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Pent Up Anger	By : BurntToasties Category: S through Z > Sherlock (BBC) > Sherlock (BBC) Views: 4500 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock, any characters, or make money from this in any way. Just for giggles.

Chapter List
- 1-Pent Up Anger
- 2-Sherlock
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“You know what Sherlock? I’m done. Bloody done with you, your bloody attitude, and the fucking fingers in the fridge!” John yelled as he grabbed his jacket and stormed out the door. The cold winter air hit him and bit any exposed skin, but his brisk pace and adrenaline from the row kept him from feeling much of it. His limp all but gone, he stormed off down Baker street and away from the bloody moron he called his flat mate.
   He had come home from a particularly bad day at the clinic to find Sherlock boiling water in John’s kettle. However, when he went to pour water for some tea, Sherlock shouted from the sitting room, “You don’t want that water John. There’s fingers in there. I’m doing an experiment!” John lifted the lid and, sure enough there were about a dozen digits of varying sizes floating inside. He looked up, his anger like the water in the kettle.
   “Why don’t you use your kettle? Harry got me this one before Afghanistan,” John asked, his voice low while he watched the severed digits rolling about in the boiling water. Sherlock scrunched his nose at the thought and plucked another note on his violin.
   “I’d never boil human parts in my kettle. Just disgusting. Besides, it’s not like you ever use the kettle any more since you favor the less effective electric kettle like all the other daft common folk who opt for quick tea rather than quality tea,” he said, putting down the violin he had been plucking at. “Is the skin loose yet?” John looked up from the kettle and at the detective.
And that is how John ended up walking almost two miles at 8 o’clock and into a quiet bar. He sat in a corner facing the door, a habit of making sure no one could sneak up behind him left over from his war days, and ordered a pint of German double-bock. The bartender slid the tall glass in front of the soldier and he took a long drink of the dark amber liquid. John could almost feel the alcohol spreading along his system, warming his limbs and coating each nerve. He’d finished the pint and ordered a stout that was a step down in alcohol content when a slender figure slipped into the seat next to him.
   “Just fuck off Sherlock, I still don’t want to see you,” he growled, not bothering to look over.
“Is that how you greet a lady these days? Goodness, no wonder Sherlock loves you so,” the velvet voice of Irene Adler slid over John like a caress. He looked towards the brunette and offered an apologetic smile.
   “Sorry, I just- we had a bit of a spat and I just saw the dark coat and thought he was here to bother some more,” John muttered, taking another long gulp off the fresh beer. Irene smiled, eyes roaming the doctor.
   “Sherlock can be a handful. What has he done to upset you so?” She asked, a tumbler of amber liquor appearing before her. She smiled at a gentleman down the bar, probably the bloke that bought it, and turned her attention back to the ailing doctor. John sighed.
   “What hasn’t he done? From the off he’s made me his errand boy, his gopher, his lap dog. He’s sabotaged every relationship I’ve had since moving to Baker street. Then there’s the daily reference to how much more clever he is than everyone, including myself and present company, and the bloody home experiments,” John’s voice came closer and closer to a feral growl as he spoke. Irene squirmed in her seat, a devilish thought crossing her mind and leaving a smile on her face. She stood, putting some cash on the bar for the doctor’s drinks, and took him by the hand.
   “Why don’t you come home with me and tell me about it, John?” She smiled. He paused, then stood and followed the dominatrix from the bar.
“You’ve cleaned the place up nice since, you know, holes were shot in the walls and all,” John rambled as he observed the flat. It has been almost a year since he and Sherlock had first visited in less than savory circumstances. Irene skipped the parlor and took him straight to the back room, sitting him on the edge of the bed before kneeling before him.
   “Sounds like Sherlock has riled you up some, doctor,” she purred, running her bloodred nails up John’s legs. He groaned, feeling his dick twitch at the touch. She parted his legs swiftly, looking up into his green eyes. “Why don’t we let off some of that steam?” John nodded, watching her stand before she dropped the long black coat to reveal a sheer black dress held up by two impossibly thin straps crossing her sternum, around her neck, then looping down her spine. Her silk and lace bra distorted enough that you couldn’t see her nipples directly, but gods did it show her beautiful curves. John thought, no wonder Sherlock memorized those measurements so quickly. Irene grabbed him by the chin, tilting his face up towards hers and away from her body.
