bakerstreet | Healing the Broken

Healing the Broken

healing the broken meme
a shipping meme

The events of many canons have left its characters ravaged, unable to be the whole people they once were. They can never go back to the innocence they had before. However, they can find someone who can pull you back from the brink. Some say love can conquer all ills and cure all broken people - the jury is still out on that, but enough people subscribe to the notion that it may have some merit. With the right affection behind it, can it be the elixir to heal traumas or mend angst? For this meme, it can be. No matter what your what your problem is, from daddy issues to being mind controlled to hating all humans or being just a jerk, all you need is healing from the right person.

All in all? This is a shameless meme playing with the idea of "cured by love." Love it or hate it, it's prevalent in fiction, both fan and published. And sometimes, no lie, you just want to play it and not be judge for the pure shlock you know it to be. Here is the place; now is the time. However, you don't have to go for unrealistic escapism. One partner trying to help the other through trauma is not an easy task, and there are bound to be setbacks, resistance, and hurt feelings. And what if BOTH partners are a little bit broken? Can they survive together, or will they bring each other down?

how to play
- Comment with your character and preferences. Feel free to talk about your character's problems. You might also want to mention if your character is the one who needs to be healed or can do the healing. Or perhaps you and your thread partner can play two roughed up characters learning to trust again!
- Reply to others.

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Sharp blue eyes rolled, "I think you'd end up fucking yourself over, not fucking yourself. You couldn't work together. Separately, fine. Divide the world like the Pope did for Portugal and Spain." Shifted to his back, leaving himself open for whatever James had in mind.

"Neither of me would consider disposing of such an incredibly useful asset as myself." Jim extended his legs down next to Jack's and propped himself up on an elbow, watching his face while beginning slow fingertip strokes to tease him gently to life.

"At the very least we would try snogging in front of you first, classic porn-style, to see if you would get a kick out of it..."

"And does your alternate-self have an alternate me? Or is my part played by a ditzy blond I cannot stand?" one who saved a kitten from a tree and was decidedly not dangerous. Or was the self he was supposed to have been, following in familial footsteps.
A pompous ass, a self-assured git, a self-righteous ignorant noble son.

Notes where aloe should be applied again. Zinc on Jim's nose next time they venture out.

"In a dark, twisted world like that one, I would be a meter maid in Dublin whose favorite pastime is drinking beer and watching telly. We would never have met each other, of course."

Still propped up on an elbow, Jim's teasing little fingertip brushes changed gradually to long, lazy trailing up and down Jack's length.

"With my luck, we'd meet up because I had parked in a restricted zone. I'd be some git living on the grounds with a castle ruin, the place burned down during the Irish War of Independence or the Irish Civil War. Frittering away my inheritance and every inch a self-entitled jackass called John." Of their own accord his hip lifted and he reached over to catch his fingers in Jim's too long hair. It was time for a trim.

"Aren't we glad we live in this world instead?" Slowly, drawing out the anticipation, Jim tipped his head forward and down. At what point would Jack realize that Jim was actually attempting to go down on him? How would he react? It was an unusual enough situation that the outcome was anyone's guess.

"Oh, I don't know. The meter maid hat would look good on you." voice rumbling and welcoming.

Was still having a bit of a mental issue with Logistics. The night in the brothel had jumpstarted him with anger and blood, but they were still getting reacquainted. Relaxed and tried not to put any pressure on the little guy. Was already trying not to think or talk about him, which helped. Also didn't help that he believed there was now a cant to the left, which hadn't been there previously.

Was talking just to keep from startling what was beginning to pay attention to the light petting. "I hear that meter maid cars are very fuel efficient or electrical these days."

(Pulled up while doing my research: https://www.wsj.com/articles/SB10001424052748703585004575604883465682458)

In other circumstances Jim would have been disappointed that Jack wasn't immediately overcome with excited lust. Disappointed and even angry. Instead, the nonchalant attitude made him feel relief. There were no towering performance expectations for Jim to live up to. He could focus on what was important at his nonexistent skill level: actually making physical contact, and not using teeth.

Holding the target steady with a delicate touch, Jim studied it visually while deciding how to go about the task. "I wouldn't try to confront you on your egregious violation of posted signs. Just print out the ticket and get away without being noticed."

He started with a gentle lick right at the tip, getting an initial sense of the unique soft resilience of the delicate skin.

Skill didn't matter. That it was James, did.

Took an unsteady intake of air and dug around to find his response once Jack realised he had gone silent. "I -" concentrating on each word while not to looking away "- I would track you down." After another hard look, his head dropped to the pillow behind him and he found the ability to exhale and not keep holding his breath.

Okay. Maybe all of his nerves were right where they were supposed to be. Hadn't paid attention last time, was just in the moment.
Are we thinking about this now?!?
No. No. We are not.

It must not be completely terrible, Jack wasn't pushing him away. A slightly bolder lick this time, partway around the ridge at the base of the head. "You mean, chase me down on the street? Just follow the cute cap? Or find out where I live and send me hate mail?"

This really was fun. Jim tilted his head and gave a matching lick to the other side, cautiously experimental.

James was teasing him. That was a plausible explanation. Palms flattened against the sheets, wasn't going to rush him. Exhaled, steadying himself.

"Yes." Except there were three questions. "Chase you. Follow the trike...maybe find out where you live. Confront you there."

And here Jim thought he was doing the opposite of teasing. Next, he tried a long lick from base to tip. He had to pause along the way to re-wet his tongue and when he noticed his lower teeth were starting to touch skin he flinched away to reposition, but managed to accomplish the goal he'd set out to achieve.

