A/N Hey My Lovelies!!!! So I was having a bit on an anxiety attack last night and Kristin5687 was helping me through it and I started sending her tiny little mini-shots and I sent her this one and she said I should write it so I did...plus I felt like I should give you all something smutty after the hell that happened in my AU book The Wayfinder and the Siren...SMUT WARNING!!!!! Hope you like it!!! Enjoy<3
**Also...fun little thing....the story itself is exactly 2221 words long...lol**
"Fuck me!" Sherlock flinched at the curse. It wasn't the words that bothered him, he was quite fond of cursing himself. It was that specific combination of words coming from that particular mouth, that always gave him pause. Because it never failed, his mind always answered, gladly.
John Watson demanding to be fucked was one of Sherlock's greatest weaknesses, and the blogger had no idea.
Sherlock glanced over at his flatmate, squirming in his seat as he watched the man clean whatever he had spilled.
"Well, looks like I'm going to be making another tea. Want one?" Sherlock nodded, not trusting his voice. It was always like this, whenever John got frustrated. He would curse and Sherlock would lose control of his transport.
He hated the power his unobservant blogger had over him.
He existed like that for many months, slowly allowing his transport to run wild whenever John cursed. It was making him miserable, but he didn't dare say anything. Things were still uncomfortable between them since Mary disappeared with the baby and John moved back in, and Sherlock wasn't willing to lose John again because he lost control of his transport.
One day, while John was helping him sort through files for a case, John knocked over a stack of files, scattering the newly organized papers across the sitting room floor.
"Fuck me!" John cursed, sending a flash of arousal and anger through Sherlock's body. He was too tired and frustrated with the case to bother with this today.
"If you insist." The words flew from his mouth before he could stop them and he instantly regretted it. John turned to him, the confusion on his face evident in one of those adorable expressions he tended to get.
"What?"
"N-Nothing. I said nothing. Just, pick up the files." John frowned and stepped closer, his foot catching on the chair. He grabbed his foot and cursed in pain.
"Ow! Damn it! Fuck me-"
"Fine!" Sherlock was moving before he could stop himself, jumping to his feet and stalking towards his friend. John stumbled back until he slammed against the wall, confusion and fear in his eyes.
"Sh-Sherlock- what-"
"There are a thousand different things you could say, a thousand other combinations of words you could use instead, yet you insist on saying that. So that makes me think that you aren't actually cursing, but asking, so perhaps I should just fuck you." He was panicking, his heart running wild and his body shaking, but the words just kept flowing. "Keep that in mind next time you choose that phrase John, because next time you say it, I will take it as a request." Sherlock turned away from John then, his mind reeling.
It was silent in the flat as Sherlock stormed off to his bedroom, planning on avoiding his flatmate for at least a week. He threw himself onto the bed and burrowed under the blankets, wishing he could melt into the sheets.
He was forced to emerge the next day when his body started complaining of hunger. He slipped almost silently into the kitchen and started rooting for something edible. He was on the verge of ordering Indian when a voice from the doorway startled him.
