Fic Rec: The Flight
Title: The Flight (or on LJ)
Author: ficklepig
Pairing: Mycroft/Sherlock
Length: 8600
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Non-con, sibling incest, Alpha/Omega-verse
Verse: Sherlock BBC
Author's summary: Sherlock is not an odious pedant, or a casual vandal, or a smug, ungrateful twerp. He is meat.
Reccer's comments: If you already love Alpha/Omega-verse, I probably don’t have to persuade you to read a story about Sherlock’s first heat. If A/O is not usually your thing, you may still want to give this a chance. The desperation of Mycroft and Sherlock’s biological drives as alpha and omega, respectively, are used as a basis for exploring their fraught relationship, and the power dynamic is not nearly so straightforward as “alpha is in charge.” They’re both unsure here, and watching them in turn fight and take consolation from each other is heartbreaking.
Sherlock's brain is writhing in his grasp, slippery, eely. He will not think about the devastating smell in the small sitting room, Mummy lounging cool and oblivious on her second, no, third gin and tonic, Chester and Mycroft squared off in opposite corners, legs crossed, reeking at each other. He will not analyze the sudden loose heat he felt between his legs as he stood in the doorway, unable to pull his eyes from Chester's smarmy face, unable to look at Mycroft's. He could recall in fine grammatical detail the barrage of abominable words he launched into the room before he fled, but he isn't going to.
He will not acknowledge the heavy breathing he hears in the attic as his own. He notes that he is twiddling and pressing at the middle seam of his jeans, but can't be bothered with that right now. He could stop, but in order to stop, he would have to think about it; if he thinks about it, he might have to do something about it; there is nothing he can do about it. Quod erat d. A stinking maw has opened up beneath him, a rubbish chute, a slimy endless passageway to his own annihilation. There is nothing he can do about it.
Author: ficklepig
Pairing: Mycroft/Sherlock
Length: 8600
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Non-con, sibling incest, Alpha/Omega-verse
Verse: Sherlock BBC
Author's summary: Sherlock is not an odious pedant, or a casual vandal, or a smug, ungrateful twerp. He is meat.
Reccer's comments: If you already love Alpha/Omega-verse, I probably don’t have to persuade you to read a story about Sherlock’s first heat. If A/O is not usually your thing, you may still want to give this a chance. The desperation of Mycroft and Sherlock’s biological drives as alpha and omega, respectively, are used as a basis for exploring their fraught relationship, and the power dynamic is not nearly so straightforward as “alpha is in charge.” They’re both unsure here, and watching them in turn fight and take consolation from each other is heartbreaking.
Sherlock's brain is writhing in his grasp, slippery, eely. He will not think about the devastating smell in the small sitting room, Mummy lounging cool and oblivious on her second, no, third gin and tonic, Chester and Mycroft squared off in opposite corners, legs crossed, reeking at each other. He will not analyze the sudden loose heat he felt between his legs as he stood in the doorway, unable to pull his eyes from Chester's smarmy face, unable to look at Mycroft's. He could recall in fine grammatical detail the barrage of abominable words he launched into the room before he fled, but he isn't going to.
He will not acknowledge the heavy breathing he hears in the attic as his own. He notes that he is twiddling and pressing at the middle seam of his jeans, but can't be bothered with that right now. He could stop, but in order to stop, he would have to think about it; if he thinks about it, he might have to do something about it; there is nothing he can do about it. Quod erat d. A stinking maw has opened up beneath him, a rubbish chute, a slimy endless passageway to his own annihilation. There is nothing he can do about it.