Sherlock Holmes: Ascendancy
Title: Ascendancy: Part 3
Characters/Pairing: Blackwood/Holmes, Watson/Holmes, Blackwood/Coward
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Tentacles, sexual situations, (kind-of) drug use
Word Count: 2460
Disclaimer: Sadly these characters don't belong to me. Also sadly, this fic earns me no money.
Summary: Movie-verse AU. Follows the movie plot, but with even more slash. Oh, and Blackwood has tentacles. Reposted from the kinkmeme and written in response to a request for tentacled Blackwood ravishing Holmes in the cell scene... and later.
Author's note: Here's the loooooong overdue third part: the Blackwood/Coward chapter! Oh. Coward doesn't seem to have a first name, so I kinda just gave him one. How does Lord Percival Coward sound?
Previous parts are here.
____________________________
Part 3
Back from the dead, yet still incarcerated, Blackwood thought as he watched darkness conquer light over the dusky streets of London. To be sure, Coward’s house in town was far more spacious and infinitely more comfortable than prison. And yet, he could not leave it at will - could not even open the curtains beyond a slit.
For now, he reassured himself, and not for much longer. His plans were proceeding apace and a short time would see him the keeper rather than the kept.
Kept. The word caused his tentacles to undulate about him in an unconscious display of rage. For most of his life he had been just that: kept as a pet of the Temple of the Four Orders. An object to be studied or by which to be amused… A pawn in his father’s small power plays. He plays at power, but has never known its truth. Sir Thomas Rotheram would soon learn it… with a vengeance.
Blackwood’s head spun with that glorious thought and he had to catch himself against the casement. He braced his larger tentacles on either side of the open window, feeling the coolness and the pressure of the walls, if not their texture. He moved his smaller tentacles to catch the draft and reveled in the all too rare sensation of wind blowing across them.
Perhaps there is one more improvement over my former prison. Here, where the servants were all loyal to Blackwood’s cause, he could at least be free in his person. Better than that, in the awe of Coward’s servants in beholding his true form, he had a delicious sampling of what was to come.
“Lord Blackwood,” one of those servants called in a reverent voice as he knocked on the door of Blackwood’s chambers. The lord, turning from the window, called for the man to enter. He did so and bowed pleasingly low before continuing, “Lord Coward has come home, sir.” The man tried to keep his eyes respectfully downcast, but they kept moving to the appendages which Blackwood now arrayed about himself. The mix of fear and veneration in his eyes was wonderfully gratifying. “He asks if he may be received into your Lordship’s presence.”
Thoughtful Coward… The younger lord never failed in any display of respect or devotion. “Bid him come,” Blackwood replied, dismissing the man with a wave of a tentacle. As the man bowed and exited, the lord moved to the throne-like armchair that stood near the fireplace and sat down. Idly, he picked up the newspaper that lay on the side table, reaching up with a tentacle to turn up the nearest lamp as he angled it before his eyes. The entire front page was dominated by his supposed resurrection.
Credulous fools, he thought with satisfied contempt, epithet including the masses and his followers alike. They were all, through fear or greed, so ready to believe in the supernatural. Coward knew the truth, of course, as had Reordan. Shame I had to dispose of him, he reflected, looking at the picture of the scientist’s small corpse. The useful little man had known too much, however, and had no loyalty except to himself.
“My Lord?” Coward’s voice and firm knock came as Blackwood turned the page of the newspaper.
“Enter.”
The Home Secretary came into the room and blinked a few times at the relative darkness. His eyes, though, went almost instantly to his chosen master, eagerly trying to trace his form in the dim lamplight. He turned momentarily back to the door, mouth open to call for a servant. He paused in his motion, though, and made a small impatient noise instead. He closed the door before moving around the room and turning up every last lamp. Finally, he stood before the armchair and gazed at Lord Blackwood, who raised an eyebrow at him in questioning amusement.
