In Plain Sight - AU - Locked to seaweed_writes

[ihadabadday]

No one knew how long Gods had walked among the mortals. They just knew they had. Some remained in their country of origin, some branched out and traveled. Others started business or charities. Some just went through existence simply being. Belief didn't have much to do with how the Gods chose to lead their lives.

This tale though, it focuses on the Greek Gods of old and Mount Olympus (which is a real place and traditionally is where Zeus is said to live with Hera).

John Watson didn't care for the politics of the Gods that surrounded them every day. He had other things to focus on, to pay attention to. Like medical school, and then the military. It wasn't until he was shot and laying in the desert, bleeding, did he whisper things to the God of Death, to Hades. To a god he didn't believe in. Blood whispers they were often called. And gods hardly paid attention to them, most believed they were the whispers of dying men.

But John Watson survived when others with the same injury had died. What was different about him?

He returned to London on an army pension and a cane. He shuffled through his life, a constant ache in his chest, like there was something missing. Though he had little to no idea of what was missing. He helped others where he could, donating his time and what little money. A homeless veteran (it boiled him so to see those who helped their country be left behind) once called him a beacon of light.

A beacon of light huh?

Most days he didn't feel like one. Most days his mood was dark and everything was shit.

One night when he was limping slowly back to his dismal bedsit, something caught his attention. He glanced down an alley and saw a tall man dressed in black, being mugged by some ratty youth. The man was far too posh for this neighborhood. So why was he here? But that didn't matter. John, on two strong legs, charged into the alley and used his cane to knock the criminal away. He didn't notice, but there seemed to be a light around him, an otherworldy aura to him.

He held the cane like a sword and pointed it at the would be thief. "You need to leave here." John commanded. It had been easy for some to forget that he had been Captain John Watson of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers in Her Majesty's Army.

Comments

[seaweed_writes]

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.

[ihadabadday]

"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.

[seaweed_writes]

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."

[ihadabadday]

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.

[seaweed_writes]

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.

[ihadabadday]

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.

[seaweed_writes]

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.

[ihadabadday]

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?

[seaweed_writes]

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.

[ihadabadday]

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.

[seaweed_writes]

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.

[ihadabadday]

"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.

[seaweed_writes]

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?"

[ihadabadday]

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.

[seaweed_writes]

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?"

[ihadabadday]

"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.

[seaweed_writes]

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."

[ihadabadday]

John sobbed as he felt the pain radiate through him. It was... It was yes. Wonderful amazing. The pain, the sensations of Sherlock forcing him. He loved it.

"Oh please. Please. I want it all." John gasped, "Any way you want to give it to me. Small or big, monster or human. Anything..."

He was rambling and he knew it. He knew he was. But the pleasure going through him was so much. It was incredible.

[seaweed_writes]

Usually, Sherlock tried to stay in his semi-human form when he was around John, It really took very little for him to keep the other shape.

But when John said that, he went to his normal form, 9 feet tall, long, lithe, and clawed.

"As you wish." He growled evilly.

He took himself in hand, long and teased John's entrance, almost pressing in, then pulling away. He hadn't prepped or stretched John the first time, and he wasn't about to this time.

[ihadabadday]

Sherlock's normal form was so large compared to him. That cock was equally as large. He hiccuped and squirmed back. That was huge... It was...

He knew it was going to hurt, it was going to tear him open, pry him apart. And he wanted it. He wanted it all.

John let out a breath and tried to grip at the wall, to get some leverage. But it was... It was so smooth, he wasn't able to get purchase.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock smiled evilly when he heard him hiccup and watched him squirm. Maybe he was starting to doubt himself now.
But it was too late now.

Sherlock played with John's hole a few more times, then the pushed in, hard and fast, opening John up, stretching him past his normal limits. Sherlock didn't let him rest, as soon as he was inside he started at a blistering pace, slamming John up against the stone with every push inside of his willing victim.

[ihadabadday]

John screamed as he was taken, hard. It hurt, but he was enjoying it. Reveling in the pain that was coming from the god above him. He swore and tried to find purchase, to try and get some relief. He wanted... He wanted to get his release with that monster cock inside him.

He was being ravaged by a monster, the creature that might haunt people's dreams at night. And he had begged for it, goaded Sherlock into giving it to him. He moaned.

[seaweed_writes]

Oh, Sherlock was going to give him no mercy, no quarter, no relief or release. He was his little play thing. He had asked for it, begged, and so he got it.

He decided to up the ante, one wave of his hand and his cock was barbed, like an animal, every scrape in and out tore against his insides. His hand stayed on the man's neck, and his teeth bit down on his neck, draining the man of the blood that he had remaining, not that he really needed it any more though.

Sherlock growled, this was his prize, this mewling, whimpering thing under him that he could do anything with, tear apart and put back together over and over and over again.

[ihadabadday]

John felt like he was floating, soaring. This was so much and yet he ached for more. He wasn't sure how that would be possible. Oh god. He cried out, unable to stop it.

The pain of that barbed cock in him. He shuddered. If he was mortal, it would have killed him. He would have died and he didn't think Sherlock would have stopped for that.

"Sherlock..." He gasped, sounding so needy. "Sherlock please...." He didn't want the man to stop. No. He wanted it to continue.

[seaweed_writes]

It was hard to tell is John was begging for him to stop, or begging him for more.

Of course, it really didn't matter either way. it wasn't like Sherlock was going to stop anyways.

Sherlock only got harder and faster, chasing the need to fill this man with himself.

"Ahhhhhhhhhh!!" He cried out as he used all of his weight to slam John against the wall. His cock swelled, and steaming hot spurt of his come filled the demigod. He didn't stop, thrusting with each pulse.

Even when he was done, his cock was still hard inside of John. Sherlock leaned back for a moment to enjoy his handiwork, then started to thrust again, swelling his cock more, so that nothing would come out.