Disguise, part 8c/?
anonymous
May 12 2011, 01:07:27 UTC
With a quick manoeuvre, John wriggles out of Brad's grasp, then presses him back so his head is at the foot of the bed, and covers his body with his own. John rubs his chin, his face over the entirety of Brad's body, slipping his tongue out every few moments to taste an errant patch of warmth, and breathing in fragrant skin. He catches Brad's wrists and lifts them overhead, pinning them with one hand. Kissing down the underskin of Brad's arm, John can feel Brad writhe against him, buck upward, cry out his name. He gets to the cave of hair of Brad's underarm and inhales. It's a strong scent: warm and very male. His mouth all but waters. John traces the edge of his underarm with his tongue. It's sharp, but not at all unpleasant, and the noises Brad keeps making are going in a direct line to John's cock.
"John ... John ... John."
His name has never sounded so sexually charged before, so much like poetry. Brad writhes next to him, arches upward and gasps with every touch of John's tongue. Every word, every grunt, every gasp is like a drop of rain on a parched summer day and John can't get enough. He presses his open mouth to Brad's underarm, teases, and licks soft lines over every inch.
"God, oh god, I ... I-- John."
Brad pulls his wrist out of John's grasp, curls it around him and pulls John awkwardly on top of him. John's still half on the bed; his spine is twisted uncomfortably, but when Brad crushes his mouth against John's, John can find little reason to care. He kisses back with closed eyes and dizzying thoughts, and thinks he must have done something right in his life, if he's allowed to feel like this.
~*~
This time John isn't sure what to think when the memory fades. He hasn't thought about this, hasn't let himself think about it in years. Not after everything fell so utterly apart.
John feels like he's been through a wringer in the past twenty-four hours. First he and Sherlock had been out on a case, then hauled into Scotland Yard for a mistaken identity from the gym -- for the very same case -- and John had awakened this morning feeling remarkably chipper for only a few hours of sleep. Today he's pinged back and forth between anger, disgust, rage, fatigue, and loathing. He's exhausted.
He takes a sip of his lager then glances around the pub. The door opens and he watches three more patrons walk in.
And, oh, would you look at that?
Sherlock Holmes, the cause of all of this, striding in like he has a right to be here.
John doesn't look away. He's not going to give Sherlock the satisfaction of knowing that, yes, in fact, it is remarkably easy to get John Watson to fall for you. You just have to flirt with him, stroke his ego a few times, and oh yes, be sure to give him the shag of his life, way back when he's young and impressionable, ruin him for anyone else, and then tell him that it was all a bloody mistake.
He stares defiantly at Sherlock, not moving his gaze, waiting to be seen. He straightens his fingers, then curls them in toward his palm, once, twice.
After a moment Sherlock does see him; John can see his body freeze almost imperceptibly. His expression doesn't change, he looks John over from head to toe, nods briefly, then walks over to the bar and leans over to talk to the bartender. He hands him something -- a folded paper, perhaps -- then spins on his heel and exits the bar.
And here it is, again. John, all by himself. As per usual.
Re: Disguise, part 8c/?
anonymous
May 12 2011, 03:53:32 UTC
God, the flashback scenes are a mix of insane hotness and utter sadness knowing that it all goes to hell.
I hate rushing genius, but my god I need more of this so badly! What is on the paper?!! What the hell did Sherlock say to him back then?! Seriously, this fic is insanely tense right now!
Oh and yeah thirding the whole Sherlock begging forgiveness thing! If he hadn't been such a bastard he and John could have been together for years by now.
[note from author-anon]
anonymous
May 19 2011, 02:09:40 UTC
I wanted to write a quick comment to let people know that while I've got a good thousand words or so of the next part, I'm going to hold off on posting until I get a fair bit more written. In writing this story I've fallen so hard for this John and this Sherlock, and I really want to... do right by them, if that makes any sense. So I want to get a bit more written and make sure my head is on straight. [thank you for your patience, really.]
I think this story will probably end up with another 3-4K, so I think we're in the home stretch here.
Thank you (seriously ♥ -- so much) for all of the comments and words of support. It's meant a lot to me.
Re: [note from author-anon]
anonymous
May 19 2011, 03:33:11 UTC
I for one say take whatever time you need to do right by them, as you say. This fill is so good, and I'm looking forward to more angsty bits (GOD though, seriously, what happened to them back in 1992? And what did Sherlock give the bartender? Ahhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!) Ok, deep breath.
No seriously, I'm looking forward to more of this so much it's painful to wait, but patience IS a virtue, so do what you gotta do to keep up the awesome.
I appreciate this so much, thank you. I am writing when I can (this is a busy time of year, but should hopefully let up soon) and still ridiculously in love with both Sherlock and John here.
