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.

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[ihadabadday]

He shivered at the sound of his voice. Christ. John put his hand over Sherlock's groin and squeezed. "More than anything."

He wasn't normally like this. Normally he didn't jump into bed with a stranger. But this man. This enigma of a man. He groaned and kissed Sherlock.

They were getting close to his flat.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock, fuck the cabbie, kissed John back, not quite as passionate as before, but still deeply and passionately. Oh how he missed the feel and smell of John around him. They had only kissed once, and now that he was getting it again, he was fairly sure that he couldn't not have this now.

Finally. FINALLY the cab stopped. Sherlock threw some money at the man. He didn't really need it anyways. He got out of the car, John was right behind him, and the cab sped off. He looked up at the building, then over to John, wanting to get inside as fast as possible.

[ihadabadday]

John led him to the elevator after getting them in the building. He lived on the fifth floor. He pulled Sherlock inside the elevator and yanked him in for a kiss. This man was...

He was...

It felt familiar. To have his body pressed against Sherlock's. He shivered and shoved his hand down the back of his trousers. He was aching for it.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock pressed him against the back of the elevator, licking and nipping at John's neck, making sure to keep himself in check, not biting too hard, he wanted to just give into his pleasure, but he never could do that with a human, unless he wanted them to die, and of course he needed to keep John alive, to let him remember.

"Mmmm." He moaned when John put his hand inside his trousers. He hadn't worn pants for eons, so he still didn't in the modern times, he was wearing nothing under his trousers.

[ihadabadday]

"Oh fuck..." He groaned when the elevator dinged. His floor. John pulled away reluctantly and practically dragged Sherlock to his flat. Upon unlocking it, he pushed Sherlock in and shut the door behind them. It was homey. Comfortable. Some homes had altars to the Gods they worshipped. But John's did not.

He stared at Sherlock. "I feel like I know you."

[seaweed_writes]

A quick look around gave Sherlock a good idea about the man that he had known for year but really hadn't KNOWN. He had never seen where John Watson had lived when he met him the first time, he had taken him from that alleyway and had never gone back to the Overworld after that.

But it was nice to know more about John, this John, soon to be HIS John, he hoped.

Sherlock was pushed into the door by John this time, but he arched back, letting the man feel what being close to him was doing to Sherlock. He was most definitely hardening under the kisses and gropes from John.

"I want you to know me." Sherlock replied, surprisingly breathlessly. He dipped his head to John neck, leaving a red mark that anyone would be able to see over his collar tomorrow.

[ihadabadday]

John groaned as he felt those lips against his neck. His eyes closed and he tugged at Sherlock's shirt. Oh god. He let out a breath and pushed his hips up. Trying to find friction. Something.

"God you're wicked. Your tongue is wicked. Your lips are wicked." He gasped before pushing him towards a soft surface. The couch, the rug, the bed... Anything.

[seaweed_writes]

"Oh, you have no idea." He whispered in the man's ear, nibbling on it afterwards.
Sherlock shrugged his coat off onto the floor, and John managed to get Sherlock's shirt untucked, but that was as undressed as either of them were, for now at least.

Sherlock moaned at the lack of pressure of John against him when he pulled away to take him to another spot. His eyes canted over to the couch, so he took John's hand and led him there, sitting on the edge and looking up at John, a hot lust in his wide pupils.

At this angle he had a perfect view of John's crotch, so he buried his face in John's trousers, rubbing against the growing lump underneath.

[ihadabadday]

John gasped at that, as he was tugged closer. He ran a hand through Sherlock's hair, making a soft noise. "Oh god you..."

He put his fingers under Sherlock's chin and tilted his head up. This man. This man that he had known only a few hours... He felt such a connection to him.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock looked up, his chin now pressing softly against John's fly. He was looking up at John now, his pupils blown, his whole body felt like it was on fire. He wanted to devour this man in the best of ways, to hear him scream his name at the point of orgasm. He had never seen John come in person, he had watched him wank off in the shower only once.

He wanted.... he needed... he desired every little bit of John Watson right now.

[ihadabadday]

"You are stunning. Beautiful. I have only seen eyes like yours in my dreams." John wanted more. So much more.

The blonde stepped back and then stripped off his clothes. There was a birthmark on his shoulder. He had nightmares of a war he'd never been in, flaming pain across his shoulder.

[seaweed_writes]

As John stripped down, Sherlock stood in front of him.

His shoulder, that was just where HIS John, the first John had been shot in the shoulder in Afghanistan. It was physical, undeniable truth that HIS John really was in here, somewhere.

