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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Even through the haze of pleasure, he saw the flash of gold in his eyes. He wasn't sure what it meant, but he had seen it happen when John had shown his magic before, so he was sure it had something to do with that, but John wasn't using magic now.

Or at least he didn't seem to be.

Sherlock filed that way, yet another thing to ask about later.

But for now....

"Fæger..." He groaned as he started to press in. "Fulfremed."

Sherlock let the weight of the words between them, in a language long dead, settle between them as he started to move inside of John, ever so slowly, getting the man used to the feel of him being inside.

This relationship was new, and there were so many things to explore, and yet it was as ancient as the hills, or even more so.

Sherlock grunted quietly when he bottomed out inside of John, staying still to let the burn fade into something more pleasurable. "Ahhhh.."

John cried out when he felt Sherlock bottom out. Oh god. He clung to the man, letting the words flow over him. Oh... God.

He grabbed Sherlock and held onto, whispering words into his ear. Words of endearment. He loved him, he cherished him, respected him... Sherlock, Arthur, was his everything. Everything he had done was for the man.

John shuddered and pushed his hips down, back. Yes. More. More.

Sherlock shut his eyes as John whispered to him. It was a strange mix of Old English and modern English. He didn't even try to think about how his brain understood the words that his ancient lover said to him.

When John moved his hips, that was Sherlock's cue to start moving. He pulled back until only his head remained, then pushed in, harder and faster than the first time. He pulled back and snapped his hips forward again, increasing in speed and pressure. He held onto John's hips hard enough to bruise.

"John... my Merlin... Nnngg..." He grunted through his thrusts, a fine sheen starting to ghost the edge of his hairline.

He shuddered and gasped as he felt those hips start to move. He needed it. John wanted it. Yes. Sherlock. More.

John held onto his lover and gasped. Oh. He had... He had never known that it could feel this good. Be this good. But maybe it was because he was with someone he loved.

"Sherlock..." He gasped.

Sherlock leaned down and nipped at John's neck, his shoulder, his chest, his nipple, whatever he could get to while he rocked and bucked into the man under him.

John was holding his thighs as tight as he was holding John's hips. They would both be hurting in the morning, but neither of them cared right now.

His breath was short and fast, his whole body tense with the effort it took to pound into his lover. His tongue found John's nipples and licked and sucked, using a hint of teeth, just on the edge of pain and pleasure.

"John... oh, John..." He groaned, his eyes opening just for a moment to look at him before closing again.

He was taunt. John felt like he was going to find his release at any moment. The way Sherlock held him, pounded into him, taunted him. He sobbed and shuddered.

It was those words, the meeting of their eyes...

John tensed and shouted as he climaxed.

John's sudden climax surprised him. He knew John was wound tight, but he had no idea the man had been so close. But still, knowing that it was *HIM* that did it, oh, that was wonderful.

It was exquisite, watching John come undone under him, feel the tightening of his muscles around his cock as the waves of John's pleasure ebbed and flowed.

Sherlock kept his pace steady, not fucking him any harder. He was close, but he reached down and gripped the base of his cock, so he could hold himself back. He didn't want to miss a moment of John's pleasure, and he didn't have any desire for this to end.

He rocked, slow and steady, watching intently for every little change of John face, every emotion that ran through him as his orgasm peaked, and then started to fade. He couldn't keep the grin off his face. He loved nothing more than seeing John come, watching his seed flow over his hand and chest and splattering all the way up to his chest.

"Oh John, my John." He groaned, gripping himself tighter to keep himself from falling over the edge.

John was trembling and gasping. He felt like such a hot mess. Oh dear god. Sherlock had wrecked him. The blonde let out a moan and shuddered. He looked up at Sherlock, his eyes a little glassy. He felt like a mess. But such a good mess.

"Sherlock... Please." He begged. He sounded so incredibly wrecked, so everything... He wanted to feel Sherlock inside him. He needed it...

