Work Text:
They were bound to each other. They had been arguing as to how to proceed when the two guards they'd been following, jumped them, zip-tied them together, face to face, arms behind each other's back, and stuffed them in the tiny supply closet on the third floor of the MerrittBank building. Neither Sherlock nor Watson were hurt. They were, as their attackers had jokingly stated before closing the door, being put into storage for a while.
"This is entirely your fault you know," he tried twisting his hands behind her back in hopes of freeing himself. There were ways to break zip ties, he just needed to find that one weak spot. Sherlock strained and jiggled and strained some more.
"Stop that!" His arms were beneath hers and as he moved he jostled and bumped her.
"What do you suggest we do then, hmm? Stand here for the next 24 hours until the building opens for business?" He struggled again, bending his arms at the elbow but achieving nothing for his efforts. "Damn it, you try. Are your hands lose at all?"
He could feel her roll her eyes at him. "Yes, Sherlock, that's right, my hands are free but I'm enjoying being crushed up against you so much that I'm pretending they're not."
"Sarcasm will get us nowhere, Watson."
"Neither will struggling."
Sherlock continued turning and fidgeting, trying to find a way to get them free. Joan was carried along with each of his movements, her hands firmly tied behind him. She was fed up.
"Sherlock! Stop! I know your upset but your going to end up hurting me."
He stopped. His body tensed. "Did I hurt you?" His voice was soft with concern.
"No." It was his turn to roll his eyes at her. Joan continued, "Let's just take a breath and calm down for a minute and try being rational."
"I suppose you're right. We are in no immediate danger nor is anyone else for that matter." He took her suggestion, let his hands drop, coming to rest on her lower back and took in a deep breath. She did the same and their chests expanded into each other. The contact caught them by surprise. Silence. They took another breath in unison, their bodies once more pressing into each other. Silence. Deep breaths continued to be slowly taken and exhaled. Synchronized. The small warmth of contact between them becoming more pleasurable with each inhaled moment.
Sherlock squared and stretched his shoulders in an effort to relieve the tension and then moved them forwards toward her. Joan relaxed into him, leaned in and rested her forehead on his shoulder, her tied hands held on to his back.
Another deep synchronized breath taken. The top of her head was just under his nose and the scent of her drew him closer. Her hair felt silky and soft against his face and he lowered and moved his head, allowing his cheek to lightly caress and linger there. A small voice within chided him for taking advantage of the situation and he guiltily pulled his head upright.
She said nothing, only leaned into him a little more in response. He let his fingers flex against her lower back and come to rest a little lower. Joan gave him a small squeeze in response. Another breath shared.
"So, now that we've calmed down," Joan pulled her head back from his chest and looked up at him, "any ideas as to what we should do?"
He stared deep into her eyes, momentarily hypnotized by them. Sherlock shut his eyes tight and reopened them, "Well, for starters, you could try being less, uhm," He swallowed hard and looked away rather than at her, "...womanly."
She snorted a laugh at him. "What? What's that supposed to mean? How do I do that, develop a penis?" Joan looked up at his face and saw embarrassment and then felt the source of his embarrassment.
"Well, I seem to be having a reaction of sorts to your proximity." His voice was barely a whisper, he spoke without looking at her. "I'm sorry. There are some things that apparently are beyond my control."
Joan felt the hardness move against her body and in turn felt her body react. Rather than trying to pull herself away from him, she gave in to the feeling and moved closer, pressing herself in lightly at first and then more firmly, enjoying the sensation, gauging his arousal and then gently pushing her pelvis in small rotating motions up against him.
Her movements resulted in a surprised sharp intake of air from him, "Watson," his voice was breathy with desire, "What are you doing?" There were some things that apparently were beyond Joan's control as well.
Without giving her time to answer, Sherlock groaned, pushing towards her in the same manner. He tried again to speak but his eyes were closed, mouth agape, lost in the minute movements of her body against his. He succumbed to the desire, pressing body up against hers and trying to reciprocate for her the pleasure she was giving him.
She looked up at him. Her lips parted, want and need showing in her eyes. Sherlock thrust his head down towards her and kissed her long and deep, allowing his tongue the freedom that his lower body was being denied.
Joan groaned in pleasure and stood on tiptoes, slightly parting her legs and angling her pelvis to allow him better access. A moan of unadulterated pleasure and desire escaped her lips as his tongue made his way deep within her mouth.
The responding reaction in Sherlock was an explosive and frantic contraction of his arms, breaking the zip tie connectors at his wrists. He was free. Joan felt rather than saw his hands grip her body, clutching at her hips and bottom. His breath ragged and intense was at her ear. Some part of him remembered she was still tied and he pulled himself away in an effort to reach her arms and free her.
"Sherlock, no. Don't bother with my hands. Just, please ... " She sought his mouth and kissed him greedily as her body sought his once more.
He didn't need to be told twice. She heard the zipper of his pants and felt his hands raising her skirt, caressing her bottom as he pulled her panties down and let his fingers fondle her, first gently and then with increasing speed.
"God, please .... Now ..." She felt him slide between her legs as he picked her up and entered her, his breath hot at her ear, "Joan ..." He moaned enjoying each thrust, slowly at first, then building in speed and force. He felt her contracting around him and with one more deep strong thrust they both convulsed, let go and convulsed again in rhythmic pleasure as the orgasm ebbed and flowed through them.
As they regained control, she slid down off him but kept the intimate contact between them. He nuzzled at her neck and whispered things meant only for her ears. And she in turn murmured her response, words he thought he'd never hear. Her arms were still bound behind him but it didn't stop her from holding on as tight as she could.