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"So...are you hungry?" Sherlock asked after a while, trying to be a decent host. He felt the urge to contribute restoring Irene's inner balance, still disturbed by the changes in her behavior. Food seemed like something normal people would offer in such circumstances.

She smiled, leaning her head on her shoulder:

"You don't have to play nice; I know you would never offer me food if you weren't concerned. Besides, you cheered me up enough already." She added with a smirk.

He smiled with just a sub tone of awkwardness, as he studied the irregularities on the carpet he already knew by heart. As the oxytocin level in his brain gradually decreased, he became aware of what had happened. Although he had an unspoken rule against giving in to anyone, just for the sake of keeping his defenses up, somehow, it didn't feel so wrong. Not when the other person felt even more broken then you at least. He sighed, starting the engine of his brain again after this short stop on the side road of chemically induced shut down. For the first time in his life, he didn't know what he wanted more; to diagnose the problem or fix it.

"But I could have a cup of tea, if the offer still stands." Irene said, fully aware of what he was thinking, and consequentially wanting to end it. Her head was never in the clouds, that was one of the things that made her so though; no false expectations. She knew he was an average shoulder to cry on; that wasn't the thing she came for. He was on the other hand the ultimate cause of the dangerous, overwhelming chemical defect which offered certain oblivion, adrenaline based euphoria and a slight tempting feeling to detach at least one foot from the ground, and he was doing a hell of a job with all that so far.

He stood up, awkwardly zipping his trousers. The previous part of the evening was easier, he didn't need to think about the consequences of his actions, he just did, driven by some indefinable forces within, but now he had to act under the full realization that he crossed some lines. For a moment, he felt longing for all the stories he heard in his lifetime, of people just sneaking out of bed to avoid pillow, or rug talk in this case. That wasn't a good idea, he immediately realized; she would tie him down to a radiator if he tried to dodge her. In some strange way, that wasn't such an unpleasant thought, he realized, while smiling down at the kettle in the kitchen.

He came back minutes later, holding two tea mugs. He found her curled in the very armchair of which he will never have the same opinion again. She didn't bother to get dressed, which he admired in a way. He never had a problem with being naked before; it was just a state in which he found himself in various occasions, simply without clothes, and the corporal was meaningless to him anyway. But now that he scratched the iceberg of his sexuality, he felt somehow exposed and a tiny bit insecure while sitting shirtless next to her, on the arm of the chair. She on the other hand didn't seem to share the problem; her confidence would be on the same level even if she wore three layers of clothes, he was sure of that. Was it because she was sure of how appealing she was, or she didn't think of it at all, which was something different then. But for sure complicated.

She made a grimace after she took the first sip.

"This tea is diabetes-inducing sweet." She joked, but seriously disgusted.

"I didn't know how you like it, so I figured I'll make it with double sugar as I drink it."

"There are many things you don't know about me." She smirked, giving the tea another chance before finally leaving it on the floor next to the chair.

"That, although it hurts my ego fatally to admit it, might even possibly be the truth."

She smiled. They both knew it was, but pushing him into admitting it was meaningless. The veil of hints and assumptions was far more seductive, which she as a master knew; never give away too much and always leave him something to wonder about in your absence.

"You want to ask me about the reasons I came, what is bothering me." She stated, observing his reaction to her straight forwardness.

"No. Since I'm aware you didn't come here with an intention of telling."

"Aren't you going to try to make me tell you?" she asked mischievously, rotating a bit towards him in her seat.

"I think that's more your area of expertise."

"True." She smirked. "But I feel I owe you some kind of explanation, knowing that you are going to speculate about it long after I'm gone...and you made my staying quite pleasurable, I feel I should make up for it somehow."

She put her hand over his, stimulating his nerve endings again with the touch of her soft, warm hands.

"There is one thing you can do." He said, turning her hand gently so his fingertips covered her pulse point. He did it to make her feel familiar and comfortable, like a ritual they will from now on perform in similar situations, not to really check her pulse. He knew he can elevate it now, he thought with a smirk. "I want to recognize your beauty is not just a mask."

"Should I remark on the paradox of asking a masked woman who she really is?" she said, enjoying both the game he started and his motives for starting it.

"Somebody once told me that a mask is always a self portrait, no matter how hard you try. Who does yours portray?"

