“Because He Loves.”
Title: “Because He Loves.”
Author: ariadnechan
Rating: NC-17.
Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Characters: John Watson/Sherlock Holmes, John Watson/Mary Morstan.
Summary: John would go and told the mad bastard a piece of his mind and get out of his life for good, to return home and Mary and told her it was all fine.
It was really a good plan, but what really happened was nothing like he had thought it would go, even in his wildest dream.
Warnings: NC -17 now I went really there… male slash, John is a bloody mess, Sherlock is a little OOC but the poor baby had passed for a lot and he really wants John back (he is not selling himself so you know, he has feelings, he will deny the feeling part in the morning), canon deviated from season three in some point I suppose.
Word Count: 1900 approx.
Author's Notes: Prompt of watsons_woes : Ooops! A mistake with consequences. This fic had a lot of consequences!
Beta: Now betaed by my wonderful friend mildred_bobin
Master Fic for this challenge: on LJ
John was more than angry, he was furious. Why Sherlock didn't tell him he was going after Moriarty's web? He wasn't a damsel in distress he was a soldier. He understood the fall now, but not the secrecy afterward, not the impotency he felt now, not the freezing grief he had to suffer in vain for the past three long years.
Of course, now that he was rebuilding his life, and he found the perfect woman for him, Sherlock would come back, the insufferable git! “Here I'm, everything will be like it was." But that was not possible, he was different, he made him different and he couldn't comeback. John would go and give the mad bastard a piece of his mind and get out of his life for good.
It was really a good plan, maybe in the bottom of his heart John had thought he could forgive Sherlock in the future, maybe.
But what really happened was nothing like he had thought it would go, even in his wildest dream, and now John was in a hell of the mess and Sherlock The Bastard, was smug about it, because John's life was nothing of importance to him! Or maybe it was, John mind was a bloody mess, he wanted things to be normal and easy again or maybe not.
It went like this:
John was in captain mode and decided to beat Sherlock to pulp and to tell him everything he had done to him. He knocked at the door and Sherlock opened it.
“Sherlock, I want to talk to you because this is….” And that was the last coherent thing he could muster. Because Sherlock face was so pleading and his eyes so full of happiness to see him, that John felt silent and the detective took the opportunity to sweep John by the lapels of his coats and kissed him like his life depended on it.
John didn't know Sherlock could kiss like that, he had imagined those bow lips in his a thousand times, but never like this, so needy and passionate and desperate. John didn't notice but he was answering with the same fervor,like someone who had thirsted all his life and now was in front of a fountain. And simply like that, he was inside of the flat, sans jacket, he really didn't know how the jacket got off and who took it off, maybe it was Sherlock? The closing the door he remembered, it was him, memory reflex.
Both of them were without air, but it was unimportant because the kiss was everything and anything they always had needed and when they had to stop to breath it was only to lose themselves in the eyes of the other and for Sherlock to vocalize “Jawn.” The way he said his name and that his voice was sufficient for John to lose all reason and logic and let his life go out the window.
He pushed Sherlock's shirt out of the way and put Sherlock against the wall and claimed his lips because the bastard was “His”. Now John didn't know where all that possessiveness had come about, but then you have it.
John lost his clothes easily too, don't ask him how, because it was obvious team effort, but John couldn't tell now, who took what and who ripped what. John was sure he was the one who ripped away Sherlock trousers when he couldn't open them in a more civilized manner. Sherlock had taken care of the belt, thanks God the git decided to help sometimes. Oh my God! What was John thinking, he was so doomed.
The next part was anticlimactic because trying to get to the bedroom ended in them tripping on the floor and giggling, yes, they giggled, like this wasn't mad enough. So they took away the shoes and the trousers for good, but not the socks, because what the hell, apparently none of them had a foot fetish.
There were hands proving and groping everywhere and they stayed on the floor because they were that crazy, off course John was not that mad, so he made sure Sherlock was the one carpet and he on top, he wasn't an adolescent and his back would hurt otherwise, and Sherlock was supposed to suffer, so there.
After that, there were really not thinking too much or talking at all except for some “Sherlock”, “Mine”, “Jawn”, “Mine”, moans, sights and groans, yes he remembered well, the part that both of them were really possessive and marked the other everywhere they could, one of them or maybe both groaned and it was a guttural sound and John remembered getting more needy after that.
Until then they had their pants yet. Maybe because they were too occupied exploring and marking every skin patch available? The thing was a mutual agreement, dilated eyes meeting the other set of beautiful dilated eyes, that they decided to take the pants away at the same time. John was not interest in size or colour or form, he found Sherlock's perfect in every way and apparently Sherlock thought the same thing about him.
