Re: Mating Urges-Knot warningkishukuficAugust 30 2011, 20:04:43 UTC
~~
It was a mistake to invite John to the flat before him. John standing in the midst of Sherlock’s territory, his scent in the midst of Sherlock’s, drove his alpha to the forefront of his brain. It took all of his self control not to push John to floor of the living room and mount him right there and then. It was no wonder any omega went to great lengths to hide their nature or seek a protective alpha.
The later of which John Watson did not need.
After Sherlock’s warning John had bolted from the apartment like a rabbit scenting a fox, Sherlock now lay on the couch wondering if he would ever see the man again. Or if he should put his considerable skills to hunting him down, he knew he could hunt Watson down, he chased perpetrators with the police. He wanted to. Oh, how badly he wanted him.
Sherlock’s attention was seized by the sound of a car door-London cab-closing outside the flat and a limping walk making its way up the stairs. He lunged upright, it was John! Then he lay back down in feigned disinterest.
The door opened and closed, the footsteps stopped at the end of the couch. John’s scent was so close and something else.
“I left something. I just…”
Sherlock was off the couch in a flash, the tell-tale umbrella clattering to the floor as he pressed John back against the door. “Mycroft!” The something else had been his brother’s scent, how could he have been so distracted to have missed it? John smelled faintly of the interior of a London cab and his brother, Mycroft. Sherlock felt the alpha within him rising, the possessive rage a hot rush traveling up along his skin, he fought it down with an effort.
“Your friend?” John asked somewhat breathlessly, Sherlock’s fists in his collar choking him. He shoved the alpha and Sherlock dropped him in surprise, John leaning against the wall beside the door to catch his breath.
“Friend?”
“Or enemy?” John straightened up and cast about the room for his walking cane.
“My brother. What did he want with you? Did he do anything to you?” Sherlock tried to lean in closer for a better smell. John shot him a warning glare and stepped away.
“He wanted to offer me money to step away from you. He seems to think you’re dangerous,” then John was pushing Sherlock back, “are you? Should I worry?”
Lust hit Sherlock in the gut like a punch and he felt the hairs along his arms stand up on end. “Yes,” he whispered, “yes, John, if you don’t want this you should worry.”
~~
Mycroft realized he’d begun to growl at the screen of his computer while reading the reports his assistant had sent him.
G. Lestrade.
A graduate from the University of Edinburgh he’d risen through the police ranks with a sheer bulldog like tenacity. He was also married to a Cynthia Thompson and together they had a young daughter, age 4. That was when the growling had begun.
“I need files and video on Cynthia Thompson, that’s Thompson with a ‘P’ and an ‘H’.” Mycroft ordered. Was Lestrade already bonded? One could never tell with betas, if they were bonded to another beta they wouldn’t share each other’s scent the way a bonded omega would start to smell like their alpha. Inside the cab Lestrade had smelled like the office, his subordinates, cheap greasy fast food, and stale coffee. Mycroft hadn’t even been able to scent anything about a wife and child, no lingering perfume or sticky sweets.
He started in on the CCTV videos to see what his rival looked like.
Re: Mating Urges-Knot warningkishukuficAugust 30 2011, 20:05:51 UTC
~~
John was startled to realize that the stranger had dropped him off directly in front of 221B Baker Street, the man was perceptive. He’d only hesitated a few seconds before stomping up the stairs, determined to stand his ground with the alpha upstairs, even if he knew what John was.
Then they were pushing at each other like a pair of alphas fighting for territory and when Sherlock let John push him, John realized he wanted this. He wanted to finally find an alpha he could admire and one he trusted. His mother had always told him that when he found his bonded he would know and not to fight it. His sister had fought it, was still fighting it and turned to alcohol to try and fight against her instinct.
“I’m not worried. You don’t scare me, Sherlock.” John told him as he brought his face down for a kiss.
Sherlock growled as he allowed John to pull him down for a kiss that started closed mouth and chaste, but with an impatient groan Sherlock’s lips pried John’s mouth open and his tongue slipped inside for his first taste of his omega. If John had smelled good, he tasted even better, he released John’s mouth to trail his lips and his tongue over the other man’s throat, licking, tasting and nipping along the way.
“Have you,” Sherlock growled angrily at the thought, “have you ever been with an alpha before?”
“No,” John gasped as Sherlock bit down particularly hard on his collar bone, hands fumbling with his shirt, fingertips eagerly seeking out bare skin. “But I know,” he swallowed heavily, “I know about the knotting with bonded pairs.”
Sherlock stopped, his eyes blazing, “So you know.” John knew they were destined to be a bonded pair. He wasn’t the only one to have felt it.
“Yes.”
Sherlock yanked open John’s belt and shoved him back towards the couch, a red hazy desire overtaking him to mark John with his scent while John writhed on his knot and came. He slid his hands down into John’s trousers and grabbed his ass and rutted against him a few times, gasping as his thick cock rubbed up against John’s, the thick low burn in the base of his cock already there in the place where he’d knot up. Sherlock knew he couldn’t wait, if he knotted before getting inside John his knot would be too large, too painful, to force into his partner then.
