drwhitly | Closed to formersurgeon

Closed to formersurgeon

Martin Whitly had made a deal with the devil, but he was completely content with that. He had to fake his death with the help of a wealthy professional and relocate to a whole new town. It was still a luxurious lifestyle he was brought into but fairly confined. He would still be used for his skills as a surgeon and a killer, but be paid and housed for it.

He had to wait a few weeks after pretending to be dead - he was sure by then that his ex wife had flushed his ashes down a toilet by this point - before seeking Joan out. He was escorted by the people who had managed to get him out of Claremont and located the place that she had shared with this Sherlock fellow.

He could have spent hours looking through the things collected there, but found his way to her room and stayed there. It wouldn’t do him much good to be spotted by her roommate. His appearance was cleaned up despite his age still showing on his face, but his hair was in better shape. He was still unmistakably him even if he wore a disguise the majority of the time he was in public.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Of course, the truth was Sherlock was far more than a work partner. They were not romantically or sexually involved, but their lives were deeply entwined. They were, in a very real sense, life partners. She wanted to be with Martin, but she wasn't going to give up her partnership with Sherlock. She couldn't.

She saw the disappointment, and it made her sad. She understood why he felt that way. He'd been through a lot just to come here and be with her, and that condition on their relationship must have felt like some degree on rejection.

"It's not you," she offered quietly. "If that helps. I hope it never comes to that, and I'll do everything I can to make sure it doesn't."

“I know.” And he spoke confidently never taking blame for anything he didn’t want to. He also believed the issue was her and Sherlock. Not him.

“And I know that you’re going to keep me informed about your schedule so that I can hopefully know when I’ll see you next.” He didn’t like being at the will of someone else but if he was kept informed he could work with it.

"I will," she promised. "I want to see you as much as possible." She lowered her head and nestled closer to him. "And I want you to spend the night."

She wanted to make that absolutely clear.

Martin paused as if considering her words and how he felt, an act he had perfected over the years. Then he released a sigh as if giving in to her when he truly hadn’t had a desire to leave in the first place.

“I’ll stay then.” He relaxed his body to hold her as they adjusted to become more comfortable. “Because I just want to be with you.”

She smiled to herself as she snuggled closer. She didn't think he would actually leave, but it was still nice to have him say he would stay.

She brushed her fingertips lightly up and down his bare side. "What's it like being free after so long?" she asked softly.

“Unsettling.” He admitted. “It is true that you become somewhat institutionalized. Dependent on the structure and routine that conditions you.”

Her touch was soothing and he breathed easy feeling it. “But I am a kid in a candy shop - not sure what I want to do next, but I want one of everything.

Oh and how I missed the food!” He laughed before adding playfully, “And the unsupervised sex whenever I wanted it.” He kisses her again to emphasize his point t.

She could feel him relax, and she smiled, glad to be putting him at ease. She still had conflicting feelings about the fact that he was free. He definitely deserved to be in jail for the horrible things he did, the 23...and probably more...people he killed in horrible ways. But she couldn't bring herself to want him back there. To see him chained again, tethered to the wall, pale from lack of sunlight and hair on the verge of wild and in those blue scrubs.

She wanted him here, with her, relaxed and warm and safe and free. For some value of "free" at least.

She hummed into that kiss, bringing her hand up to cup his cheek. "I won't have to file paperwork requesting permission to visit you," she mused with a smile.

Martin smiled, seeing her highlight how his freedom was positive for both of them. "I'm flattered you did so much paperwork just to come see me." Maybe it wasn't every single time, but he still imagined it was. "What did you tell them the reason was behind, oh, the 5th visit?" Speaking in regards to how she probably had to give the department continuing reasons why she was going to see him.

"Oh, after the third visit or so I wasn't seeing you for a case, so I didn't have to give a reason. At that point it was just a social call." She flashed her eyebrows suggestively. "It was obviously much more than that, but I wasn't about to put 'getting fucked within an inch of my life' on that official yellow hospital form.