He knew that John would be very sensitive after he came, and over stimulation was a possibility, so he didn't want to drag this on too long, though he had to be proud of himself that he made John come untouched, that's not always easy to do.

Sherlock slowed a bit, a hand still around the base of his cock. He looked down at the wrecked John, taking every little bit of him in, cataloguing every inch, every smell, every hair out of place, every bead of sweat on his skin, the musk and tang of sex in the air between them. He didn't want to ever, ever forget this first time.

"Where do you want me, John? Here, or on your chest, or in your mouth?" He asked, perfectly happy with finishing in any of those places.

It took a moment for the words to register. John sobbed and focused on Sherlock. He licked his lips as he thought. Thought.... Where?

"In me. Please. In me. Fill me." John begged.

He hardly registered what he was saying. But he knew that he wanted it. Wanted to come. Wanted Sherlock to fill him and claim him. Own him.

"Of course...." Sherlock took a moment to lean down and kiss John, deeply and fully, his tongue finding John's.

He lingered in the kiss. in the meantime he let go of his cock and started to rock in earnest again. He held John tight again, digging his hands into the man's hips. Sherlock kissed and rocked and moaned into his lover's mouth.

Fast and harder, he nipped at John's lip and groaned loudly. "Mmmmmmffff!!" His voice was muffled by John's lips. His whole body tensed and he arched into John, thrusting hard once, twice and "NNNNNNNNN!"' He cried out into his lover's mouth as he came, pulsing deep inside of him, waves of pleasure washing over his whole body.

The feeling of Sherlock releasing inside him... John shuddered and gave a small moan. He felt boneless and so incredibly wrecked. Fuck he was lucky to have Sherlock in his life. In his arms. He took a breath and touched the man's cheek.

"I love you." He told him, "More than anything."

Even after Sherlock had finished spending inside of John, he laid still, deep inside.

Sherlock had wanted to respond to John, but all that came out was a sleepy "Mmmmf." as he finally relaxed his taut arm and leg muscles that had been holding him above John and bonelessly collapsed on top of him, finally slipping out with a trickle of his juices coming with him.

He wanted so badly to stay away, to talk to John, to tell him anything and everything, but the urge to sleep was overwhelming.

This had been quite a day of discoveries, in many ways, and he was exhausted, both mentally and physically. He felt his eyes getting heavy, though he fought it hard.

John shifted them and snuggled against Sherlock. He really should clean up... But he didn't care. He was exhausted. The day had been...

Interesting.

Fantastic.

Amazing.

John yawned and closed his eyes. He fumbled for the blanket, using magic to draw it up over them. He was still exhausted from expending all his energy with the spell.

Vaguely, Sherlock noticed that the blanket seemed to come up of its own accord.

The list of things that he wanted to talked to John seemed to be growing exponentially. But right now, he couldn't really be arsed to care.

The OCD part of him screamed at him to clean up, he was sticky and sweaty and the sheets would be ruined. But his body won over his mind. Sleep won out, and he closed his eyes, wrapping his arms and legs tentacle like over and around John's body before succumbing to sleep.

In the morning, John woke. He felt quite content, wrapped up in his lover. The blonde shifted and snuggled down. Mmm, warm. Perfect.

He closed his eyes once more, making sure the blanket was securely around them. Sherlock was so warm and he was happy. Content.

John drifted off back to sleep. He just wanted to stay in bed.

Sherlock had been awake for a while now. He never needed as much sleep as most people. But he had stayed still and kept his breathing even and waited for John to wake.

When he felt John stirring, he worked to stay still and breathing steadily, listening to John as he moved around and snuggled up close. It was hard not to catch his breath, but he manages it, staying "asleep" until John settled back down again. It wasn't long until John was back asleep, and Sherlock, surprisingly, falls back to sleep with him.

The next time he woke, he finally got out of bed and went to the loo. He washed himself off and stared at himself in the mirror.

He had Sherlock. He had Arthur. It was such a sensation. John finished brushing his teeth and pulled his dressing gown on. The blonde went out into the kitchen to start making tea and breakfast for them.