There was no lube nearby, well John supposed now, that there was cooking oil in the kitchen, maybe cream in the bathroom, but really they weren't thinking, and the convenient lube in the pocket was a thing of the porn movies, a university thing or maybe an established kinky relationship thing, none of which was applicable in this situation. So John decided for the best thing; he took Sherlock in his mouth all he could up and down a couple of times mimicking some other things past lovers had did to him over the years and then he tried to lube it everywhere with his tongue, apparently John was not bad at it, if the encouraging sounds that Sherlock was making gave any sign about that, but he knew he wasn't a pro.
Sherlock mimicked him and did the same and it felt so good, John really wanted to pull those black curls and kept him down there until he was finished, but he couldn't, he needed to see him, he needed to kiss him more, so he lifted Sherlock's head and did just that.
John took both of them in his hand trying to lubricate it a little better with their precum and wanked their pricks together and it was amazing!
Sherlock join him and his beautiful hand were on his encouraging him and changing the rhythm. It was really quick, they were too invested and they were kissing and panting and Sherlock went first with a “Jawn!” and with Sherlock warm sperm on his hand John got wild and increased his speed and didn't last much longer, rolling his eyes and with a strangled guttural cry left on the air, both of them fell on the floor hard after that.
The most incredible part and totally out of character was when Sherlock stood up went to the bathroom and came back with toiler paper for John to clean up and after the cleaning was done he took his hand and took John to his bed, kissing him to sleep, and John was so astonished and tired that he did exactly that.
About the possessive thing. When John came back to the land of the living hell, he was all over Sherlock, he had secured his waist with one arm and had the detective's legs interlaced so Sherlock hadn't a way to escape him during the sleeping hours. Sherlock had let him and he was reading trying not to make a sound or a move so as not to wake John up. John felt like he had died and was in heaven or clearly still dreaming.
Then John really woke up he understood what had happened and his life fell apart before him.
He hadn't returned home, and now it was like four AM. He was in bed with the enemy! Who looked so beautiful, completely debauched. Mary must be worried, and she was going to be furious and sad.
Another man not him, could try to cover up the whole thing and made some stupid excuse, insulting the intelligence of both the woman and Sherlock, but John wasn't like that for one; and there was no way in hell he could cover all the hickies he had all over his body (everywhere) and the big bite with a little bit of blood over his bad shoulder. Sherlock was not better, but the bite in his case was in his left arse’s cheek. John didn't remember when that happened, the possessiveness again, where did that came from?
Now John had little time to understand what this meant. He needed to make a decision, if was this a mistake? If it was he had to talk to Mary anyway and hope for forgiveness, the same for Sherlock, if he really didn't love him. This path would leave him alone surely but maybe Mary could forgive him, and he had to forget all about Sherlock and never talk to him again. If she wouldn't forgive him, he could not talk to Sherlock again because of he would be ashamed to play with him like this.
But what would happen if this was what John really felt deep inside, what he wanted, why he was so angry? Why he was so possessive, why he didn't want to go and he wanted to kiss him again. Maybe John had always loved the mad man at his side, this beautiful, brilliant git, and when he fell, John had died a little too much and now he felt alive for the first time in much too long. But in that case what any of this sex? Lovemaking? Claiming? Was this a onetime thing for Sherlock? It was something he wanted for them?
John could die right now, it would be easier, but in his life nothing had been easy, why these must be? Sherlock was looking at him with pleading eyes almost like a lost puppy, John never saw Sherlock like this and he wanted to stop, he wanted Sherlock at he was, not as a lost web of uncertainty, he wanted to kiss him and make him new, and his old self, strong, in control and amazing.
John thought on Mary and what they had and would have and maybe it was too nice and he wasn't old enough for nice things. He had time for 'nice' when he was old for real, not when he was wild at heart and longed for this dangerous man beside him.
John had a lot to mend and talk in the morning because this had been a mistake, a three years old mistake and it had consequences and John would be prepared in the morning for the broken nose he deserved from Mary. He deserved a lot more than a broken nose.
So John did the only thing he could. He soldier on took Sherlock's face in his hands and kissed him.
“I'm yours if you wanted me, maybe I had always been yours,” his kiss said.
“I'm yours too, I always have been, but I was too stubborn to notice before, my John,” said Sherlock out loud.
And that was it.
John loved him, Sherlock loved him back. And John could not think anymore because he too was busy and lost panting....
