dial tone

[formoftherapy]

It's a Saturday, nothing special about it.

Kite, having done all of the homework she plans on doing and unable to settle on what to do next, grabs for her phone.

She calls Tony's house. (Nothing special about that, either.)

Comments

[formoftherapy]

It isn't a gasp this time.

It's a cry--high and hopeful and needy as hell.

[if_inconvenient]

Sherlock closes his eyes.

When his tongue finds her clit, his focus is absolute. He observes every reaction precisely.

[formoftherapy]

She cries out again, more breathless. The muscles in her thighs tense; her fingers curl into claws against the sheets.

Her head lolls to the side, staring at the television, though it's debatable how much of it she's paying attention to.

[if_inconvenient]

If she were not distracted, she would probably be paying quite a lot of attention to the spectacle of Tony giving Sherlock his very first blowjob.

But the faint, faint pressure of Sherlock's teeth is probably more captivating.

[formoftherapy]

She inhales, sharp and startled almost to the point of choking.

She doesn't have the patience to actively focus on the images on tv, but she can still hear it and the sounds--

She whimpers.

[if_inconvenient]

His tongue again, slow at first, then faster.

From the video, a ragged moan that does not quite shape itself into Tony's name.

[formoftherapy]

"Oh, fuck--"

One hand flails down, coming to rest at last on the back of his head.

[if_inconvenient]

The principle of that contact is familiar.

He purrs into her skin.

[formoftherapy]

She whimpers again.

"C'mon, Sherry, please."

[if_inconvenient]

She could be more specific.

Or he could just try something.

Suction perhaps?

[formoftherapy]

He wants specificity? She's just glad she's still articulate.



Judging by that shriek, suction was a good guess.

[if_inconvenient]

Again, then.

And teeth. In moderation.

[formoftherapy]

Her voice cracks open on a word that might be any number of things; it is closest to his name.

"Like that," she gasps. "Just like that, knew I'd like your mouth."

[if_inconvenient]

He repeats himself. Precisely like that.

[formoftherapy]

"Aaaah--!"

Her hand curls into a fist, tugging at his hair.

"Ohhh fuck."

[if_inconvenient]

A third time, perhaps?

[formoftherapy]

"Ohyoulittlesonofabitch, if you don't hurry the fuck up, I will never choke you ever again so help me God."

[if_inconvenient]

His tongue swirls hard around her clit.

[formoftherapy]

Her head falls back with a cry.

"Yes, please you fucker I want to come, want you to make me--"

[if_inconvenient]

Thusly encouraged, he sucks harder.

[formoftherapy]

Kite's words cut off with a strangled gasp. Her hips rock up, the hand in his hair making sure he doesn't move.

Something that might be his name keeps catching in her throat, coming out as mostly a sob on the way down.

[if_inconvenient]

He keeps up the gentle strokes of his tongue until he is told otherwise.

[formoftherapy]

The whimpers gradually start to walk the fine line between pleased and pained.

She lifts her hand from his hair and sinks bonelessly into the mattress.

[if_inconvenient]

Smiling, he crawls up the bed to snuggle down at her side.

[formoftherapy]

Kite tilts her head and brings one hand up to scrape along his jaw, the motions slow like movement underwater.

She kisses him thank you, slow but thorough.