big like this - he's everywhere. His cock is buried inside him so deeply, he suddenly can't quite tell where they start and end, individually. Ouroboros, he thinks and the thought makes his lips quirk upwards in a dazed smile. He pushes back once more, just for whatever inch might still be unaccounted for - because now that he's got John like this, he wants all of him.

He realises, distantly, that he's never had anything or anyone like this before and that regardless of how life might change in the future, he never will. There's something very definite about that thought, something that settles within him along with John. Eyes fluttering shut, he runs his hand up John's shoulder once more to the back of his neck. There, he simply holds on, the stretch in his upper body insignificant enough to ignore. He can't tell anything about his own state of arousal at this point and doesn't much care, either.

It's simply better than that. ]
acuriousincident: (15)

[personal profile] acuriousincident 2020-05-21 09:51 am (UTC)(link)
[ Despite himself, despite all logic dictating that naturally, evidently, the most intense part was yet to come, Sherlock's still completely taken aback (... yes, thank you) when John actually begins to move. Inside him. Out, first, the head of his cock feeling incredibly big as it stretches him open on the way, and then in again. Upon which John actually angles his hips, pressing against his prostate. ]

Ah! Oh - oh God. [ He's not being particularly loud, still, but the sudden edge of amazement makes his pitch just slightly thinner. Pushing his face against the pillow and holding onto John for dear life, he moves along with him, meeting his thrusts whilst feeling utterly, utterly undone. Every slide of John's cock, be it in or out, stimulates his prostate and makes his balls feel achingly heavy, his cock hard once more (he can't remember when that happened) and so sensitive that every moment of friction against it makes him breathless. ] You feel amazing, John, you are - fantastic -

[ His voice dies off as his climax suddenly starts building, explosively and completely without warning (if you don't consider seven bloody hours of build-up), his cock twitching and his balls drawing up. He thinks for a moment that he doesn't want to, he wants to make it last a bit longer, to -- but it's too late, he can't, and instead he simply pushes his face hard against the pillow and gives in. He comes, hard, against the sheets, his arsehole contracting repeatedly around John's length and the feel of that, of fullness and stimulation against oversensitive nerve-endings prolong his orgasm until he can't fucking see, his hand against the back of John's neck clenching convulsively. He's moaning, relentlessly. He has no clue what he's saying, whether he's saying anything at all. ]

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