Originally published 2014 September 12 on AO3, but forgot to post here too. This originally started in my mind in a nightclub and somehow moved to a coffee shop instead. And then moved out of the coffee shop fairly quick, too. Second in the Line of Dialogue challenge.
"Brilliant."
Startled, Sherlock blinked and turned his head from the barrage of deductions he'd just laid into the now-crying barista behind the counter to the table next to him. Admiring blue eyes stared up at him from a tan, weathered face with an easy smile. The haircut combined with the posture and the dead scent that meant omega-on-suppressants said 'military'. The tremor in the left hand resting on the tabletop and the tight grip on the cane in his left hand said 'invalidated'. The smell of gun oil that told him a service gun was cleaned daily said 'suicidal'. The offer letter for employment at the man's alma mater, St Bart's, said 'doctor'.
"A bit not good, but absolutely brilliant."
The compliment told him absolutely nothing. Especially as he'd never before received one for his deductions.
"Can you do that with everyone?"
The man sat back in his chair, raising his cup to sip what looked to be tea rather than coffee, eyes wide and bright in interest. Sherlock could only stare, a bit dazed, before a worried frown took over the bright expression that turned medical as it scanned his body as if looking for the cause of his sudden silence.
"Are you ok-"
"Are you flirting with me?" the alpha asked incredulously. He'd had people do so before, try to seduce him, fall at his feet. But not this. Nothing like this... genuine interest. The omega's eyes widened, in shock, it seemed, and then a slow smile crossed his face.
"Would you like me to?"
.oOo.
John Watson was fantastic. Sherlock had gotten sucked into conversation with the man, not stopping until the shop was closing around them and he received a text from Lestrade about a case. Before he'd realised what he'd done, the doctor was kneeling on the other side of a corpse to deliver his medical opinion in between astonished, astonishing, praises of the detective's deductions. Sherlock wasn't sure who was more surprised by the seemingly unconscious bursts from the ex-soldier: the NSY team at the crime scene, or himself. As the sat at Angelo's later that night, he found himself captivated by the easy-going smile and the bright blue eyes and the breathless giggles when Sherlock relayed crime scene stories.
It didn't matter that John was an omega. And not just because Sherlock couldn't smell him through the suppressants. What mattered was that John was interested in him, in his mind. He didn't push for a bonding like some in the past had done, nor did he fall to his knees and beg for Sherlock's cock when the alpha in him rose to the surface and the air became saturated in pheromones from his annoyance with NSY idiots or his excitement over a case. In fact, in those moments, the omega only stood straighter, chin higher, smile and eyes brighter. There was no question in his mind that he was as hooked on John Watson as John Watson was on Sherlock Holmes. He asked the doctor to move in with him right then. John blinked, smiled, and said "Yes".
.oOo.
John fiddled with his suppressants pack as he stared at one of his first his blog entries.
Nothing ever happens to me.
Well, he had been sort of right. Nothing had happened to him then, and now things were all that ever happened to him. Things starting with the alpha, Sherlock Holmes. The same man he was now considering going off his suppressants to have a heat with. Only problem was not being sure if Sherlock would accept. So often had the man showed absolutely no interest in anyone. And yet, he still kept John around. He still looked at John like that.
The omega dropped his head back, pressing his free hand over his eyes as he groaned in annoyance and indecision. It wasn't that he didn't want to offer-he'd wanted to offer ever since that first day-it was that he didn't want to be rejected. Sure, he'd shared heats before, but he'd never wanted to go off his suppressants to have one before. That, if nothing else, screamed to him how deeply he'd fallen for the genius.
His laptop snapped shut and he jerked up, hastily trying to shove the pill pack between his thigh and the chair, but it was too late. Deft fingers plucked it out of his grasp and held it up to cold, calculating eyes. He squirmed in his seat as Sherlock's eyes left the pill pack and met his eyes instead. Under the gaze, he could feel his cheeks heating.
"I was considering-"
"Going off your suppressants to share a heat with an alpha," the detective interrupted, voice cold in a way that confused John.
"Yeah. Thinking about it. I'd really like to-" This time he was interrupted by the pack being flung down almost violently into his lap. Pheromones flooded the air in a rush so thick and sudden that it if he wasn't still on military-grade suppressants, his mouth would have watered and the seat of his pants (and the chair below him) would have been drenched in slick.