“John, I need it.” He felt the head on his shoulder nod faintly and slid one finger back into John’s crack.
He was wet. He must’ve been close to going into heat to be this wet after sharing a few kisses with an alpha, his nature negating the meds in his system. Sherlock moaned a little in relief, the knowledge that he wouldn’t be hurting John, because he wanted to do this very very soon and many times more. He slid one finger, John’s anus spasmed around the digit as though it wanted to pull him further inside and then John was crying out and shivering in his arms. Sherlock smiled, pleased with him.
“Come harder,” he whispered as he worked the finger back and forth, finger fucking the wet hole and then slipping in a second finger as he felt the tremors continue to wrack John’s body. He held the omega until he stopped shaking and his breathes slowed down, then he pushed John’s trousers off and pulled his own shirt over his head while John mimicked him. John perched on the edge of his couch, completely naked, stomach covered in his own cum still smelling like himself.
Sherlock growled and undid his trousers, pulling his aching cock free, the fat swollen head shiny with precum. “I’m going to mark you, going to make you reek of me, going to stuff you full of my knot, fill you with my seed. Breed you.”
John shuddered and raised his legs to reveal the wet glistening hole beneath his balls, it looked impossibly small, but Sherlock knew he had to get inside there. John made a soft desperate noise when Sherlock didn’t move fast enough, the alpha leaning forward instantly to drop concerned little kisses all over his face. Sherlock grasped John’s hip with one hand and used his other hand to guide himself to John.
Re: Mating Urges-Knot warningkishukuficAugust 30 2011, 20:06:09 UTC
Sherlock began pushing, John opening up easily around him, shiny rim and stretching around Sherlock’s length. John’s breathing sped up again and Sherlock released his hip to grasp John’s erection and stroked, “It’s all right. I’m halfway there.” On the next stroke he pushed and his hips kissed the back of John’s thighs, reaching that balls deep depth in his partner.
It was mindblowingly good. Sherlock’s body shuddered as John’s ass griped him, warm and wet, around the most sensitive part of his body. He moved both hands back to John’s hips, pulled out until nothing but the head of his cock was inside, then he thrust his length back inside. He managed a few hard thrusts before he felt the rim of John’s anus catch on the flaring edge of his knot which was swelling. He pushed back inside with a groan and felt John come again, shuddering and clenching around the burn at the base of his cock as he began to knot, throbbing, growing larger, tying them together. Sherlock pumped small circling thrusts into the tight grip and then stopped when his knot reached its full size and he came. John’s body drew it from him in slow spiraling pulses.
It would take him a good ten to twenty minutes to finish, small orgasms hitting him every few minutes, pumping large wet loads deep into his omega’s body.
His.
The first knotting would start the bond, but it would take a few days of knotting to strengthen the bond and mark John permanently with his alpha’s scent. Sherlock nuzzled at John’s face, a soft blessed expression on his partner’s face. John turned in towards Sherlock for more kisses, which Sherlock obliged, releasing one of John’s hips to grasp his erection and bring a small stuttering orgasm from the man. Sherlock felt the orgasm ripple through his partner, his body following quickly with another that left them both shuddering.
He idly wondered how many times he could make John come while they were tied.
Re: Mating Urges-Knot warningkishukuficAugust 30 2011, 20:08:12 UTC
~~
The next morning was a little strange for Lestrade. To say the least. His coffee order had been ready and paid for at his usual pastry shop just down the street from the police station and hadn’t had to wait at any intersection on the walk to the station. The IT department had finally gotten around to fixing his computer and it didn’t take its usual 20 minutes to start up. The break room had been cleaned and restocked with new coffee and biscuits and so many forensic reports had finally come in on waiting cases that he finished more work that morning than he usually did in a week.
Lestrade pushed back from his desk with a sigh of satisfaction.
“Detective Lestrade?” a young man asked from the entrance of the office.
“Yes?” Lestrade stood up, thinking this is was when his day would go south.
“Delivery for you, sir. Lunch from the Ritz: Roasted Peking duck with mandarin sauce, bruised cucumber tomato salad, and a side of Thai-style tamarind rice.” The delivery guy hesitated, not finding an open space on Lestrade’s cluttered desk. The usual noise and din of the office had died down as people began noticing the curious incident occurring at Lestrade’s desk.
“Um. I’m terribly sorry, but I didn’t order-”
“Detective G. Lestrade? To be delivered promptly at 1 pm, no sooner, no later.”
“Well, I can’t pay-“ Lestrade tried again, not wanting to potentially shovel out a week’s worth of grocery money for a single meal.
“Already paid for, sir. I just need you to sign that I delivered it,” the guy held out a slip with a large X at the bottom.
