bakerstreet | Collect them all!

[ Fire ghoul inhabited by the demon Beleth ]

[Locked to Williams]

[One could be forgiven for thinking that he'll keep Sherlock at a distance after meeting him. And yes, in order for William to protect himself from the only man who could thwart his meticulous plans, some distance has to be kept, but that's mostly inside of his mind. In the physical world, it tends to be the exact opposite; they act like exceptionally good friends, not even shying away from touching each other casually. Sherlock's complete disdain for social norms helps a lot with it.

This, though? This is a first. One moment they're attending a party (to which Sherlock was dragged, no doubt), doing their usual number of intellectual conversation and playful banter, and the next Sherlock groans that he's had enough of social interaction for now. He doesn't push William away, however; it's somehow always different between them, the company of the other too stimulating to be rejected. But suddenly they're alone, away from the noise in a secluded bedroom. With no need to keep appearances in front of others, it's easy to give in to their undeniable chemistry.

To be honest, William imagined they'd stop sooner. It's one thing to take the longering gaze of Sherlock's eyes on his own as an invitation to press their foreheads together, a hand slipping behind the back of his neck, and just stay there, breathing the same air as him. His breath smells of cigarettes, but far from being repulsed, William finds it oddly enticing.

A bit arousing, even. And that's another thing entirely.

Tilting his head, he presses a kiss to Sherlock's jaw, tantalizingly close to his mouth and yet seeming so damn far away. William wants to know how he will react before doing anything else.]

[It's funny to think that Sherlock had quite nearly skipped this party. Parties weren't his thing, not ever. He had much more important things to do - like catch the Lord of Crime!

So it was a good idea to give the guestlist a quick sweep of his eyes before deciding. A certain familiar name caught his gaze, and then Sherlock was off scrambling to find a suit in halfway-decent condition.

Who would have thought that would lead to him and Liam, necking in a private room behind a locked door, Liam's lips so soft on Sherlock's skin it's almost torturous.

Sherlock wants to talk, but the words keep slipping from his tongue every time he looks at Liam. It's the first time he's seen him this close, and he doesn't want to look away.

He does reach for one of Liam's hands, giving it a squeeze while lacing their fingers together.]

L... Liam. Can I, um...

[Going slowly is torturous for him as well. There's nothing he wants more than to ravish that all-too-silent mouth, which he expected to jest or at least say something by now. Sherlock can and will always surprise him, it seems.

Not that William has much to say, either. When he receives that light squeeze on his fingers, he immediately laces them with his own, but doesn't comment on the unusually sweet gesture at all. He meant to continue what he was doing, perhaps in hopes that it'd become too unbearable and something else would happen, but then Sherlock finally speaks.

It's almost endearing, really. He sounds like a young boy in love, as inexperienced in this sort of thing as he is savvy in every other matter in life. Even William, who doesn't have much experience to speak of either, can tell he's nervous and very much out of his element.

But he wants to do something himself in this context. At the very least, it sounds promising.]

What is it that you want to do, Sherlock?

[Had he ever felt like this, this strange shyness that made his tongue tangle up before he could get the right words out? Sherlock's pretty sure it's a new thing, brought on by certain company.

It just takes one warm glance from William's beautiful eyes and Sherlock fights the urge to seize up. His cheeks blazing red, he lifts William's hand in his own, nosing the back of it, a small kiss.]

Ha, sorry, I'm... just a little out of my element.

[Swallowing hard, Sherlock meets William's gaze, squeezing his hand at the same time.

God, he needs a cigarette.]

Liam. Can I kiss you?

[Making Sherlock Holmes blush certainly wasn't something he thought he'd ever achieve. It seems that, no matter how much William has him pinned down on an intellectual level, there are still ways in which he can be surprised by this fascinating individual. It’s exhilarating to think that, although not as much as the way his heart races when Sherlock kisses his hand.

It could be entertaining, how he’s treating William as if he was a damsel, but the touch of lips against his hand leaves a craving inside him that’s difficult to ignore. His eyes widen a bit in surprise at the shy request, and without missing a beat, he leans forward and presses the back of Sherlock’s neck forward with the hand still resting there.

