ihadabadday | A Righteous Return - AU - Locked to seaweed

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A Righteous Return - AU - Locked to seaweed_writes

Once Upon a Time in a kingdom far away and filled with magic and dragons, there was a King and his Wizard. Together they did great things, bringing peace to the world and to its people. They were the best of friends, as close as any two men could be. Until one day the King was gravely injured defending his Wizard...

He gasped as the arrow struck his shoulder. Just between the gap in his armor. Too low to be anything but fatal. He knew that. But he was the King of England. He wielded Excalibur. He would not go down with out a fight. Of course /he/ would call him foolish for this. For defending him in this way. He was a sorcerer, a wizard, after all.

His knees gave out as the blood loss started to affect him. He barely noticed as strong arms came around him.

"It's okay." He assured the man, "You'll be okay. If... I'll return." He coughed a bit, feeling the pain. But it was all okay. His friend. His Wizard was alive. He pressed Excalibur into the man's hands.

"Return this to the Lady of the Lake. Please. It needs to be safe." He knew what would happen if it was in the wrong hands.

He didn't have much time. He knew that. He reached up and touched his Wizard's face. "Find me again." He managed before he closed his eyes, arm falling limply to his side.

The King of the Brits, of England, was gone.

---

John shot up in bed, gasping for breath. He pressed a hand to his face and took a deep breath. Another nightmare. So many had piled up over the years. Loosing Arthur, the two Great Wars. Even recent events were enough to make him frightened. He got out of bed and walked over to the window. After opening the blinds, he stared out at the blinking lights. Albion had changed so much in recent time. Just the past hundred years alone. He let out a sigh.

There had been one time in all these years the had started to feel Arthur return. During the second Great War... The need for him was great then than it had been years earlier during the first. He pressed a fist to the window and sighed. "Arthur, we need you..." There was the unspoken, I need you. It was always unspoken. He had never dared tell the King. He couldn't, not when he had a Queen that adored him so and who he adored in return.

He let out a long held breath and looked back out to the night sky. He didn't need this flatshare, but it was convenient to be around people again.

---

He had been living with Sherlock Holmes for three months now. Just long enough to know he could stand the man, but not long enough to really know how he felt about the man. Other than... Okay.

John had left Sherlock lying on the couch when he went off to work. The A&E. He loved working in emergency medicine. He could help people and keep an eye out for Arthur and the Knights.

Of course, this was the day when a psych patient broke out and started to wave a scalpel at everyone. John stepped in front of a nurse only to get stabbed in the neck. He put his hand up to press against the wound, trembling. Oh, shock. He slowly sunk to the ground as he heard his coworkers starting to swarm.

And it was about fifteen minutes later that Sherlock's mobile started going off.

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Well, that made Sherlock groan yet again, and left little doubt about what was going to happen. At least there was little chance of awkwardness, they were both way too far gone to stop this now.

Reluctantly, Sherlock moved off of John, grunting a bit as his legs complained at the change of position. He stood up, and then offered John his hand, helping him to his feet.

Once John was standing, Sherlock didn't let go of his hand, instead he practically drug the man through the room, down the hallway, and into his bedroom, all but throwing him down on the bed.

"Trousers." He grumbled, already reaching for his own flies.

John let himself be tugged and pulled. He didn't argue. No. Not when there was sex in his future. Sex with Sherlock. He would be lying if he had never noticed the man's unique brand of beauty.

Once in Sherlock's bedroom, he started to work on removing his trousers and the pants that lay under. Soon enough he was nude for Sherlock. Every part of him was open for the man's perusal. He swallowed, but didn't shift to hide. No.

Somehow, John had been faster than Sherlock when it came to removing his remaining clothing. Sherlock paused with his hands on his pants, his trousers already pooling around his ankles to see John in all of his glory.

By God, he was beautiful. Despite that fact that was an ex- soldier, and over a thousand years old, he was still mostly trim, with just the smallest amount of softness around his middle. He could still see the muscles of his abdomen under the layer of softness.

He licked his lips and groaned. "John." He pulled his pants down and was in the same state as the blonde was.

John stepped out of his trousers and pants. He stared at Sherlock and moved over to the man. He moaned softly and went to his knees in front of him.

Without any hesitation, he leaned in and nuzzled the cloth covered bulge. "I want to taste you, for you to fuck my throat, balls slapping against my chin. I want you to own me body and soul."

He mouthed at the tip through Sherlock's pants. John shuddered and closed his eyes.