"I hope your alpha is pleased," the man snapped as he strode away towards his room. Now thoroughly confused, John nearly dropped his laptop on the floor as he scurried to follow.
"Yeah, I'd kinda hoped he would be," he replied, frowning as he tried to follow the alpha into the man's room, only to be stopped by a door slamming closed in his face. Anger ignited under his skin at the unexpected and rude reaction. "If you didn't want to, all you had to do was say 'no'," he told the door, voice quiet and icey in his growing fury. Pharmacy it was then, he decided, turning away in a perfect about-face. He may as well continue to fill his suppressant subscription until he could find an alpha who did actually want him as much as he wanted them, an impossibility considering there was no more room in his heart after Sherlock had taken up all the space in it and then some. No reason to not refill his suppressant subscription He turned away, more than happy to leave for the pharmacy to refill his subscription on suppressants until he could find an alpha who wanted him as much as he wanted them. He had only take a single step away when the bedroom door behind him was flung open.
"What did you say?" The alpha's voice came out in a breathless rush that startled John enough to diminish his anger. Just a little.
He turned to meet grey eyes, watching the expression on the man's face carefully. "I said, if you didn't want to, all you had to do was tell me 'no'."
Sherlock just stared at him. For a long time. Too long. It wasn't even the 'deduction stare', as John had secretly been calling it. It was like he'd just... shut off. "Sherlock?" The alpha started and blinked at him.
"You- You want me to-"
"Share my heat?"
"-bond with you?" Now it was John's turn to blink. The thought (bonding with Sherlock Holmes) honestly left him a little breathless, in the best kind of way. Is that what Sherlock wanted? To bond with him? That would be- No. He didn't dare to imagine. Not until he got a confirmation.
"Of course. You just meant-" The omega could already hear his flatmate's sentence going in absolutely the wrong direction, and the man's expression was quickly going from blank to crushed, and the doctor needed to head it off before the git could do some real damage to himself and what 'them' they currently had.
"Do you want to bond with me?" he asked, looking up at the alpha in the doorway. Silly thing hadn't even hung up his coat or scarf yet. To his surprise, a flush spread across pale cheeks under his watchful gaze.
"Transport," the genius scoffed, looking away for the first time in their conversation. John took a slow step forward, pressing his hand to the broad chest and spreading his fingers wide, fascinating by the racing heartbeat under his palm.
"That's not what I asked, Sherlock," he murmured. The omega leaned his weight into the other man to raise up to his tip-toes and scent the alpha, something he'd only been able to do from far away in the past. The smell was... delicious. It was like a heat storm in the desert, sharp like lightning but grounding, like sand. There was a delicious muskiness that Baker Street had smelled faintly of ever since his arrival that he'd always thought was just the flat, because it had always smelled like 'home' from the first time he'd stepped through the door. Apparently, it had been Sherlock all this time. Which explained all the strange, confused looks he'd been getting from his dates, before he gave them up. He would have been covered in the alpha's scent. From the beginning. The thought that a claim had been in the fabric of his clothes, on his skin, since he'd moved in had a sound that was more breath than moan coming from his parted lips.
He fell back on his heels, rocking a bit, intending to go to his tip-toes a second time to run his tongue over the alpha's scent gland, hoping to experience a dose of pheromones undiluted by air, but he never got the chance. His breath left him in a harsh rush when his spine hit the doorframe and, for a heart-wrenching moment, he thought he was being (violently) rejected, that he had completely misread everything in the tone of the alpha's voice and facial expressions and body language. But before he could beg pardon, throw out whatever apology would guarantee his continued residence, teeth attacked his scent gland, their harsh grip combined with unforgiving suction creating marks he knew would bruise enough to last for days and making his arse damp despite the suppressants. In the past, alphas he'd taken to bed had tried to get their teeth near his scent gland, had tried 'encouraging' him to bond with them during his heat when they thought he was weak, only to be firmly, sometimes violently, rebuked and rejected. Sherlock was being more aggressive and more demanding, long fingers pressing even more bruises into John's hips through his jeans, than any alpha had even dared to be in the past, and yet, the only instinct John felt was to throw his head back and moan encouragingly. So he did.