His eyes close. Their lips join, and there’s a strange shiver that makes William tremble, the intimate proximity as foreign for him as it is for Sherlock. Even if he masks it better, he’s very much out of his element as well; entertaining female guests at a tea party is different from actually paying attention to his own desires for once. William opens his mouth slightly, the faintest hint of tongue brushing against Sherlock’s lower lip before the kiss goes back to a chaste gesture.

This should feel dangerous. He’s quite literally flirting with danger here, getting too close to the only person who could threaten his self-imposed mission, and yet...

It actually feels good. Too good.]

[Sherlock lets William control him with that hand placed against the back of his neck. It doesn't even occur to him to resist, or that he doesn't normally like being touched. All he manages to think is that he's suddenly over his head here, and then William's lips meet his own.

They're soft is the first reaction Sherlock's mind comes up with. His mouth is warm and then their tongues touch. Sherlock is pretty sure he makes a sound.

They pull apart, breathe for a short moment. And then Sherlock is automatically chasing after William's mouth, catching it in another soft kiss.

He doesn't want it to stop, danger be damned.]

Fuck, Liam.

[That little break they take? He actually needs it. William can't recall any other kiss making his pulse race like this one; Sherlock practically moaned inside his mouth and he just can't stop trembling at the thought. His eyes flutter open, finding Sherlock's handsome face still too close, and then his lips are caught again.

To be fair, the detective did say "can I kiss you", not the other way around. And naturally, William is more than willing to go along with it. The air he exhales after comes in a sort of low, sweet gasp, satisfaction painted across his face as well as a desire for more. This is a side he hasn't shown anyone, honest and raw like no other.

His hand curls around the edge of Sherlock's suit jacket, keeping him close as they speak.]

Don't steal my lines.

[Sherlock suddenly has to laugh at that taunt, the sound bubbling up in his throat, but that means breaking their kiss yet again. He gives in at the last moment, pulling away just enough to chuckle, but staying close enough that their lips brush as he talks.]

Like you'd ever curse.

[That brief combo of awkwardness mixed with a tiny touch of fear has faded, and Sherlock's back to his usual, bold self, the one who had invited William to be bad and sneak off in the first place, party be damned.

Thoughtful, he cups a hand to William's cheek, thumb running over his smooth skin, and thinks about kissing William elsewhere. If he'd even allow such a thing.]

Y'wanna head out somewhere else?

[Sherlock's basically fine with their current location. The door is solid and locked and they have yet to hear anyone even passing by. But offering just seems the right thing to do.]

[It's kind of endearing that Sherlock really trusts his noble facade, which conceals crimes much more severe than a foul mouth. It's a good thing that it comes easily as a second nature at this point, because if he wasn't so practiced at performing good manners, William isn't sure what he'd be doing by now here.

At the very much immodest proposal Sherlock offers, he ponders for a moment. William has done everything he needed to do tonight already; secured the connections, put up the front of a gentleman, and even managed to find new targets for the Lord of Crime to rain judgement upon. Surely people won't miss him too much, especially at such a crowded gathering.]

Going somewhere else now would raise some eyebrows, I'm afraid.

[To emphasize his point, he cards through Sherlock's hair, tousled beyond what's normal for his standards and ponytail too loose, all due to their recent activities. Besides, and this might sound childish, William doesn't want to break the spell; staying here, just the two of them, is almost like a promise that more will happen without affecting the rest of their lives. It's everything he wants and more.]

Somebody might think you have less than pure intentions, Mr. Holmes.

[Yes, that is definitely his hand casually landing on Sherlock's thigh as he speaks.]

And we don't want people getting the wrong impression, hmm?

[In a way, he's relieved. Imagine having to explain this to his flatmate, or something along those odds.

Besides, Sherlock is realizing there's much better uses for his mouth at the moment.]

Heavens, no.

[He grins, maybe even a touch wolfish at feeling William's hand on his thigh, warm and possessive.

Would he do just about anything for this man? It's starting to feel like it. If William commanded Sherlock get on his knees before him he's pretty sure he wouldn't be protesting.

That's getting ahead of things, he thinks, leaning in to resume kissing William.

Now he slides his hands down, tracing the sides of William's body, feeling him out under that suit of his. His hands come to rest on William's waist.

Just touching him like this feels both bold and also somehow not enough.]

