ihadabadday | Into the Night - AU - Locked to seaweed

Entry tags:

nc-17; au; rp; johnlock

Into the Night - AU - Locked to seaweed_writes

Sex sold. It could be seen in marketing for businesses across all sorts of industries.

And for John Watson, his business was booming.

He worked out of a club in London that catered to certain... Tastes. Men and women who looked to dominate someone sexually. Some would look down on a man having that job, scoffing. Sex work was legal though. But those who were interested in BDSM, found sex workers to be lacking.

John was sitting at a bar at the club he usually worked out of, nursing a soda. He rarely drank when he was working, preferring to stay sober.

He looked around the room, seeing if there was anyone who caught his interest tonight.

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"Ohhh... such a good little boy." Sherlock really didn't care that John was older than him, he would always be his 'little bot' when it came to dominating him like this...

The thrusts that started out slow started to pick up steam. He tangled his fingers in John's hair, his eyes thinning. Oh, he wasn't going to last long like this, between the attention that John had given him and his sweet, warm mouth.

"NNnnnn.. You're gonna get your reward.. and soon, you little cock slut."

John gave a low whine as those thrusts started to speed up. Fuck fuck. He could feel Sir's balls slapping against his chin, and drool running out of his mouth. It was filthy. Utterly filthy. But he loved it. He really did.

He whimpered and waited eagerly for his reward. He knew it would be worth it. And he knew Sir wouldn't be done with him after this. They hadn't discussed length or price or anything. But he had a feeling the man knew what he was doing.

Sherlock dug his nails into John's scalp, hard enough to leave little red indentations. His thrusts became quick, erratic, desperate. He fucked John's throat, not thinking about his needing to breathe, not thinking about anything but the desire to finish, to orgasm.

He threw his head back, yelling loud enough that if there were people in the rooms next to them, they had probably heard it. "AHHHHHH!!!!! His cock twitched and flared and erupted, sending warm, salty ropes of come deep down John's throat.

Sherlock rode the waves of his pleasure, thrusting with each pulse of his cock, until he was spent, and he pulled his quickly softening cock out of the man's mouth, which was dribbling out his seed.

John swallowed. He swallowed all that he could, but some still escaped. He would clean it up if or when commanded.

He let out a breath when that cock was pulled out of his mouth. "Thank you sir." John said in a rush.

Sherlock took the base of his cock in hand and smeared a bit of the leftover come on John's face. He smiled, the little slut looked nice painted with himself, he decided, smugly. He let go of himself and looked down at John.

"Lick me clean." He commanded. "But be careful. I'm sure even you as a little cock slut know how oversensitive you can be right after you come."

John swallowed and nodded. He leaned in and began to lick along his cock. Taking care not to stimulate him too much.

"May I touch you to pull the glans back to clean under there?" He asked looking up at Sherlock.

"Mmm... You have a wicked tongue." He purred. "It's almost a shame to let someone as skilled as you go." He honestly wished that he could take John home and use him any time he wished, but he knew the rent boys here were almost always owned by another. It sent a surprising streak of jealousy through him.

He did appreciate the not only did John want to clean him well, but he asked about using his hands so he could do a better job.

"You may slave, but only touch as little as you can. You haven't earned that right, not quite yet." There was a slight disadvantage to being uncircumcised, though that was the norm in the UK. It made sex better, but it was also more important to keep it clean.

"Get to it, slut." he waved his hand at John dismissively.

John was one of the few who was not attached to anyone. He had fought hard to keep himself free of attachments. "You don't have to sir..." he said after a moment, flushing.

He lifted his hand and carefully pushed Sherlock's cock up. He pulled the foreskin back just enough to clean under it, taking care not to miss any part with his tongue. Once that was finished, he lowered his hand and released him.

He returned to licking along his length cleaning him, making a soft noise as he did so.

"Nnnnng. That tongue." he could feel his cock twitching a bit, though it would be some time before he could think about actually getting hard again.

When he was clean enough, the the sensations were getting a little overwhelming, he pushed John away, hard enough to make him topple over.

"You said that I don't have to. What did you mean, slut? Are you trying to tell me that you aren't owned? Someone with a tongue like that has to have a master, or an owner, or a pimp at least."

He would love to own this little piece of handsome. But it was too good to be true to think that he really wasn't attached to anyone at all.

John lost his balance and did indeed tumble over. He pushed himself back up onto his knees, eyes cast at the floor. He tightened his hands into fists.

"Many have tried sir. But I own myself. There is no other master or pimp or owner." John then raised his head and stared at Sherlock, "I choose to submit sexually and many of them wanted a submissive all the time and that is not who I am."

It had been so easy for many to forget that he was a former soldier, that he had been a doctor in the military.