   “Focus John. Can you undo this?” It was a command, harsh yet soft enough he jumped to comply. His fingers lightly skimmed her back as he untied the thin straps, unweaving them and pushing them over her shoulders, releasing the rest of the thin material to a black pool at her feet. She turned, the spark in her eyes drawing him in yet frightening him at the same time. She pushed him back to the bed with more force he thought she possessed and paced to the cherry armoire across from the bed. She pushed open the doors, showing an array of crops, whips, cuffs, gags- all the tools of her trade. John’s straining erection beat out his fear, his imagination running through scenarios faster than his eyes could process.
   “Oh John,” she cooed, her voice sending a shiver down his spine and straight, it seemed, to his prostate. “Just letting everyone push you around now. Always so passive.” He tried to sit up, but she pressed a blood red leather riding crop to his jumper-covered chest. His heart beat wildly, the passive part of him scared stiff while his soldier side wanted to snatch the crop from her.
   “N-Now Irene,” he started in a falsetto dangerously close to Moriarty, then cleared his voice. When did he ever hit that pitch? She laughed, like crystal singing in the wind, the sound making him close his eyes as his desire to take her rolled over him.
   “Try as you might John, I don’t think you’ll fight back for long,” she slid the crop down his jumper, hooking the end around his waist, and pulling it up. “I think that you’ll roll over and beg within the hour.” John looked at the clock.
   “B-But it’s,um, 9:45,” he stated, unsure of where to put his hands or where to look. Without the sheer dress, he could clearly see the dusty rose peaks within her bra. How he wanted to take those supple mounds into his mouth. He reached for her, but yelped in surprise at the loud crack of the crop against his hand.
“No touching," she snapped, walking behind him out of his eyesight. He felt the bed shift as he assumed she had climbed into the bed behind him. He jumped at her hands on his jumper, pulling it over his head and exposing his crisp white undershirt. Without his jumper John felt bare to her.
   “John, you wear too many layers. Is that why you’re having trouble with the ladies? Too many clothes to remove, layers to dig down through to get to the prize at the end?” Irene had taken two firm fistfuls of his shirt as she spoke, pulling quickly and ripping the fabric down the back until it hung from his frame. Irene was mildly surprised to see the sculpted muscles underneath the layers. His back was a hard, smooth plane of muscle, his arms well defined and a very promising glimpse of toned abs. John sighed, letting the fabric fall from his chest. He stood, Irene grabbing at his shoulders to pull him down. He let out a growl and tore from her grip.
   “No! My problem, Miss Adler, Is Sherlock and his bloody need to dominate my time and insult each woman I ever bring home,” his green eyes glinted with a fire Irene hadn’t seen in the doctor. She grinned, for she had wickedly underestimated the spirit inside the former soldier. She kneeled up on the bed and raised her crop, just to have John snatch it from her before she could bring it down on his chest. He tossed it into the darkened corner of the room, and pulled her face down into the bed.
   “No, Miss Adler, it is my turn. Enough of your teasing,” John growled, straddling her hips and ripping the clasp of her bra open. She gasped, trying to squirm from beneath him. He gripped her wrists behind her back and used the now ruined bra to bind them together.
   “Enough of your bloody talk,” he groaned as he flipped her over to her back. Her eyes seemed to be scared, but the damp patch forming in her knickers was giving away her arousal. He roughly undid his belt, unbuttoning his trousers and pulling them down with is boxers, freeing his rock hard member. Irene bit on her lip, her eyes flicking from John’s face to his impressive cock. Yes, Irene had definitely underestimated the soldier in front of her.
