Huh, looks like i’m writing some desk sex mystrade.
thescienceofjohnlock wanted some top!Sherlock, so here’s a little pwp:
What John Didn’t Know He Wanted – Sherlock and John have been sleeping together a few weeks. This time Sherlock takes control.
teaser below the cut
John panted, out of breath and near giggling as they came back into the flat. “Ridiculous,” he grinned, straightening to look at Sherlock.
For his part Sherlock was looking at him with naked lust. A shiver spiked down John’s back as he met his eyes and licked his lips. Sherlock moved first, cradling his head as he crushed his lips, need broadcasting down tongue and fingers straight to John’s cock. He moaned, surprised by the aggressiveness. He fisted Sherlock’s coat, yanking him closer.
Then Sherlock was pulling him down the hall, clothes falling in a trail behind them until they stood nude in Sherlock’s room. Sherlock pushed John onto the bed. Panic spiked down John’s back for just a few heartbeats as he looked up into Sherlock’s hungry eyes. They hadn’t done it this way before, but he found his cock twitching at the idea of his lover filling him over and over again. And clearly Sherlock wanted to try things this way for once.
“You want me,” John swallowed and smiled with come hither eyes, scooting back on the bed to grasp the headboard with both hands, tongue darting out again to wet his lips.
I’v officially hit 90k hits on my fics 0,o. What should I do when I hit 100k? besides use my jack harkness glitter gif?
I needed to write something short, smutty and fluffy, so here you go:
Wash Away the Bruises – Short post-case shower sex pwp.
very tiny teaser:
John sighed as the hot water struck his skin. Bits of blood swirled down the drain; not his. A bruise stained his right side where he’d taken the blow for Sherlock. At least they’d caught the bastard and he wouldn’t be hurting anyone else.
Still, he was tired and sore. The bathroom door opened and he smiled, letting the water run down his hair and face as he closed his eyes. Sherlock was almost silent as he stepped behind him. He rested a hand on his hip and kissed his shoulder.
Better than Takeaway
John brought the takeaway, but Sherlock is distracted by his red pants.
It’s my own fic, but it’s monday, so…
Posted a second chapter to Wounded and Worn
Still angsty, of course.
Sunday Six
I’m working on a second chapter to that angsty thing I posted yesterday. Yes it’s a bit more then six:
But Greg cleared out his spare bedroom and a few nights a week John would show up on his doorstep. Sometimes Mycroft was there, more often he was not. They would sit on the sofa and watch telly until John couldn’t stay awake any longer, then go off to their separate beds.
John hardly slept, didn’t want the meds. Now instead of sand and desert his dreams were haunted by the terrible fall. If only he’d got there sooner. If only he’d said something different. Sometimes he dreamed it was Sherlock who pulled the trigger, put the bullet in his shoulder.
Sheesh. With today fic I’ve posted 133,317 words to AO3. And now I feel like today’s fic is going to end up a multichapter. Plus I’m doing nanowrimo. whee.
So yeah, here you go, angsty post-reichnbach fic with a bit of smut. Just John/Greg though. Maybe I’ll make this something longer too.
Wounded and Worn – When Greg finds him wandering the streets and takes him home, John doesn’t expect to find Mycroft there too.
teaser below the cut
The car pulled up to the curb. John blinked at it, not one of Mycroft’s thank God, but he was surprised when the window rolled down and Greg appeared. “Get in, John, you’ll catch your death out here.”
Would that be so bad? Thought John as he moved automatically to get into the car. It was raining and cold and like usual he was underdressed for the weather. Greg’s car was warm and dry and he was surprised that the car’s clock showed it was nearly midnight.
“What are you doing out so late?” He asked as they drove through the dark streets.
“Had some paperwork to catch up on. You can spend the night with me.”
John wasn’t inclined to argue. Baker Street felt haunted these days, which was why he’d been walking anyway. His knee twinged and he rubbed it without thinking. He’d never been to Greg’s flat before as Greg climbed the stairs and got the door. “Make yourself comfortable,” he said, going into the kitchen to turn the kettle on.
Looking around, John took in the flat. He knew Greg and his wife had divorced sometime the year before and the flat certainly shouted bachelor. He found himself deducting as he looked around, though he was surprised to see an expensive looking bottle of lotion sitting on a bookshelf. That certainly didn’t look like it belonged to Greg Lestrade.
“Here,” Greg came out of the kitchen and handed him a mug. John somewhat wished it was something stronger, but he really didn’t need to drink right now. If he did he might never stop.
“So, this is where you live?” he said lamely, not knowing what else to say.
“Yeah,” Greg reached for his soaked coat and hung up behind the door.
The action reminded John again of Sherlock and he winced. Then he blinked, seeing the other coat hanging up. “That’s…not your coat.”
“This? No, it’s not.” Greg hung up his own coat, knocking over the umbrella.
John froze, then stood so quickly he knocked over his tea. “He’s here?”
Well this fic ended up being WAY more angsty then I expected. *pets John*