Sherlock growled. "Did I tell you that you could look up at me?" Sherlock half kicked and half pushed John with his foot, where his legs were bunched up underneath him, where he was kneeling. It was hard enough to knock him over again.

"It's a shame." He said, pacing around John, keeping a foot on him so he couldn't get back up. "You were very promising. But I see that you have a defiant streak in you. I won't stand for that." He put a little pressure on John, but not enough to really hurt him.

"And a double shame that you will not submit to having an owner. I could give you everything that you desire, and all you would need to do, would be to be ready for me when I need you."

He lifted his foot away, so John could get up. "Get out. I don't want to see you again. Unless you change your mind, of course." he almost purred the last sentence.

John got up and brushed himself off. "And here I thought you were going to be different than all the others." He snapped.

He crossed to where his clothes were and dressed. He took his belongings from the drawer and left.

Not a trace of John Watson was left.

Sherlock quickly got his lower half dressed and headed out to the club, purposefully avoiding wherever it was that John was. He found the manager and gave him more than enough money to cover what John would usually make in a night, telling the man to give it to John, he would know who it was from.

He stalked out, half mad with John, and half mad with himself. He had really wanted to make that work, but he wouldn't stand for disobedience. Especially from a former solider. He tried to tell himself it was for the best, but that didn't make him feel any better when he tossed and turned that night, unable to sleep.

John quit working at the club. He had made plenty of money and was able to afford a better flat. He took private clients now and then. But he never stopped thinking about that man. A man he didn't even know how to find. He didn't know his name, nothing.

Everyone wanted a full time submissive, but that wasn't who he was. He was dominant in his life, submitting sexually. He didn't want an owner. He wanted a partner.

It was a few weeks before Sherlock went back to the club. He kept telling himself that it wasn't to see John, but he was disappointed when the manager said that he had quick. He left without finding himself anyone else to... play with.

But as weeks wore on, he thought about John more. He went back to the club again, asking around with general questions, until he was able to get the man's last name.

"So, John Watson." he said one night in his flat, with his laptop on his legs. "Such a common name. How am I supposed to find you?"

The game was on, for the foremost consulting detective.

Find John Watson.

John was currently walking in The Regent's Park, enjoying the day. He knew he could stop his current line of work any time and return to a hospital to work. But he enjoyed the freedom that he got from his job.

He stopped and sat on bench, just to watch everything and everyone go by.

Sherlock was not really one for walking in the park, but he was investigating a kidnapped dog. He really really didn't want to take this case, but the owner was a very close friend of his landlady, so he was her trying to look for his droppings.

He wasn't paying attention, looking down to look for poop when he bumped into someone.

"Hey, look where you're..." He stopped as he straightened up. It was John.

"Oh, it's you.." He said, his voice flat.

John recognized the man from the bar that night. His stomach clenched. But he ignored it. "Excuse me..." He stepped around the man and started to leave.

Well, he was never going to come back to this park. Maybe it was time to leave London completely.

Sherlock closed his eys and took a deep breath.

"John.. Wait. Please." He turned around and gently held John's arm, still well light enough that John could pull away if he wanted to.

"I..." He wasn't good at this. He wanted to say he was sorry, but that was not really his thing.

"I think that we got off on the wrong foot."

He jerked his arm away and looked at Sherlock. John swallowed. "You're right. And I cannot be the person you want."

He sounded regretful at that.

Sherlock sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. He wasn't really sure how to respond, but he didn't reach out to try to stop John again. He was sure that if he lost him this time, he would lose him forever.

"Look, why don't we..go get a coffee or something. Get to know each other, start off on a more even footing. We don't even know each other's name." Ok he knew he was John Watson, but John didn't need to know that.

John swallowed when he saw the look on Sherlock's face. He bit his lip and then let out a breath. He nodded.

"Alright. I can do coffee."

Sherlock visibly relaxed. He knew the ex husband had the dog anyways, so he was done with searching around the park.

"My treat." Sherlock already came from money, and he made a nice amount doing his consulting, he was not hurting for money. He only hoped that John had gotten the money he left him and that the manager was on the up and up.

Sherlock led him to a little corner cafe. "One cappuccino and.. " he turned. "What do you want, John?"

"Latte please." He told the barista with a polite smile.

They settled at a table in the corner and John held his coffee between his hands.

He had never done this. He swallowed and then took a sip of his coffee.

Sherlock looked down, watching the foam in his coffee slowly dissipate.

"I'm... glad I ran into you." He said, his voice soft. It was hard for him to not be rude to everyone, but he can be if he tries.

He intended to try with John.

"You quit the club." He said, in an even tone, not really sure how to start a conversation.

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Into the Night - AU - Locked to seaweed_writes

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