Lestrade signed it, took the fancy bag proclaiming its origins and stared after the guy in shock. Since when did the Ritz begin making deliveries? He was distracted by his stomach grumbling, demanding to be fed the delicious smelling meal dangling from his hand.
“Looks like Lestrade’s got himself an admirer!” Sergeant Donovan quipped as she and some other colleagues gathered around his desk to check out his lunch. “If you’re worried that it’s poisoned I’d gladly taste test it for you, sir.”
Lestrade laughed, “You know I love Chinese food. Find your own meal, Sally!” It smelled amazing and he decided that after his morning of work he deserved a little time outside of the office, so he took his meal with him out to the nearby park.
The food tasted just as good as it sounded.
After finishing, Lestrade stretched his legs out in front of him to enjoy the weak cold sunshine that England had to offer. Today had possible been one of the better days he’d had in a long time.
“Mind if I join you?” a voice interrupted his drifting thoughts.
Lestrade started, he hadn’t heard the alpha approaching him and he had done it downwind to mask his scent. “Have a seat, Mr. Holmes.”
“I’d rather you called me Mycroft,” he said as he took the space on the bench beside the detective, setting his omni-presnet umbrella off to the side. “Have you enjoyed your day?”
Lestrade straightened up slightly, “Why don’t you tell me what you really want?”
“Oh, my apologies, detective. I was under the assumption that asking after someone’s day was a polite social convention.”
“You’re related to Sherlock,” Lestrade offered as way of explanation.
Mycroft smiled, “Very well. Who is Cynthia Thompson?”
Lestrade blinked, confused. “My ex-wife?”
“Oh? But I did not see any official divorce papers.”
Lestrade shrugged, “It’s easier to call her my ex than to explain that she ran off to Canada with our daughter before a divorce could even be finalized. Her father’s a diplomat and I can’t even afford the lawyers to get past his lawyers to serve her with a divorce.”
“Most distressing I suppose,” Mycroft made some sort of note on his mobile.
Re: Mating Urges-Knot warningkishukuficAugust 30 2011, 20:08:30 UTC
“What are you investigating? How does it involve Cynthia?” Lestrade wanted to know.
“It only involves her because it involves you,” Mycroft tucked the mobile back into his jacket pocket. “Was she a beta, like you?”
Lestrade felt a faint tickle of annoyance, he didn’t like to divide people by pack type, but it was often unavoidable. “No, she was an alpha.”
“You bred with an alpha? Were you bonded?”
“Yes and no,” Lestrade considered the situation for a moment. “You’re asking me this because bonded pairs aren’t kept on record, correct? Nor are pack types kept on file because of discrimination law suits. Why is it so important to know about Cynthia’s bonded status?”
Mycroft ignore him, “Why did you breed with an alpha you weren’t bonded with?”
“She was an alpha and I thought I was in love with her.” It had been more than 4 years ago and the wounds were old, Lestrade wouldn’t say that they were healed but he spoke about his old family with a certain detached numbness. His daughter he had never met, didn’t even know her scent, only knew that her name was Jillian.
“Well, this has been fun but I do need to get back to the office.” Lestrade dumped his lunch containers in a park bin, “And although I’ve appreciated the gestures, please stop ordering my coffee and meals.”
“So you noticed,” Mycroft said sarcastically but privately was very pleased.
Lestrade laughed, “Only an imbecile would fail to notice. And although I am no Sherlock Holmes-and he reminds me of it often-I am still a detective. I hope I have satisfied your curiosities. Good day, Mycroft.”
Re: Mating Urges-Knot warningkishukuficAugust 31 2011, 00:52:24 UTC
My only problem is that Sherlock and John want nothing more than to be a pair of porn bunnies, meanwhile Mycroft and Lestrade have yet to get together!
Re: Mating Urges-Knot warningkishukuficSeptember 4 2011, 16:09:15 UTC
(It's been a long wait.-author)
~~
“Not by a long shot, detective.” Mycroft murmured as he watched him go.
Was it possible? At his age? Was it still possible for him to find his bond mate? Was it also possible that his bond mate was so obtuse? He had never had any school girl fantasies about finding his perfect soul mate abroad and bonding with them on some nude beach, but he was an alpha and it was a contingency he had planned for. One did not deny a bond unless they wanted their life to go to pieces. The only thing that could break a bonded pair was death. There were stories of individuals who had fought against bonding who had been driven to drug addiction or had simply lost their minds. Mycroft always had a plan for everything.
Some years ago he realized that bonding at his age was such a rarity he might’ve managed to avoid it altogether. Instead of making him feel relieved, Mycroft found himself to be anxious, but that had faded with time as well.
Only now, this beta had appeared in his life. Detective Lestrade, who had been there all along working with Sherlock, under the watchful eye of CCTV and Mycroft, only Mycroft had never personally met the man until the night before, had never scented him before. He had never known until last night.
Now he just needed Lestrade to realize what he had already realized the night before.
