The leather of the sofa is sticky under John’s knees, breath leaving damp patches against the backrest. He shifts slightly, trying to balance as Sherlock finishes tying him wrists to elbows in a complex series of knots that makes John’s shoulders strain deliciously with every movement. He should be panicking, he thinks distantly, but the touch of Sherlock’s lips at the dip of his back soothes him, calms his nerves and gives him the confidence to finally let go, surrender, and submit.

By prettyarbitrary March 29, 2014 #bbc sherlock, #bottomjohn, #fanfiction, #johnwantsit, #mazarin221b, #not my fic, #nsfw