Flood Relief Fic - Enigel - 1/2
Title: sex of anOther kind (1/1)
Word Count: 960
Pairing: werewolf!John/vampire!Sherlock/wizard!Lestrade.
Rating: R18+
Warnings: Pure porn. Biting, blood, restraints, rutting, supernatural creatures, and a slightly cracky premise. Surprisingly enough, no penetration. Have fun with that, my lovelies.
Summary: Basically a supernatural porn fest between a vampire consulting detective, a policeman (incidentally also a wizard), and a doctor who was discharged as a werewolf.
Extra Notes: Written for enigel who kindly bought two of my one-shots for the Queensland flood relief. My first bit of true porn on the internet, and a threesome at that. I hope it's not too terrible and hits the spot for what you wanted, enigel. The second story is coming soon, I promise.
In every story and every terrible supernatural film John had seen, werewolves and vampires did not get along. This fragment of pop culture was forever ruined for him when he met Sherlock Holmes. When John had been bitten in Afghanistan, he had thought his life was over and he had been sent home, but not before doctors and scientists had poked and prodded at him for months on end. To his humiliation, he now wore a collar, marking him out as Other.
The truth of the matter was far from vampires and werewolves hating each other. In fact, they got along reasonably, as they were both Other and as such were shunned or looked down on by human society. When Stamford - now so obviously Not Other to John's nose - had introduced Sherlock, it hadn't surprised John to learn that the man was a vampire. Sherlock was the perfect model of the species - pale skin, eyes that seemed to change colour, and dark, soft, raven curls - but yet was so unique compared to his fellows. He was utterly captivating, and John felt a deep craving for this man like he'd not felt quite so powerfully before.
Who did come as a surprise was Lestrade.
John currently found himself pressed into his bed, phantom ropes of silk tying him down and caressing him softly. Hand outstretched, Lestrade looked on as John yipped in pleasure, his own neck being mouthed at by Sherlock. The elder man twisted his neck around and gave Sherlock a forceful kiss. While he would be gentle to John, Sherlock required a dominant force to keep him under check.
"O-Oh god," moaned John, "Sherlock, yo-do that again-you never told me L-Lestrade was a wizard."
And a damn good lover.
The detective inspector twitched his hand, a bond sliding into John's trousers and coiling around his cock. Lestrade summoned another cord, sliding it around Sherlock's leg before it tickled at his thigh and rubbed at the flesh, creeping slowly around the sensitive areas. His vampire lover returned the favour, cupping and squeezing at the front of Lestrade's slacks. Watching them press against each other made John give out a whine of annoyance.
Deep brown eyes met his, and Lestrade took the few steps to reach John, pulling Sherlock by the shirt. When Sherlock straddled John, the werewolf felt Sherlock's skin burn against his. It was possibly one of the most erotic things he'd experienced in all of his life, the sparks of life that flowed under Sherlock's skin like molten lava. Sherlock kissed him, fangs extended slightly to graze against his lips, licking away the beads of blood that formed like rubies. A hand brushed John's collar, unbuckling it and raising it to Lestrade's neck. Lestrade cupped Sherlock's face, kissing him as the leather was fastened, moaning in pleasure.
He turned his attention to John, vanishing the doctor's clothing, baring his deliciously muscled and scarred body. Sherlock muttered a "yes" and slid his hands over Lestrade's chest, unbuttoning the man's shirt while rolling his hips against John's. His trousers strained against his length, eagerly seeking contact against the hardness of John's cock. A bond slid around Sherlock's waist, pulling him backwards into Lestrade's lap. He sank his fangs into Lestrade's arm, then twisted around, pushing Lestrade's shirt off and mouthing at the dark and pert nipples.
John, immobile by his bonds, was pounced on by Lestrade, who sucked and licked at the man, swirling his tongue over the tip and down John's shaft. Unable to stop himself, John let out a breathy howl of pleasure, heat tightening in his lower abdomen, before he came, Sherlock stealing the rest of the sound by pressing their lips together. The rest of their clothes vanished courtesy of Lestrade, and they soon became a writhing tangle of legs and arms, sliding over each other, cuddling and fighting.
Rough hands found their way to Sherlock's cock, slathered with lubricant from a bottle that had materialised in the air, floating next to John's head. Sherlock threw his head back, resting it in the crook between Lestrade's neck and shoulder. He bit Lestrade's earlobe lightly, moaning in his baritone as Lestrade's hands rubbed and pulled. In a surge of his true strength and speed, Sherlock had Lestrade on his back next to John. The policeman gave him a stern look that turned into one of pure pleasure as Sherlock latched onto his neck, rutting in time with his heartbeats.
Sherlock didn't mind having his hair tugged as Lestrade reached his completion as it encouraged himself to the brink. The pulse of life and energy surged through Lestrade's blood, giving a sweet, delicious taste that Sherlock savoured on his tongue. As Lestrade lost all control, the bonds holding John back were released, the werewolf growling happily. Crawling over to Lestrade and Sherlock, John lapped at Lestrade's essence, his ears shifting to become more dog-like, a strip of golden fur appearing down his back to his tailbone, where a bushy tail had grown to brush against Sherlock's skin. He gasped, the tight clenching of heat in his lower abdomen releasing along with his seed, spilling onto Lestrade's stomach and narrowly missing John's face.
His flatmate grinned wickedly, licking away all of it, and pulled Sherlock to lie down with him. Lestrade instantly curled up to John, using a phantom bond to roll Sherlock closer and drag the bedcovers over them. With a lazy, post-coital smile, Lestrade managed to kiss Sherlock's arm and John's hair before falling asleep. With a nuzzle of his pillow, John also fell asleep. Sherlock contented himself with staring at his lovers' faces, cataloguing every detail until his mind slowly wound down from the adrenaline hit and he too closed his eyes.
