Re: FILL: I Still Dream of Organon (3/3)
anonymous
June 9 2011, 08:22:49 UTC
There. There. He kisses and tongues the mirror and his gaze is falling open and shut indiscriminately, catching glimpses of the rain-clouds of his hair, the lightning of his cheekbones, the pools of his pupils where raindrops seem to land and ripple wider, wider. He exhales summer humidity and sees it condense until it's dripping cool under its own weight. Rain… rain… thunder crawls through him from groin to breath and he wails softly, not enough, it's so still and stagnant in here, but there's a little window angled above the loo and so he's undoing the latch, pushing it open and tugging at his unbearable hardness and oh, there, the wind gusts in and tumbles across his skin, lustrous whirls smelling of pavement and earth that lift up fine hairs on his arms and legs; more, he groans and tugs off his pyjama bottoms and kicks them away, naked to the wind and the…
Oh, and the rain, the sweet, sweet rain.
Sherlock can barely breathe himself full of crisp air. Slowly, he reaches back and fumbles off the light switch, opens the door just a little for airflow and toes his crumpled pyjamas into the gap. Slowly, he steps into the small, wet column of dim light slanting through the open window. Lets the rain run down his chest, stomach, into a dark gathering of coarse hair, down the tight swell at its base to his thighs. Lets coolness fall onto his straining cock and trace its length before he covers himself with a hand. The air is fraught, something is coming, Sherlock can feel it--he brushes a thumb over sensitive flesh and tips his head back, errant drops breaching his lips as they begin to open.
The bolt comes so fast and so close that the pure white heat of the thing and its thousand electric branches threaten to replace Sherlock's spine in one glorious BANG.
His knees hit the cold tile floor, his body clenches; oh, it sings through him; he cries out and shakes hips-and-voice through the drowning; his core is a church-tower bell in the gale.
Warm liquid runs down his stomach and fingers… cool sprays scatter across his back, his buttocks. Drops tiptoe down his spine to ease the fire… softer, fuller, quieter, there, there. All around, the storm withdraws into its own aftershocks, murmuring contentments that smooth down the crackling envelope edging Sherlock's skin. There.
TIme trickles by unnamed, not noted. A space later, Sherlock sits back, breathes deeply, and softly shuts the door. The bathmat seems comfortable for now, so he settles onto it and cleans himself lazily with his pyjamas, leaning one side of his face against the cool rim of the bathtub. For just a moment, he throws open his senses to detect whether John has woken. It would seem not. A relief. For now.
Rain sighs through the open window to dot a faint pool spreading on the tile. In the dark, Sherlock lets his eyes fall half-closed as he watches the ripples catch tiny bits of light and he stretches his legs, resting his feet in the shadowy water.
Re: FILL: I Still Dream of Organon (3/3)
anonymous
June 12 2011, 13:53:53 UTC
(writer of previous fill here) Wow. This is gorgeous. I love the sensuosity of this (if that's a word) and the backstory. I think stormsexual!Sherlock is starting to become my headcanon...
Re: FILL: I Still Dream of Organon (3/3)omega_frillsJune 14 2011, 04:49:33 UTC
Oh, thank you! I'm flattered that you liked it. :D I surely did enjoy yours.
Headcanon, woooooh! That's the wonderful, terrifying thing about writing, isn't it? It'll convince you of things you never imagined before... by golly, I feel a sequel a'brewin', I feel it in mah bones...
Re: FILL: I Still Dream of Organon (3/3)omega_frillsJune 14 2011, 04:59:43 UTC
I can't tell you how big you've made me grin. As in, if I were to try and speak the words, they'd come out something like "zheezlezzzlinslzz" through my teeth.
Thank you!!! STORM!SEXUAL SHOULD BE A THING. Prompter was brilliant. The word "brontophilia" already exists--love of thunderstorms--and surely it deserves to be used in a kinkish way, yes?
John's involvement currently under consideration...