"And somebody once told me it is something deep, my heart even." She smiled, leaning her head slightly backwards.

"That sounds very observant. Who could have made such a clear sighted observation?"

"An ego maniac who's god complex apparently amplified, since he started praising himself by referring to himself in the third person, as if there were, god forbid, more of them." She joked.

"He sounds fascinating." Sherlock added with a suggestive glow in his eyes.

"Not so much when you get to know him, then you see is more human than you first thought. Don't tell anyone, but he even sub comes to sentiment." She said shuddered.

"No." Sherlock replied, faking utter disappointment.

"In fact" Irene approached, biting his ear gently, "I intend to prove just how human he is."

Sherlock turned his head to meet her challenging look. Just when he thought the game was overwhelmingly interesting, she changed the rules and it got better. If he believed in God, he would think that God sent Irene Adler to make him shut up with his never ending whining of boredom.

"And..." he started, recalling the evening when she first asked him to have dinner with her, when he spoke in the same slow, deep manner to test his theory "just how do you plan on doing that?"

She drove her nails into his arm just to boost his adrenaline; she knew he wouldn't express pain, although she tried to make him feel it. Without breaking eye contact she said: "I'm very glad you asked."

She smiled in such a devilish way that he almost felt regret for asking. She curled his hair around her index finger as she significantly looked towards the desk behind her.

"Do you perhaps recall a certain claim I made regarding a yet non expressed way of remarking you decrypting skills?" she said, raising an eyebrow in a tempting manner.

He laughed; next level of the game.

"I believe you got a taste of your own medicine the very same day." He said, evidently proud of making the dominatrix beg.

"Care to give me a rematch?" she said, pulling his hair suddenly, since she was gently stroking it until then.

"Only if you think you'll live up to the challenge. You see...I've never begged for mercy in my life."

She got up, still looking at him as she twisted his arm behind his back in one quick, experienced move. He didn't get a chance to hide the expression of pain on his face as she whispered in his ear, standing behind him:

"I think I'll manage just fine."

Sherlock wasn't a beginner in close contact either, at least not in the fighting area, so he untangled himself, using a moment when she lost her focus, and caught both of her wrists behind her back. He stood behind her now, breathing down her neck as she experienced frustration and sweet anticipation. He leaned forward, whispering in her ear:

"That was tremendously ambitious of you."

Her fingers twisted, getting hold of any part of him she could reach. When she got hold of what she was looking for, she said mischievously:

"How about a compromise? If you let go, I won't."

He laughed still holding her wrists tight, so she decided to squeeze him in a motivational manner. He jumped, letting go of her as she turned like a professional dancer landing into his arms.

"Oh Mr. Holmes, you still have a lot to learn from me."

"Show me how it's done then." He replied, allowing himself a tiny moment of submissiveness.

She pushed him backwards, until he clumsily hit the edge of the desk. Without any care for his personal belongings, she pushed everything away from his desk with an ecstatic smile, happy to provoke more chaos in his life. He sat on the edge of the desk, supporting himself with his hands behind him, as she victoriously said:

"Trust me; you can be sure I will."

She got down on her knees, as he swallowed; presuming what is going to happen without a margin of error. Her dexterous fingers repeated the action of releasing him from the uncomfortable and most of all unnecessary clothes, as he felt the fear of anticipation. He saw determination in her eyes, and he became fully aware of the possibility that she will achieve her goal.

She finished undressing him, this time completely. She knew her hesitation made him nervous, which made her act even slower, licking the inner edge of her lips just to mess with him. Just as he thought that she gave up on her plan, she decisively grabbed him with one of her arms and consumed him completely, as his nails dug into the surface of the desk from the new, heavenly stimulation. He felt her smile, but she continued soon enough, setting a slow pace which was quite enough to make his knees shiver.

She speeded up, and then she slowed down. Over and over again. She gently scratched him with her teeth, knowing that he would feel any pain just as a stronger stimulation now, as she secretly observed him. She will never forget that look on his face, complete giving in, powerless under her influence, without control and without even wanting it. She saw him swallowing, she felt his muscles tense as she knew he won't last for much longer, and then, with the utmost victorious sadism she slowly licked him before completely moving away.

