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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John's brain hadn't caught up. He was sinking into the pleasure, the want and the sensations. He could feel Sherlock rubbing against him and it was good.

He moaned, unable to stop himself.

It felt good, knowing who he belonged to.

Sherlock bit harder.. he wanted John awake and cognizant that he was fucking his ass cheeks right now.

The arm around John held him as tight as he could without breaking any ribs. The other hand on his hip was also going to bruise with at tight as he was holding his lover.

"Mine..." He growled in John's ear, picking up the pace even more, his teeth coming so close to drawing blood where his neck met his shoulder, but stopping just short.

He was desperate now.. chasing the high.. building to the inevitable sticky ending..

That harder bite woke him fully and he gasped at it, pushing back towards the man against him. But he was held tight. He couldn't move.

John moaned, eyes fluttering closed. He couldn't help it, really couldn't.

Images of being tied down and left with a vibrator in his arse filled his mind. But he wasn't filled right now. No, Sherlock was getting his pleasure, and he wasn't getting any.

"Nnng.. Johnnnnnn...." Sherlock fucked hard and fast between John's cheeks, a fine sheen of sweat dotted his brow..

"Ahhhhh!!!" He threw his head back and came, splattering himself between John's arse, and up the bottom of his back. He kept rocking for a few moments afterwards, then finally, totally spent, he grunted and rolled back over onto his back, panting for breath.

John remained on his side, gasping for breath. Well shit. That had been... Been... He had loved it. He felt sticky and used, but it was a good feeling. He turned slowly and looked at Sherlock.

"We should go both shower..."

As much as he really didn't want to move, John was right.

"And burn the sheets." He said with a smile.

He groaned loudly when he got up, the extra effort this morning made the soreness worse.

"I'm gonna feel this for a couple of days." he rubbed his arse as he got up and started to pull the sheets off the bed and piling the onto the floor. He wasn't sure after two fuckings if they were salvageable or not.

"It's an excuse to buy new sheets." John laughed as he got off the bed. He got up and looked at Sherlock with a grin. He then went to the bathroom to start the shower.

Sherlock piled up the sheets, then walked into the bathroom, turning the water on hotter than John had had it originally. Sherlock always did prefer a slightly hotter shower, and it would help the soreness.

He stepped in first, groaning as the hot water relaxed his muscles. "Ahh... just what the Doctor ordered.. Literally."

John watched him for a moment and then got in the shower as well. He faced the taller man and smiled. "You'll tell me if you need help getting through any withdrawal symptoms you have?"

A lot of sex probably would help.

Sherlock nodded. The sex last night, and this morning had been pretty good for helping him not think about it, but even the hot water couldn't stave off the headache that he felt coming. He knew it would be bad, but he should have already been through the absolutely worst of it.

He hoped.

Sherlock closed his eyes, even the muted lights of the shower were intense. He knew by rote where the soap was, and he started to clean himself in earnest.

John watched for a moment and then began to clean up himself. He was grateful for the hot water.

He decided that they would order in, he didn't feel like cooking, and he was sure neither of them wanted to go out yet. They needed time to soak into one another, to feel the other again.

Sherlock took as long as he could, until the water started to run cool, before he finally stepped out and toweled himself down.

He wrapped the towel low around his hips and went back into the bedroom, limping a little as he went, and put on an old, soft tshirt, pajama bottoms, and a dressing gown that he left open.

Ah, that was much better.

John rinsed himself off and then got out of the shower. He dried off with a fresh towel and went into the bedroom to gather his sleep clothes from the previous night. He would need to get his things out of storage.

((Hey, I am sorry, I was at a convention all weekend and the internet was pretty rank. I am only home 3 days, on Thursday I go to 221B Con! So I may be quiet again. Sorry!!))

Sherlock was still in the bedroom when John walked in. He was half laying on the bed, rubbing his arse. He froze, like a deer in the headlights.

"How do you do this?" He asked, sitting up with a little grimace. Do I make you this sore every time?

Suddenly his libido was dropping like a load balloon. He didn't want to cause John as much discomfort as he was feeling right now.

