ihadabadday | In Plain Sight - AU - Locked to seaweed

"Take me back to London." He demanded. John didn't care about protocol or standards or anything these gods did. He wanted his own life back. As miserable as it was to some, it was still his life and he was working to make it better for people.

"If you can't, get someone who can or I will bring this place down around your ears!"

Sherlock frowned. "I already told you that I cannot. I was not lying when I said that I cannot go back. What do you expect me to do, have Cerberus put you in his mouth and take you up there to drop you off?" He was the god of death, it wasn't like he just popped up to Olympus to see the gods all the time. He couldn't ask them to help this... whatever he is.

If he was a half god, there was no way that he was going to be able to bring down the underworld.

"Okay, this is tedious." Sherlock was tired of this, being threatened in his own land. He held out his hand towards John. Electricity flew from his fingertips. shocking John and taking him down.

"I do not want to spend a year down here because you were too damn oblivious for your own good!" he snapped at the man. He was not backing down, where some would... He di dnot.

John was no match for the God of the Underworld. He collapsed into a heap, the aura fading, bringing the throne room back to darkness.

Who was John Watson? How was he related to the gods?

He breathed out a little sigh. "Much better."

While John was unconscious, Sherlock ran his hand down the man's cheek. "What are you, John Watson?" He had asked the question, multiple times, and he was still no closer to having the question answered.

Sherlock levitated the man, so he was floating in the air, trailing behind him as he took John to another room. He burnt off the man's clothes, leaving him as naked as the day he was born, and chained him up so that the chains kept him in a kneeling position, even as he was unconscious, the chains held his weight.

"You are going to stay there for a while, and I am going to get to the bottom of who you *REALLY* are, John Watson."

He stood for a moment, admiring the fine, chisled lines of his body. He couldn't fight the arousal that rose within him, but he tamped it down. A god having an affair with a mortal was why this man was here right now. That was the mystery to be solved.

It took all his willpower to walk away from John without having his way with him. It wouldn't have been the first time that he had.. dallied with the unwilling. But something stopped him when it came to John. Even he wasn;t sure what that was.

Finally he left and went to his scrying crystal. He was going to call in some favors from the powers above- literally.

John wasn't sure how long he had been out when he came to. He shook his head, trying to clear the fog. He tried to move, and that's when he realized that he was one, completely nude and two, chained.

Panic tried to set in, but he took a deep breath. Panic would not help now. John tugged at the chains, but found them to be stronger than anything he had encountered in the past. He tried to pull his head back. But he had a collar around that tightened if he moved too far.

Fuck. He was confused and aroused. And fuck.

Sherlock stalked over to the scrying crystal. He wasn't looking forward to this.

He attuned himself to it, then sent out a summons through it for Zeus.

Of course his brother kept him waiting for a while. Sherlock was anxious to get back to see how his prisoner was doing. He was feeling a bit lusty and wanted to see if the possible half god could take him. If not, oh well. He would get another plaything later.

Finally, Zeus showed up.

"Mycroft."

"Brother mine. What do you want?" Of course he sounded annoyed, He always sounded annoyed.

"I need to know about a mortal. I think he may be the child of a god." Usually Sherlock didn't like to play all his cards at once, reveal his hand, but in this case, curiosity trumped mind games with his brother.

"A mortal? What do you care about a-" There was a pause. "Oh, found a new... goldfish have we?"

"No." Sherlock replied pertulantly.

Oh, he could hear Mycroft's smile in his answer.

"Another like that... Adler woman? She was nice, but she didn't last very long. Didn't have fortitude to handle a god."

"Mycroft..."

He sighed. "Fine. Who is it?"

"John Watson, of London, England. In the Overworld."

"I'm sure there are a lot of John Watsons in London, Sherlock. You have to do better."

"He was a solider. I saw how he held himself, his hair and stance were military. And he was injured. He used a cane but the injury was not to the leg. I am guessing left shoulder. Short, stocky, about 1.7 meters at the most. Sandy brown hair, very dark blue eyes. I met him on Gower Street, so he most likely lived close by. That should be enough to go on."

Mycroft was quiet for a moment.

"And, what do I get in return?"