I did want to let you know that I've got another 4k written and will put some of it up one day this week.
I'm so glad this has been a good fill for you. ♥ And thank you so much for the prompt -- I can't believe how it's grown!
With a quick manoeuvre, John wriggles out of Brad's grasp, then presses him back so his head is at the foot of the bed, and covers his body with his own. John rubs his chin, his face over the entirety of Brad's body, slipping his tongue out every few moments to taste an errant patch of warmth, and breathing in fragrant skin. He catches Brad's wrists and lifts them overhead, pinning them with one hand. Kissing down the underskin of Brad's arm, John can feel Brad writhe against him, buck upward, cry out his name. He gets to the cave of hair of Brad's underarm and inhales. It's a strong scent: warm and very male. His mouth all but waters. John traces the edge of his underarm with his tongue. It's sharp, but not at all unpleasant, and the noises Brad keeps making are going in a direct line to John's cock.
"John ... John ... John."
His name has never sounded so sexually charged before, so much like poetry. Brad writhes next to him, arches upward and gasps with every touch of John's tongue. Every word, every grunt, every gasp is like a drop of rain on a parched summer day and John can't get enough. He presses his open mouth to Brad's underarm, teases, and licks soft lines over every inch.
"God, oh god, I ... I-- John."
Brad pulls his wrist out of John's grasp, curls it around him and pulls John awkwardly on top of him. John's still half on the bed; his spine is twisted uncomfortably, but when Brad crushes his mouth against John's, John can find little reason to care. He kisses back with closed eyes and dizzying thoughts, and thinks he must have done something right in his life, if he's allowed to feel like this.
~*~
This time John isn't sure what to think when the memory fades. He hasn't thought about this, hasn't let himself think about it in years. Not after everything fell so utterly apart.
John feels like he's been through a wringer in the past twenty-four hours. First he and Sherlock had been out on a case, then hauled into Scotland Yard for a mistaken identity from the gym -- for the very same case -- and John had awakened this morning feeling remarkably chipper for only a few hours of sleep. Today he's pinged back and forth between anger, disgust, rage, fatigue, and loathing. He's exhausted.
He takes a sip of his lager then glances around the pub. The door opens and he watches three more patrons walk in.
And, oh, would you look at that?
Sherlock Holmes, the cause of all of this, striding in like he has a right to be here.
John doesn't look away. He's not going to give Sherlock the satisfaction of knowing that, yes, in fact, it is remarkably easy to get John Watson to fall for you. You just have to flirt with him, stroke his ego a few times, and oh yes, be sure to give him the shag of his life, way back when he's young and impressionable, ruin him for anyone else, and then tell him that it was all a bloody mistake.
He stares defiantly at Sherlock, not moving his gaze, waiting to be seen. He straightens his fingers, then curls them in toward his palm, once, twice.
After a moment Sherlock does see him; John can see his body freeze almost imperceptibly. His expression doesn't change, he looks John over from head to toe, nods briefly, then walks over to the bar and leans over to talk to the bartender. He hands him something -- a folded paper, perhaps -- then spins on his heel and exits the bar.
And here it is, again. John, all by himself. As per usual.
~*~
-end part 8-
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YOU CAN'T STOP THERE! omg imma hyperventilate. Breathe, self, breathe!
F5's like I have never F5'ed before. 8|
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I hate rushing genius, but my god I need more of this so badly! What is on the paper?!! What the hell did Sherlock say to him back then?! Seriously, this fic is insanely tense right now!
Oh and yeah thirding the whole Sherlock begging forgiveness thing! If he hadn't been such a bastard he and John could have been together for years by now.
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This remains amazing, and very very hot. More please <3
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I think this story will probably end up with another 3-4K, so I think we're in the home stretch here.
Thank you (seriously ♥ -- so much) for all of the comments and words of support. It's meant a lot to me.
Reply
No seriously, I'm looking forward to more of this so much it's painful to wait, but patience IS a virtue, so do what you gotta do to keep up the awesome.
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But that means we have so much to look forward to... I can't wait!!
Just watch out for the limit of comments on this thread: we're nearing the 9000 comments mark! ^^
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I appreciate this so much, thank you. I am writing when I can (this is a busy time of year, but should hopefully let up soon) and still ridiculously in love with both Sherlock and John here.
I did want to let you know that I've got another 4k written and will put some of it up one day this week.
I'm so glad this has been a good fill for you. ♥ And thank you so much for the prompt -- I can't believe how it's grown!
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This state of Zen was accomplished by ripping out my F5 key and eating it. It was an acceptable loss though not very tasty.
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