Sherlock just had to find him.

Still dressed for now, Sherlock took in his form, god he was stunning, like HIS John, but younger, skin unmarred by war and the ravages of time, still young and soft and fucking gorgeous.

He leaned in and worshiped the birthmark, licking and kissing it reverently, his tongue found every patch of skin and it was annointed by his tongue and light nips of his teeth.

[ihadabadday]

John shuddered at the feel of those lips against his skin. He closed his eyes, running his hand through Sherlock's hair.

He let out a moan, unable to stop it. Stop himself. He felt weak in the knees and incredibly horny. He had never felt this way before about any of his past lover's.

"Sherlock..."

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock leaned against John, one hand still on that birthmark, his face buried in John's chestnut hair.

"What is it, John?" He whispered. He would do anything for this man. They had been pawing at each other just a few minutes before, and now, here they were, it was almost like both of them were afraid to take that next step.

"Tell me. What do you want?"

[ihadabadday]

"I... I... I want you. Any way. Please Sherlock..." He couldn't stop the need, the want, the desire. He ached and yearned for this. For this touch.

He had been missing this all his life and now.here it was. Givenn to him in this beautiful package.

And he didn't even know his last name.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock stood back, holding his arms out wide. "You have me, any way that you want me."

Hades had never, ever given up control to anyone. He had had random fuck buddies suck him off before, but that was as close as he had ever gotten..

And yet, he was curious.. what would it be like to be taken by John Watson? This is the only man in all the world, over all the eons, that he would EVER even remotely consider letting do this.

And if John took him right now, he would be willing to let him.

To entice John on, he removed his shirt, kicked off his shoes, and pulled down his trousers with no pants) and stepped out of them. He was now naked and as on display as John was.

[ihadabadday]

"Oh god..." John stepped over to him and touched. All over, nowhere longer than a few seconds. He wanted to feel Sherlock. To devour him.

"May I fuck you?" He asked. His eyes were blown wide open. John was desperate and he ached.

[seaweed_writes]

There was only the tiniest moment of hesitation before the Lord of Hell closed his eyes, nodded his head, whispered "Yes."

[ihadabadday]

John whimpered and leaned in to kiss him. To touch him. Anything. "Stay here..." He pulled away and hurried to his room to her lube and a condom.

He returned moments later and licked his lips. Never had he imagined. Thought. Oh god.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock did indeed stay where he was. Watching John leave gave him a rather nice view of his arse in motion, oh it had the sexiest little jiggle in it, just enough to hold but not too big. Perfect.

He wasn't surprised when John came back with a condom. Of course he couldn't tell John that he would never get any diseases from him, but he really didn't want a barrier between them. Not for the first time ever, and especially not when it was with John.

He wanted to feel EVERYTHING.

"That is unnecessary." he said, looking down at the condom. I know I am clean, and I am certain that you are too."

[ihadabadday]

Just imagine what it would be like to spank that arse, or sink into it. Grip those hips hard enough to bruise.

John made a noise and nodded. He was. Oh he was... "On your front please." Once Sherlock moved, he keeled behind him. He.dropped the lube close by before spreadingSherlock's cheeks and leaning in to lick over his hole.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock got on his hands and knees on the floor, looking back over his shoulder at what John was doing. His cock hung, hot and heavy down between his legs, the slightest bit of moisture on the tip.

"Ahhhhh!" His eyes went wide. He had never been licked before. It was an.. intense feeling, there are a lot of nerve endings there, and even a light touch sent a spike of heat through him. Instinctually, he spread his legs out wider to give John an even better view, and access to his plump cheeks.

[ihadabadday]

John couldn't help but moan. He buried his face in Sherlock's arse to lick and suck nip. He wanted it all. To consume and devour. To taste and know this man.

He pulled back after a bit, that hole nice and red. John took some lube and teased a finger against his hole.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock's head went down, laying on the ground on top of his crossed arms, his arse high up in the air.. Oh what a sight he must have been at that moment.

He fought with every fiber of his being to not let his stubborn pride get the better of him and stop this before it began. His body wanted it, even if his brain did not. He wanted to be fucked by John Watson.

When John's finger teased against his wet, sensitive hole, his entire body lit up with pleasure. His eyes, which had been closed, shot open. "Nnnnnng!" He pushed back with his hips, trying to get that finger inside of him.

[ihadabadday]

John eased his finger inside, making a small noise. Oh he was tight. He swallowed and began to move his finger. "You're so tight..."

His own cock was hard and aching. All he wanted to do was busy himself deep in Sherlock and make him scream.