The few times he had given thought to what Sherlock would be like as a lover, he imagined that the man, who had freely admitted in the past that he had never taken or been taken, might be shy, hesitant, looking to John, who had a great deal more experience in the subject, for guidance. He was pleasantly surprised to find that his genius was in this as he was in any other thing in his life: single-minded in his focus and determination to accomplish his goal. A goal that, at this point, appeared to be nothing more than turning John's neck black and blue with accompanying teeth marks. The omega would have been more than fine with that, except that his alpha seemed to be concentrating most of his efforts on the doctor's neck, right over his scent gland, and all of his infamous soldier's patience was evaporating under such a clever tongue. He was approximately two more nips from just dropping to his knees and presenting when Sherlock drew back and a high whine pierced the air. The omega flushed when he realised it was him.
"Bed, John." The bastard's voice was as calm and as commanding as it was during cases and without thought, the ex-soldier moved to obey before he remembered something and stopped.
"My heat-"
"Is not a prerequisite for sex, John," Sherlock interrupted smoothly. "The first time I hear you beg for me, you're going to well and truly mean it." John's mouth instantly went dry at the words, at the visions that ran through his mind. "Now, you know how much I dislike repeating myself..."
The omega licked his lips and nodded, turning away and feeling a heady spike of danger pulse through him at presenting his back to such an obvious predator. He'd only had time to put his palms on the bed, in the middle of raising one knee up to the mattress, when a hard body pressed against his from behind, blanketing him from arse to shoulders. One hand slid down his left arm and the other touched his hip, sliding up under his shirt to palm his belly, and his breath shuddered on the exhale. Despite the confidence in the alpha's voice and posture and scent, the hand against his and against his stomach were trembling slightly, and John had to revise his opinion on how well Sherlock might be taking this. The genius was brilliantly adept at hiding any uneasiness he had, covering it up with arrogance, and John was beginning to suspect that was what was happening now.
It took a moment to realise that, once Sherlock had wrapped him in his arms, he'd stopped moving, lips simply pressed to John's nape and body vibrating with tension. Considering his next move, wondering if the alpha was waiting for some sign of acceptance, the omega finally rolled his hips, pressing his arse to the prominent erection hovering just behind him. A guttural groan whispered across the back of his neck and then frantic fingers were pulling at his clothes, desperately trying to strip him as quickly as possible. He felt exhilarated and laughter bubbled in his throat, and spilled out, Sherlock stilling around him. Still grinning and heart pounding, John undulated encouragingly, arse brushing against the alpha's cock again and again until the fingers undoing his buttons finally resumed their task.
When the last disc was free, John scrambled up onto the bed, shedding his button-up and his vest, and undoing the button and zip on his jeans before he dropped his chest to the bed and looked over his shoulder at the alpha standing still by the bed, eyes dilated, but his entire body still as stone. After a moment of that, he grinned and wiggled his arse.
"Well?" he prompted, slowly reaching back to hook his thumbs in the side waistband of his jeans and pants. The bed behind him dipped suddenly as Sherlock moved quickly and silently into place between his parted calves, and teeth nipped sharply at the base of his spine, making his breath hitch and his thumbs pause. Eight long fingers curled in the back waistband of his jeans and pants, knuckles moving in a firm glide over the curve of his arse, lips and tongue following along each millimetre of skin as it was revealed. Gentle hands cupped his knees one at a time, lifting them just enough to remove the fabric trapping his legs, and as he settled back into place and his bottoms hit the floor, a soft kiss was pressed against his hole and he bit his lip.
"John..." the alpha breathed, air fanning across the dampness smeared across the skin of the most intimate part of John's body. "I have fantasised often about this." The broad swipe of a slow tongue caught him by surprise and he moaned low in his throat as his hips jerked back. Fingers gripped his hips hard as the tongue laved over his hole again, making him shudder. "I hate that I can't smell you because of your suppressants. Your taste is so diluted that it's nearly indistinguishable from water in taste. I hate it." The smooth muscle pressed relentlessly at the taught rim of his hole, and he had to shove his fist in his mouth to muffle the cry he nearly let loose.