~~
“Holmes! Holmes!” Lestrade pounded on the door a few more times, Mrs. Hudson a concerned shadow behind him. The detective wondered if she was more concerned about her lodger or her door.
“Oh, for Heaven’s sake!” Mrs. Hudson bustled her way between Lestrade and the door, after the sharp rattling of keys the door swung open.
“Thank you, Mrs. Hudson,” Lestrade said as he took the flight of stairs two at a time.
A few heartbeats later he was back at the bottom of the stairs, his face flushed as he closed the door, refusing to make eye contact with Sherlock’s landlady.
“I’ll… um… give them-I mean, him a few minutes,” he choked out.
Mrs. Hudson looked at the detective questioningly and then took a deep breath, her eyes widening comically as her mouth formed a soft ‘O’. “Would you like to come to my flat and have a cup of tea? I think Sherlock will need more than a few minutes.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Hudson, that’s very generous of you.”
Almost half an hour later Sherlock finally emerged freshly showered with a short stocky blond man also freshly showered who introduced himself as Dr. John Watson. Lestrade realized that Sherlock’s scent had changed subtly and he didn’t recognize it anymore, in addition aside from the matching shampoo and soap scents, both men smelled nearly identical.
Re: Mating Urges-Knot warningkishukuficSeptember 4 2011, 16:10:41 UTC
“Um… congratulations to you both,” Mrs. Hudson bubbled. Lestrade mumbled something similar, his eyes still flicking back and forth between the two men. Curiosity when he looked at John. Astonishment when he looked at Sherlock. “Well, I’m sure DI Lestrade has some important assignment for you Sherlock, so I’ll be going. You may use my kitchen for your talks, please close the door firmly behind you when you leave,” Mrs. Hudson generously offered and took herself from her own kitchen.
“Did you see the morning news today, Sherlock?” Lestrade opened.
The alpha stared at him for a few heartbeats and then asked, “What day is today?”
Lestrade sighed, typical bonding behavior, apparently even the great consulting detective was not immune to his type’s instincts. “Thursday.”
“Four days?!” John exploded. He groaned, “Damn, the hostel must’ve already thrown my things out by now!”
“Oh, I had the liberty of having them packed and delivered a few days ago,” Sherlock pointed a long finger at one pathetically small box sitting just inside Mrs. Hudson’s door in the hallway.
“When did you-?” John started.
Lestrade cleared his throat.
“Ah, yes. Let’s not waste DI Lestrade’s time, he’s come here to consult with me on the bombing that occurred this morning.”
"Lestrade is here to ask me about the bombing this morning."
"I didn't say--" Lestrade started and then stopped, sighing in resignation.
John looked back and forth between the two for a heartbeat and asked the obvious question, "How do you know it's about a bombing?"
Sherlock's eyes were practically shining, "Can't you smell it? Lestrade's spoken with someone who was on the bomb site. The smell of burnt plastics, woods and fertilizer. It's on his hand and his sleeve, so he's most likely shaken that person's hand, so either a first responding officer or bomb squad or..." Sherlock closed his eyes as he took another deep breath, "A fire fighter. They always smell of char, sweat and the fire retardant chemical sprayed on their gear. The building was a warehouse--you've been down to the water, your shoes are wet and nothing smells like the Thames--and there are at least 3 dead."
"Amazing!" John exclaimed, genuinely astonished.
Lestrade had been working with Sherlock long enough that he no longer found these little verbal spars to be astonishing, merely irritating. He felt an eyebrow on the rise as it confirmed his suspicion, "You two haven't known each other very long, have you?"
John blushed and Sherlock gave Lestrade his usual deadpan stare. A most irritating man.
"Right, never mind. I'm more interested in--" Lestrade continued.
"Boring!" Sherlock interrupted. "You want me to figure out who set the bomb that killed those people."
"Yes, but it’s more than simple property damage, I need you to figure out who the intended target was."
"Oh? The warehouse wasn't the original target?" Sherlock’s eyes showed a gleam of interest. “Hm. So the bombing was accidental? Any leads? Any suspects?”
“We contacted the owner and the other staff, they should be in for interviews later this afternoon. Perhaps you’d like to be there for the interviews?” Lestrade offered.
“You go do the interviews. I think I’ll visit the city morgue, the dead make for better company,” Sherlock said as he scooped up John’s box of things and headed back upstairs.
Which left Lestrade and John to size each other up in Mrs. Hudson’s kitchen.
Re: Mating Urges-Knot warningkishukuficSeptember 4 2011, 16:11:19 UTC
“I suppose I should stay here and-” John began at the same time Lestrade said, “You should come-”
“You first,” John offered.
“I was saying that you should come with,” Lestrade suggested. “I was right when I said you two haven’t known each other very long, wasn’t I?”
“A few days,” John muttered.
“How long before you two bonded?” Lestrade knew that bonding usually took a few days.
“An afternoon.”
“All the more reason you should come and see Sherlock in action,” Lestrade collected their cups and placed them into the sink. “Tell Sherlock I’ll be waiting for him at the station and I don’t have all day.”