The wording might have sounded casual, but it was intentional, part of the attraction of being sexually involved with a serial killer. That he was brutal and violent yet would not harm her, would not kill her.

Martin knew plenty well why he attracted the women that he did. However, he also knew that the added dynamic of him being locked up was a piece of it. Women felt in control and safe if they could leave and be unchained, but he couldn’t. They chose when they would visit, when they would call. All power dynamics that Martin was more than aware of.

But now things were different.

“Twice.” He added to her fake hospital form. “I loved watching you leave.” He admitted, his hand softly petting her stomach, finger tips just tracing the outline of her muscles. “You were always just a little off balanced afterward. More weight put on your left leg than your right.”

Things were definitely different. Now her sense of safety rested not on his tether, or the guards, or her ability to walk away, but rather solely on her faith that he cared about her.

"Twice," she agreed with a smile, which widened at his talk about her walk. "Oh really? Huh." She played her fingertips gently along the curve of his hip. "They say you can tell a woman's recent orgasmic history from her walk."

And by they, she meant Sherlock. She hadn't told him about her visits past the third, but she wondered if he had figured out she was seeing Martin and having sex with him. If he had, he hadn't said anything.

Martin laughed at her comment, "I do believe that to be true." He paused to consider his next comment. "And I suppose you can tell a man's from his...sigh? A relaxed man would be telling, but a frustrated one would sound quite different." He was making that up, but he also figured it could have some legitimate weight to it. "That would be a fun study, wouldn't it?" Not that either were researchers but they both had curious minds.

"I envisioned sleeping in this bed for quite a long time," He admitted.

"Mmm. I'm not sure it would pass an ethics board," she said playfully. "We'd have to deprive the men in our control group of sexual intimacy." She pressed herself a little more firmly against his body, her own arousal stirring. "And that's just cruel."

She nodded at his admission. "I've envisioned it, too. Having you here holding me while I sleep."

“That would just be cruel, wouldn’t it?” He agreed, feeling her now add some pressure against him. It truly didn’t take much to get him aroused, especially not in the environment of being able to do as he pleased.

“I do enjoy waking up to someone in my arms as well...or under the sheets.” He wouldn’t be subtle about his interests when it came to her. He knew she could most likely handle any kink he might have.

His hand slid between her thighs, sensing her getting aroused and just gently rubbed her clit, periodically teasing her slit with his fingertips poking in to see how wet she was becoming.

He absolutely didn't need to hide his interests from her. She wouldn't always want to participate, of course, but she definitely wouldn't judge him.

She sighed as his fingers found her clit, pleasure blooming at his touch. Her slit was already wet and slippery with his semen and her juices, but he could feel how hot she was, how plumped her clit and labia were with her arousal.

She slid a hand down to find his cock, brushing her fingers against it, seeing what state his arousal was in.

Touching her fueled his cock to swell so when her hand found it, he smiled knowing she would find he was growing harder with each second. His fingers still focused on teasing her, stroking between her lips and spreading the juices of both of them around her swollen clit.

“What would you like, darling?” He asked, seeing that their possibilities were now endless, it was difficult for him to choose a direction when he simply wanted everything.

Edited 2020-04-07 04:04 (UTC)

She had the same problem. When the options were endless, how did you choose?

"Everything," she answered with a smile as she wrapped her hand around his cock and began a slow stroke. "There are so many things we could do. It's a shame all the handcuffs are downstairs, but there are plenty of things in this room you could use to tie me up if you wanted. Or we could play around with positions. Or...if you wanted...you could put your hands around my throat..."

She knew he would like that, and it was a gesture of incredible trust that she was willing to let him. She was the sort of person who had to be in control in her life, and surrendering that control to him...even over her breath, even over her life...was arousing to an almost distressing degree.

Edited 2020-04-07 05:08 (UTC)

“I would certainly love to take my time and give you everything.” Lord, he loved that slow stroke. His eyes surveyed the room when she mentioned the numerous things he could use to tie her up; and she wasn’t wrong if he wanted to improvise.