[It's all good! You mentioned that before :) And I've been fairly busy myself. And hey, life happens. You'll reply when you can~]

"I'm also more used to it than you are." John told Sherlock as he crossed over to sit on the bed, "The first few times I had sex, I was sore. But I got used to it. I quite like the sensation of being stretched by you, opened to accept your cock, or whatever toy you slide into me," He reached out and touched his cheek.

"If you were hurting me, I would tell you. And do you think for a moment I would let you do anything that I wasn't comfortable with?"

Sherlock snorted and shook his head. "For a sub, you are pretty headstrong and stubborn. Not all doms would like a man like that." He closed his eyes for a moment and rubbed his cheek against his hand, like a cat giving its scent to its owner.

"Me? I like a little challenge." He admitted, then quickly added "But.. I also like my sub to remember who is in charge." he gave John a little smirk.

"I want you to tell me if I ever do anything you don't want. I will make sure we always negotiate the scene before we start, but things can always happen. You have your safe word, and if your mouth is covered, snap your fingers twice, and I will stop what I am doing immediately, no matter what it is. I never want you to feel out of control."

They had, of course talked about this before, but he liked to reiterate from time to time to remind John that just because he was a bottom, didn't mean that he was a doormat.

John leaned in and kissed him. "I'll let you know. I promise. Don't worry." He swore to Sherlock.

He smiled at the man and kissed him again. "In fact, one of my favorite things to do is to be fucked by you without any preparation."

Sherlock had never gone in with no preparation at all, that would just be suicidal on his arse, and they'd both have to wait for him to heal to do it again, but he had experimented from time to time with varying levels of less preparation, slowly lowering the level, getting John used to it.

"Sadly, I think I am out of the game for today." His face twinged slightly as he got up from the bed to go to the loo. "But I am sure that we can continue our... experiments." He smiled.

John watched him go and smiled. "I'm up for it." He winked at Sherlock, "I did put some numbing cream on the counter for you!"

He shifted to get up and strip off the sheets from the bed. He changed all the bedding and made the bed neatly. After that, he pulled on his robe (and just his robe) and went to go start tea.

It was more than a little awkward, spreading the numbing cream all over his arse, and it felt oddly warm and tingly, but it did help the pain a little bit, at least to the point where he could walk somewhat normally.

He also put on only his robe after washing his hands well of the cream (they were going to feel a bit odd for a while as well, now) and joined John in the kitchen.

"I hate to say that today might be a bit boring, as I doubt I am up for too much physical work today. Perhaps we should stick to our normal routine of me rogering you." He chuckled and gently sat down at the kitchen table.

John set a cup of tea down in front of Sherlock and then chuckled. "Whatever you want." He said before sitting down himself. John leaned forward and rubbed his thigh. There was still a bit of pain constantly. The severity mostly came and went, depending on the weather and what sort of strenuous activities he did.

Of course Sherlock noticed that he was rubbing at his old injury.

"Do you need a massage, John?" Sherlock asked after taking a sip of tea. Strong and sweet, just like he liked it.

Sherlock had massaged John's army injury in the past when it was bugging him. It usually ended up being an all over massage that led to John being under Sherlock and getting buggered, but this time Sherlock would be able to control himself.

He hoped.

John looked at Sherlock and shook his head. "No, I'll be okay. Thank you for offering though." He said.

He knew Sherlock had seen the new scars... From the shrapnel that nearly took his life, but he was still hesitant about them, what they represented. He pulled his hand away from his thigh and looked down at his cup of tea.

Sherlock frowned. "You don;t have to be ashamed of them." Sherlock knew they reminded John of the time they had been apart. It hadn't been so long ago, but it seemed like a lifetime now.

"Let me help you. I've massaged your bad shoulder before plenty of times. This is no different." Well, it really was a lot different, to both of them, but Sherlock wanted to normalize that injury as much as he could, remind John that it was in the past, and that they were moving past it now.

John pulled into himself a bit and looked away. The memories of the attack on the convoy flashed through his mind. If he hadn't tackled one of his platoon... He may not have been thought to be dead. And he never would... Sherlock. His heart clenched and he reached up to rub the slowly forming tears away from his face. No.

"Excuse me..." John got up and left the kitchen. He knew he wanted to get past them, but they were so fresh in his mind.

Into the Night - AU - Locked to seaweed_writes

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