"A favor to call in later. Look, are you going to do it or not?"

Mycroft sighed again. "Fine. I had nothing better to do today. Summon me this time tomorrow. I should have your answer for you. "

"Thank you."

"And try not to kill him. Yet. If he is the son of a god, then we are going to have some.. questions for him."

Mycroft rang off before Sherlock could answer.

Well, that meeting had killed his lust. But maybe seeing his new little plaything all naked, chained up, and helpless would help.

He looked down at the clothes that he hadn't bothered changing out of since he went to the Overworld, and the tenting in the front of those trousers he had created.

Apparently, it already was.

Eagerly he headed back towards his antechamber to see if John was awake.

Not that his state of consciousness would stop what was going to happen, anyway.

John's head shot up when he heard someone coming. He swallowed as he composed himself. He did not want his captor to see his panic.

That neutral expression came over his face and he just relaxed. The tension eased out of him.

He had to survive a year, at least. If he could do that, he could return to London. But then what? He will have been reported missing, people would have been looking for him. He would worry about that when the time came. For now he would need to simply survive.

"Ah, awake, are we? Good." He said, striding into the room. "I prefer my meat... alive and wiggling."

Sherlock stopped in front of John, looking him over again. "A bit more well endowed than the normal mortal, though, not the.. finest specimen that I have seen." He walked in a semicircle around John, admiring him from all views. "Quite takeable, I am sure." He sounded like he had come to a decision.

"Putting on the brave, hero face, I see. Such a noble man you are, John Watson." Sherlock leaned down and held John's face in his hands, his long fingers leaving little red burn marks where he touched John's cheeks. "I will find out who you are. I will have my fun with you, and maybe if I'm feeling generous, I will give you over to my brother before I kill you"

He leaned in and gave John's face a long lick with his slightly forked tongue.

"Or... maybe not."

John hissed when the man, no god, touched him. It stung. It burned. The light against the dark. But he... He didn't know what to do. He was chained, he was naked. And damn it he was feeling uncomfortably horny.

"People have tried to kill me in the past." He snarled, "No one has succeeded." The collar seemed to tighten at those words, as if challenging him.

Sherlock's lips were right against John's ear as he whispered to the man.

"Do you honestly think that I couldn't kill you, if I wanted to? Even if you are a... halfbreed, you have no chance against me. " As he spoke he twiddled his fingers, which caused the collar around his neck to magically tighten, more and more.

"I could choke the life out of you, have my way with you while you were gasping for breath. And maybe, just maybe, you would have the honor of feeling me burn your insides with my essence before you passed out and choked to death."

Just when John was on the verge of passing out, he leaned away and twiddled his long, lithe fingers again and the collar went back to being just uncomfortably tight.

He chuckled. "I think this is turning you on. Oh, you are a little masochist, aren't you? Thinking about me fucking you has you all hot and bothered, doesn't it?"

John just remained silent, he knew it would do no good to speak. Not when the god was right there, taunting him. Tormenting him. Teasing him. He tired to ignore how his own cock was hard, how he did want the man fuck him, to choke him. He just. He tried to ignore it. He didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

But his body yearned, it wanted. This dark pleasure that he was spiraling towards, because of this god. It wanted more of it. More of the dark, the forbidden.

Sherlock leaned in again, whispering in John's other ear now. "You want me. Oh, you want me to fuck you. I can read it on your face. You want me to take you hard and fast and tear you apart. I can see it in your face. I can read it all over your body."

He punctuated the speech with a none too light bite to his ear, enough with his slightly sharpened teeth to draw blood, which he licked away.

"No, you don't taste like a normal mortal. Your blood is... special." He laughed darkly. "Oh, I am going to have fun with this."

He stood up suddenly and took a step away. "But... perhaps I am too eager. You want this. So perhaps I shouldn't give it to you.

Sherlock waggled his fingers again, and around came a new chain and collar. He shrunk it to fit John's cock, then slide it down the length and shrunk it more so it wouldn't move, making was looked like a permanent cock ring.

"Much better. Now, I think I might let you think about this for a while. I have to speak with my dear brother. I think I know from whose loins you were sired. I can see his rage in your eyes."