“I love seeing you like this, Henry.” As usual, an interesting mix of awe and pride filled the younger man’s voice. Awe of Blackwood’s true form and the power it contained. Pride in being closest to the lord - at being permitted to address him by name when they were alone.
Dear boy, Blackwood thought, amused and gratified as always by Coward’s regard, in another life I might genuinely have cared for him. Aloud, he asked, “Enthroned?”
A small hum of laughter preceded the response. “Yes, that too. But you know what I really meant.” Coward’s eyes followed the subtle undulations of his lord’s appendages with an expression close to rapture. “When the world finally beholds your glory…”
“Soon,” Blackwood promised them both with a narrow smile. He basked in the moment for a few breaths more before drawing his tentacles against his body, effectively centering Coward’s attention. “But before that comes to pass, we have other plans to bring to fruition. I believe you have news for me?”
“I suppose you might call it that,” Coward replied, expression smoothing into the impassive, professional demeanor he used in political dealings. He seated himself on the ottoman in front of Blackwood before continuing. “As usual, Sir Thomas attempts too little, too late.”
“What sorry ploy is my father,” he hissed the word, “attempting?”
Coward loosed a short, derisive bark of laughter. “He tried to hire that arrogant, puffed up detective, Sherlock Holmes.” A tiny, unexpected, indefinable shiver danced up Blackwood’s spine at the name. “The old man was actually impressed by his little sideshow tricks of ‘deduction.’”
“Tried to hire?” He ignored the other man’s characteristic mockery.
“Refused Sir Thomas point blank.” Amusement tinged the laughter in Coward’s voice this time. “Said he could choose his clients and he wanted none of Sir Thomas’s money. It was almost worth the inconvenience of having that meddlesome bloodhound out of the docks to see the old man set down so.”
No great surprise there. Blackwood shared the laughter briefly. “Our detective is not to be swayed by power or moved by money.”
All traces of amusement drained away from Coward’s face and his eyes narrowed. “Honestly, Henry,” he nearly snapped, respect subsumed by some darker emotion, “I don’t know what either of you sees in that common, small-minded nuisance.”
What’s this? Blackwood’s eyebrow moved upward again. He can’t be… But there it was: the fire in his narrowed eyes, the whiteness of his tight lips. The boy is jealous! He held back a peal of laughter at the idea, but he couldn’t stop his tentacles from quivering in amusement. He brought a hand to his face in an attitude of thought, buying himself a moment to gain composure. It was all quite diverting, but it could prove an inconvenience if not dealt with properly. “The man has his uses, Percy,” he stated neutrally, though he added a soft purr to the younger man’s name.
It succeeded in muting some of the fire, but did not fully appease. “Oh, I dare say he’s observant and clever enough. He could spot that that old goat is your father.” A less pleasant shiver shook Blackwood at the thought of Holmes connecting him with his unworthy sire. “And guess rightly enough that you would be coming for him soon.” It would be obvious to anyone except that arrogant, self-complacent old man. “But whatever purpose Holmes may have served, he can only be a hindrance now. I don’t see why you’ve allowed him to live.”
Why indeed? “He’s not an easy man to kill, as the events of yesterday prove.” Blackwood suppressed the inexplicable thrill that moved through his veins, an echo of the same feeling, unaccountably and disturbingly akin to joy, that he’d felt when he’d heard Dredger’s report. “Besides,” he added before Coward could pick up on his mood, “what glory is there in victory, if there are no obstacles to overcome?” If there are no worthy opponents? He kept the second question to himself as he again posed his tentacles regally around himself and watched the last of Coward’s misgivings crumble away at the sight. “Speaking of obstacles… Is everything in place for the removal of the first one?” He wouldn’t say most important.
The smile finally returned to the younger lord’s face. “Sir Thomas will be at home tonight, at the usual hour, none the wiser for the warning he received. Old fool,” he derided, scorn twisting his handsome face.