“Oh GOD SHEERLOOCK!!!”
Author: ariadnechan
Rating: NC-17.
Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Characters: John Watson/Sherlock Holmes, John Watson/Mary Morstan.
Summary: John would go and told the mad bastard a piece of his mind and get out of his life for good, to return home and Mary and told her it was all fine.
It was really a good plan, but what really happened was nothing like he had thought it would go, even in his wildest dream.
Warnings: NC -17 now I went really there… male slash, John is a bloody mess, Sherlock is a little OOC but the poor baby had passed for a lot and he really wants John back (he is not selling himself so you know, he has feelings, he will deny the feeling part in the morning), canon deviated from season three in some point I suppose.
Word Count: 1900 approx.
Author's Notes: Prompt of watsons_woes : Ooops! A mistake with consequences. This fic had a lot of consequences!
Beta: Now betaed by my wonderful friend mildred_bobin
Master Fic for this challenge: on LJ
John was more than angry, he was furious. Why Sherlock didn't tell him he was going after Moriarty's web? He wasn't a damsel in distress he was a soldier. He understood the fall now, but not the secrecy afterward, not the impotency he felt now, not the freezing grief he had to suffer in vain for the past three long years.
Of course, now that he was rebuilding his life, and he found the perfect woman for him, Sherlock would come back, the insufferable git! “Here I'm, everything will be like it was." But that was not possible, he was different, he made him different and he couldn't comeback. John would go and give the mad bastard a piece of his mind and get out of his life for good.
It was really a good plan, maybe in the bottom of his heart John had thought he could forgive Sherlock in the future, maybe.
But what really happened was nothing like he had thought it would go, even in his wildest dream, and now John was in a hell of the mess and Sherlock The Bastard, was smug about it, because John's life was nothing of importance to him! Or maybe it was, John mind was a bloody mess, he wanted things to be normal and easy again or maybe not.
It went like this:
John was in captain mode and decided to beat Sherlock to pulp and to tell him everything he had done to him. He knocked at the door and Sherlock opened it.
“Sherlock, I want to talk to you because this is….” And that was the last coherent thing he could muster. Because Sherlock face was so pleading and his eyes so full of happiness to see him, that John felt silent and the detective took the opportunity to sweep John by the lapels of his coats and kissed him like his life depended on it.
John didn't know Sherlock could kiss like that, he had imagined those bow lips in his a thousand times, but never like this, so needy and passionate and desperate. John didn't notice but he was answering with the same fervor,like someone who had thirsted all his life and now was in front of a fountain. And simply like that, he was inside of the flat, sans jacket, he really didn't know how the jacket got off and who took it off, maybe it was Sherlock? The closing the door he remembered, it was him, memory reflex.
Both of them were without air, but it was unimportant because the kiss was everything and anything they always had needed and when they had to stop to breath it was only to lose themselves in the eyes of the other and for Sherlock to vocalize “Jawn.” The way he said his name and that his voice was sufficient for John to lose all reason and logic and let his life go out the window.
He pushed Sherlock's shirt out of the way and put Sherlock against the wall and claimed his lips because the bastard was “His”. Now John didn't know where all that possessiveness had come about, but then you have it.
John lost his clothes easily too, don't ask him how, because it was obvious team effort, but John couldn't tell now, who took what and who ripped what. John was sure he was the one who ripped away Sherlock trousers when he couldn't open them in a more civilized manner. Sherlock had taken care of the belt, thanks God the git decided to help sometimes. Oh my God! What was John thinking, he was so doomed.
The next part was anticlimactic because trying to get to the bedroom ended in them tripping on the floor and giggling, yes, they giggled, like this wasn't mad enough. So they took away the shoes and the trousers for good, but not the socks, because what the hell, apparently none of them had a foot fetish.
There were hands proving and groping everywhere and they stayed on the floor because they were that crazy, off course John was not that mad, so he made sure Sherlock was the one carpet and he on top, he wasn't an adolescent and his back would hurt otherwise, and Sherlock was supposed to suffer, so there.
After that, there were really not thinking too much or talking at all except for some “Sherlock”, “Mine”, “Jawn”, “Mine”, moans, sights and groans, yes he remembered well, the part that both of them were really possessive and marked the other everywhere they could, one of them or maybe both groaned and it was a guttural sound and John remembered getting more needy after that.
Until then they had their pants yet. Maybe because they were too occupied exploring and marking every skin patch available? The thing was a mutual agreement, dilated eyes meeting the other set of beautiful dilated eyes, that they decided to take the pants away at the same time. John was not interest in size or colour or form, he found Sherlock's perfect in every way and apparently Sherlock thought the same thing about him.