   “John, I was only trying-”
“I know what you were doing, and it time for you to stop your chin wagging. I can think of other things you could be doing with those red lips of yours,” John said, stroking his cock on front of her. Irene smiled, sitting up and, with a quick lick of her lips, took his length into her mouth in one smooth movement. John groaned, the wet heat of her skilled mouth taking him, the soft curve as she took him to the back of her throat. Irene shifted her legs from beneath his body, positioning her self better to take his cock further. He hissed as she nipped at the head of his cock, his hands burying themselves into her thick brown hair. He found the pins she used to hold it up in the usual elegant twists, and pulled them free, letting the length fall to her shoulder blades. He gripped a handful and urged her to move faster along his shaft, which she obliged. He thrust into her mouth, feeling the head of his cock hitting the back of her throat. She took all of him in her mouth, her gag reflex long forgotten, and she hollowed her cheeks, the tight suction around his cock almost too much as she moaned. John swore under his breath as his erection jumped at the vibrations, almost cumming on the spot. Irene paused, tasting the salty pre-cum and let his dick slip from her lips.
   “My dear doctor, if you’re going to shoot your load already, you should get that checked out. A man of your age should be able to last longer,” she challenged. John pulled her head back by her hair, getting a moan of pain and pleasure from Irene. He leaned in close enough to feel her breath against his ear as he whispered into hers, “I’m not close to being done with you, not by a mile.” Irene felt the shiver run down her spine like electricity, lighting up her pert nipples and renewing the moisture in her knickers. John pushed her back into the bed, shifting back and tugging at the waistband of her knickers.
   “Why Miss Adler, I do believe you’re enjoying yourself,” he sneered, running a callused digit along the damp silk, teasing her clit through the fabric. “You find this arousing, do you?” For the first time this evening, Irene found herself at a loss of words. John pulled them down, followed by her stockings and pausing with the bundle of fabric at her black stilettos.
   “Well, Miss Adler? Are you aroused?” he asked, toying with the line between her fair skin and the shoe. She nodded, eyes glued to the man before her. He pulled the shoes from her feet, tossing them somewhere near the riding crop, followed by her knickers and stockings. He held the arch of one foot gently, kissing the top softly, trailing kisses up her leg. Irene couldn’t stifle the moan that passed her lips. John stopped just inches from her aching core.
   “Now that is just unacceptable. You are to make no noises whatsoever. Is that clear?” John commanded. She nodded, leaning back into the bed as he lowered himself to her wet mound. John ran his flat tongue up her folds, flicking against her clit before delving into her, suckling her clit as he wrapped his hands underneath her legs to grip her firm ass. He pulled her close, lapping the juices dripping from her hot channel, grinding his nose into clit. Irene felt the cold fear rush her body and she let out a squeal at his ministrations. John bit down on her clit, causing Irene to arch off the bed trying to keep quiet. Once she calmed back down, John slipped a hand back to slide his fingers into her heat, crooking and coaxing closer to the edge. Just when Irene thought he was going to give her release he slipped his fingers back out, and she groaned. John sat up, locking her under his intense glare.
   “I told you, Miss Adler,” John flipped her over, leaving her creamy pale arse exposed. His voice was almost as low as Sherlock’s with his newfound dominating persona. “No-” smack! “Noise!” Smack! He spanked each cheek, an angry red print left on each cheek. A new wave of moisture threatened to give away her arousal when she felt John leave the bed. She tried to crane her neck to see where he had gone. She felt the bed shift again just before he wrenched her neck back and fit her mouth with a ball gag. Irene’s heart beat wildly against her chest, struggling to maintain balance with her hands still behind her back. John bent over her, pressing his way between her legs as he did. He licked up the curve of her neck, biting on her earlobe before whispering into her ear, “I hope you’re ready Irene, and if you don’t do what I say,” he showed her the riding crop he had brought back from the corner, “You’ll be punished.” Irene felt her hips being tugged upwards off the bed before John slid his weeping member against her lower lips, running against her clit, before pushing hard into her. She groaned at the sudden thrust, earning a sharp crack from the riding crop against her thigh. John pulled out, just the head of his cock within her before pulling her in as he thrust deep into her. He had no idea where this side was coming from, but if it got him a good lay with “Sherlock’s woman”, then he was gonna keep going with it. He thrust hard and slow, drawing out each moment and pulling her into each thrust. Irene closed her eyes, watering from the intense stimulation, as she tried to keep quiet. John began thrusting quicker, feeling her tight walls beginning to quake around him.