“Dead fool.” A far more acceptable thrill of anticipation coursed through Blackwood at the thought. “You’ve done well, Percy,” he praised Coward warmly and watched the young man’s cold sneer melt away. It was replaced by a genuine, glowing smile of boyish delight. Lovely. Blackwood lowered his smaller right tentacle to Coward’s cheek, brushing it softly as a tiny fragment of mostly forgotten affection stirred in the older man’s breast. The other man’s expression changed again at the gesture, and a different fire began to smolder in his eyes. Other emotions stirred elsewhere in Blackwood in response. “Shall I reward you?” he asked, low and soft, as he stroked his tentacle along Coward’s lower lip. Those lips parted and a pink tongue darted out to lap at the appendage. Blackwood drew it back a few inches and watched the other man lean forward to follow it. He released a drop of fluid onto the tip and Coward lapped it up eagerly, made a soft mew of protest when Blackwood drew it back again, out of reach. He released another drop and watched as Great Britain’s Home Secretary got down on his knees to suck at that moisture. When the tentacle was again withdrawn, Coward whimpered softly. “Not too much,” Blackwood chided, voice husky at the sight of the young lord kneeling before him, cheeks flushed, parted lips trembling, and eyes locked on his lord and master in a pleading gaze. Such sweet submission, so freely given. “Closer,” he ordered brusquely.
“My Lord,” Coward replied, voice shaky. He followed the tantalizing, beckoning appendage until he knelt between the knees Blackwood parted to receive him. Fingers trembling, he undid the fastenings of the older man’s trousers and worked his rapidly hardening cock free of clothing and undergarments. An answering flush heated Blackwood’s cheeks as he released more hypnotic fluid onto his tentacle then brushed the tip slowly, softly along the length of his own growing erection. Coward moaned and his hips rocked slightly as his eyes greedily followed every motion. With another tiny mewl, this time of joy, his face moved forward and his tongue stretched out. Blackwood shuddered, hands tightening on the arms of his chair, as Coward’s tongue firmly followed the glittering trail left by the tentacle. Almost of its own accord, Blackwood’s smaller left tentacle slid down Coward’s back. As the kneeling man shivered and rocked his hips again, harder, Blackwood ran the still glistening tip of his smaller right appendage from the tip of his own cock and down, all along the underside. Moaning, Coward parted his lips further and took as much of his lord’s arousal as he could into his mouth. Blackwood held back a moan of his own as the other man started a gentle suction, trembling fingers moving to stroke what mouth and tongue could not reach.
“Percy,” he breathed, praise and encouragement in one, as he slipped his small left tentacle into the waistband of Coward’s trousers. The younger man moaned around Blackwood’s cock as the lord teased his entrance with the tip of that appendage, brushing its secretions around the rim before ever so slowly sliding it in.
“Henry!” Coward cried out, pulling back as Blackwood unerringly brushed the tentacle and its slippery, tingling fluid over his prostate. “No,” he protested weakly when the appendage was withdrawn.
“You stop, I stop,” Blackwood whispered. With a soft, inarticulate whine, Coward resumed his work, sucking harder on Blackwood’s erection, taking it in his mouth, pulling back to lick at the tip, and then taking it in even deeper. The older man couldn’t hold back his moan this time as the sensations brought him closer and closer to release. His larger right tentacle moved down to tease some of fastenings of Coward’s trousers loose before brushing firmly against the heated bulge beneath them. As the young lord thrust his hips forward to increase the pressure of that contact, Blackwood ran the tip of his smaller left tentacle over the larger, coating a good portion of it with the slick, lubricating fluid. He then used the smaller to pull at the waistband of Coward’s trousers to make it easier for the larger appendage to slide past. With one strong stroke, he pushed the tentacle into Coward. The younger man cried out again, but did not pull back. Instead, the cry vibrated along Blackwood’s cock, calling forth an answering shout of pleasure. Dear, dear boy… Faster, he moved a tentacle in and out, in and out of Coward’s entrance. Harder, he rubbed another against Coward’s crotch. The younger man moaned again and again around his lord’s arousal, hands tightening almost convulsively around him until, with a strangled grunt and an uncontrolled thrust of his own hips, Blackwood climaxed, hands clutched tight on the arms of his chair, tentacles wrapping around the man who’d given him pleasure, seed shooting down that man’s throat.
