She picks up the rope and trails the soft, frayed end of it along the same path her hands had just taken. Then she flicks it against the inside of his leg, just enough to sting. She's making this up as she goes but her smile is confident.
"Tell me an interesting thing about you. If I like it, I'll let you know. If I don't, I'll let you know."
Dorian's toes reflexively curl up as he feels the rope tickle his feet.
"Someone was blackmailing me into trying to murder Sherlock himself. After a little investigation, we found that it was a man who loathed us both, a man we thought had died years ago."
"Did you try to kill him and he stopped you?" She slaps the knot against the sole of his foot, knowing it will hurt. "You're leaving out the juicy details."
Dorian lets out a hiss of pain and pleasure as he feels the knot against the sole of his foot. It does hurt. And honestly? He's fine with it.
"I told Sherlock that someone was blackmailing me. I wasn't going to kill the greatest detective of the age. The person who was blackmailing me knew about my portrait and had a grudge against me and Sherlock. We worked together, narrowed down the suspects, and ended up setting a trap for our man."
He can feel the Gaelic on his tongue, and he forces himself to keep it at bay. By now there should be dented tankards and cracked jaws. Fucking soft tissue strikes.
"Tell me about your trap," she says, because the portrait (while it intrigues her) is too serious a topic to bring up when she has him naked and held down.
Dorian's expression visibly perks up. A blindfold? God yes. He gives Annie a wide grin before continuing.
"Once we figured out who the perpetrator was, Sherlock dug into some property records to find his most likely hiding place. The blackmailer, Alan Campbell, was most likely hiding out in some property he purchased before his supposed death—an abandoned theater. I snuck in the theater earlier that day, retrieved my portrait, and swapped it out for a similarly sized substitute. Under the terms of the blackmail, I was supposed to denounce Sherlock Holmes, in public, calling him a liar before shooting him. We went along with this little charade, though Sherlock made sure the police were in on it so I didn't get arrested. I fired my gun into the air instead while Sherlock, suspecting that our blackmailer's accomplice would want to see the crime happen, tailed her back to the culprit's hide-out."
It is obvious that given the opportunity, Dorian will continue talking as long as Annie wants him to.
Sweeney’s tongue slides along his teeth, and he lifts one hand from Dorian’s shoulder. The blindfold it produces with a flick is far more than a band of silk. Soft leather lined in fleece, it’s clearly designed for this particular function, and it’s likely to offer complete obfuscation when on.
His smile renewed, he cocks his head to one side as he lifts it vaguely towards her.
“On?” The question seeks a clarification as to which of them is to complete the task.
As the blindfold is slipped on, Dorian takes the opportunity to try and look out of it, to see if he's able to peer out of even the slightest corner. Nope. This thing is all-encompassing and, at the moment, he might as well be blind.
Good.
"We confronted her, of course—we confronted both of them, the criminal in question and his accomplice. They were arrested soon enough. After all, it's not a good idea to try and blackmail someone who's friends with the police."
He nods in confirmation, lifting his other hand off Dorian’s shoulder and sinking it into his hair. With a quick clench and twist, he yanks the man up by it long enough to shove his other knee behind him to support his back in an inclined position.
Sweeney releases him and makes quick work of seeing the blindfold securely fastened. His grip returns to his hair, holding Dorian up to remove his knee and set him back down.
“Course.” He slips his hand back into his trouser pocket, producing the bottle and handing it to her.
She tips forward a bit to kiss Sweeney lightly, gives him a wink, and sits back once she's retrieved the oil. She warms a dollop in her hand, and smooths it onto Dorian's cock. She used to give handjobs and blowjobs and fuck for drugs; she's pretty damn good at this still.
"Tell me a good sex story." Make him good and aroused on two fronts.
As he's yanked off of the floor, Dorian lets out a quick yelp, equal parts pain and pleasure. Probably the reason why that blindfold was on, wasn't it—he did not expect that. And honestly? He's glad it came as a surprise.
He can feel Annie rub something on his cock. Oil, maybe? Whatever it is, her hand on his cock makes it start to stiffen juuuust a little bit. But at her command, he makes a noise of understanding, taking a moment to think before he continues talking.
"There was one girl, turned out to be a complete bitch later, but that's not important for the story. Natalie Isaacs. We found out what we liked soon enough and indulged in it." Dorian lets out a small laugh before continuing his story. "One day, she checked into a hotel under a fake name. She said she was some countess of something—she played the part all night and had the hotel staff eating out of her hand. Naturally, I played my part as well. I was some poor little innocent thing she picked up off the streets. We managed to keep the ruse up all night and into the next morning, even when she led me to the bedroom and took my 'innocence.'"
The air quotes are in his voice even if they're not physically made.
Sweeney thought he’d have to wait longer to kiss her, but he’s grateful for the temptation. The softness of it makes his skin warm and tingle. It’s not a stretch to get him thinking things that’ll be getting his blood pumping downward. No complaints.
It’s strange to watch her work another man; not off-putting, just different. It leaves him with phantom sensations and half-memories.
"Yeah? That your kink? Pretending to be a virgin?" It's such a playful idea, cavorting with fake nobility, scandalizing the help in a hotel. "I can't see you pulling it off," the faint scratch of her nails along his cock, like maybe she won't be as nice as she has been so far.