[Yes. Just imagine. The relief that relaxes Sherlock’s shoulders does not go unnoticed, and only then does William remember that he doesn’t live alone. And yet, he offered some other place with his flat in mind all the same. A bold move, although a little too inconsiderate for poor John Watson, someone William doesn’t want to meet under that kind of circumstance.

This place is much better, with its dim lights and soft bedsheets that hiss when he shifts closer, using the hand on Sherlock’s thigh as leverage. He’s not fixing his eyes anywhere else, too invested in drinking up Sherlock’s expressions, so different from his usual annoyed frowns, but also from those times when a mystery catches his attention and he’s lost in thought. Right now he looks… would "hungry" be a good way of putting it?

William certainly thinks so.

There’s a kind of heat under his skin, getting warmer with each kiss they share, and it’s starting to prove a little too much. One hand moves to loosen his necktie, making his collar enough of a mess to rival Sherlock’s in the process, while the other squeezes the flesh of his thigh through the fabric of his trousers. In comparison to William, the other man delicately circling his waist is almost romantic, if a bit possessive. It’s funny, he supposes, that their usual behaviors are reversed in something so intimate.

When he inevitably needs some space to avoid suffocating, it doesn’t take too long before William is unbuttoning Sherlock’s shirt, slipping the garment slightly off his shoulder and peppering some kisses along the clavicles. If Sherlock wants possessiveness, he’s not going to be so cruel as to deny him.

Teeth sink on the pale skin, and William tilts his head, almost like a blood-drinking monster in those horror stories that are so popular nowadays. It’s not blood he seeks, however: it’s another reaction, another one of those precious and rare sounds.]

[William kneads his thigh like a cat with claws out and just like that Sherlock's hard. It doesn't help seeing William twist his tie away from his throat, a scene more erotic than Sherlock thought possible (now neatly locked away in his memory). Nor do the slim hands stroking his bared skin or the teeth abruptly sinking into his shoulder.

He gasps, eyes wide, the sound shifting into a moan as William bites him, pain and pleasure surging, better than any seven percent solution could hope to be. His fingers dig hard into William's hips and without forethought Sherlock hauls him over, right onto his lap.

William ends up bitten in return, Sherlock burying his face up against his throat, sucking on skin soon to bruise. Although there's something needy and almost animalistic in that bite, Sherlock still is of enough mind to do it low enough that it can easily be hidden by a shirt collar.]

You like it rough, Professor? Somehow I'm not surprised...

[The mark he leaves is a rich purple, satisfying although not as delightful as Sherlock moaning above him. The sound makes breathing difficult, too distracting to even put up resistance when William is dragged closer. Physically, Sherlock has an undeniable upper hand, and that show of raw strength has him trembling once again. He can be overpowered whenever Sherlock wants, a knowledge that makes his face heat up and his heart pound in anticipation.

On the other hand, that bite elicits a gutural sound, first, and then a moan an octave higher than what's normal for his voice. And not only because the sting of pain is as pleasurable as Sherlock's kisses; it's also enticing to find him as hard as William himself while straddling him, insistently searching for more friction by moving his hips.

An airy chuckle escapes him after hearing a taunt.]

That's because you know you're not dealing with a damsel, Mr. Holmes. Are you disappointed?

Do I feel disappointed?

[Sherlock grumbles, unable to hide a hint of mirth. His voice stays low, almost a growl, his lips pressed against William's bruised skin. Despite the roughness in his voice, William can probably feel how he still grins.

If he wasn't already hard, that high whine of a moan he drags out of William's throat would have neatly done the trick. The sound leaves him shuddering in twain, and he rolls his hips forward to meet William's, hands fumbling at his belt as he seeks out another hungry kiss.

It's fun like this, like they're battling for who gets to take charge. Sherlock considers picking William up and tossing him bodily onto the bed, but restrains for now - grinding together feels too good to stop, even through their increasingly-suffocating levels of clothing.]

Not at all.

[It may be odd to see Sherlock this needy, but then again, the same could be said about himself. Seems like the insane chemistry between them was hiding an equally strong desire, and now that it's being allowed to flow freely, it has become impossible to control it. Case in point: the asphyxiating heat leads William to take off his jacket, tossing it carelessly on the carpet, quickly followed by his tie. Pulling on Sherlock's hair, he groans affirmatively as he feels hands on his belt, dipping his head down for another kiss.