"No," Sherlock growled against his skin, the vibration traveling across his perineum and down his shaft to the sensitive tip of his fully erect cock, and the fingers in his hips dug in tighter. "I want to hear you, John. I told you: I want to hear you beg for me."
.oOo.
It was almost amusing that he'd likened the omega's slick to water in taste, because he felt like he'd been stuck on a deserted island, no water but the ocean around him, and now he was rescued and provided with the clean, life-giving liquid that he needed. Despite the lack of taste and smell, he couldn't stop the thrusts of his tongue, piercing the omega over and over, loosening his rim as the alpha attempted to quench the thirst he'd never before experienced and wasn't sure could be sated now that he'd felt it. He needed every drop released, as minimal as they were, as tasteless and as scentless as they were, and his tongue was straining, now, to reach as far in as it could possibly go, John's fingers nearly tearing holes in the sheets as desperate mewls dropped from the man's mouth.
"Fucking hell, Sherlock," the omega groaned, hips straining against the alpha's hands. "Would you get on with it!" Despite the rather rude phrasing of the words, his effect on his omega was clear in the breathy quality of his voice and the trembling in his body and the white-knuckled grip on the sheets under his shoulders. Sherlock's own cock was hard and aching, trapped behind the flies of his trousers, his skin warm beneath all the clothing he was still wearing. With one final prod, he finally pulled away, grinning triumphantly at the aggravated snarl the man let loose when he did so.
The alpha sat back on his heels, fingers scrambling to undo his button and zip, and it was only then that he realised how bad they were shaking. His brief distraction of opening up John with his tongue had been just that: a distraction, something to take his mind off the unavoidable knowledge that he'd never done any of this before and he only had the most base knowledge. There was the fear that his inexperience would show in his mating, that he would do or say something so wrong that it would turn John from him. He had never expected anything other than that he would lose the omega to some alpha, one of the females he seemed to prefer perhaps. Having the man's taste in his mouth and his scent in the alpha's nose and his skin under Sherlock's palms made him excruciatingly aware of the newness of this agreement, that John was not only likely but allowed to turn him away at any time.
"Sherlock?" His eyes snapped up at the gentle tone, and he found John kneeling up in front of him. Warm, tentative palms settled over the fabric across his chest, and bright blue eyes stared up at him, patient, undemanding. "If you don't want to do this, that's fine. I'm honestly happy with whatever you want to give me, even if it's just your friendship. So if you're afraid of me leaving you for someone else, don't. The only way I'll leave you is involuntarily, and even then, I will always fight my way back to you. But if you don't want to bond with me, please don't force yourself to do it."
The omega in front of him didn't move any part of himself, just kneeled there and waited, expression on his face making it seem that he would happily wait hours for a response, as long as one was given. Sherlock's head jerked gracelessly forward, their teeth clacking together with the desperateness of his kiss. John made a noise of surprise and jerked back, but fingers were already embedded in the short strands, keeping him in place. There was a muffled giggle and then the strong hands on his chest were sliding up to cup his shoulders, then smoothing across his collar to cup the back of neck before sliding up into his hair. Slowly, as John responded calmly and patiently, the franticness of the alpha's movements eased to match. The hands in his hair slowly moved away, but the lips over his remained and that was all that mattered. Until he felt those warm palms against the skin of his chest and he startled back, his shirt sliding down his arms with the movement.
"It's all right," John whispered against his lips, fingers trailing carefully down Sherlock's chest and belly to his trousers. Each move was as slow and deliberate as if he were shouting each intention before their implementation, expression as careful as his fingers, eyes never leaving Sherlock's. "We'll go as slow or as fast as you need, all right? And we'll only go as far as you're comfortable with, yeah?" John's fingers were slowly stroking his cock through his pants, derailing any and all trains of thought, and there was a chance he may have nodded, but then the omega was tugging his trousers and his pants down his thighs, and he scrambled to push them away, nearly toppling them both in the process. The doctor's soft laughter at his movements made him freeze before he did topple them as he dove in for a kiss.