“I adore that you trust me with that.” And they both knew what that trust was. To strangle her, much like the first time they had met, was a risk that it could ruin the whole mood if it went sideways. Or simply to be tied up, he could so easily forget himself and become something else.

“Nylons would do,” he finally concluded. “Have any to spare?”

"We have all the time in the world now." They might not be together every night, but she intended to spend as many nights with him as possible, and they could experiment with anything and everything they wanted. Their future, as difficult as it would be, was still full of promise.

"I love that I can trust you," she answered. They both knew how significant that was. If they were going to be together, though, that trust was vital. And she felt there was no better way to demonstrate that than to allow him to do what had frightened her in their first encounter.

"I do!" She kissed him, then went to the dresser to retrieve a pair, returning with them in hand.

"Were you watching my walk?" she asked with a sly smile.

“Somewhat,” he admitted causally, smirking in response. “I was more focused on your perfect ass than anything.” As if magnetically, his hand was instantly drawn to grab her from behind and give her a playful squeeze.

Taking the nylons from her, he reached for her wrists. “I hope you’re not attached to these.” Spoken as he took her delicate wrists together and secured them tightly with the nylons; never asking if it was painful or too tight. With that he led her by the restraints to be secured to the bed’s headboard. He paused then as if to admire his own handiwork.

She yelped a little in surprise and amusement as he squeezed her ass, and grinned at him as she offered her wrists. "Not attached to the nylons or not attached to my wrists?" she asked playfully. "I can buy more nylons." He didn't ask her if they were painful or tight, which was a little concerning, but she felt that he would listen to her if she asked him to loosen them. She followed where he led her, raising her hands above her head to allow him to secure her. She tugged gently on her bonds, testing the stretch. They were tight, but she felt that she could probably pull herself free in an emergency.

She looked up at him and smiled, then began to gently writhe against the bonds, a playful sort of struggle.

Martin didn’t think twice when he tied her up. “Exactly.” Nylons were replaceable.

He leaned back to take in the sight of her, ivory skin with dark hair, her Asian features making her extraordinarily alluring to him. “You truly are something else.” He exhaled, enjoying the sight a bit longer. His open hands found her knees and slid up her slender thighs. He leaned forward and seemed to briefly bow to her, kissing that skin softly on her inner left thigh.

“Feel free to do that-“ he commented on her playful pretend struggle. It was a bit more of a hint when his gaze caught hers and seemed to show some of his deviousness.

His attraction was palpable, and she loved it.

"You're one of a kind, yourself," she purred. When his hands touched her knees, she opened them just slightly, invitingly, and drew a breath as his lips pressed to her thigh, her eyes drifting closed.

They opened again at his words, and she looked down at him, meeting those devious eyes. She smiled back, slow and sly.

"You like that?" she murmured, and writhed a little more, allowing her expression to look a mix of pleasured and pained.

“I do,” he answered her question both with words and his body as he slid up to meet her, his cock hard and wanting. Taking hold of his cock, he rubbed the swollen head along her slit to tease her.

His free hand slid up and found her throat, his eyes locking onto hers. His hand was the perfect size for her slender neck and it seemed fragile as he felt her pulse beneath her skin.

“You know,” he mused “if you breathe faster and harder, your climax comes faster-“ his hand teased a little squeeze to her source of air. “It’s a bit similar to autoerotic asphyxiation.”

God the feeling of his cock rubbing against her wet, swollen labia was amazing, and she moaned, her hips yearning upwards in need.

Then his hand went around her throat, and she swallowed, her heartrate ticking up, her pulse fluttering against his hand. She was so vulnerable, at the mercy of this dangerous man. It was terrifying.

And extremely hot.

He squeezed, and she made a small, desperate sound.

"Hyperventilation," she said, a slight rasp audible in her voice. "Reduces the flow of blood to the brain." She smiled faintly. "Just like your hand."

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