Chapter Text
It's been a week since his poor itty sweetums broke his poor wee arm, and John is frowning a lot less and apparently feeling much better. He spent the majority of the week at 221B with Sherlock because the consulting detective is “much better equipped to care for John”, and “Jim is reckless, stupid, wears too much cologne, and doesn't buy the kind of jam John prefers”. Jim perhaps agrees with the the reckless comment, and he's now purchased the correct kind of jam; but everyone knows he's far from stupid and that he smells like vanilla and sandalwood. Furthermore, Jim hardly thinks a good carer is one that kidnaps their patient when they're having a nap on the couch!
John was adorably confused after falling asleep on Jim's couch and then waking up on Sherlock's couch at Baker Street. Confused then furious.
But Sherlock had fed him Mrs Hudson's homemade soup (laced with painkillers to make John a bit easier to handle), and let him watch The Hobbit, and John was very content and has been since.
Until now. Because John was feeling a bit better now, and Jim was going to take full advantage of this and remind John that he has a lot of making up to do for last week. Daddy has a whoooooole list of things he's gonna make his kitten do.
Jim looks over to John, who is at the kitchen table on his laptop, no doubt looking for cases Sherlock can go on by himself (John has been banned from dangerous activities until his arm is fully mended- it was a unanimous decision from his friends. John's still mad at all of them). Jim glares at him – stupid John being a good best friend. He'd better make his move now before Johnny gets distracted.
“Kitten, sweetheart, come here!” He croons, smirking when John smiles warmly at him, closes his laptop, and wanders over to stand in front of his boyfriend. So obedient. Jim leans back on his chair and licks his bottom lip slowly, taking in the sight of John before him. John blushes at the blatant leering and Jim's smirk grows. He picks up the box sitting next to him on the arm of his chair and hands it to John.
“A present for you, my love.”
John eyes him curiously, but opens up the box nonetheless. His eyes widen, and he flushes from tip to toe.
“Ooh, pretty! Is it really for me?”
John really does look very pretty in his frilly pink apron, and he knows it. He puts it on straight away, and grins down at himself. He probably won't be as chuffed, however, when he finds out why Jim bought it for him.
“You look gorgeous, kitten! But the apron isn't really a present for you.”
John's face falls, and his bottom lip sticks out. “No?”
“No, my dear. This is a present for me. You remember when you tried to build a wardrobe but only succeeded in breaking your arm and setting my couch on fire?”
John pouts down at his broken arm and nods forlornly.
“And remember when you were building the wardrobe and you somehow managed to get a chainsaw stuck in the floor, punch four holes in my walls, and cover my Persian rug with glue?”
John huffs, then nods again.
“Well that's all been fixed now, but you still need to make it up to me, babydoll. So now that you've got on that adorable apron I bought you, you can grab a duster and get to work! I want this whole apartment to be spotless by the end of the day.”
And with that, he turns John around to face the kitchen, and gives him a sharp slap on his pert butt to send him on his way. John squeaks and blushes darker, turning his head to glare at Jim. Jim just stands there hands on his hips, and raises his eyebrows at his kitten. John huffs again then gets to work.
Really? Jim sighs to himself as he watches John belt out the closing lines to “I Want To Break Free” while he hoovers the new rug. He's not supposed to be enjoying this! He'll have to enforce a stricter punishment... Jim's eyes skim over to the kitchen and land on the knives on their rack. Hmmm... no, wait, no, I'm not going to MAIM my boyfriend just because he was a bit naughty. No, we only do sexy punishments with the kitten, we want to keep him happy. Plus Sherlock would strangle me... but what else can I do? Hmmm...
“John, come here and take your clothes off!”
Jim can hardly contain his glee (or his boner) at the sight on his little kitten on his knees, scrubbing at the floor one-handed, now wearing nothing but his frilly pink apron.
John had been very confused as to what was happening when Jim had stripped him of his clothes and thrust a sponge and bucket at him while he just stood there, body suddenly exposed to the flat, gaping at his insane boyfriend. Jim had soon got him moving with another couple of quick slaps to his bare behind and the threat of more if he didn't “Listen to his Daddy like a good little soldier.”
And now here he is, glaring up at Jim who's sat himself at the kitchen table so he can watch with pure delight as John's cute little butt wiggles about. He takes a sip from his tea (prepared by John, obviously) and scrolls the internet in search of more outfits for his and John's sexy sex times.
John would make an ADORABLE bunny, we must add that to the basket! A fisherman... nah. Oooh, what about – oh. Ohhh...
Oh, YES.
Jim's excited gasp has John pausing his work to look up at his boyfriend. Jim doesn't look up from his phone but snaps his fingers and points at the floor in an obvious order for him return to his scrubbing. John's face flushes with anger but he keeps scrubbing. Jim's doesn't care as he's already distracted sending a message to his ever-loyal Seb.
Need you to pick up French Maid costume in John's size.
Drop of at door in the next hour or I'll make you sooooorry!
John nakey, so don't come in. You know how he is... yawn... xxxx
Jim giggles and stretches his leg out to stroke his bare foot up and down John's butt, who's eyes widen in terror even if he never stops his dutiful cleaning of the floor.
Seb rings the doorbell only 37 minuted later. He'll be getting a raise next week. And when Jim goes to open the door his right-hand man has already fled the building but there is a promising looking box sat by Jim's feet.
“SWEETCHEEKS,” Jim hollars into the flat. “I'VE GOT YOU ANOTHER PRESENT!”