There was no lube nearby, well John supposed now, that there was cooking oil in the kitchen, maybe cream in the bathroom, but really they weren't thinking, and the convenient lube in the pocket was a thing of the porn movies, a university thing or maybe an established kinky relationship thing, none of which was applicable in this situation. So John decided for the best thing; he took Sherlock in his mouth all he could up and down a couple of times mimicking some other things past lovers had did to him over the years and then he tried to lube it everywhere with his tongue, apparently John was not bad at it, if the encouraging sounds that Sherlock was making gave any sign about that, but he knew he wasn't a pro.
Sherlock mimicked him and did the same and it felt so good, John really wanted to pull those black curls and kept him down there until he was finished, but he couldn't, he needed to see him, he needed to kiss him more, so he lifted Sherlock's head and did just that.
John took both of them in his hand trying to lubricate it a little better with their precum and wanked their pricks together and it was amazing!
Sherlock join him and his beautiful hand were on his encouraging him and changing the rhythm. It was really quick, they were too invested and they were kissing and panting and Sherlock went first with a “Jawn!” and with Sherlock warm sperm on his hand John got wild and increased his speed and didn't last much longer, rolling his eyes and with a strangled guttural cry left on the air, both of them fell on the floor hard after that.
The most incredible part and totally out of character was when Sherlock stood up went to the bathroom and came back with toiler paper for John to clean up and after the cleaning was done he took his hand and took John to his bed, kissing him to sleep, and John was so astonished and tired that he did exactly that.
About the possessive thing. When John came back to the land of the living hell, he was all over Sherlock, he had secured his waist with one arm and had the detective's legs interlaced so Sherlock hadn't a way to escape him during the sleeping hours. Sherlock had let him and he was reading trying not to make a sound or a move so as not to wake John up. John felt like he had died and was in heaven or clearly still dreaming.
Then John really woke up he understood what had happened and his life fell apart before him.
He hadn't returned home, and now it was like four AM. He was in bed with the enemy! Who looked so beautiful, completely debauched. Mary must be worried, and she was going to be furious and sad.
Another man not him, could try to cover up the whole thing and made some stupid excuse, insulting the intelligence of both the woman and Sherlock, but John wasn't like that for one; and there was no way in hell he could cover all the hickies he had all over his body (everywhere) and the big bite with a little bit of blood over his bad shoulder. Sherlock was not better, but the bite in his case was in his left arse’s cheek. John didn't remember when that happened, the possessiveness again, where did that came from?
Now John had little time to understand what this meant. He needed to make a decision, if was this a mistake? If it was he had to talk to Mary anyway and hope for forgiveness, the same for Sherlock, if he really didn't love him. This path would leave him alone surely but maybe Mary could forgive him, and he had to forget all about Sherlock and never talk to him again. If she wouldn't forgive him, he could not talk to Sherlock again because of he would be ashamed to play with him like this.
But what would happen if this was what John really felt deep inside, what he wanted, why he was so angry? Why he was so possessive, why he didn't want to go and he wanted to kiss him again. Maybe John had always loved the mad man at his side, this beautiful, brilliant git, and when he fell, John had died a little too much and now he felt alive for the first time in much too long. But in that case what any of this sex? Lovemaking? Claiming? Was this a onetime thing for Sherlock? It was something he wanted for them?
John could die right now, it would be easier, but in his life nothing had been easy, why these must be? Sherlock was looking at him with pleading eyes almost like a lost puppy, John never saw Sherlock like this and he wanted to stop, he wanted Sherlock at he was, not as a lost web of uncertainty, he wanted to kiss him and make him new, and his old self, strong, in control and amazing.
John thought on Mary and what they had and would have and maybe it was too nice and he wasn't old enough for nice things. He had time for 'nice' when he was old for real, not when he was wild at heart and longed for this dangerous man beside him.
John had a lot to mend and talk in the morning because this had been a mistake, a three years old mistake and it had consequences and John would be prepared in the morning for the broken nose he deserved from Mary. He deserved a lot more than a broken nose.
So John did the only thing he could. He soldier on took Sherlock's face in his hands and kissed him.
“I'm yours if you wanted me, maybe I had always been yours,” his kiss said.
“I'm yours too, I always have been, but I was too stubborn to notice before, my John,” said Sherlock out loud.
And that was it.
John loved him, Sherlock loved him back. And John could not think anymore because he too was busy and lost panting....
“Oh GOD SHEERLOOCK!!!”