Blackwood slumped back in his chair, panting slightly in the aftermath. As sense gradually replaced satiation, he felt Coward’s head resting against a knee. Felt the wetness of the other man’s trousers against a tentacle. Heard the rapid rasp of his breath and the swift expansion and collapse of his ribcage against a leg.
Blackwood looked down at Coward. The younger man gazed up at him, eyes glazed with pleasure, but still pouring out ecstatic adoration. Beautiful boy. The thought was distant, oddly detached. In former years, that look had often brought a return of Blackwood’s arousal. Now, though, as the afterglow of his climax cooled, he felt a vague dissatisfaction.
Something’s missing... It’s too easy… There was no challenge, no triumph, he thought. And slowly, another man’s image superimposed itself over Coward. Hair darkened and curled and shame, frustrated rage, and crumbled pride glared at him from wide, dark eyes. Sherlock Holmes.
Coward’s submission, though beautiful and pleasing as always, was no longer quite enough. It came too easily. No pride to crush. All Coward’s pride already belonged to his lord and master. Holmes, however… A heated ball of lust stirred again in Blackwood’s belly. “Soon,” he promised himself again.
“Yes, my lord, soon,” Coward responded, assuming the promise was meant for him as well. “Soon you shall rule. And I shall stand at your right hand.”
“Yes,” Blackwood replied absently, stroking Coward’s head with a tentacle. You’ve earned a place at my side. As for Holmes… He may have a place at my feet.
~to be continued~
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Darn! Now that I'm starting to find Hans Matheson attractive and finally finding Coward to be an interesting character, I might have to write something else Blackwood/Coward... sometime...
Characters/Pairing: Blackwood/Holmes, Watson/Holmes, Blackwood/Coward
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Tentacles, sexual situations, (kind-of) drug use
Word Count: 2460
Disclaimer: Sadly these characters don't belong to me. Also sadly, this fic earns me no money.
Summary: Movie-verse AU. Follows the movie plot, but with even more slash. Oh, and Blackwood has tentacles. Reposted from the kinkmeme and written in response to a request for tentacled Blackwood ravishing Holmes in the cell scene... and later.
Author's note: Here's the loooooong overdue third part: the Blackwood/Coward chapter! Oh. Coward doesn't seem to have a first name, so I kinda just gave him one. How does Lord Percival Coward sound?
Previous parts are here.
____________________________
Part 3
Back from the dead, yet still incarcerated, Blackwood thought as he watched darkness conquer light over the dusky streets of London. To be sure, Coward’s house in town was far more spacious and infinitely more comfortable than prison. And yet, he could not leave it at will - could not even open the curtains beyond a slit.
For now, he reassured himself, and not for much longer. His plans were proceeding apace and a short time would see him the keeper rather than the kept.
Kept. The word caused his tentacles to undulate about him in an unconscious display of rage. For most of his life he had been just that: kept as a pet of the Temple of the Four Orders. An object to be studied or by which to be amused… A pawn in his father’s small power plays. He plays at power, but has never known its truth. Sir Thomas Rotheram would soon learn it… with a vengeance.
Blackwood’s head spun with that glorious thought and he had to catch himself against the casement. He braced his larger tentacles on either side of the open window, feeling the coolness and the pressure of the walls, if not their texture. He moved his smaller tentacles to catch the draft and reveled in the all too rare sensation of wind blowing across them.
Perhaps there is one more improvement over my former prison. Here, where the servants were all loyal to Blackwood’s cause, he could at least be free in his person. Better than that, in the awe of Coward’s servants in beholding his true form, he had a delicious sampling of what was to come.
