ihadabadday | In Plain Sight - AU - Locked to seaweed

Mycroft smirked again. "Well, I will leave you two to it." In a flash, of lighting that left both of their skins tingling, he was gone.

Sherlock said nothing, yet. He took John's arm and in a moment, they were back in the throne room of Hell, where Cerberus was sitting patiently, waiting. It growled when it saw John.

"We are no long guarding John. He won't be going anywhere, he told the giant beast. Immediately it backed down, and laid on its paws.

"I will have to create a new room for you, and another throne, if you are to sit with me. My job is not hard most of the time, except for the people who refuse to die." He gave John a bit of a look when he said that. "Its rather tedious and boring, but you grow into it after a few millennia".

"The room you created me originally is fine." He replied. John crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. Well Fuck.

He didn't say another word as he stormed back to the room he had originally been given.

John laid back on the bed and stared up at the stone ceiling. Now he was really stuck here. Why hadn't he paid more attention during those Greek studies courses he took?

He didn't have much family. His mother passed and Harry... He shot up. Harry! Fuck. Was she? She was older so he wasn't certain if they shared the same paternal genetics.

Sherlock shrugged as the little man stalked away. "Suit yourself." It wasn't a particularly large room, but if it was what he wanted for the next however many eons, that was fine with him.

He wandered back to this throne room, idly waggling his fingers at the scrying crystal, ferrying the souls of the dead to him. There had just been a plane crash in Russia, so he had over 300 more souls coming at once.

Foolish mortals. They think they can rule the land and the sky.

Sherlock tried not to think about John as he worked, but of course his thoughts always drifted back towards the man, when the doctor had found him and helped him, and he repaid him by taking him to Hell, fucking him, and then trapping him there.

But, he had been a good fuck, at least.

He smirked at the that, his body taking a very minor interest in thinking about how nice it had felt to stretch the little human to his limits.

Sherlock shook his head. He had work, and now it was even less likely that he would ever get to be with John like that, so best to forget about it.

John had recently returned from the Overworld. He was... Upset.

He ignored Sherlock as he stormed into the room he had been using for the last several years and slammed the door shut. It was not common for him to be so upset.

He lay back on the bed and sighed. They were destroying the Earth. He could feel the way it seeped into his bones and made him ache. He just... He wanted them to stop it, to embrace the Earth and protect it.

John rolled onto his side, feeling miserable. Miserable and horny and everything at once. He sighed. Sherlock had barely come near him in the years he'd been here.

Time moved a bit differently in the underworld, blink, and years have passed. It was a rather boring existence, but at least the time moved quickly.

Sherlock had mostly been ignoring John since he had arrived. He resented that he was stuck with this... well god, he guessed, though a minor one at best, for eternity. He had just wanted a little plaything, and now he had a companion. He hadn't even been able to slake his lust since John arrived.

John had just finished spending the winter back in the Overworld. He didn't have to spend the entire time there, yet he did, he left the moment he could, and stayed until the very last moment.

Sherlock growled, which caused Cerberus to lift its head and regard its master for a moment before going back to sleep.

What was it about that man that beguiled him and frustrated him and turned him on at the same time?

He could feel a little twitch, just thinking about the man send a fire through his body. He idly stroked himself once through his robes, making a low moan.

NO.

He stopped immediately. The man despised him. He was going to torture himself any longer. He had to find some way to get his rocks off.

John finally got up and came out of the room, looking for Sherlock. Over the years, he had grown to like the man. But they had barely said more than two words to one another.

He crossed the space, ignoring the three headed dog until he stood in front of the god. His companion.

"I need you." He said after a moment, "And you need me."

He was tired of ignoring him, being ignored. He was tired of living this solitary life.

It was a lucky break. Sherlock had just pulled his hand away, and the way that his toga was folded around him, it was impossible to see that he had been half hard a moment before.

Cerberus still was not much of a fan of John, it growled low when the man passed him, but on its masters orders, it would never harm the man. So it went back to its slumber yet again.

Sherlock cocked his head to the side when John came over to him. What did he mean by that? They needed each other?

Certainly not.

Hades, the Lord of the Dead needed no man.

Especially not the former John Watson.

"I have never needed anyone before in my eons of existence. Why would I need someone now?" He asked, sounding bored.

"Do not think I don't see the way you look at me Sherlock." He drawled, "I know you watch me." John stepped closer until he was at the base of the steps that led up to where Sherlock sat.

The scar on his forehead had faded, but it was still visible. He had never done anything with it, leaving it there, as a reminder.

"I haven't been with anyone since we were last together. And I suspect you haven't either."