"John," he murmured between kisses. "My John." The next few minutes were filled with sloppy kisses as he tried to remove his clothes one hand at a time from where he was laying between the omega's legs, and John's hands kept switching between running over his back and shoulders and helping him remove his bottoms. Finally, he was able to kick it all free, and he was laying down carefully, pressing along the omega from shoulder to foot.
He felt electrically alive in his own skin, so aware of their relative positions to one another, of John's heartbeat beneath his fingertips and his breath against his cheeks, of the contact of their bare skin. He wanted to do this right, he wanted to a be the alpha, the mate, that Doctor John Watson deserved, and the thought of failing the man in that respect absolutely terrified him. He hadn't even realised his erection had begun to wane until John gently eased back, blinking up at him as a warm palm cupped his shoulder blade and a hip rocked up into his pelvis.
"Are you okay?" The kindness, the lack of expectation, in John's voice, the man completely unhurried despite the stone-hard erection pressed against Sherlock's own hip, made his heart hurt.
"Yes, I-" He cut himself off, suddenly more aware than he'd ever been in his life of the expectations of alphas, of the way he was expected to appear in front of his omega, the confidence he was supposed to exude, the façade he was supposed to keep up. But Sherlock had never cared about that. Why should he now? Because this was John in front of him, the one person he valued above all others in the world. More than some ridiculous alpha instinct needing to dominate the 'weaker' secondgender was the instinct to just do right by this extraordinary person. And that piercing blue gaze was doing all the wrong things to his concentration and his confidence. "Could you please roll over?"
John's head tilted to the side, a frown creasing the space between his eyebrows, but he did as asked, without even requesting that Sherlock move out from over him; he simply rolled in place onto his belly. From the rare few times he'd bothered looking at or for pornography, the detective had often seen the omega in this position, being used and spoken to by the alpha in disgustingly degrading ways. But he could never do that to this omega. Not John. Slowly, he settled down over the other man's back, cock pressed between firm arse cheeks and torso curving to the smaller man's spine. Sherlock hooked his chin over a hard shoulder and nuzzled against the tantalising nape, sliding his hands over tanned shoulder blades and down tanned arms until he could lace their fingers together from behind. In less than a minute, the alpha had entirely caged the omega's body in his own, a living blanket in every sense.
"Mmm..." John hummed, the sound low and pleased. He didn't try to fight the embrace or try to get away. He didn't tense or freeze or demand that Sherlock remove his teeth away from the thin skin over his scent gland. If anything, he angled his head further away, exposing that delicate stretch of neck that made the alpha's mouth water with the urge to nibble, to bite, to mark. Intense eyes now hidden from him, the genius could feel his mind clearing, if only a little, could feel the desperation that had previously driven him fading and, cautiously, he rocked his hips forward, feeling his length slide between the other man's s arse cheeks. He nearly jumped when John made an encouraging sound and rocked back into the motion, sending sparks of friction along his shaft. "If now is the time you'd like me to start begging for your cock, I'd be more than happy to begin."
"Maybe later," Sherlock replied absently, mind absolutely distracted by the smooth glide of slick-dampened skin over his most sensitive organ. He couldn't seem to stop pulling his hips back and pressing them forward, fascinated, entranced, spell-bound by the sensation. Until he pulled back just a little too far and the tip of his cock slid down, catching on the rim of the tight hole. He froze as the breath of the man below him caught in his throat, and then John's face dropped into the pillows as the omega rolled his hips, causing the head of Sherlock's cock to ease inside the tight passage. Now it was the alpha's turn for his breath to catch in his throat and for his doctor to freeze, both of their hips pulled back at an awkward angle, but neither of them moved.
Sherlock was still laid along John's back from shoulders to waist, but below that, he was hovering just above legs just a few shades darker than his own, the bottom halves of their bodies connected only by the tip of his cock. Then, with a breathy exhale, he sunk slowly into the man below him, allowing the tight passage to pull him in centimetre by agonising centimetre until he was once again plastered to the other man from head to foot. He realised his fingers where they were laced with John's were so tight it was a death grip on the omega's hands, and his arms where they were bracketing the other man's were so tight his muscles were straining to maintain the tension. It took even longer to realise John had tilted his head back, leaving his throat exposed right in front of Sherlock's mouth, and was practically purring into his ear, a low hum an easy accompaniment to the quiet of the room.