“Lord Blackwood,” one of those servants called in a reverent voice as he knocked on the door of Blackwood’s chambers. The lord, turning from the window, called for the man to enter. He did so and bowed pleasingly low before continuing, “Lord Coward has come home, sir.” The man tried to keep his eyes respectfully downcast, but they kept moving to the appendages which Blackwood now arrayed about himself. The mix of fear and veneration in his eyes was wonderfully gratifying. “He asks if he may be received into your Lordship’s presence.”
Thoughtful Coward… The younger lord never failed in any display of respect or devotion. “Bid him come,” Blackwood replied, dismissing the man with a wave of a tentacle. As the man bowed and exited, the lord moved to the throne-like armchair that stood near the fireplace and sat down. Idly, he picked up the newspaper that lay on the side table, reaching up with a tentacle to turn up the nearest lamp as he angled it before his eyes. The entire front page was dominated by his supposed resurrection.
Credulous fools, he thought with satisfied contempt, epithet including the masses and his followers alike. They were all, through fear or greed, so ready to believe in the supernatural. Coward knew the truth, of course, as had Reordan. Shame I had to dispose of him, he reflected, looking at the picture of the scientist’s small corpse. The useful little man had known too much, however, and had no loyalty except to himself.
“My Lord?” Coward’s voice and firm knock came as Blackwood turned the page of the newspaper.
“Enter.”
The Home Secretary came into the room and blinked a few times at the relative darkness. His eyes, though, went almost instantly to his chosen master, eagerly trying to trace his form in the dim lamplight. He turned momentarily back to the door, mouth open to call for a servant. He paused in his motion, though, and made a small impatient noise instead. He closed the door before moving around the room and turning up every last lamp. Finally, he stood before the armchair and gazed at Lord Blackwood, who raised an eyebrow at him in questioning amusement.
“I love seeing you like this, Henry.” As usual, an interesting mix of awe and pride filled the younger man’s voice. Awe of Blackwood’s true form and the power it contained. Pride in being closest to the lord - at being permitted to address him by name when they were alone.
Dear boy, Blackwood thought, amused and gratified as always by Coward’s regard, in another life I might genuinely have cared for him. Aloud, he asked, “Enthroned?”
A small hum of laughter preceded the response. “Yes, that too. But you know what I really meant.” Coward’s eyes followed the subtle undulations of his lord’s appendages with an expression close to rapture. “When the world finally beholds your glory…”
“Soon,” Blackwood promised them both with a narrow smile. He basked in the moment for a few breaths more before drawing his tentacles against his body, effectively centering Coward’s attention. “But before that comes to pass, we have other plans to bring to fruition. I believe you have news for me?”
“I suppose you might call it that,” Coward replied, expression smoothing into the impassive, professional demeanor he used in political dealings. He seated himself on the ottoman in front of Blackwood before continuing. “As usual, Sir Thomas attempts too little, too late.”
“What sorry ploy is my father,” he hissed the word, “attempting?”
Coward loosed a short, derisive bark of laughter. “He tried to hire that arrogant, puffed up detective, Sherlock Holmes.” A tiny, unexpected, indefinable shiver danced up Blackwood’s spine at the name. “The old man was actually impressed by his little sideshow tricks of ‘deduction.’”
“Tried to hire?” He ignored the other man’s characteristic mockery.
“Refused Sir Thomas point blank.” Amusement tinged the laughter in Coward’s voice this time. “Said he could choose his clients and he wanted none of Sir Thomas’s money. It was almost worth the inconvenience of having that meddlesome bloodhound out of the docks to see the old man set down so.”
No great surprise there. Blackwood shared the laughter briefly. “Our detective is not to be swayed by power or moved by money.”
All traces of amusement drained away from Coward’s face and his eyes narrowed. “Honestly, Henry,” he nearly snapped, respect subsumed by some darker emotion, “I don’t know what either of you sees in that common, small-minded nuisance.”