He walked out of the room without a backwards glad. Oh did he want to fuck that little man, but he would let John Watson sweat it out for a little longer. He really did need to speak with his brother.

The rage was there. Simmering and burning under his skin. John wanted to rip these chains off and punch the god's smirk off his face. It didn't matter whose loins half his DNA came from. This rage. It was all John Watson. Every bit of it. No matter if he was sired from the god Apollo or Ares or Poseidon. This rage was not godly.

No. John Watson was a ticking time bomb. The nice one, the friendly one. Everyone had been shocked when he went marching to war for Queen and Country. But it helped with the rage inside him, curve it to be less.

And everything about this god was undoing all of the work he had done to control his rage. Instead of controlling it, he let it out, let the power that was growing with it seep out. It seeped out into the chains, soaking into them.

Sherlock went back to the crystal and summoned his brother again.

"Brother, dear. It has only been a few minutes." He paused. "Oh, that little goldfish, he had surprised you, hasn't he? You look rather.. flustered."

"I am FINE." Sherlock growled.

"I have narrowed it down some, but I don't have a definite answer, yet."

"Ares, Mycroft. It has to be Ares."

Mycroft hummed. "He was on my short list. You are sure?"

"Positive. I can see the hate and anger in him."

"Talk to him."

I will, Sherlock. He is already on thin ice. Do not kill him, Sherlock. I am serious. We need to talk to this man."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Fine, Mycroft." He rung off first time time.

As much as he wanted to go back to John, he wanted to let him simmer for a while, so he watched the man on his scrying crystal.

Wait.. what was going on with the chains? They were unbreakable, he knew that, but he had never seen that happen before.

The chains around his wrists and ankles shattered. But the collar remained. Maybe he was too nervous about trying to break that one.

John rose to his feet. He was unsteady, but determined. If this god wasn't going to give him a way out. He would claw one out.

He would fight for it. Fight for his freedom. John started to the door. He didn't care much that he was nude.

Sherlock gasped. How had he done that? Those chains had been unbreakable! Well, this wasn't going to do.

He stalked out of the scrying room and found John coming out of the room that he had been held in. He wasn't about to let John get close close to him. Perhaps he was underestimating his half god.

Sherlock shot his electricity back out, across the room, and over to John, taking him down yet again. This man was dangerous, which both made him nervous and more than a little bit aroused.

He was going to have to find a better way to hold this man until he could get more information from Mycroft. He walked over to the man, who was once again unconscious. The remnants of the wrist and ankle collars were hanging off, the cock ring was there, though the chain was gone, but the collar around his neck still had some of the chain attached to it.

He tugged the collar chain, jerking the unconscious man to his feet. "Oh, you are going to regret that."

John could barely get his arm up in time to shield himself. He crumpled to the ground when the electricity hit.

He looked peaceful...

He groaned as he started to come around. Oh. He remembered breaking the chains and getting up. Then...

Nothing.

He shifted, trying to see if he was tied down again, and how.

Sherlock hadn't taken any chances this time. John was indeed chained back up. This time his arms were crossed behind him and his legs crossed at the ankles, so there was no way for him to get leverage to break the chains, which he enchanted. Even a half god like he appeared to be was not breaking out of those. And he had the 'cock ring' back on. All of the collars were much tighter this time, almost cutting off blood circulation to his neck, wrists, ankles and cock, but not quite.

And for good measure, His faithful Cerberus, Redbeard, was guarding him, in case he tried to escape. A giant, 20 foot, 3 headed, black dog with six glowing red eyes, 4 paws tipped with razor sharp claws, and three heads worth of sharp teeth would keep him in line. If he tried to escape again, he WOULD die, his brother be damned.

"Waking up again? What a shame. I was going to fuck you while you slept." He actually had indeed shed his coat and blue scarf and was only wearing the black trousers that hugged every curve, and the shirt that was so deep red that it was almost black itself. He was actually barefoot, leaving red hot footprints as he walked.

"I suppose I could knock you out again. But nah. I wanna hear you scream."

John jerked and squirmed against the chains that held him. The rage that had ripped through him was gone, hidden away once more. But here. He knew it would only be a matter of time before it came bursting out once more.