This feeling is a bit like being drunk, really. Inhibitions down, the world spinning under him, and the capacity to focus on just one thing at a time. Deft hands slip between their bodies, undoing all of Sherlock's buttons until he can push both shirt and jacket off his shoulders. William takes a moment to caress his sides, to admire his frame and the tight muscles working to grind against him; he can't do much with his eyes except keep them focused on the wonder that is Sherlock unraveling, so skin on skin does the trick to take in the rest of his body.

Voice strained, he leans next to Sherlock's ear to whisper.]

Anything else I can do to satisfy you?

You're already doin' a pretty good job like this.

[Something about the way William discards his clothing, as if he's without a care in the world, belies his interest. This, from a guy who probably folds his underwear into precise little squares.

It's proof, even moreso than that hard cock that rides up against Sherlock's or the way William presses to him, heated skin to heated skin. It gives Sherlock goosebumps all over.

And then William's hands are in his hair and he completely loses his train of thought.

He grins.]

I can think of a few things, but I'm pretty satisfied right now.

[That said, Sherlock lifts William and urges him backwards, guiding him onto his back on the bed. He leans over him, keeping close, hands ducking to grab William's hips and pin him there so that they can rock into each other.

Anything more that this right now and Sherlock might burst right then and there. He's over his head and he knows it even as he pins the professor, but it's like a deep mystery pulling him along with its murderous red threads - he can't resist the danger.]

Should I be doin' something else for you?

[Barely doing something counts as a good job for this man. William finds an odd sense of pride in hearing it; while he always presents as a washed-down, much more polite and gentle version of himself than he actually is, Sherlock isn't interested in that façade. He craves William's real self, and that's a more than welcome difference, made obvious by the mischievous grin that curves his lips as he's lowered onto the bed.

Despite his inner discomfort with traversing unknown terrain, Sherlock definitely takes the initiative if needed. That's a very interesting piece of information to tuck away for later.

William exhales a delighted sigh while being pinned down. Head turned to a side, exhibiting the marks Sherlock left before and peeking at him from underneath half-lidded eyes, he gives off an aura of helplessness that couldn't be further from the truth. His grin is still in place, ruining the effect but bestowing a different type of allure.

It's difficult to think about any of that, however, when Sherlock is rutting against him, keeping him still and tied to his whims all at the same time. William needs to catch his breath before answering, the sight of Sherlock on top of him too perfect not to distract him.]

Tell me what those "few things" you're thinking about are, for starters. You might get exactly what you want.

[Frankly, William could lay there without moving a finger and Sherlock would still feel perfectly entranced by the sight before him.

That he gets to touch him, to kiss him, is almost too much to stand. And even though Sherlock's on top here, it's William who remains in control, even when questioning Sherlock as to what else he'd like to do.

It makes his breath catch in his throat, and all he can do for a moment is blink and rock his hips.

And then the wide grin is back and Sherlock's bowing his head to rest against William's, gazing into those beautifully deep red eyes of his.

His own eyes remain lidded and dark, pupils pinpointed with desire.]

All this, and I get more? I feel spoiled.

Hm... Your hands feel pretty good in my hair. Y'mind loosening it for me?

[Oh, William knows he's the one in control, and he revels in having Sherlock tied around his finger for once. The man is usually too chaotic for him to be able to feel like this, but in bed he seems pliable. Eager to please, at least as much as he takes for his own pleasure. William couldn't enjoy it more even if he tried to.

That perplexed look on Sherlock's face as he rocks steadily against him, that too-far-gone look in his eyes, everything is perfect. If vulnerability is the price to pay for a sight so magnificent, William has no qualms about meeting Sherlock halfway.]

Spoiling you every now and then can't hurt too much, no?

[Shifting on top of the bed, probably making a mess of the covers in the process, he thrusts up teasingly slow, trying to mask behind an innocent smile how impatiently he wants the situation to escalate.]

Of course. It can't be comfortable to keep your hair tied up like this.

[His voice has an airy quality to it as he speaks, hands already working on loosening the hairtie until he can toss it to a side, to join the rest of their clothing on the carpet. Almost like an afterthought, his hands come to rest on his belt as he tilts his head to the side.]