As much as Sherlock had always tried to be stealthy about it, he did indeed watch John. Sometime he watched him sleep through his scrying crystal. Sherlock didn't need to sleep, or eat, or use the restroom, and technically neither did John, but it seemed that old habits died hard for the former mortal.

Sherlock feigned disinterest. "What else do I have to look at? Certainly not Redbeard. He isn't much of a looker." The three headed dog ignored its name being called this time.

"Watching mortals die can only hold your interest for so long." He frowned.

"Of course I haven't been with anyone else!" His voice rose, annoyed, and the fire on top of his head. flared. "I don't want to hear your bitching if I brought a mortal to..play with. I would never hear the end of it from you. And I am stuck with you, there is no where I could go to avoid your nagging."

While that was true, he had to admit that normal mortals didn't hold his interest as much any more. Of course he would never say it out loud.

"Well if that's going to be the case. I will simply find someone else to sate my need." John snapped.

He stepped back and turned on his heel. If Sherlock was going to play that game, he was going to play it right back. He ignored Ceberus as he stormed past, slamming the door to the room he'd been using. He knew it wouldn't matter if Sherlock decided to come in here. But part of him suspected that the god might just leave him alone.

He knew he didn't need to sleep, or eat or anything really. But it comforted him, having a routine. John stripped off his clothes and went into the small bathroom to shower. He stepped under the hot water, making a noise. Even when he had been in the Overworld, he had not found anyone to sate his need. John wrapped a hand around himself and began to stroke his own cock.

Sherlock snorted. He wasn't a sadist like Sherlock was. He didn't have the fortitude to kidnap a mortal and then fuck them against their will. He had heard the man's Blood Whisper years before. He cared for others, not himself.

Human weakness.

He slumped back in his throne, trying not to think about John, how his face reddened when he got pissed off, how his muscles tensed, his hands balled in tight fists.

"Augghhhh!" Sherlock shot lightning across the room, like he did when he was pissed. Cerberus looked up, gave his master a look for waking him, then went back to sleep.

He was able to ignore John for five minutes before he used his scrying crystal on the man.

Ah, he was in the shower and he....

"Ohhhh."

He pressed his fist against the shower wall, leaning against it as he stroked himself, biting his lip. He was trying not to say the name that was threatening to come out. He shuddered and gave in to his want. "Sherlock...." He gasped.

Still in the shower, from years ago, was the jagged stone plug. John hadn't used it, but it sat there, as a reminder to him. Mostly because he liked the way it felt for the god to have him over and over.

John moved his hand faster, gasping. Fuck fuck. He wanted to come, he hadn't in all the years he'd been here. This would be the first... He moaned the god's name again, as his hand worked faster.

His eyes went wide when the man called his name.

Fuck.

John was thinking about him while he stroked himself off.

Sherlock leaned forward, staring at the crystal from just centimeters away, studying every bit of the man, permanently memorizing how the expression on his face changed as he moved his hand up and down, the type of movement he used on the upstroke and downstroke, the way that his eyes canted over to the plug, the one that had held his own seed what seemed like only moments before, though it had been years now.

Without even thinking about it, Sherlock had reached under his robe and taken himself in hand. He used the same movements that John did, stroking himself in time. His eyes thinned, his whole body thrummed with need.

"John." He murmured, almost a whisper on the wind.

John whined as he kept stroking himself. He needed. He wanted. "Sherlock..." He moaned, sounding almost desperate. And he was, a little desperate. He wanted to feel the man's giant cock in him again, prying him open. He wanted to see what other sort of shapes or beings Sherlock would become.

He wanted all the filthy sex they could have been having these past years.

Instead he got this. A wank in a shower and a hope that Sherlock was watching him.

He ran his thumb over the head of his cock and he cried out, unable to stop it. His body tensed as he climaxed, hips jerking forward into the touch. He whimpered as he started to come down from it.

A low moan escaped Sherlock throat. He watched, enraptured as John got himself off, all the wonderful little noises he was making, the fact that it was *HIS* name that he was groaning as he came.

His own thrusts became more desperate, faster and harder until he came, spilling his molten hot seed into his hand and onto his thighs and toga, making and obscene splatter pattern on the fabric.

Quickly, he cleaned himself with a movement of his fingers. He didn't breath so he wasn't panting, but his whole body tingled with a desire, a need. Being a god, of course he could be ready to go again literally right after he had finished, and his cock seemed to understand that, as it stayed tented under his robes.

John remained against the shower wall for a moment, catching his breath. He then pushed away and finished his shower. While he knew he didn't need them, they just made him feel better.

He got out of the shower and began to dry off. He was glad there was a door to the room now, and just walked into the room and over to the bed. He was still nude, but it didn't bother him. Laying back he sighed.

