Work Text:
John bit his bottom lip, stifling a squeal as the crop swept against the tender skin of his arse.
Sherlock growled. "God, that's fucking hot." He raised the crop again, bringing it down to leave a matching welt on the other cheek.
John whimpered, sinking his teeth into the hand that he had across his mouth. He had to stay silent. Sherlock had instructed him not to make a sound, and Sherlock was in charge.
This was important.
John became aware of the crop being lifted a third time, he clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes closed.
The third stripe came across both cheeks, intersecting the previous two at matching angles.
"So pretty." Sherlock remarked. "Like Chinese writing."
John moaned, and he hoped the detective wasn't planning an entire hanzi**
Sherlock smoothed his hands over John's reddening globes, using his thumbs to part the cheeks, exposing his pink hole.
The young detective leant over his doctor, using his tongue to lave the sharp, red lines. He caressed them, tip to tip, and then slipped his tongue along John's crack and pressed against his tight arsehole.
John groaned at the attempted intrusion. Sherlock took this a sign to give him more.
Pushing his tongue harder into John's relenting arse, he added one finger; then three, twisting cruelly.
John growled, "You bastard!"