SEQUEL: Here Comes the Rain Again (tearing me apart like a new emotion)omega_frillsJune 18 2011, 03:41:27 UTC
In the interest of developing storm-sexuality into a thing--and of introducing John to its thing-ness--here is the second entry in what's becoming the "Cloudbusting Series." Thanks for the cookies and support that went into this, folks. :)
Re: SEQUEL: Here Comes the Rain Again (tearing me apart like a new emotion)
anonymous
June 18 2011, 18:46:56 UTC
YES! You did a sequel! (And on the London Eye! I was wondering lately where all the ferris wheel-ish fic is...) That was thrilling but agonising, poor John. I hope next time, he gets a chance to join in :)
Re: SEQUEL: Here Comes the Rain Again (tearing me apart like a new emotion)omega_frillsJune 20 2011, 06:55:48 UTC
:D
Thank you for the comment and for following along! Poor John, I also hope he gets to join in next time... muses haven't yet decided on that one, I'm afraid. That's the eventual plan, though... /obvious spoiler is obvious
Oh, and the rain, the sweet, sweet rain.
Sherlock can barely breathe himself full of crisp air. Slowly, he reaches back and fumbles off the light switch, opens the door just a little for airflow and toes his crumpled pyjamas into the gap. Slowly, he steps into the small, wet column of dim light slanting through the open window. Lets the rain run down his chest, stomach, into a dark gathering of coarse hair, down the tight swell at its base to his thighs. Lets coolness fall onto his straining cock and trace its length before he covers himself with a hand. The air is fraught, something is coming, Sherlock can feel it--he brushes a thumb over sensitive flesh and tips his head back, errant drops breaching his lips as they begin to open.
The bolt comes so fast and so close that the pure white heat of the thing and its thousand electric branches threaten to replace Sherlock's spine in one glorious BANG.
His knees hit the cold tile floor, his body clenches; oh, it sings through him; he cries out and shakes hips-and-voice through the drowning; his core is a church-tower bell in the gale.
Warm liquid runs down his stomach and fingers… cool sprays scatter across his back, his buttocks. Drops tiptoe down his spine to ease the fire… softer, fuller, quieter, there, there. All around, the storm withdraws into its own aftershocks, murmuring contentments that smooth down the crackling envelope edging Sherlock's skin. There.
TIme trickles by unnamed, not noted. A space later, Sherlock sits back, breathes deeply, and softly shuts the door. The bathmat seems comfortable for now, so he settles onto it and cleans himself lazily with his pyjamas, leaning one side of his face against the cool rim of the bathtub. For just a moment, he throws open his senses to detect whether John has woken. It would seem not. A relief. For now.
Rain sighs through the open window to dot a faint pool spreading on the tile. In the dark, Sherlock lets his eyes fall half-closed as he watches the ripples catch tiny bits of light and he stretches his legs, resting his feet in the shadowy water.
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Thank you! Very glad you enjoyed.
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Wonderful, and thank you for writing this!
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You're very welcome, and thank you for the exciting prompt.
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Headcanon, woooooh! That's the wonderful, terrifying thing about writing, isn't it? It'll convince you of things you never imagined before... by golly, I feel a sequel a'brewin', I feel it in mah bones...
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YOU KNOW WHAT? I DON'T EVEN CARE.
This is amazing, brilliant, fabulous, all the good adjectives. Oh my God. Did I mention brilliant?
I'm going to have ~emotions~ next time there's a thunderstorm.
By the way, I kept thinking 'What If This Storm Ends?' by Snow Patrol would be the perfect theme music for this.
*flails hands at you*
I kinda wish John had caught him.
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Thank you!!! STORM!SEXUAL SHOULD BE A THING. Prompter was brilliant. The word "brontophilia" already exists--love of thunderstorms--and surely it deserves to be used in a kinkish way, yes?
John's involvement currently under consideration...
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At my journal... http://omega-frills.livejournal.com/1566.html
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Thank you for the comment and for following along! Poor John, I also hope he gets to join in next time... muses haven't yet decided on that one, I'm afraid. That's the eventual plan, though... /obvious spoiler is obvious
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