He breathed fast, looking at her in panic, realizing that she had proven her point and even more, horrified that she wasn't proving it till the end. Irene Adler bit her lip before the dominatrix spoke:

"Beg." She simply said, raising an eyebrow.

He looked at her, his hands shaking, not wanting to give her the pleasure but wanting to receive it desperately himself. He felt he lost the ability to speak, as she demanded again:

"Well? What's it going to be?"

Proving her point, proving that he was just human, a man affected with sentiment and primal lust, he spoke, almost silently:

"Please."

She smiled, looking mildly up at him, letting her own sentiment take effect and deciding once was enough.

She returned to him, giving him her best game. This time he observed her, memorizing visually what he already did tactually, the gift he paid expensively, knowing it was worth it, and somehow sensing she will not use it against him.

He caught her hair as he approached the critical point and she speed up, determined to make him never forget this. At the final moment, she twisted her tongue; overloading his hard drive with jet another heavenly sensation and he came. He felt the greatest release in his life, as he pulled her hair in trance letting out a deep moan; that gave her a genius idea to change her text alert some time soon.

She got up, placing her palms on his chest as she felt his muscles still disobeying him, trying to resume control. He looked into her eyes as she started laughing from the bottom of her heart.

"If I knew I'd get that 'I love you deeply and eternally' look from you this way, I would have done this ages ago."

He rolled his eyes, smiling at her, still not being himself completely. She took his hand and they sat on the floor, while she stroke his shoulder, still smiling.

After regaining normal mental function and resting a bit, he turned towards her, observing her, once again completely relaxed and self confident.

"I was wondering, what makes you feel so relaxed when you're naked? Not just now, the day when we first met too. I realize you're quite satisfied with the way you look, but still, how do you manage to feel so comfortable?"

She smiled: "It's the fact that I know you feel more uncomfortable. I feed on your sense of shame and discomfort." She said in an emphasized tone.

"That's something like when I make people feel stupid and then I feel even smarter, if that is even possible."

"Something like that. But, I have the upper hand on this one, since you never get so far as making me feel stupid, but" she pushed his chin up with her finger "I can always make you feel uncomfortable."

"You're enjoying yourself too much." He remarked. He might enjoy her toying him in bed and other wonderful places she comes up with, but being toyed verbally was not pleasant for his very sensitive ego.

"I remember a rather unpleasant experience when I replied 'There's no such thing as too much', so I'll be more prudent this time. I'm enjoying myself just as much as I should. And somehow I don't believe you have a trick up your sleeve this time, since you, well, don't have a sleeve."

"I should have guessed that was you ulterior motive to take my shirt from me."

"Don't be sad about it, you've taken the rabbit out of the hat even without it. Which reminds me, I believe you owe me."

"Owe you? What exactly?"

"I believe the score of the night is two to one in your favor." She said suggestively.

Sherlock looked at her in disbelief; were all women like this or did this one have an unusually strong appetite.

"You want to drain my strength completely." He said in amusement.

"I just don't like wasting time, especially not the time which can be spent in a number of interesting ways."

"I think" he said, brushing her cheek with his fingertips, studying the expression in her eyes "that you got the comfort you came for and now you're trying to avoid talking about what was bothering you in the first place."

His voice was calm and deep, but somehow authoritative and his touch gave her a feeling of comfort, as she knew he wasn't trying to break her; he honestly wanted to know what hurt her. She moved her head away, frowning to the memories he triggered. In some strange way, he now had a right to ask, since they reached the next level of trust, not physically but emotionally, mentally. She preferred the good old 'take advantage of him and leave' way, but something in his observant, blue eyes told her that she won't be able to pull it off this time.

"Why do you have the urge to exorcise the demons from my past?" she smiled after the moment of vulnerability passed.

"You came to me so I would satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart; everything else is just collateral."

"I still have a few desires." She said, smiling in the way he learned to recognize as adventurous. "And after all, we have this one night only." Her fingers returned to their favorite place on the back of his head. "We have one night only, till dawn. I'll be able to go on, you've helped me in restoring inner balance, but" she emphasized the word "you still owe me".

"And I thought deflecting was my specialty."

"I guess we are rather alike then." She suggested.

"Unfortunately." He admitted.

"If the chemical defect is found on both sides, which one loses?" she asked.