Sherlock quickly divested himself of his pants and kicked them off to the side, giving John unfettered access to whatever he wanted to touch or suck or lick.

He found it hard to say anything, so he just whispered the man's name again.

"John... yes.." He was rock hard and leaking. It was flushed a deep red, angry and needy for attention. He put his hand through John's hair, encouraging him to do what he wished.

"Please."

He took Sherlock's cock in his mouth and groaned. It was heavy on his tongue and he loved the feeling. With a shiver, he slowly began to move his head up and down. Back and forth. He wanted Sherlock to enjoy this, to revel in the sensation. Fuck.

John was hard and aching and leaking. But he made no move to touch himself, relieve himself. He whined around his mouthful. It was causing his head to pound slightly. The pleasure was... It was intense.

It took all of his willpower to stop from thrusting into John's mouth. He wasn't particularly thick, but he was a bit longer than average, tall and skinny, like the man who owned it.

His whole body felt like it was on fire. John was a skilled lover, his tongue was finding all of the nooks and crevices that drove Sherlock wild. He could only hope that he would be able to hold off, so he didn't go off too soon. He didn't want any of this to end.

"Nnnnggg..." John had reduced him to simple syllables now, he couldn't even say the man's name. His fingers tightened in John's hair, tugging at him, pulling him closer.

He moaned eagerly at the hair pulling
It seemed he liked that. It seemed he liked a lot. Pain, pleasure. Giving, taking. Whatever. He loved sex.

John shifted and took Sherlock's cock entirely down his throat. He swallowed around it once before he pulled back
Back and off.

"I love how your cock feels in my mouth."

Oh, so John liked the hair pulling? Sherlock made a mental note of that. He wasn't particularly into pain, but a little hair pulling could be fun. And even more so when the other person enjoyed it as well.

His eyes went wide. Good God above, the man was able to get all of him down his throat, every single centimeter. He only hovered there a moment before John pulled back but those few moments, being totally enveloped in wet warmth, it was like nothing he had ever felt before.

"John..." He almost whimpered.. He wanted to come down John's throat, but he also wanted to take John from behind and pound into him. Different parts of his brain (and groin) were warring as to what to do.

"I need you." He said simply.

He licked his lips and shifted to lick at Sherlock's balls. "Fuck me. Please. Put me on my knees and fuck me." The blonde begged.

And begged.

He wanted Sherlock. He wanted to feel the man enveloping him. Loving him. He shivered and reached back go tease two fingers at his own hole.

"On the bed." Sherlock said, gently pulling John's hand away from his arse and to his feet. He was much more gently this time, not pushing John, but laying him down on the bed and then turning off all the lights, before pulling out a drawer on the bedside table. He didn't do it often, but once in a while Sherlock had.. urges. So he had some lube for when he did.
"Lay back, put a pillow under your arse. I need to stretch you first, John." the last thing he wanted to do for their first time was hurt the man he cared for.

John moved onto the bed at Sherlock's gentle urging. He swallowed and lifted his hips to slide the pillow under them. Preparation. He gave a small moan at the idea and shuddered.

"I want you in me. Please. Please." He begged. So pretty.

Sherlock moaned at the pleading. "Soon. Soon. I refuse to hurt you."

He squirted a bit on his finger (and made a mental note to get more very soon), and rubbed it around John's entrance, teasing and getting him loose and ready. When Sherlock thought he was ready, he slowly pressed his index finger in, only barely at first, moving in and out and stretching John's hole.

Slowly, but steadily, he pressed the finger in, always going forward and back, never just straight in, until he was fully ensheathed. Oh, how he longed for that to be another part of him. But he had to do this right, he kept telling himself.

He didn't feel any pain. Just the slide of Sherlock's finger into him. A full body shudder wracked John and he moaned. He liked that. The slow press, the tease of pleasure. It was painful in a different way and he wanted more of it.

Over the years he had flings, but nothing meaningful. Not like he wanted this to be. Sherlock meant so much to him.

"I... oh...." he gasped, "Your fingers..."

Sherlock was quiet as he worked, listening to every sharp intake of breath, watching every rise and fall of his chest increasing as Sherlock works him open.

When his finger was loose enough, Sherlock lubed up his middle finger and slid it, slowly in, holding it tight against his index. John was so tight around him, and Sherlock knew that he would feel so tight around his cock, just the thought make him groan.