"John," he moaned against the sun-marked skin. He pressed an open-mouthed kissed to the vulnerable throat, feeling the omega's adam's apple bob as the man swallowed.
"Sherlock," John breathed back in a hot whisper over the sensitive shell, teeth pulling gently at the lobe, fingers tightening and loosening around Sherlock's. "I don't mean to hurry you, but if you don't start moving, I may lose my mind," the doctor informed easily, calmly, voice just a little too light, as if he was concentrating on keeping it so. "You feel too good, you fill me up too well. I can't... I need you to move, please."
John could have been asking him to pass the jam, his voice was so steady. But his words... His omega's words set Sherlock's blood on fire, flamed by a primal satisfaction that he had pleased his omega, that his omega wanted more of what he had to offer. He nodded shakily, leaving his hands clasped around John's while pulling his chest from the omega's back so he could drop his forehead to the top of his doctor's spine, head tilted to watch his own hips pull away. From this angle, he couldn't properly see the way he could feel his cock pulling slowly out of John's arse, the way John's arse clenched and pulled at him, resisting the loss and welcoming him back eagerly, but what he could see made his heart race.
He groaned and dropped his chin back over John's shoulder as he pulled out and thrust back in, mind going fuzzy with the feeling of slick heat clenching around him. It was one of the hardest things he had ever tried to do, keeping a rhythm of in and out when he just wanted to stay still and bask in the feeling, but the ex-soldier was keeping up a constant susurrus of praise that made him never want to stop, lest he disappoint his omega. He felt his desperation rise again as the slow burn of an impending orgasm built at the base of his spine and cock, and he occupied his mouth with the delicate skin over John's scent gland. He nipped until blood rose to the surface in bright little red spots, and he sucked until the vessels underneath broke in large bruises. The attentions of his mouth broke John's low murmurs into little gasps and choked breaths, and soon they simply became requests for 'more'.
It was slow, hazy, and later, John would correct him and tell him it wasn't 'sex' or 'fucking', but 'making love', a phrase that would send a rampant blush along the skin of Sherlock's cheeks, ears, and neck. For now though, it was all the comfort they both wanted and needed, and the movement of the alpha's hips became sporadic as his orgasm grew like a brewing storm.
"Now," John panted out, "would be a good time to decide if you're going to take me as your omega." If he wasn't so caught up in his own pleasure and fracturing rhythm, Sherlock would have froze. John actually wanted...?
"May I?" It was oddly formal, but it could hardly be understood as it was, his throat closed up with emotion and his breath coming out in stuttering gasps. John laughed and it was only his next words that made him think it was more 'with him' than 'at him'.
"By all means," the omega invited, arching his neck. "It would actually be the preferable way that this coupling came to an end." Sherlock couldn't help but to huff out a startled, breathless laugh. But if it was the doctor's intention for him to relax, then it worked. The alpha's motions eased and with a decided course of action in place, he was able to ignore the pleasure of his threatening orgasm and concentrate on giving one to John. In small, jerky motions, he moved both of the omega's arms under his chest, like he was crossing his arms, and caged them in place with one arm. The other he pulled his hips away from John's arse long enough to swipe his palm through the smeared slick before he shoved his hand under the ex-soldier's hips, creating a loose circle with his fingers around the smaller cock between the hard body and the soft mattress.
There was a soft cry from the other man and the blond head dropped forward, now leading Sherlock's eyes to the expanse of the back of John's neck. He applied his lips and teeth and tongue to the skin, wanting his marks all over his omega, wanting people to see that this special omega chose him to bond with, had trusted him enough to expose the back of his neck, somehow a spot considered more vulnerable than even the area over the scent gland.
Between his teeth and his hand, John was slowly falling to pieces underneath him, his descent evident in the increasing frequency and pitch of the omega's cries and in the way his passage was clenching around Sherlock's cock in little pulses that happened more often and stayed for a longer time. The alpha's knot was slightly swollen at the base of his cock, preventing him from bottoming out with every thrust any longer, and he regretted that he wouldn't be able to properly knot them until John went into heat. Before then, the secondary passage wouldn't be open and the primary passage wasn't built to accommodate that kind of girth in addition to the amount of semen an alpha could produce during rut; that much come with nowhere to go had been known to rupture organs. Semen.