“You think I’m weak for bonding with someone I don’t know?” John demanded, standing up out of his chair and blocking Lestrade’s quick exit from the apartment.
The detective sighed, “No. I doubt you had much of a choice. Holmes can be very… intense, both his intellect and his lack of patience. I imagine he realized you two were a bonded pair before you did. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” after a moment John stepped aside. “I’ll see you at the station with Holmes shortly,” Lestrade called back over his shoulder as he headed down the stairs.
Sherlock Holmes. Bonded. Lestrade laughed softly to himself at the idea. Would miracles never cease?
The CCTV cameras tracked him, one after the other, as he made his way to the station.
~~
It was a mistake to invite John to the flat before him. John standing in the midst of Sherlock’s territory, his scent in the midst of Sherlock’s, drove his alpha to the forefront of his brain. It took all of his self control not to push John to floor of the living room and mount him right there and then. It was no wonder any omega went to great lengths to hide their nature or seek a protective alpha.
The later of which John Watson did not need.
After Sherlock’s warning John had bolted from the apartment like a rabbit scenting a fox, Sherlock now lay on the couch wondering if he would ever see the man again. Or if he should put his considerable skills to hunting him down, he knew he could hunt Watson down, he chased perpetrators with the police. He wanted to. Oh, how badly he wanted him.
Sherlock’s attention was seized by the sound of a car door-London cab-closing outside the flat and a limping walk making its way up the stairs. He lunged upright, it was John! Then he lay back down in feigned disinterest.
The door opened and closed, the footsteps stopped at the end of the couch. John’s scent was so close and something else.
“I left something. I just…”
Sherlock was off the couch in a flash, the tell-tale umbrella clattering to the floor as he pressed John back against the door. “Mycroft!” The something else had been his brother’s scent, how could he have been so distracted to have missed it? John smelled faintly of the interior of a London cab and his brother, Mycroft. Sherlock felt the alpha within him rising, the possessive rage a hot rush traveling up along his skin, he fought it down with an effort.
“Your friend?” John asked somewhat breathlessly, Sherlock’s fists in his collar choking him. He shoved the alpha and Sherlock dropped him in surprise, John leaning against the wall beside the door to catch his breath.
“Friend?”
“Or enemy?” John straightened up and cast about the room for his walking cane.
“My brother. What did he want with you? Did he do anything to you?” Sherlock tried to lean in closer for a better smell. John shot him a warning glare and stepped away.
“He wanted to offer me money to step away from you. He seems to think you’re dangerous,” then John was pushing Sherlock back, “are you? Should I worry?”
Lust hit Sherlock in the gut like a punch and he felt the hairs along his arms stand up on end. “Yes,” he whispered, “yes, John, if you don’t want this you should worry.”
~~
Mycroft realized he’d begun to growl at the screen of his computer while reading the reports his assistant had sent him.
G. Lestrade.
A graduate from the University of Edinburgh he’d risen through the police ranks with a sheer bulldog like tenacity. He was also married to a Cynthia Thompson and together they had a young daughter, age 4. That was when the growling had begun.
“I need files and video on Cynthia Thompson, that’s Thompson with a ‘P’ and an ‘H’.” Mycroft ordered. Was Lestrade already bonded? One could never tell with betas, if they were bonded to another beta they wouldn’t share each other’s scent the way a bonded omega would start to smell like their alpha. Inside the cab Lestrade had smelled like the office, his subordinates, cheap greasy fast food, and stale coffee. Mycroft hadn’t even been able to scent anything about a wife and child, no lingering perfume or sticky sweets.
He started in on the CCTV videos to see what his rival looked like.
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John was startled to realize that the stranger had dropped him off directly in front of 221B Baker Street, the man was perceptive. He’d only hesitated a few seconds before stomping up the stairs, determined to stand his ground with the alpha upstairs, even if he knew what John was.
Then they were pushing at each other like a pair of alphas fighting for territory and when Sherlock let John push him, John realized he wanted this. He wanted to finally find an alpha he could admire and one he trusted. His mother had always told him that when he found his bonded he would know and not to fight it. His sister had fought it, was still fighting it and turned to alcohol to try and fight against her instinct.
“I’m not worried. You don’t scare me, Sherlock.” John told him as he brought his face down for a kiss.
Sherlock growled as he allowed John to pull him down for a kiss that started closed mouth and chaste, but with an impatient groan Sherlock’s lips pried John’s mouth open and his tongue slipped inside for his first taste of his omega. If John had smelled good, he tasted even better, he released John’s mouth to trail his lips and his tongue over the other man’s throat, licking, tasting and nipping along the way.
“Have you,” Sherlock growled angrily at the thought, “have you ever been with an alpha before?”
“No,” John gasped as Sherlock bit down particularly hard on his collar bone, hands fumbling with his shirt, fingertips eagerly seeking out bare skin. “But I know,” he swallowed heavily, “I know about the knotting with bonded pairs.”