When he had moved both fingers all the way in, he scissored them open slightly, working John open more.. He was almost ready now. Sherlock would have to careful but he knew neithr of them wanted to wait a moment longer than they needed to.

"Almost John.. almost there..."

He panted and squirmed. Those fingers... How they moved and twisted in him. Stretching him.

John wanted. He didn't... He didn't want to wait. He couldn't wait. No...

"P... Please." He begged, "Please. I can't wait any longer."

John was aching for Sherlock. For when they came together.

Sherlock couldn't help but tease John for just a few more moments, moving his fingers in and out faster now, spreading them as wide as he could, before finally pulling them out and cleaning off the lube on a discarded shirt.

He kneeled over John and took a very liberal amount of lube, oh so slowly rubbing up and down his cock, giving John a show, letting the man see how aroused he was for him.

Only ever him.

"John... relax..." He positioned himself against John's entrance, but not pressing in yet. He let John feel the pressure, almost pushing in but not quite, until Sherlock felt him relax, then he finally.. FINALLY pressed in.

"Ahhhhh....."

John ached for it. To be owned and fucked and had. He whimpered and grabbed at the sheets under him. He was scared if he touched Sherlock, it would be over too soon.

That blunt feeling of the head of that cock pressing against him. He sobbed and shook a bit. Dear god. In. In please.

And his world greyed out as he felt Sherlock finally push in. Oh god! He arched and cried out.

Sherlock only pressed the head in before he paused. The sudden arch and yell startled him, and a sudden fear filled him.

"John!" He said, his voice full of concern. Was he too big? Had he not stretched him enough? John was so tight around him, had he torn something?

"John...." He said again, a question in his name.

"Don't.... Stop. Good..." he managed. He wasn't sure how he was forming words. But he knew if Sherlock stopped, he was going to be very cross with him.

The pressure was intense with just a hint if pain. But it had blossomed into pleasure and god how he loved it. The sensation of Sherlock in him.

He shuddered and clutched at the sheets under him. His cock was hard and leaking across his belly.

"Never." Sherlock whispered again, leaning down into John's ear to breath the single word.

He was slow and steady, pressing in further and further, until his bollocks pressed against John. Oh God, he was fully seated inside him.

For a few moments, Sherlock stilled, letting John get used to the feeling of being so full before he started to move, oh so slowly at first, setting a steady rhythm. He leaned down and licked and kissed at any part of John that he could get his mouth on, nipples, neck, chest, every bit of exposed skin was fair game.

John lost the ability to think when he felt Sherlock bottom out in him. That long cock buried in him. He trembled and waited. He didn't want it to end too soon. No...

He wanted to be wrapped up in this man forever. Just letting him touch him, kiss him, hold him. He shuddered and finally brought his hands up to touch Sherlock's shoulders.

John smoothed his hands over Sherlock's shoulders and arms as he felt the man kiss him all over. He wasn't going to want to do much of anything after this. Oh...

"Move... Please..." he begged.

"Ahhhhh.. John...." It was sheer ecstasy, being inside, feeling him around him. Even if Sherlock had wanted to stay still, there was no way that he could have.

As much as he tried to move slowly, all of the buildup to this moment meant that he was already close to the edge... He wanted to keep this going as long as possible.

Sherlock gripped John's hips tight, hard enough to leave bruises, but neither of them cared at this moment.

He sped up his thrusts, a fine sheen of sweat on his brow.. He couldn't even form words any more, he could only groan and grunt, showing his feelings physically that he couldn't speak any more.

He could only focus on the pinpoints of pleasure that came from the penetration and Sherlock gripping him so hard. Oh he loved it, wanted it, ached and ached.

The fact that they were here now. God. What a feeling...

And then he started thrusting and John cried out. He squirmed the best he could in Sherlock's hold, trying to push down. More. More...

He tried, tried so hard, but he couldn't hold himself back. Soon, Sherlock found himself pounding into John, grunting softly each time he bottomed out into his lover.

Hard and fast he filled the soldier, each thrust bringing him closer and closer to the edge. When he was just on the precipice, he reached down and gripped at John's length, using the left over lube that was on his hands to keep the strokes smooth and quick.

"Ahhh.. J-j-ohn... Nnngggg.." It was the only warning that Sherlock gave before he thrust once, hard enough to shift them both on the bed, then he was coming, deep and hot, rolling his hips with each pulse of his seed.

A Righteous Return - AU - Locked to seaweed_writes

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