"Do I need to pull out?" the alpha gasped, mind already speeding along a path of actions and consequences that led to a pregnant John trapped in a bond the omega didn't want with a child the omega didn't want, hating Sherlock and unable to leave. "Will you get pregnant if I don't? Will the bond complete if I don't?" He never wanted to put his doctor in a position anything like that. Ever. Everything to happen in their relationship would occur with John's permission or not at all. "I've deleted it. John, I don't remember. I-"
"Shhh..." The quiet interruption from the man below him eased his rising panic, his desperate need to get everything right, to not alienate the one human he treasured more than anyone else. There was no upset in his soldier's tone, no shame. "Shhh... It's all right. You don't need to pull out. You need to come in me and bite me to bond, but I can't get pregnant outside of a heat. You're doing perfect, Sherlock. You're not doing anything wrong, okay?"
He nodded and whispered a nearly silent "All right" against the doctor's ear and he received a pleased hum in return.
"I really hope you're close, love," John said, voice muffled from the angle of his head. "You're doing so well, I can't hold back for much longer." The warmth in his chest deepened and spread and he was glad the doctor wasn't face-to-face with him; he didn't know what he would do if he had nowhere to hide the smile now widening his face.
Instead of answering, Sherlock closed his eyes and pressed his teeth to the skin over his omega's scent gland, holding but not piercing, as he rolled his hips and tightened his grip on the smaller cock in his cramping hand. With each circling press, John lifted his hips to meet his thrusts, pulling the alpha's cock even deeper inside and fanning the flames burning him up from the inside.
"Oh, fucking Christ, Sherlock. Don't stop. Don't you fucking stop," he was commanded with low, growling huffs of breath. He should have expected a soldier's mouth to get filthy when their defenses were breaking down, but somehow, hearing his soft-spoken, polite doctor talk like that just made his cock throb hard and he gave a particularly firm thrust of his hips that had sparks light up in front of his eyes and had the man below him breaking off his demanding monologue to groan approvingly. "For the love of god, do that again!"
It was a novelty to feel an orgasm build like this, the pleasure spiking as he did as commanded. Sherlock hardly masturbated and, when he did, it was to get rid of a persistent, unwanted erection, so it typically came and went as quickly as he could move his wrist. He'd never felt one come on this slow, this heavy, this luxurious, before and it made him want to melt, made him want to merge with John until they were one person. His new pattern with his hips kept his soldier from vocalising anything more complicated than moans, and soon, the fingers around his began to tighten, as did the passage around him.
"John?" he asked, not quite sure if the time was right. He'd never had sex with anyone, much less an omega, and had certainly never bonded or even been tempted to bond, and he'd never been more over his head with a situation before. He was a genius in most things, but even now, with his body trembling with the effort of restraining his orgasm and with his omega clenching around him so quickly he could barely keep up, he wasn't quite sure if his instinct to bite down was even right.
"Ah, shit fuck, Sherlock!" John cursed, startling him. "Shit. Sherlock Sherlock Sherlock." Now, his omega's hips began to move in earnest, shoving back up into the cock penetrating him and fucking down into the fist stroking his own cock. "Yes! Yes, shit, now-!" The soldier's command was cut off and turned into a moan as Sherlock hurriedly bit down, sharp teeth piercing skin and muscle and scent gland in one smooth move.
The pure taste of omega pheromones, of John's pheromones, flooded his mouth, coating his tongue and throat, and the alpha's jaw tightened convulsively around his omega's neck, his eyes snapping open but seeing nothing, simply unable to remain closed during such a vulnerable time as bonding. The rest of the alpha's body flexed, caging his omega in immovably as his hips surged forward and he shoved his minimal knot past the tight rim. At the intrusion, John gave a loud cry and spilled into Sherlock's hand, clenching down on the cock and knot inside him tighter than medical restraints, forcing the alpha deep inside as he came into his new mate, marking him from the inside as thoroughly as the out.