“Mar is mian leat,” he whispers, a touch of wickedness curling his lips.
His fingers sink back into Dorian’s hair, offering a bit like a scalp massage until he grips tightly and pulls back, forcing the man's chin up slightly.
She bends over him, kisses Dorian's neck--nips it--bites it. She's no vampire but her teeth are slightly sharper than a human's. Her hand, meanwhile, massages him, working to get him properly hard.
Dorian lets out another hiss as Sweeney yanks on his hair which soon turns into tired, delirious little laughter as he feels Annie's teeth nip on his neck. It's obvious that biting is another one of Dorian's kinks. It only takes him a few moments before his cock starts to grow hard, stiff in Annie's grip.
Yeah, that’s the one. It makes him think of raised flesh and purple bruises in the most delicious of ways.
Gently enough to avoid deterring her, but with the confidence of his want, Sweeney slides his fingers into her hair to cradle the back of her head where it meets her neck. The touch is firm enough to show support without forcing her down harder or to linger anywhere she doesn’t want to. He just wants to be there with her, feeling her savoring him.
She bites lower, distracting him while her hand gets more oil and slicks up the rose quartz phallus instead. "How many werewolves have you fucked?" A harder bite, deliberately making it harder for him to answer.
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"Tell me an interesting thing about you. If I like it, I'll let you know. If I don't, I'll let you know."
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Sweeney likes this game. It’s very…her. Hunting with a lure; dancing as she stalks. How he loves to watch her.
His smile widens, but he contents himself to stay still, a constant pressure against Dorian while she plays.
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"Someone was blackmailing me into trying to murder Sherlock himself. After a little investigation, we found that it was a man who loathed us both, a man we thought had died years ago."
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Sweeney takes slow breaths, keeping his focus on each detail of her as she takes her time.
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"I told Sherlock that someone was blackmailing me. I wasn't going to kill the greatest detective of the age. The person who was blackmailing me knew about my portrait and had a grudge against me and Sherlock. We worked together, narrowed down the suspects, and ended up setting a trap for our man."
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She’s such a fucking tease.
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And to Sweeney, "Get the blindfold?"
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"Once we figured out who the perpetrator was, Sherlock dug into some property records to find his most likely hiding place. The blackmailer, Alan Campbell, was most likely hiding out in some property he purchased before his supposed death—an abandoned theater. I snuck in the theater earlier that day, retrieved my portrait, and swapped it out for a similarly sized substitute. Under the terms of the blackmail, I was supposed to denounce Sherlock Holmes, in public, calling him a liar before shooting him. We went along with this little charade, though Sherlock made sure the police were in on it so I didn't get arrested. I fired my gun into the air instead while Sherlock, suspecting that our blackmailer's accomplice would want to see the crime happen, tailed her back to the culprit's hide-out."
It is obvious that given the opportunity, Dorian will continue talking as long as Annie wants him to.
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His smile renewed, he cocks his head to one side as he lifts it vaguely towards her.
“On?” The question seeks a clarification as to which of them is to complete the task.
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While Sweeney gets it on him she pushes Dorian's knees up, legs spread. "What'd you do when you found where she was going?"
She slides Sweeney a devious smile. "An bhfuil ola agat?"
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Good.
"We confronted her, of course—we confronted both of them, the criminal in question and his accomplice. They were arrested soon enough. After all, it's not a good idea to try and blackmail someone who's friends with the police."
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Sweeney releases him and makes quick work of seeing the blindfold securely fastened. His grip returns to his hair, holding Dorian up to remove his knee and set him back down.
“Course.” He slips his hand back into his trouser pocket, producing the bottle and handing it to her.
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"Tell me a good sex story." Make him good and aroused on two fronts.
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He can feel Annie rub something on his cock. Oil, maybe? Whatever it is, her hand on his cock makes it start to stiffen juuuust a little bit. But at her command, he makes a noise of understanding, taking a moment to think before he continues talking.
"There was one girl, turned out to be a complete bitch later, but that's not important for the story. Natalie Isaacs. We found out what we liked soon enough and indulged in it." Dorian lets out a small laugh before continuing his story. "One day, she checked into a hotel under a fake name. She said she was some countess of something—she played the part all night and had the hotel staff eating out of her hand. Naturally, I played my part as well. I was some poor little innocent thing she picked up off the streets. We managed to keep the ruse up all night and into the next morning, even when she led me to the bedroom and took my 'innocence.'"
The air quotes are in his voice even if they're not physically made.
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It’s strange to watch her work another man; not off-putting, just different. It leaves him with phantom sensations and half-memories.
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"Baby, pull his hair again."
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"My kink is pretending to be anybody that's not myself."
Someone enjoys some role-play in the bedroom and isn't ashamed to admit it.
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His fingers sink back into Dorian’s hair, offering a bit like a scalp massage until he grips tightly and pulls back, forcing the man's chin up slightly.
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Gently enough to avoid deterring her, but with the confidence of his want, Sweeney slides his fingers into her hair to cradle the back of her head where it meets her neck. The touch is firm enough to show support without forcing her down harder or to linger anywhere she doesn’t want to. He just wants to be there with her, feeling her savoring him.
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