Ah...perhaps you meant this?

[William's hands are delicate in Sherlock's hair, leaving him to shiver as he feels his curls fall free. It's an oddly intimate touch, quick as it is, somehow even moreso than their unceasing grind against one another.

Sherlock closes his eyes for a brief moment, breathing in deep, collecting himself-

But then William is tugging at his belt, the sweet smile on his lips contrasting with the heat in his eyes, and Sherlock doesn't know whether to laugh or moan.]

You are spoiling me. Who woulda thought.

[He helps William with unlatching the belt, letting it drop unceremoniously onto the floor, where quite a pile is developing. The buttons on his fly quite nearly join the pile, eager as he is to undress.

Still, there's a moment of shyness before Sherlock can tug his pants down his hips. He watches William's reaction with open curiosity as he draws his cock out, and is unable to swallow a gasp at feeling of air around heated skin.

It probably comes as little surprise given his excellent physique, but Sherlock isn't lacking at all in the size department. His cock is impressively thick and long, flushed a deep pink and crowned with dark curls of hair, which no doubt catches William's gaze.]

Alright, you next. It's only fair, professor.

[As much as he wants to tease Sherlock more, as much fun as it'd be to say something along the lines of what do you take me for when described as a non-giver deigning to give, there are far more interesting things happening now to focus on. Sherlock isn't leaving him to do the undressing alone, and those strong hands nearly rip the buttons right off the fabric.

Just like William, he's desperate underneath the weight of years of social conditioning that determines men are creatures of reason. It's beautiful to see him slowly losing control in those little, almost imperceptible details, not to mention how shy he looks while debating whether or not to shed the last of his clothing. Appearing before someone else while nude is a big deal, and not for nothing; something about William's perception breaks the moment he sees Sherlock entirely naked, cock erect and flushed. Crossing that last barrier has gotten under his skin to a place he never knew existed, and now William wants nothing more than to touch him.

He chuckles at the goading, eyes turning too sharp for such a sweet smile.]

Who said anything about being fair?

[His hand curls around Sherlock's cock, gaze darting upwards to see his face as he gives a few experimental strokes. The hot flesh oozes some liquid on his palm, and a soft gasp spills from William's open mouth, a surprised expression crossing his features. It's the first time he touches him, yet Sherlock seems too aroused for the interaction they've had until now. William suddenly aches to give in and shed the last of his clothing as well, a noticeable bulge straining against his undergarments, but he manages to overcome the impulse. Braving the heat, he pumps Sherlock in a stronger fashion now, his own laboured breath going unnoticed as he takes in the scene before him.]

Shoulda guessed you like to play dirty...~

Sherlock has nothing to actually complain about, especially not when William James Moriarty is touching his dick.

Hell, not even just touching it. He's stroking him off, watching with obvious interest as Sherlock's cock twitches and leaks in his grip and his hips jerk forward. That little moan that William makes sends a shock of pleasure that races down his spine, nearly as good as his touch.

The sight of his own precome smeared onto William's pale hand is not a sight that will leave his memory any time soon, and it takes Sherlock quite a bit of resolve to keep himself from coming right then and there.

He's never been so aroused before in his life.]

Well, two can play at that game.

[Breathless, Sherlock reaches for William's belt, determined to finally remove it this time. He brushes his palms over the bulge between William's thighs, seemingly by accident given the sudden, soft expression on his face. Although still blushing fiercely, he's also grinning, and the light in his eyes is warm.]

Don't be shy. It's just me, Liam.

Edited 2024-02-19 16:38 (UTC)

[It’s becoming impossible to remember the potential dangers of this situation, particularly with that warm light dancing in Sherlock’s eyes, that gleeful innocence that’s been so endearing from the first time he saw it. And God, the way his hips stagger, pressing further into his hand…it’s sinful enough to make the heat under his skin unbearable. By the time Sherlock removes the last of his clothing, William finds it a relief, his own cock leaking fluid and completely erect. A pliant sigh leaves his mouth as he lets Sherlock touch him, his own grip becoming a bit erratic in turn.

In his defense, it’s difficult to focus on anything else than those calloused hands touching him. Despite his words from earlier, he doesn’t want this to be unfair, but getting lost in this haze of pleasure makes it difficult to keep stroking Sherlock’s cock.