Sherlock stopped, his eyes blazing, “So you know.” John knew they were destined to be a bonded pair. He wasn’t the only one to have felt it.
“Yes.”
Sherlock yanked open John’s belt and shoved him back towards the couch, a red hazy desire overtaking him to mark John with his scent while John writhed on his knot and came. He slid his hands down into John’s trousers and grabbed his ass and rutted against him a few times, gasping as his thick cock rubbed up against John’s, the thick low burn in the base of his cock already there in the place where he’d knot up. Sherlock knew he couldn’t wait, if he knotted before getting inside John his knot would be too large, too painful, to force into his partner then.
“John, I need it.” He felt the head on his shoulder nod faintly and slid one finger back into John’s crack.
He was wet. He must’ve been close to going into heat to be this wet after sharing a few kisses with an alpha, his nature negating the meds in his system. Sherlock moaned a little in relief, the knowledge that he wouldn’t be hurting John, because he wanted to do this very very soon and many times more. He slid one finger, John’s anus spasmed around the digit as though it wanted to pull him further inside and then John was crying out and shivering in his arms. Sherlock smiled, pleased with him.
“Come harder,” he whispered as he worked the finger back and forth, finger fucking the wet hole and then slipping in a second finger as he felt the tremors continue to wrack John’s body. He held the omega until he stopped shaking and his breathes slowed down, then he pushed John’s trousers off and pulled his own shirt over his head while John mimicked him. John perched on the edge of his couch, completely naked, stomach covered in his own cum still smelling like himself.
Sherlock growled and undid his trousers, pulling his aching cock free, the fat swollen head shiny with precum. “I’m going to mark you, going to make you reek of me, going to stuff you full of my knot, fill you with my seed. Breed you.”
John shuddered and raised his legs to reveal the wet glistening hole beneath his balls, it looked impossibly small, but Sherlock knew he had to get inside there. John made a soft desperate noise when Sherlock didn’t move fast enough, the alpha leaning forward instantly to drop concerned little kisses all over his face. Sherlock grasped John’s hip with one hand and used his other hand to guide himself to John.
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Sherlock began pushing, John opening up easily around him, shiny rim and stretching around Sherlock’s length. John’s breathing sped up again and Sherlock released his hip to grasp John’s erection and stroked, “It’s all right. I’m halfway there.” On the next stroke he pushed and his hips kissed the back of John’s thighs, reaching that balls deep depth in his partner.
It was mindblowingly good. Sherlock’s body shuddered as John’s ass griped him, warm and wet, around the most sensitive part of his body. He moved both hands back to John’s hips, pulled out until nothing but the head of his cock was inside, then he thrust his length back inside. He managed a few hard thrusts before he felt the rim of John’s anus catch on the flaring edge of his knot which was swelling. He pushed back inside with a groan and felt John come again, shuddering and clenching around the burn at the base of his cock as he began to knot, throbbing, growing larger, tying them together. Sherlock pumped small circling thrusts into the tight grip and then stopped when his knot reached its full size and he came. John’s body drew it from him in slow spiraling pulses.
It would take him a good ten to twenty minutes to finish, small orgasms hitting him every few minutes, pumping large wet loads deep into his omega’s body.
His.
The first knotting would start the bond, but it would take a few days of knotting to strengthen the bond and mark John permanently with his alpha’s scent. Sherlock nuzzled at John’s face, a soft blessed expression on his partner’s face. John turned in towards Sherlock for more kisses, which Sherlock obliged, releasing one of John’s hips to grasp his erection and bring a small stuttering orgasm from the man. Sherlock felt the orgasm ripple through his partner, his body following quickly with another that left them both shuddering.
He idly wondered how many times he could make John come while they were tied.
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The next morning was a little strange for Lestrade. To say the least. His coffee order had been ready and paid for at his usual pastry shop just down the street from the police station and hadn’t had to wait at any intersection on the walk to the station. The IT department had finally gotten around to fixing his computer and it didn’t take its usual 20 minutes to start up. The break room had been cleaned and restocked with new coffee and biscuits and so many forensic reports had finally come in on waiting cases that he finished more work that morning than he usually did in a week.
Lestrade pushed back from his desk with a sigh of satisfaction.
“Detective Lestrade?” a young man asked from the entrance of the office.
“Yes?” Lestrade stood up, thinking this is was when his day would go south.
“Delivery for you, sir. Lunch from the Ritz: Roasted Peking duck with mandarin sauce, bruised cucumber tomato salad, and a side of Thai-style tamarind rice.” The delivery guy hesitated, not finding an open space on Lestrade’s cluttered desk. The usual noise and din of the office had died down as people began noticing the curious incident occurring at Lestrade’s desk.
“Um. I’m terribly sorry, but I didn’t order-”
“Detective G. Lestrade? To be delivered promptly at 1 pm, no sooner, no later.”