He stared at the god, eyes narrowed. He then spat at the man's feet. "Go fuck yourself. I don't want you near me."

But he wasn't sure how long that one was going to last. No. The god didn't seem to listen.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Oh, what happened to the man who was getting aroused when I told you that I was going to fuck you? Did you change your mind?" He chuckled.

"I think I'd rather fuck you than fuck myself." He walked up to John and held his index finger to the middle of John's forehead, the pad of his finger pressing hard against John's skin. It turned red, then started to blister before he pulled away.

John was kneeling again, right at the right height when Sherlock rubbed his trousers briefly against the side of his face. It was evident that he was already half hard, looking at John, naked and kneeling before him.

"I am going to have so much fun." He stepped out of Johns range and unbuttoned his shirt, slowly, one button at a time, before throwing it haphazardly to the side.

John thrashed in his bonds. He needed to get away, but these ones were stronger than the last ones. But he would find a way to break these ones too.

The bulge in Sherlock's trousers seemed huge, inhuman in size. It excited him. Causing his cock to start to harden. To be fucked by a god. Supposedly it was some great pleasure. Or privilege.

He gasped when the collar tightened just s bit, the air nearly stopping entirely.

Sherlock smiled, a sadistic, evil smile. "Oh, you little slut. You *DO* like this.. look at you, getting all hard just for little... old.. me.." As he said the last three words, he touched John's cock once for each word, just a little brush of a touch, but enough to feel the blazing heat that radiated from his fingers.

He could change his size and shape at will, that was what he did when he was in the Overworld. He could make his cock, or hell, he could have cocks if he wanted to, as big or as small as he wanted. This... whatever he was, had so far only seen him in his human looking form.

What he really looked like, well, that was for another time.

And he wanted something nice and substantial this time.

Sherlock undid his trousers, of course he wasn't wearing any pants, and kicked them off to the side. He stood, naked and jutting out straight in front of him, long and thick and flushed a deep red.

"Oh, this is going to be fun." He said, advancing on John.

The man was hot. Everything about him radiated heat. It was almost too much. But he couldn't go far. Not being chained the way he was. John tugged at the chains holding him, panic and arousal had set in, replacing the rage. He couldn't shatter these ones right now.

He swallowed when he saw Sherlock's cock. It was huge. He whimpered. There was no way it was going to fit, it would rip him in two. But the mere thought... It made him so hard and aching for it. He shifted, rocking his hips against air. Relief. Something. Anything.

But he knew it wasn't coming. No. He was the plaything of a god and that... That sparked the rage in him once more. He didn't want to be a plaything, he didn't want to be this. He wanted to return to his life, his home. It was dismal. But it was his.

"It's no use." Sherlock said as he walked around John. "I won't make the same mistake twice. And besides, Cerberus will make sure you don't go anywhere."

The giant hellhound had been laying down, but its great head lifted up at its name being called. When it figured out that it wasn't needed, it relaxed again.

Sherlock's fingers brushed against John's back, laying a hot trail down, down, down until he got to that fine, round arse. Firely fingers spread his cheeks apart while Sherlock's slightly forked tongue licked around the hole, tasting him.

"Oh, you've never had anyone before. Look at you, a virgin to the ways of hedonism." A finger teased at his entrance. "And yet, you are such a.. what do you mortals call it.. a size queen? You are hard for me. You want me to fuck you, to tear you apart and put you back together again, over and over and over."

One finger, with a sharp, almost claw like nail pushed at John's hole, just enough to barely open him.

He grunted when he was touched and moved. Every single touch was fire and hot. He whimpered and shook his head.

It was true, he'd never been with a man in this way. Had never been taken. But he knew he liked large cocks, liked the idea of being stretched open and made to take anything into his body. But he had never experimented. He was too nervous to do so alone.

He cried out when he felt that tongue on him. Oh god. He shook his head, but unconsciously pushed his hips back towards that wicked appendage. And then that finger was pushing in and he cried out, he wanted more of it, but it was hot. So very hot.

In Plain Sight - AU - Locked to seaweed_writes

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