It occurs to William that there has to be an easier way of doing this without losing focus. Opening eyes he doesn’t remember closing, he smiles, his hand brushing intently against Sherlock’s waist. What he’s about to do is anything but shy, and going by the warmth on his cheeks, he’s probably blushing even more than the other man.]

"Play dirty", you say? Not at all. To play dirty I’d have to do something like this.

[Guiding him down until Sherlock is low enough, William presses their cocks together and wraps his hand around them, not without difficulty because the other man is noticeably bigger than him. But it works. At least, it works enough for him to roll his hips and bite back a moan at the feeling of his searing hot flesh finding a similar source of heat.]

[Again, there's that feeling of being in over his head, of drowning in pleasure, in all that is William. Sherlock rocks into his grip, up against him, shocked at the heat roiling off his skin. It's so close to too much, but somehow he still hangs on.

His cock leaks, making William's hand slide slickly over them, squeezing their lengths together. It's a surprisingly intimate act and knowing that it's what William wants, what turns him on, makes Sherlock's heart pound with excitement. This man and his secrets...!

Their current position puts them into perfect kissing distance, and Sherlock doesn't hold back when he gets the chance. He moans into William's mouth, kissing the corners of his lips whenever they break apart, murmuring encouragements against his cheek, all the while trying to keep the tremble out of his voice.]

You feel... so good, I'll say it again.

Fuck, Liam!

Edited 2024-02-28 01:26 (UTC)

[If it’s about turning him on, Sherlock was doing an excellent job already just by being himself. William won’t deny, though, that having him thrusting into his hand so desperately has a charm that’s going to be difficult to replicate; he doesn’t remember being so aroused ever before. It’s truly a blessing that Sherlock doesn’t waste any time and goes back to kissing him, because muffling his own sounds without help would be difficult to say the least.

So they kiss again. And again. And again. William’s head is spinning before he knows it, the scene too removed from everything he knows for him to acknowledge it as reality with ease. Things like tea parties or chalk writing formulas on a board are real, even the blood spilled on the Lord of Crime’s name is real, but this? It’s too good to be true. William has trouble focusing on anything for what feels like an eternity; Sherlock is everywhere, whispering sweet nothings next to his cheek, sliding against his cock all searing heat and forbidden vices, kissing him without a moment of hesitance.

And then he says William is the one who feels good. This man is going to kill him.]

You’re... even better, Sherlock.

[He’s not lying. At least, it doesn’t feel like he is.]

Is this enough for you? Did you have something else in mind?

[The questions are ushered between ragged breathing, William’s smirk unfurling until it’s nothing but an open mouth gasping for air. He still remembers—it’s probably the only thing he remembers, really, that Sherlock had some things (plural) he wanted to do.]

[When they stop, Sherlock realizes his lips are sore, swollen from kissing. It doesn't really hurt, but it still feels weird.

He licks his lips to try and soothe them, and listens to William talk.

And then he's laughing, breathless, ducking his face against William's neck as if trying to hide his amusement.]

There's more to this, I suppose you're right.

[A kiss is pressed to William's throat, Sherlock deeply breathing in his scent like it's somehow still not enough.]

I could always fuck you.

[I know-- easy mode is #23! Let's go for some of the others :') ]

[She can be Drastic Measures timeframe or AU'd forward into Discovery proper. Or just AU'd in general, honestly.

Voicetesting.]

[Season 2 finale current. Here for shenanigans set before said finale, or after handwave-y post-finale plot things.]

Collect them all!

KISS ROULETTE

Sodo | Ghost

Chrissy Cunningham | Stranger Things

orihime inoue | bleach | f/m

Rey || Star Wars || F/M

Sherlock Holmes | Moriarty the Patriot

10, lmk if this is okay!

It's great, sorry again for the delay!

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Himeno | Chainsaw Man

junpei tenmyouji | zero escape | m/f

kyouko kirigiri | dangan ronpa | m/f

chiaki nanami | super dangan ronpa 2 | m/f

haibara yu ( jujutsu kaisen )

Balayna Ferasini | Star Trek: Discovery

Captain Marie Batel | Star Trek: Strange New Worlds

hong meiling 🌈 touhou 🌈 ota

Mat Cauthon | The Wheel of Time