“Well, I can’t pay-“ Lestrade tried again, not wanting to potentially shovel out a week’s worth of grocery money for a single meal.
“Already paid for, sir. I just need you to sign that I delivered it,” the guy held out a slip with a large X at the bottom.
Lestrade signed it, took the fancy bag proclaiming its origins and stared after the guy in shock. Since when did the Ritz begin making deliveries? He was distracted by his stomach grumbling, demanding to be fed the delicious smelling meal dangling from his hand.
“Looks like Lestrade’s got himself an admirer!” Sergeant Donovan quipped as she and some other colleagues gathered around his desk to check out his lunch. “If you’re worried that it’s poisoned I’d gladly taste test it for you, sir.”
Lestrade laughed, “You know I love Chinese food. Find your own meal, Sally!” It smelled amazing and he decided that after his morning of work he deserved a little time outside of the office, so he took his meal with him out to the nearby park.
The food tasted just as good as it sounded.
After finishing, Lestrade stretched his legs out in front of him to enjoy the weak cold sunshine that England had to offer. Today had possible been one of the better days he’d had in a long time.
“Mind if I join you?” a voice interrupted his drifting thoughts.
Lestrade started, he hadn’t heard the alpha approaching him and he had done it downwind to mask his scent. “Have a seat, Mr. Holmes.”
“I’d rather you called me Mycroft,” he said as he took the space on the bench beside the detective, setting his omni-presnet umbrella off to the side. “Have you enjoyed your day?”
Lestrade straightened up slightly, “Why don’t you tell me what you really want?”
“Oh, my apologies, detective. I was under the assumption that asking after someone’s day was a polite social convention.”
“You’re related to Sherlock,” Lestrade offered as way of explanation.
Mycroft smiled, “Very well. Who is Cynthia Thompson?”
Lestrade blinked, confused. “My ex-wife?”
“Oh? But I did not see any official divorce papers.”
Lestrade shrugged, “It’s easier to call her my ex than to explain that she ran off to Canada with our daughter before a divorce could even be finalized. Her father’s a diplomat and I can’t even afford the lawyers to get past his lawyers to serve her with a divorce.”
“Most distressing I suppose,” Mycroft made some sort of note on his mobile.
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“It only involves her because it involves you,” Mycroft tucked the mobile back into his jacket pocket. “Was she a beta, like you?”
Lestrade felt a faint tickle of annoyance, he didn’t like to divide people by pack type, but it was often unavoidable. “No, she was an alpha.”
“You bred with an alpha? Were you bonded?”
“Yes and no,” Lestrade considered the situation for a moment. “You’re asking me this because bonded pairs aren’t kept on record, correct? Nor are pack types kept on file because of discrimination law suits. Why is it so important to know about Cynthia’s bonded status?”
Mycroft ignore him, “Why did you breed with an alpha you weren’t bonded with?”
“She was an alpha and I thought I was in love with her.” It had been more than 4 years ago and the wounds were old, Lestrade wouldn’t say that they were healed but he spoke about his old family with a certain detached numbness. His daughter he had never met, didn’t even know her scent, only knew that her name was Jillian.
“Well, this has been fun but I do need to get back to the office.” Lestrade dumped his lunch containers in a park bin, “And although I’ve appreciated the gestures, please stop ordering my coffee and meals.”
“So you noticed,” Mycroft said sarcastically but privately was very pleased.
Lestrade laughed, “Only an imbecile would fail to notice. And although I am no Sherlock Holmes-and he reminds me of it often-I am still a detective. I hope I have satisfied your curiosities. Good day, Mycroft.”
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In fact, Lestrade has yet to get a clue.
*sigh*
But I intend for there to be more.
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Urf. Sherlock bonding and breeding John. Mycroft stalking Lestrade. These are my kink.
I can't wait for more.
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Yes, there is more to come. Eventually. Someday.
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~~
“Not by a long shot, detective.” Mycroft murmured as he watched him go.
Was it possible? At his age? Was it still possible for him to find his bond mate? Was it also possible that his bond mate was so obtuse? He had never had any school girl fantasies about finding his perfect soul mate abroad and bonding with them on some nude beach, but he was an alpha and it was a contingency he had planned for. One did not deny a bond unless they wanted their life to go to pieces. The only thing that could break a bonded pair was death. There were stories of individuals who had fought against bonding who had been driven to drug addiction or had simply lost their minds. Mycroft always had a plan for everything.
Some years ago he realized that bonding at his age was such a rarity he might’ve managed to avoid it altogether. Instead of making him feel relieved, Mycroft found himself to be anxious, but that had faded with time as well.
Only now, this beta had appeared in his life. Detective Lestrade, who had been there all along working with Sherlock, under the watchful eye of CCTV and Mycroft, only Mycroft had never personally met the man until the night before, had never scented him before. He had never known until last night.
Now he just needed Lestrade to realize what he had already realized the night before.
