Bedroom Tango

The fingers pulled carefully from his now-gaping hole. Irene slid off his stomach and knelt beside him, murmuring softly as she massaged his own pre-come onto his soft belly. Sherlock felt his legs being positioned over his brother’s broad shoulders, noting that Mycroft hadn’t removed his dress shirt. He wondered briefly if the older man even showered with his clothes on, but then something blunt and slippery was pushing against his entrance, and he wasn’t thinking of anything else.

Despite the careful preparation, Sherlock’s virgin arse rebelled and squeezed shut. Mycroft was patient but persistent, and soon the head of his penis popped inside. Sherlock gasped and twisted his hips, not sure whether he wanted to fight or encourage his despoiler. Irene tipped the decision in favour of the latter when she started masturbating him again, distracting him from the pain.

“It’s so big, isn’t it?” she whispered against his ear. “And you’re so tight. I thought you were going to break my fingers off. But you want his cock- you’re a greedy little slut who just needed a good pounding at last.”

Her words confused him, even through the pleasure haze. Slut? How could a virgin be a slut? He opened his mouth to ask, but Mycroft growled, “You’re thinking too much, brother mine. I see I’m going much too easy on you.”

With a snap of his hips, he buried himself to the hilt inside his little brother. Sherlock’s mouth, which had been geared to ask a question, now reshaped into an O of first shock and pain, then exhilaration. He clenched around Mycroft who, after the initial violent thrust, held still and let him adjust. When the spasms stopped, the elder Holmes pulled partway out, until only the head of his cock remained inside, and then pushed back forcefully. Sherlock cried out, dropped his legs from Mycroft’s shoulders to his waist, and held on tight.

He had no time to think, or rationalize, or even breathe as his older brother slammed into him. After the initial adjustment period, Mycroft’s rhythm turned punishing, and nearly shoved Sherlock into the headboard with each thrust. Irene, astute as always, halted their coupling long enough to tuck another pillow under Sherlock’s back, changing their position and allowing his prostate to be stimulated with each glide over it.

Sherlock’s hands fought their bindings as electric pleasure shot up his spine. “Oh… oh God,” he stammered.

Mycroft’s lips brushed his, combining their hot breath. “I wish you could see yourself, Sherlock. So sweaty and despoiled and at the mercy of your body instead of your brain. Perfectly lovely.”

“Why didn’t you tell me it felt like this?” Sherlock gasped back.

“Because I didn’t want you to know until you needed it.” A warm tongue traced his lips. “Oh, how this suits you. I wish I could take a picture and carry it with me everywhere, tell myself that you’re mine. But maybe you wouldn’t like that. Maybe you want to be whored around. I know a few associates who would love a chance at your tight arse. Shall I contact them when we’re done? There’d be a line-up outside this door when word got around.”

“Lovely idea,” Irene purred.  She had released his cock and Sherlock could feel her body heat, smell her perfume as she stretched out beside him. “Only this time we charge for it. Desperate little sluts like our dear boy here command a premium.”

Although the cock ring kept his orgasm back, Sherlock relished the vicious, pressing heat that shoved his mind to the background. “Please… keep talking…”

Mycroft obliged. He closed his mouth over Sherlock’s throat, bit down, and panted, “I feel the way your body shakes around my cock as I take you, dear brother. Does it hurt?”

“Not so much… a bit…. HNNGGH!!” Sherlock cried out when Mycroft gave a particularly forceful shove. His thighs gripped his brother’s waist convulsively. 

 “It hurts, but you love it, don’t you? Maybe you’re not meant to be a consulting detective at all. Maybe you should exist for the purpose of being fucked hard by your superiors. Like this.” 

He grabbed Sherlock’s narrow hips hard enough to leave bruises and pounded hard, sending the breath rushing out of the younger man with each plunge. It become obvious that he was close to orgasm when he rocketed in and out of his brother at breakneck speed, hissing something about “So goddamned tight… perfect…”

“Please,” Sherlock whimpered. “Let me come.”

“Beg for it,” Irene ordered. “Say ‘mercy’.”

“Mercy,” he choked.

He felt her fingers at the base of his cock, toying with the ring but not unsnapping it. “Again,” she snapped.

“Guhhhh!!” Sherlock arched his back, burying his head in the pillow. He just knew that if he didn’t get release, he would go insane. “MERCY!!”