"Both. Or they unite against a common enemy to lessen the weakness."

She felt emotional again, as the conversation aroused some repressed feelings again. She almost wished they were normal, common, average, so that she could stay with him and lead a dull life, but just almost. Instead, she cherished this moment of having him, the most extraordinary man she knew, knowing that it could be a while until she could return and have him again, a part of her grieving over it and the other part knowing that she intoxicated him enough to make him miss her every day that she was gone. That was enough for her, and it was enough of the conversation as well.

"Don't." she said, putting her index finger over his mouth, preventing him from speaking. "It's been a pleasure, don't spoil it."

He looked at her doubtfully, his lips in a half smile, his head leaning to the side as he scaled between satisfying his intellectual interest and his physical desire. Normally, the latter wouldn't even exist in the equation, but this was just the first of those nights.

He bit her finger, not to make it hurt, just to inform her he was in for whatever she had in mind. She bit her lip to inform him that she wanted to see what he had on his mind for a change. Linear, conclusive thinking was never a problem for Sherlock, but this complex, sensual and creative one presented itself as quite a challenge. In such a short period of time, it became important impressing her which was annoying him.

"Alright." he quietly said, getting up and giving her a hand for her to do the same. They stood opposite each other, studying each other's expressions carefully when he made a gesture with his hand, indicating her to his bedroom.

With a self satisfied smile, she proceeded, hearing his footsteps right behind her. The moment before she reached the door, he pulled her hand, pushing her onto the wall of the hallway. Before she could react, he lifted her by her thighs and pinned her between himself and the wall. The contrast of his warm body and the coldness of the wall awakened all her senses. He kissed her neck downwards and the only thing she said, before taking a more active role was:

"Go on. Impress a girl."

And so he did. It was strange how words became unnecessary and slow, and how just one look he gave her was enough for her to wrap her legs around his waist and to lock her arms around his neck.

"Lead the way." She instructed.

She landed on his bed, and he followed within the second, trying to minimize the time he was separated from her. The fact that she will be leaving soon started to trouble him, and he wanted to use the most of it. The gentleness he had for her minutes before when they were talking was replaced by desperate, overwhelming passion, by the feeling of 'here and now' instead of the 'what if and it will happen'.

There were no games this time, no power plays. No clothes in the way of his hands either, as they went down to her thighs and back up to her breasts, holding her tight.

She stretched her arms over her head, allowing him full control, and she arched her back as he entered her. Then she locked him in a cage between her knees, preventing his escape by her nails now digging into his back. He didn't rush it, wanting to prolong the fieldtrip into the forbidden emotional zone even more. They held on to each other in an almost unnatural manner which barely allowed movement, except for the crucial ones. Her cheeks turned pinkish as her breathing became shallow and fast. He licked his lips as they became dry, knowing he'll have to let go soon, but desperately fighting it, his fingers digging into her skin as if he was holding onto the edge of a cliff. She caught his face in both hands, looking deep into his eyes and then she pulled him down into a deep kiss which took them both over the edge, as they melted into each other.

He just collapsed on top of her, exhausted of all of her challenges he had to pass that night, breathing heavily as his sweat mixed with hers. Her red nails petted his hair, as she placed tired, wet kisses on his neck, rewarding him for the effort he made. They welcomed dawn like that.

Lazily with the first sunbeams piercing through the window of his bedroom, she started walking around his flat, gathering her things. He was lying, observing the way she moved and got dressed, giving in to his true nature of the watcher as he didn't even get up to zip her dress, amused by the effort she had to make to do it herself.

Once she finished preparing, she turned towards him. Raising one eyebrow, she smirked at him. Kissing him goodbye would mean a farewell, and this was just a pause in the game, one that she will eagerly await to continue.

On her way out of the room, something caught her attention though; the hat, the Sherlock Holmes hat. With a laugh from the bottom of her heart, she put it on and said in her mischievous way:

"Good Morning ." and turned away, leaving him between the crumpled sheets.

"Good Morning, Ms. Adler." He replied, more to himself, with a smirk on his face.

It is the end of the story for now, I might continue it someday if I have the inspiration :) Writing M rated stories has proven to be very interesting, so I'll start a new, longer one with a plot tomorrow :) Thank you for reading! xx