~~
“Holmes! Holmes!” Lestrade pounded on the door a few more times, Mrs. Hudson a concerned shadow behind him. The detective wondered if she was more concerned about her lodger or her door.
“Oh, for Heaven’s sake!” Mrs. Hudson bustled her way between Lestrade and the door, after the sharp rattling of keys the door swung open.
“Thank you, Mrs. Hudson,” Lestrade said as he took the flight of stairs two at a time.
A few heartbeats later he was back at the bottom of the stairs, his face flushed as he closed the door, refusing to make eye contact with Sherlock’s landlady.
“I’ll… um… give them-I mean, him a few minutes,” he choked out.
Mrs. Hudson looked at the detective questioningly and then took a deep breath, her eyes widening comically as her mouth formed a soft ‘O’. “Would you like to come to my flat and have a cup of tea? I think Sherlock will need more than a few minutes.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Hudson, that’s very generous of you.”
Almost half an hour later Sherlock finally emerged freshly showered with a short stocky blond man also freshly showered who introduced himself as Dr. John Watson. Lestrade realized that Sherlock’s scent had changed subtly and he didn’t recognize it anymore, in addition aside from the matching shampoo and soap scents, both men smelled nearly identical.
Bonded.
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“Did you see the morning news today, Sherlock?” Lestrade opened.
The alpha stared at him for a few heartbeats and then asked, “What day is today?”
Lestrade sighed, typical bonding behavior, apparently even the great consulting detective was not immune to his type’s instincts. “Thursday.”
“Four days?!” John exploded. He groaned, “Damn, the hostel must’ve already thrown my things out by now!”
“Oh, I had the liberty of having them packed and delivered a few days ago,” Sherlock pointed a long finger at one pathetically small box sitting just inside Mrs. Hudson’s door in the hallway.
“When did you-?” John started.
Lestrade cleared his throat.
“Ah, yes. Let’s not waste DI Lestrade’s time, he’s come here to consult with me on the bombing that occurred this morning.”
"Lestrade is here to ask me about the bombing this morning."
"I didn't say--" Lestrade started and then stopped, sighing in resignation.
John looked back and forth between the two for a heartbeat and asked the obvious question, "How do you know it's about a bombing?"
Sherlock's eyes were practically shining, "Can't you smell it? Lestrade's spoken with someone who was on the bomb site. The smell of burnt plastics, woods and fertilizer. It's on his hand and his sleeve, so he's most likely shaken that person's hand, so either a first responding officer or bomb squad or..." Sherlock closed his eyes as he took another deep breath, "A fire fighter. They always smell of char, sweat and the fire retardant chemical sprayed on their gear. The building was a warehouse--you've been down to the water, your shoes are wet and nothing smells like the Thames--and there are at least 3 dead."
"Amazing!" John exclaimed, genuinely astonished.
Lestrade had been working with Sherlock long enough that he no longer found these little verbal spars to be astonishing, merely irritating. He felt an eyebrow on the rise as it confirmed his suspicion, "You two haven't known each other very long, have you?"
John blushed and Sherlock gave Lestrade his usual deadpan stare. A most irritating man.
"Right, never mind. I'm more interested in--" Lestrade continued.
"Boring!" Sherlock interrupted. "You want me to figure out who set the bomb that killed those people."
"Yes, but it’s more than simple property damage, I need you to figure out who the intended target was."
"Oh? The warehouse wasn't the original target?" Sherlock’s eyes showed a gleam of interest. “Hm. So the bombing was accidental? Any leads? Any suspects?”
“We contacted the owner and the other staff, they should be in for interviews later this afternoon. Perhaps you’d like to be there for the interviews?” Lestrade offered.
“You go do the interviews. I think I’ll visit the city morgue, the dead make for better company,” Sherlock said as he scooped up John’s box of things and headed back upstairs.
Which left Lestrade and John to size each other up in Mrs. Hudson’s kitchen.
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“You first,” John offered.
“I was saying that you should come with,” Lestrade suggested. “I was right when I said you two haven’t known each other very long, wasn’t I?”
“A few days,” John muttered.
“How long before you two bonded?” Lestrade knew that bonding usually took a few days.
“An afternoon.”
“All the more reason you should come and see Sherlock in action,” Lestrade collected their cups and placed them into the sink. “Tell Sherlock I’ll be waiting for him at the station and I don’t have all day.”
“You think I’m weak for bonding with someone I don’t know?” John demanded, standing up out of his chair and blocking Lestrade’s quick exit from the apartment.
The detective sighed, “No. I doubt you had much of a choice. Holmes can be very… intense, both his intellect and his lack of patience. I imagine he realized you two were a bonded pair before you did. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” after a moment John stepped aside. “I’ll see you at the station with Holmes shortly,” Lestrade called back over his shoulder as he headed down the stairs.
Sherlock Holmes. Bonded. Lestrade laughed softly to himself at the idea. Would miracles never cease?
The CCTV cameras tracked him, one after the other, as he made his way to the station.
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