There was some small, deep part of Sherlock that felt the bed shift and rise, but the urge to sleep just a bit longer was stronger, and he drifted back off.

This time, it was the smell of a fry-up that woke him, assaulting his nose and pulling him from sleep.

Not bothering to do something as banal as dressing, he went to the loo, did a quick piss, tooth brushing, and put his hair into some semblance of normalcy (though he still left it a bit toussled, he thought John might get an ego boost of remembering that he was why Sherlock's hair was the way it was).

Still without a stitch of clothing, he wandered into the kitchen only to find John working on the fry up he had smelt in the bedroom. The bacon and beans and toast were already on the table, the eggs as well, and he was pulling a pan with mushrooms and tomatoes out of the oven.

Careful not to startle the man, he carefully and gently leaned down and kissed the side of his neck.

"Good Morning, John." He said, a bit more formally than he'd meant it to sound.

He relaxed back against Sherlock and smiled. "Good morning." He whispered. The blonde was happy. Things were good.

Of course, there was the looming prospect of finding the rest of the Knights and dealing with whatever was going on.

The thought occurs to Sherlock that he should ask John if he needs any help, but that has never really been his way, so instead, he gives John a kiss, and nuzzle on the neck, then goes to sit down at the table, putting a bit of what was already there on his plate.

He's never been much of an eater either, but something about the fact that JOHN cooked it makes him take more than he usually would.

That of course, and the fact that they'd shagged like rabbits the night before- that can arouse an appetite, along with.. other things.

Sherlock shook his head. They had a lot to do. He couldnt' be thinking about sex the first thing in the morning.

Of course, being naked in the kitchen with your lover doesn't really do much to curtail those thoughts, so he he tried to think about the trials ahead, to push his thoughts, and libido, elsewhere.

It seemed to work.. at least partially.

"Where do we start, John?" He asked, spearing a forkful of eggs.

"Breakfast." He answered as he sat down with the rest of their meal.

"After that... I'm not so sure honestly. Last time... The Knights were all found before Arthur woke. This is unusual." He said, "But then again this is only thr second time the Knights have started to wake."

John set down his fork and rubbed his face. All he wanted to do was stay wrapped up in Sherlock and not deal with the world. But thay wasn't the way that things worked.

"I think I will need a large map of the city so I can start pinpointing locations."

Sherlock smirked at the smartarse response. His Bosman was learning, it seemed.

So, the knights had awoken before. It must have been for something large, he wondered if it was one of the World Wars. "When did the awaken the first time?" he asked, after swallowing a bite of beans on toast. "And why would I be the first, or second I suppose, to awaken, after Lestrade?"

As soon as John mentioned the map, he put his fork down, got up, and walked (still starkers) into the main room. He came back with a book a moment later. It was a 'London A to Z' tour book. But in the middle of it, folded into the pages, was a map of greater London.

"We will need to finish breakfast before I can fully open it, It is as large as our table. The book is only 6 years old, so it will be accurate enough for our needs."

John's eyes followed Sherlock's arse. God. The man was infuriating and wonderful and such a bloody tease. He licked his lips and then shook his head. No. They could not end up in bed. No. It wasn't going to happen. There were things to do.

"During the Second World War. Various points during the way. It wasn't a mass awakening." He noted

But then there was the map. John smiled. Perfect. He could pinpoint each spot of light in his head. That way they could map out and see what was at that area. Perhaps figure out who the knight was.

Sherlock started to clear the table, he was pretty sure that food had been abandoned for the prospect of finding other knights.

As he was cleaning, and ferrying stuff to the sink and fridge, he made sure to stick his arse out a bit. It was obvious that John had been staring at it, and Sherlock was going to take full advantage. He didn't intend to pull John back into bed, but he'd give him a show and if it happened, well, all the more better.

But first, the knights.

"How many knights awakened during the War, and which ones? Did... Arthur arise?" Sherlock was deathly curious. He just had to know. Who was he, if he had?

A Righteous Return - AU - Locked to seaweed_writes

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