"I'd threaten to call the real cops." It was Jack who seemed to want to keep this story going. Jim didn't mind playing along, though it diverted some his attention when he was trying to be careful.

Didn't mind a hint of teeth, a light scrape that was most definitely not a bite. Blood surged at the contact. Flexed against Jim's lips and tongue.

Muscles tensed in his thighs, but he didn't actually move. "Threats?" As if in any life he'd be put off by mere warnings.

Now came the strategic question of whether Jim could get his whole mouth around the top without making contact with his teeth. Well, it would be easier to give it a try now instead of waiting until the fit was tighter. "I would call them. And try locking the door on you."

Opening wide, Jim carefully lowered his head down over Jack's. Time to see how much he could get inside his mouth.

If there had been any unsteadiness in his tone before, a rumbling earthquake filled him now. Did not move, no matter the desire to - He really shouldn't go down that road or think of that imagery.

"Try to call," holding onto the storyline. "You wouldn't be allowed to press send."
Sounding a little stressed, Jack?
"Forget about slamming and locking the door."

In retrospect, it was obvious that shoving the back of his throat down against a thick mass of flesh would set off his gag reflex. Jim tugged back quickly, ending the unpleasant noise with a cough instead of something much worse. Back to using his tongue instead, then. All he needed was one quiet, steadying breath first.

"And what would John do to that poor little meter maid, over a parking ticket?"

A broader lick, this time, tongue covering much more ground than it had been before. Everything that had made it past his teeth already was fair game.

Was glad that he hadn't caused the discomfort and unpleasant sensation. For a second there, Jack's grip on the sheet had gone white knuckle.

Knew what he would do to Jim pretending to be an innocent meter maid. What would cocky John Moran do? No idea, other than to punch someone. Not that a ticket would hurt the bottom line...so perhaps it would be more of a chance to shame the little maid. "He would turn you over his knee and paddle your behind."

"Ooh, a felony assault conviction. Much better than paying the parking ticket."

Maybe focusing on just the head would be more successful. Carefully, Jim closed his lips just under the ridge and tried sucking on it. It was more difficult to avoid tooth contact with suction applied.

Agreed. However, the sound that came out of him was just sound and utter nonsense and nonverbal encouragement.

Strived for an answer, finally coming up with, "Public indecency," if he hadn't pushed his way in the door. Except that any Jack in his right mind would have done exactly that. No need for blood or violence out in public view, and definitely no place for a bare arse.

Jim - James, the two running together, was really attempting to strain his patience.

Nonsense, Jack's patience is infinite. Finally getting into a proper groove, Jim wrapped his hand more securely around the exposed shaft and tilted his head back and forth, looking for the best angle. He grimaged at that clumsy slurping noises but didn't let that interrupt him. Jim added a rhythmic pattern to the sucking, still taking great care to avoid brushing his teeth against skin but it was getting progressively more difficult. And odd-tasting.

Forget straining, his back was already against the proverbial wall - mattress. The grasp of fingers around his cock cause a near immediate revolt in his hips that had to be quelled just as instantly so he didn't just start rocking himself into that grip. Then there was more of Jim's mouth, warm, wet, a brush against the inside of a cheek.

Groaned. Heat was building low in his belly. Like a snake it coiled, just waiting for the right moment to rise and strike.

Warned with a growl, "If you...had other plans -" Where was I? " - now would...be a good time -" For what?!? He's good right there! "- to move on."

Move on? When it was working? Jim snickered at the absurdity of the suggestion, then pressed decisively deeper.

Knowing what he was up against made it possible to suppress his gag reflex quite effectively. Jack would get suction as well as a steady firm press against the back of Jim's throat.

If that didn't work then Jim would have to pull back and take a break before trying again. Holding his breath wasn't easy in this position.

Head rolled on the pillow, at least part of him could thrash against holding more still than he every would have done out in the field. This was right up there with fire ants biting him, except the sensation was entirely different. Tremors were building in his rear, thighs and calves, like muscle cramps only different.

In London, sex was a nearly every day occurrence. Usually at night, sometimes in the morning if there was time to be lazy and no one needed managing or killing bright and early. Logistics might have been feeling low, but the need was certainly there.

Snarled, hanging onto the shreds of his self-control. No games of control. No instructions to wait it was an utter relief to remember and slip and just let go. Blood roared in his ears and like a bullet, everything leapt forward without going anywhere at all.

Just when Jim thought he'd managed to handle Jack's girth, the throbbing release brought jaw-creaking pressure against upper and lower teeth. Suction broken in favor of opening his mouth wider, Jim pulled his tongue back and tilted his head back too. Lower incisors now pressing firmly against Jim's own thumb he pressed his face down harder. Trying to avoid choking on the gushing salty spurts, Jim breathed out firmly through his nose.

And managed to send the entire influx of volume up into his sinuses. At least he hadn't choked?

Brain disconnected for a few seconds. If anyone needed killing they had a few precious moments to get in their own blow or turn and run. Couldn't even track Jim, not until he inhaled with a rush of air. Lifted his head and dropped it, then lifted it again to get a better look.

White and translucent drips and drops on Jim's chin, it looked like Moran's aim was completely off or that Jim had tried to snort up the spontaneous offering. Couldn't help it, he laughed. It started with a snort and turned into a rumbling sound without the initial crash.

Loosening his cramped fingers from the bedding, he flailed an arm and found a box of kleenex on the nightstand and offered several tissues to his bed partner. Couldn't help the fond expression, "You got something...just there."

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