What’s this? Blackwood’s eyebrow moved upward again. He can’t be… But there it was: the fire in his narrowed eyes, the whiteness of his tight lips. The boy is jealous! He held back a peal of laughter at the idea, but he couldn’t stop his tentacles from quivering in amusement. He brought a hand to his face in an attitude of thought, buying himself a moment to gain composure. It was all quite diverting, but it could prove an inconvenience if not dealt with properly. “The man has his uses, Percy,” he stated neutrally, though he added a soft purr to the younger man’s name.
It succeeded in muting some of the fire, but did not fully appease. “Oh, I dare say he’s observant and clever enough. He could spot that that old goat is your father.” A less pleasant shiver shook Blackwood at the thought of Holmes connecting him with his unworthy sire. “And guess rightly enough that you would be coming for him soon.” It would be obvious to anyone except that arrogant, self-complacent old man. “But whatever purpose Holmes may have served, he can only be a hindrance now. I don’t see why you’ve allowed him to live.”
Why indeed? “He’s not an easy man to kill, as the events of yesterday prove.” Blackwood suppressed the inexplicable thrill that moved through his veins, an echo of the same feeling, unaccountably and disturbingly akin to joy, that he’d felt when he’d heard Dredger’s report. “Besides,” he added before Coward could pick up on his mood, “what glory is there in victory, if there are no obstacles to overcome?” If there are no worthy opponents? He kept the second question to himself as he again posed his tentacles regally around himself and watched the last of Coward’s misgivings crumble away at the sight. “Speaking of obstacles… Is everything in place for the removal of the first one?” He wouldn’t say most important.
The smile finally returned to the younger lord’s face. “Sir Thomas will be at home tonight, at the usual hour, none the wiser for the warning he received. Old fool,” he derided, scorn twisting his handsome face.
“Dead fool.” A far more acceptable thrill of anticipation coursed through Blackwood at the thought. “You’ve done well, Percy,” he praised Coward warmly and watched the young man’s cold sneer melt away. It was replaced by a genuine, glowing smile of boyish delight. Lovely. Blackwood lowered his smaller right tentacle to Coward’s cheek, brushing it softly as a tiny fragment of mostly forgotten affection stirred in the older man’s breast. The other man’s expression changed again at the gesture, and a different fire began to smolder in his eyes. Other emotions stirred elsewhere in Blackwood in response. “Shall I reward you?” he asked, low and soft, as he stroked his tentacle along Coward’s lower lip. Those lips parted and a pink tongue darted out to lap at the appendage. Blackwood drew it back a few inches and watched the other man lean forward to follow it. He released a drop of fluid onto the tip and Coward lapped it up eagerly, made a soft mew of protest when Blackwood drew it back again, out of reach. He released another drop and watched as Great Britain’s Home Secretary got down on his knees to suck at that moisture. When the tentacle was again withdrawn, Coward whimpered softly. “Not too much,” Blackwood chided, voice husky at the sight of the young lord kneeling before him, cheeks flushed, parted lips trembling, and eyes locked on his lord and master in a pleading gaze. Such sweet submission, so freely given. “Closer,” he ordered brusquely.
“My Lord,” Coward replied, voice shaky. He followed the tantalizing, beckoning appendage until he knelt between the knees Blackwood parted to receive him. Fingers trembling, he undid the fastenings of the older man’s trousers and worked his rapidly hardening cock free of clothing and undergarments. An answering flush heated Blackwood’s cheeks as he released more hypnotic fluid onto his tentacle then brushed the tip slowly, softly along the length of his own growing erection. Coward moaned and his hips rocked slightly as his eyes greedily followed every motion. With another tiny mewl, this time of joy, his face moved forward and his tongue stretched out. Blackwood shuddered, hands tightening on the arms of his chair, as Coward’s tongue firmly followed the glittering trail left by the tentacle. Almost of its own accord, Blackwood’s smaller left tentacle slid down Coward’s back. As the kneeling man shivered and rocked his hips again, harder, Blackwood ran the still glistening tip of his smaller right appendage from the tip of his own cock and down, all along the underside. Moaning, Coward parted his lips further and took as much of his lord’s arousal as he could into his mouth. Blackwood held back a moan of his own as the other man started a gentle suction, trembling fingers moving to stroke what mouth and tongue could not reach.