Word Count: 960
Pairing: werewolf!John/vampire!Sherlock/wizard!Lestrade.
Rating: R18+
Warnings: Pure porn. Biting, blood, restraints, rutting, supernatural creatures, and a slightly cracky premise. Surprisingly enough, no penetration. Have fun with that, my lovelies.
Summary: Basically a supernatural porn fest between a vampire consulting detective, a policeman (incidentally also a wizard), and a doctor who was discharged as a werewolf.
Extra Notes: Written for enigel who kindly bought two of my one-shots for the Queensland flood relief. My first bit of true porn on the internet, and a threesome at that. I hope it's not too terrible and hits the spot for what you wanted, enigel. The second story is coming soon, I promise.
In every story and every terrible supernatural film John had seen, werewolves and vampires did not get along. This fragment of pop culture was forever ruined for him when he met Sherlock Holmes. When John had been bitten in Afghanistan, he had thought his life was over and he had been sent home, but not before doctors and scientists had poked and prodded at him for months on end. To his humiliation, he now wore a collar, marking him out as Other.
The truth of the matter was far from vampires and werewolves hating each other. In fact, they got along reasonably, as they were both Other and as such were shunned or looked down on by human society. When Stamford - now so obviously Not Other to John's nose - had introduced Sherlock, it hadn't surprised John to learn that the man was a vampire. Sherlock was the perfect model of the species - pale skin, eyes that seemed to change colour, and dark, soft, raven curls - but yet was so unique compared to his fellows. He was utterly captivating, and John felt a deep craving for this man like he'd not felt quite so powerfully before.
Who did come as a surprise was Lestrade.
John currently found himself pressed into his bed, phantom ropes of silk tying him down and caressing him softly. Hand outstretched, Lestrade looked on as John yipped in pleasure, his own neck being mouthed at by Sherlock. The elder man twisted his neck around and gave Sherlock a forceful kiss. While he would be gentle to John, Sherlock required a dominant force to keep him under check.
"O-Oh god," moaned John, "Sherlock, yo-do that again-you never told me L-Lestrade was a wizard."
And a damn good lover.
The detective inspector twitched his hand, a bond sliding into John's trousers and coiling around his cock. Lestrade summoned another cord, sliding it around Sherlock's leg before it tickled at his thigh and rubbed at the flesh, creeping slowly around the sensitive areas. His vampire lover returned the favour, cupping and squeezing at the front of Lestrade's slacks. Watching them press against each other made John give out a whine of annoyance.
Deep brown eyes met his, and Lestrade took the few steps to reach John, pulling Sherlock by the shirt. When Sherlock straddled John, the werewolf felt Sherlock's skin burn against his. It was possibly one of the most erotic things he'd experienced in all of his life, the sparks of life that flowed under Sherlock's skin like molten lava. Sherlock kissed him, fangs extended slightly to graze against his lips, licking away the beads of blood that formed like rubies. A hand brushed John's collar, unbuckling it and raising it to Lestrade's neck. Lestrade cupped Sherlock's face, kissing him as the leather was fastened, moaning in pleasure.
He turned his attention to John, vanishing the doctor's clothing, baring his deliciously muscled and scarred body. Sherlock muttered a "yes" and slid his hands over Lestrade's chest, unbuttoning the man's shirt while rolling his hips against John's. His trousers strained against his length, eagerly seeking contact against the hardness of John's cock. A bond slid around Sherlock's waist, pulling him backwards into Lestrade's lap. He sank his fangs into Lestrade's arm, then twisted around, pushing Lestrade's shirt off and mouthing at the dark and pert nipples.
John, immobile by his bonds, was pounced on by Lestrade, who sucked and licked at the man, swirling his tongue over the tip and down John's shaft. Unable to stop himself, John let out a breathy howl of pleasure, heat tightening in his lower abdomen, before he came, Sherlock stealing the rest of the sound by pressing their lips together. The rest of their clothes vanished courtesy of Lestrade, and they soon became a writhing tangle of legs and arms, sliding over each other, cuddling and fighting.
Rough hands found their way to Sherlock's cock, slathered with lubricant from a bottle that had materialised in the air, floating next to John's head. Sherlock threw his head back, resting it in the crook between Lestrade's neck and shoulder. He bit Lestrade's earlobe lightly, moaning in his baritone as Lestrade's hands rubbed and pulled. In a surge of his true strength and speed, Sherlock had Lestrade on his back next to John. The policeman gave him a stern look that turned into one of pure pleasure as Sherlock latched onto his neck, rutting in time with his heartbeats.
Sherlock didn't mind having his hair tugged as Lestrade reached his completion as it encouraged himself to the brink. The pulse of life and energy surged through Lestrade's blood, giving a sweet, delicious taste that Sherlock savoured on his tongue. As Lestrade lost all control, the bonds holding John back were released, the werewolf growling happily. Crawling over to Lestrade and Sherlock, John lapped at Lestrade's essence, his ears shifting to become more dog-like, a strip of golden fur appearing down his back to his tailbone, where a bushy tail had grown to brush against Sherlock's skin. He gasped, the tight clenching of heat in his lower abdomen releasing along with his seed, spilling onto Lestrade's stomach and narrowly missing John's face.
His flatmate grinned wickedly, licking away all of it, and pulled Sherlock to lie down with him. Lestrade instantly curled up to John, using a phantom bond to roll Sherlock closer and drag the bedcovers over them. With a lazy, post-coital smile, Lestrade managed to kiss Sherlock's arm and John's hair before falling asleep. With a nuzzle of his pillow, John also fell asleep. Sherlock contented himself with staring at his lovers' faces, cataloguing every detail until his mind slowly wound down from the adrenaline hit and he too closed his eyes.