For long minutes, neither of them moved, John soft and relaxed under his alpha, head dropped to expose the back and side of his neck, and Sherlock, tight as a wire and wrapped as tight around his omega as he could, teeth still deep in his mate's scent gland. Then the doctor shifted, tried to stretch, and the alpha snarled, putting enough pressure into his bite to make his mate moan and tremble beneath him as he curled even tighter around the smaller man. His mate couldn't leave yet, not until the bond cemented and their scents had fully imprinted on one another.
"Sherlock..." He growled low in his throat and closed his eyes, rocking his hips forward. His cock was soft by now, but it wasn't for pleasure that he moved, but for the rippling proof of his omega's trusted gift to him. He knew that without a heat, it would be some time before he could lay claim to his mate again, but he rocked his hips forward again, enjoying the pleased little noise it produced from John. Slowly, he began to relax, his gentle thrusting slowing simultaneously, until he was as pliant and as still as his mate and he slowly pulled his teeth free, jaw creaking when he closed it.
"Feel better now?" John asked, and Sherlock could hear the soldier's eyebrow in his tone, making the alpha flinch back. Slowly, he shifted back onto his hands and knees, unsure what to do next. Had he already overstepped his bounds with his new mate? Suddenly, his omega rolled under him onto his back, and he was treated to blue eyes crinkled round the edges from a warm smile. "I certainly do. Get down here."
Before he could move, strong arms wrapped around his waist and tugged as John rolled, pulling him to his side on the bed. As his omega wriggled to get comfortable, Sherlock reached down for the duvet and tugged it over them, pulling his side high enough to cover his nose and chin. The haze of lust had passed, taking his alpha confidence and knowledge with it, leaving him wrong-footed and unsure. A hand grasped his under the blanket and he twitched at the unexpected touch. John just laughed, a breathlessly happy sound that made the band in his chest loosen as his arm was tugged over his mate's waist. Tentatively, he splayed his fingers wide at the base of his doctor's spine and cautiously exerted as little pressure as he could. Still, his silent request seemed to be read loud and clear, judging by the way the omega scooted forward and wrapped around Sherlock like a squid.
Little by little, he relaxed again, enough so that sleep tugged at him, despite him having slept the day before. John nuzzled under his chin and against his scent gland, taking a few deep breaths before he relaxed completely. Once again, Sherlock was struck by the enormity of what he'd been given, what he'd been entrusted with, and he felt a wave of sobriety. "Thank you," he mumbled into the ashen hair below his lips.
John stilled and then started to lean his head back before seeming to think better of it, nestling even deeper into the blanket and against his alpha. "For what, Sherlock?"
The genius tried to organise his thoughts and the sentiment he wanted to vocalise, intensely aware of how badly he could get this wrong. "For you," he finally said, deciding a short, concise answer was best. "For this. For us." Now John did try to shift back to look at him, something Sherlock tried to prevent with a tight arm around his back. An unexpected jab to his side with strong fingers made him flinch hard enough to let go, and John used the opportunity to prop his head up on one hand while keeping a tight grip on the alpha's hip. Said alpha could only stare down at his mate with wide eyes and taut muscles, waiting for the inevitable 'other shoe' to finally drop.
"I don't think you really know how much you saved me, Sherlock," John said, matter-of-fact as could be. "Do you know the suicide rate for people like me? Soldiers sent home before their time?" Sherlock had memorised all statistics relevant to John their second day together between Baker Street and Bart's and he rattled them off without a thought. When he quieted, the ex-soldier gave him a look he wasn't sure he understood and nodded. "Do you know how close I was to becoming one of those statistics, Sherlock?" He wanted to deny it, the thought of his strong doctor no longer occupying the world utterly abhorrent, but he had read the signs on the man himself that first day in the coffee shop. If John Watson had continued on the path he had been on, he would have killed himself in fairly short order.
"Yes," he finally replied when enough time had passed to make him realise John wanted an answer. Blue eyes held his for a bit longer before breaking off with a nod.
"You are the best thing that ever happened to me, Sherlock Holmes," he was told succinctly, his mate curling back up against him and nuzzling back up to his throat. "And I will fight to keep you to the end of my days. Understand?"
Now it was his turn for a tight embrace and a firm kiss to the top of John's head. And if his smile when he whispered "Yes, Captain" was a little watery, then it was safe knowledge shared only between him and his chosen mate.
FIN
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