Sherlock just didn't seem to get it. The man was incredibly smart, but so very obtuse in other ways. How would he make the man realize?

While John was finishing his shower, Sherlock stopped scrying and with a wiggle of his fingers made sure that everything was clean.

He got up from the throne and started to wander through Hell, heading towards the Pool of Souls. It was strangely calming to watch the souls moving around and around in the pool, and watching the new souls joining it every second. It was what he did, it was his job, his passion.

So why was he so distracted by John, the former human that was only here because of him.

Why did his hand go to places south while he was sitting on the throne, why did he whisper the man's name in moments of passion?

He sighed and headed back towards the throne room. He had tried to avoid John for years now to get over how he felt about the man, but it was only getting worse.

Something had to give.

Another year passed without Sherlock doing anything and John was fed up. He returned early from Overworld, not caring that it ushered in an early Spring. He was moody.

John, having watched Sherlock for these years, stormed into the throne room, ignoring the man as he made his way to the room. He had started experimenting with different types of plants.

But he was frustrated and exhausted. He got up after a moment and threw a glass against the wall before getting up and going to go find Sherlock.

Sherlock was quite surprised to see John come back early. He knew that heralded in an early Spring, but Sherlock didn't care about the seasons. People died all the same, no matter what the weather was like on the Overworld.

He was on his throne room when he heard the shattering of glass, and then saw John storming out of his room, towards him.

Sherlock looked confused and a bit bored as the man approached him.

"Yes?" he asked, in an even tone.

"What do I have to do to get you to fuck me again?" He demanded after crossing his arms over his chest. He stood there, staring at the god, not caring in the least bit that the man could strike him down. His power was still minuscule compared to Hades'.

John had tried doing everything short of pinning the man down and doing what he wanted with him.

He wasn't sure how many years it had been, time, he noticed, ran differently here.

That was... unexpected.

Sherlock's eyes went wide. Wait. He... wanted to be fucked again. After everything that had happened the time before, when he had been taken against his will to hell and fucked, and then stuffed with a stone plug?

He still wanted it?

Most likely he didn't really know what he wanted, Sherlock figured.

But there was one way to find out.

Sherlock exploded into motion. Faster than would have been humanly possible he rocketed out of the chair, grabbed John by his neck, and kept going until they both hit the far wall, John's back hit the bare rock, and he was pinned by Sherlock pressing against the front of his body.

John couldn't choke any more, but he was holding tight enough that it would bruise his still somewhat human body.

Sherlock pressed his whole body against John, enough to push him hard into the rock.

"Is this what you want?" He demanded, reaching down to roughly give John a squeeze. "For me to take you and make you a fucktoy, like I did the first time?"

John grunted when he hit the rock, that hand wrapped tight around his throat. He nodded. He wanted it. He had been aching for this. To be Sherlock's again in this way.

He moaned when he felt that hand squeeze his rapidly hardening cock, Fuck. Oh fuck yes! He dropped his head back against the stone.

"Sherlock..." He gasped, "Harder..." It seemed that the masochist still lived in John. That he craved the pain that Sherlock could dish out.

Sherlock's large hand was enough to go all the way around John's throat. He gripped him tight, rendering John unable to go anywhere.

The other hand on John's crotch gripped harder as well, tugging at the cock that inside the trousers were wearing, none too gently.

He leaned down, biting hard on John's neck like a vampire, leaving two bites that dribbled blood down his neck.

"You want me to take you and stretch you open so far that you scream in pain? fuck you with a cock that doesn't even fit inside? Spill my molten hot come inside of you, burning you from the inside? Is that what you want, my little fuck toy?"

"Oh god." John breathed. He nodded and swallowed. "Please, fuck me. Make me your little fuck toy. That's what I want."

If his heart still beat, it would be beating so fast in his chest. If his lungs still worked, he'd be gasping for air. But it was perfect. It was exactly what he wanted, what he craved.

He was hard, and it felt so... So... Good. Perfect. "Sherlock..." John groaned.

Sherlock used the hand that was around John's neck and twisted him around so that the side of John's face was against the stone now.

His other hand was free now, so he used them to remove John's clothing. John's arse was on display in front of Sherlock now, ready for him to plunder.

Sherlock let his fingers burn into John's skin- he could control the amount of heat that he radiated, and he had turned it down, but now he let his fingers flame and spark, making John's neck red and blistered.

He bit at John's neck, leaving bloody marks down the back of his neck and from shoulder to shoulder.

"I am going to fill you full, and then I am going to plug you up, one that you can't remove this time, you will have to keep it in as long as I want. I will fill you over and over again until you can't stand, and I won't let you have you have your release."

In Plain Sight - AU - Locked to seaweed_writes

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