“Percy,” he breathed, praise and encouragement in one, as he slipped his small left tentacle into the waistband of Coward’s trousers. The younger man moaned around Blackwood’s cock as the lord teased his entrance with the tip of that appendage, brushing its secretions around the rim before ever so slowly sliding it in.
“Henry!” Coward cried out, pulling back as Blackwood unerringly brushed the tentacle and its slippery, tingling fluid over his prostate. “No,” he protested weakly when the appendage was withdrawn.
“You stop, I stop,” Blackwood whispered. With a soft, inarticulate whine, Coward resumed his work, sucking harder on Blackwood’s erection, taking it in his mouth, pulling back to lick at the tip, and then taking it in even deeper. The older man couldn’t hold back his moan this time as the sensations brought him closer and closer to release. His larger right tentacle moved down to tease some of fastenings of Coward’s trousers loose before brushing firmly against the heated bulge beneath them. As the young lord thrust his hips forward to increase the pressure of that contact, Blackwood ran the tip of his smaller left tentacle over the larger, coating a good portion of it with the slick, lubricating fluid. He then used the smaller to pull at the waistband of Coward’s trousers to make it easier for the larger appendage to slide past. With one strong stroke, he pushed the tentacle into Coward. The younger man cried out again, but did not pull back. Instead, the cry vibrated along Blackwood’s cock, calling forth an answering shout of pleasure. Dear, dear boy… Faster, he moved a tentacle in and out, in and out of Coward’s entrance. Harder, he rubbed another against Coward’s crotch. The younger man moaned again and again around his lord’s arousal, hands tightening almost convulsively around him until, with a strangled grunt and an uncontrolled thrust of his own hips, Blackwood climaxed, hands clutched tight on the arms of his chair, tentacles wrapping around the man who’d given him pleasure, seed shooting down that man’s throat.
Blackwood slumped back in his chair, panting slightly in the aftermath. As sense gradually replaced satiation, he felt Coward’s head resting against a knee. Felt the wetness of the other man’s trousers against a tentacle. Heard the rapid rasp of his breath and the swift expansion and collapse of his ribcage against a leg.
Blackwood looked down at Coward. The younger man gazed up at him, eyes glazed with pleasure, but still pouring out ecstatic adoration. Beautiful boy. The thought was distant, oddly detached. In former years, that look had often brought a return of Blackwood’s arousal. Now, though, as the afterglow of his climax cooled, he felt a vague dissatisfaction.
Something’s missing... It’s too easy… There was no challenge, no triumph, he thought. And slowly, another man’s image superimposed itself over Coward. Hair darkened and curled and shame, frustrated rage, and crumbled pride glared at him from wide, dark eyes. Sherlock Holmes.
Coward’s submission, though beautiful and pleasing as always, was no longer quite enough. It came too easily. No pride to crush. All Coward’s pride already belonged to his lord and master. Holmes, however… A heated ball of lust stirred again in Blackwood’s belly. “Soon,” he promised himself again.
“Yes, my lord, soon,” Coward responded, assuming the promise was meant for him as well. “Soon you shall rule. And I shall stand at your right hand.”
“Yes,” Blackwood replied absently, stroking Coward’s head with a tentacle. You’ve earned a place at my side. As for Holmes… He may have a place at my feet.
~to be continued~
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Darn! Now that I'm starting to find Hans Matheson attractive and finally finding Coward to be an interesting character, I might have to write something else Blackwood/Coward... sometime...