[As sparks crackle against his skin, he twitches slightly--an involuntary reaction--and that's all. That's not really much of a surprise, given the rigid self-control he's capable of. When he speaks again, his voice is just as low and calm as before.]

What's boring is that you're suffering under the extreme delusion that there's anything left for me to give you.

[Sherlock had already given himself, given away a part of himself he'd kept locked up in a little cage, in a vault, buried underground. He'd been there in Karachi, telling her to run, he'd sealed it later with a kiss while the sky burned. That's submission enough. That's more than he's ever given anyone. Other than the mindgames, he doesn't see himself as having anything left to provide--and aren't the mindgames enough? They're enough for him.]

It's all just chemistry. Endorphin release, dopamine levels, adrenaline surge...

[He's never understood the obsession, but then he'd spent quite some time when he was younger manufacturing similar neurochemical effects in his body via pharmaceutical means. It's just another fix in comparison to that.]

Despite the preponderance of misguided individuals that think there's something significant to gained from staring soulfully into each other's eyes-- [His lip curls disdainfully and the sarcasm nearly drips to the floor] --there's no meaning to it other than what people tell themselves and that's a fairy tale.

[Yes, he is arguing about the philosophical implications of sexual expression while getting shocked and whipped. Is there any better time?]