Oh, how Sherlock had missed this, the screams of a mortal, being taken, defiled, utterly buggered by him. That Irene lady had lasted longer than most mortals had. But she was, after all, just a mortal, and eventually she was added to the Pool of Souls, like everyone else.

But John, this John, he was more, wasn't he? Sherlock had lucked out, finding a hidden demigod. Mycroft wanted to know HOW he had remained hidden, and he would get to talk to this... soldier fellow later.

Not until Sherlock was done playing with him, though.

And his appetite was RAVENOUS.

There was no tenderness, no mercy, nothing but wanton need and desire. Sherlock's claws dug into John's back, digging red, bloody lined that dribbled down towards his ass..

He took the man, hard and fast, pounding with every bit of his size and weight. The harder and faster he went, the more his body heated up.