It's surprisingly hard to convince John to let Jim put him in the costume. John usually loves to dress up, but apparently this is “a step too far” and he “doesn't even know what he's done to deserve this”. At that line, Jim merely raises an eyebrow, causing John to frown and grumble about “accidents” and “rubbish boyfriends”.
Only minutes later he's in the damn French maid costume.
And, oh, what a sight.
John standing on the tips of his toes (he's still not tall enough even with the black patent heels he's wearing) reaching up with his feather duster to clean some shelves, ruffled skirt riding up to reveal a bare bottom just asking to be spanked.
John bending over the back of Jim's chair to wipe at the tea stains on the windowsill, butt once again exposed, just asking to be taken, his lace-trimmed headpiece sliding forward slightly.
John pouting at Jim, his good hand wielding the duster. His sexy kitten is soooo mad, and it excites Jim to no end. Johnny is so much fun when he's angry.
Jim snaps photo after photo as he stalks John around the flat while he does his chores. They'll certainly cheer him up when he's having one of his darker days. Cheer him up and turn him on. He sends the one of angry John pouting at Jim to Sherlock. He doesn't hate the man so much that he'd make him miss out.
He also accidentally sends the one of John bent over the chair to Mycroft, but no one has to know about that.
His little maid has his back towards Jim as he lazily dusts some shelves and Jim takes this moment of distraction to sneak up on him. One hand wraps around his waist, while the other glides over the hem of the fishnet stockings to sneak up the back of his frilly skirt, kneading at the soft flesh.
He leans in to place chaste kisses against John's exposed neck. His darling hums in appreciation and leans back into Jim who breathes out a laugh.
“Oh, Johnny, my dear, you've been so good for me today. Daddy's enjoyed his present from you very much.” John smiles sweetly. “But there's just one more thing Daddy has to do to make sure you never do something so naughty again...”
John's eyes snap open and he goes immediately tense. Jim slowly lets his hands slide up to grip John by his shoulders, turning the handsome blonde to face him, then grasps his not-broken hand to lead him over to Jim's chair, whose owner takes a seat and looks up at a nervous John, licking his lips.
“Lie across Daddy's lap, please, kitten.”
John sucks in a sharp breath and flushes a beautiful shade of crimson, but he knows better than to keep his Jim waiting and promptly crawls over his lap, his stocking-covered legs dangling helplessly above the floor. His right hand grips the arm of the chair, the left tucked in between the two men. Jim looks hungrily down at his lap, silently thanks himself for being so brilliant, and lifts up the skirt to reveal a perfect little bottom. Now, let's get started.
“Hold on tight, cupcake.”
The first hit surprises them both; John with the pain of it, and Jim with how much it arouses him. John's cheeks jiggle and he lets out a small squeal, urging Jim on.
The next four hits come in quick succession and leave red hand-shaped marks on John's ass. Jim hardens in his trousers as John moans and grumbles, squirming and wriggling deliciously in his lap.
“Now, Johnny, are you going to do anything so reckless and bad again?”
Hesitation. Jim spanks his rear again, forcefully.
“Nooooo!”
“That's right.”
Another ten strikes, sharp and quick and painful, have his Johnny whimpering slightly, his feet kicking up in the air as he struggles in Jim's grasp.
“Stop being so naughty and apologise to Daddy!”
There's no hesitation with John's reply this time. “I'm sorry, Daddy! I'll never be bad again, I promise! I'll do whatever you want me to do!”
Well, that certainly is an apology. Jim's erection is pushing painfully against his trousers now and he thrusts up slightly to push it against John's stomach, startling his pretty boy, who starts up his squirming again, only serving to rub at Jim's cock, which gets even harder.
“Nuh uh uh, baby, you lie still, I'm not done yet.”
“B-but, Daddy! I said I was sorry, please- ”
A firm smack on his bottom cuts off John's pleading.
Jim continues his fun.
The next day sees John at Baker Street, helping Sherlock with some research into a case. He makes sure to stand all day, pretending to be too occupied to sit down. Sherlock sees right through his façade, but makes no comment. John knows that he knows. John doesn't know that Sherlock also wants to try out spanking him. John would probably be angry if he knew that.
Sherlock huffs and dramatically chucks a heavy leather-bound journal across the room, where it hits the wall and thuds to the floor. John glares at him. Sherlock smiles.
“John, I need you to send an email for me.”
“And why can't you do it yourself?”
Another huff.
“Fine, fine, I don't even know why I asked!” John marches over to the kitchen table (Sherlock was closer, but it doesn't help to argue that point to the insufferable man) where Sherlock's laptop lies, and opens it up, pressing the button to turn it on. He bundles up some of the papers scattered about as he waits for the laptop to fire up, then he takes a seat, looking at Sherlock. “Who am I writing to and what do you want me to- ”
John cuts off abruptly, and Sherlock turns in his seat, frowning in curiosity and slight annoyance.
“John?”
At the sound of his name, the doctor's head snaps over to him from where his gaze was locked on to the laptop screen so fast Sherlock worries about him damaging his spine. John's nostrils are flared like a bull and his eyes are alight with anger.
Sherlock swallows.
He slowly, carefully gets up and walks calmly over to stand behind where John is currently sitting, seething with rage for no apparent reason.
Sherlock looks to the screen.
Ah.
No, right, perhaps there was a reason for the rage.
“WILLIAM SHERLOCK SCOTT HOLMES, WHY IS YOUR SCREENSAVER A PHOTO OF ME DRESSED AS A FRENCH MAID?!”
Sherlock pales considerably.
Should I tell him about the photo Mycroft got sent, too?