   “You see that clock there, Irene?” John thrust into her at the end of his question. He slid back to the tip, giving enough time for her to see the second hand at the top of the clock.
   “You cannot cum until this minute has gone by,” he said, sliding back into her. Irene thought she could hold on as long, until John reached between her legs and rubbed her clit. John cursed as her muscles tightened around him at the touch, gripping him tight enough to feel like a virgin. John quickened his pace, with deep hard strokes matched to his circles on her clit. He ran the riding crop down her spine lightly, causing her to arch her back and change the depth of his penetration. She groaned then stopped abruptly, but he’d heard. Smack! The crop stung against her other thigh. John fucked her fast, feeling her body shake as her impending orgasm built, and he dropped the crop against his thigh, gripping both her hips tightly as he pulled her into each thrust hard. Irene moaned, no longer able to to stay quiet as she felt her own orgasm nearing, and she still had 20 more seconds to hold out. John spanked each of her perfectly shaped arse cheeks, only eliciting more moans from the brunette. He spanked her once more, each cheek a bright red before pulling her up by the hair, pulling her flush with his chest as he continued pounding into her.
   “Fifteen seconds, Miss Adler,” John purred into her ear, his hot breath tickling and sending shivers down her spine. He bit the soft curve where her neck met her shoulders, then licking slowly to the bare skin just behind her ear. She panted around the gag, her hands trapped between her back and his chest. He forced her back to the bed and pulled her hips back into him. Just when she thought she was going to lose her mind, John let out a dark chuckle.
   “Well Miss Adler, you were able to listen to at least one of my commands,” he drawled. He untied her hands, but before she could move them he pulled out from her tight pussy, flipped her over, and pulled her legs to his shoulders before plunging back into her. Irene screamed, muffled by the gag still her her mouth. John pulled her by the hips into each thrust, and Irene used her newly freed hands to grip his arms as she neared her orgasm. John locked his gaze with hers, barely holding on to her slick hips.
   “Come for me, Irene. Do it now,” he growled as he fucked her. Irene nodded, and with a final shudder her orgasm tore through her body. It felt like every muscle had been wound tight, and pure pleasure wracked her body. John wasn’t exactly prepared against the intensity of her orgasm, and the sudden bearing down of all her muscles nearly locking his cock inside of her pushed him over the edge. John groaned, feeling her milking every drop of cum from his body. He panted, lightheaded from the exertion and the high of dominating “The Woman.” He looked down at Irene, her eyes closed, panting around the gag still firmly in her mouth. He cursed under his breath and reached down to her, only to have her stop him with two hands against his chest.
   “Bollocks, Irene I am so... I don’t know what came over me,” he apologized as she removed the gag from her mouth. She flexed her jaw a couple time before smiling up at John.
   “Don’t you dare apologize for that. No one has ever overthrown me like that, John. I loved it,” she kissed his cheek lightly, leaving a faint print on his flushed cheek. “Now get off me and let’s go see if we can smooth things over with young mister Holmes, shall we?” She pushed John off of her and stood from the bed. She strode up the hallway to her room, collecting some clothes and a fresh pair of heels. Once properly dressed, she found John waiting by the door, fiddling with his jumper.
   “Come with me, and lets go settle things with Sherlock, shall we?” she winked, and they walked out the doorway into the night.
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A/N: So I just pumped this out real quick (pardon the pun) and I think I might've said John's eyes are green. If they're not, too bad they are now. Though I looked up pictures of Martin Freeman and they look green to me, so it stays.
Also, I know there are some tags that I didn't necessarily delve deep into, toys especially. I'm debating adding one or two additional chapters, involving Sherlock as well. I had a bit typed up, but not sure just yet. If there's decent reviews or comments, I might go forward with this idea. Thanks for reading!
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Pent Up Anger