Prompt originally received 2015-01-16.

I smell an opportunity for a Loveless (manga) fusion (which houses a beautiful world where you're born with cat ears and tail, and lose them when you first have intercourse). Of course, I think I'm slightly off-target from the prompt but hopefully it's enjoyable nonetheless.

Cross-posted from AO3 same day.

The dorm room was dead silent as John undressed and folded his clothes on autopilot. He hadn't felt this torn on a decision since he was applying for unis. Then again, this was a massive decision that would affect the rest of his life...

"John, I refuse to force you into anything you don't want," Sherlock spoke up suddenly, derailing John's thoughts and thoroughly confusing him. "If you do not want to experience intercourse with me, you don't have to."

John's head snapped up in alarm and he nearly cracked his neck when he craned it around to look at his boyfriend.

Sherlock was standing by the bed, as unabashed and unashamed in his nakedness as he always was, ears flicking with the noises outside their dorm and tail waving gently. A half-full bottle of lube dangled from his fingers, and John blushed when he realised it was the strawberry-kiwi, the flavour Sherlock seemed to prefer when he liked to start with rimming.

"John?" Sherlock prompted, tail lashing out sideways once before stilling again.

"Sorry, no, it's not that. I just…" He trailed off, shrugging one shoulder. "I guess I'm anxious about losing my ears and tail. I mean, I'm twenty-one, and almost everyone else in my class has already lost theirs, and I just held off because I didn't want to and-"

"John," Sherlock interrupted, voice soft but firm as he dropped the lube onto the bed-side table. His tail swished languidly as he took slow, measured steps forward, pressing right into John's space and right up against his body, his large hands pressing against John's hips and pinning him to the wardrobe. His tail curled around John's, the action as comforting as if he'd linked their fingers together. "Not wishing to lose a part of yourself doesn't make you a coward. There is no need to be ashamed, and if you do not want to lose them still, we can wait until you're ready."

John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's neck, using the other man to balance himself as he leaned up on his toes to press their foreheads together. With a sigh, he closed his eyes, and walked his boyfriend backwards towards the bed, falling on top of Sherlock when his knees hit the bed and John refused to relinquish his hold. He knew he was heavy, but Sherlock didn't voice any complaints as the younger man let him calm.

"I may not want to lose my ears and tail, but if there was anyone I'd want to lose them to, I want to lose them to you," John mumbled into his boyfriend's chest. He couldn't see Sherlock's face, but he could feel the affectionate smile in the kiss that was pressed to his hair.

"Oh fuck, Sherlock," John gasped, writhing against the hand pinning his wrists to his lower back. His entire body was shaking, his thighs aching with the need to close and drop so he could rut against the bed, but Sherlock was behind him and between his legs, keeping him on his knees so he could eat John out with his typical unbridled enthusiasm. Long fingers wrapped around the base of his tail, tight enough to send shivers of pleasurable paralysis up his spine, making him helpless against the tongue piercing him endlessly. He felt like he was positively dripping with spit and lube, at the mercy of Sherlock's expert tongue.

"Please, please, please," he begged, rolling his face in the sheets. "More."

Sherlock pulled back immediately, and John bit the sheets to keep from whining at the loss of sensation. "Would you like my fingers now or my cock?"

Those long fingers were still wrapped around his wrists and the base of his tail, and he couldn't even shift his hips back in entreaty. So, John moaned: long and high and desperate, unable to stop shuddering where he kneeled with his shoulders pressed to the bed.

There was a beat of silence, and then Sherlock moaned back, his fingers finally releasing John's tail. His cat ears flickered on top of his head at the sound of lube being slicked over his boyfriend's cock behind him, then a wet hand gripped the back of his neck, keeping him painfully still while Sherlock slid his erection into John for the first time.

Being filled with a real cock was unlike anything John had ever before experienced. It whited out his mind in a way that Sherlock's tongue, fingers, even dildos, had never been able to, and his ears pressed flat to his head. It made him simultaneously want to pull away from the over-full sensation and press back into it, get filled further. John strained against the hold on his wrists, though it was barely with any force; just for show.

The hand at the back of his neck finally released him, only to slide around his ribs, under his arm, and up his chest to curl around his throat as a hot chest draped over his back and over his tail, pressing his wrists harder against his skin, trapping trapping his limbs between them. He groaned and shifted his hips, and Sherlock slid further into him as his pelvis fit flush against John's arse.

"Oh, John," Sherlock breathed directly into his ear, sending shivers up and down John's spine. It seemed like he wanted to say something else, but he just let out a stuttering breath as he rolled his hips, pulling out just a little bit to push back in.

"Yeah," John breathed back, closing his eyes and letting all remaining tension in his muscles go, relaxing into the grip against his throat and the mattress.

Teeth teased over his shoulder before Sherlock sat back behind him, his cock feeling like it was dragging along his inner walls as it slid out of him. The hand at his neck moved to his wrists, pulling them apart and pulling them backwards, stretching his arms and lifting his shoulders from the bed. He shuddered at the way it made him feel utterly at Sherlock's mercy, and his tail lifted, an offering, an enticement, even though he already had Sherlock where he wanted him.

His boyfriend pulled out until only the head of him remained inside, and then pushed back in, pulling back on John's arms, adding extra force to the thrust that made him clench tight around the intrusion. Sherlock hissed behind him before pulling out and repeating the motion, thrust and tug. John did his best to help, to rock his hips into the motion, but it was impossible with the position, and his cock pulsed with the beat of his arousal at feeling so helpless. It wasn't usually a feeling he favoured- hated it, in fact- but now, beneath Sherlock, it only served to make him harder.

It seemed an easy pace for Sherlock to set into, but on top of the stress it put on his shoulders, it just wasn't the right angle. It was fulfilling, arousing, but without that contact to his prostate, it wasn't pushing him any closer to his prostate.

On a particularly hard thrust and a rough pull on his wrists, John hissed "Arms," and Sherlock immediately moved forward, guiding John's hands to the bed beside his head. The instant relief he felt made him moan and the grip on his wrists tightened, pinning them. John tilted his hips on the next push, fire rushing through his veins at the jab to his prostate.

"Oh God, right there, Sherlock. Right fucking there," he praised breathlessly.

Sherlock pressed his open mouth to John's neck, gripping him firmly with sharp teeth and humming against his pulse. John didn't realise that bit of his flesh was that sensitive until his boyfriend kept humming against it with every successful brush to his prostate that made his walls tighten around Sherlock's cock. His skin felt on fire, his cock and bollocks heavy between his legs, bobbing with every thrust. The head of his cock brushed against the sheets every time he was jarred by Sherlock's powerful hips, and the friction sent sparks through his genitals and up his spine. John groaned and pressed his face to the duvet when Sherlock started to speed up, his thrust coming quicker, harder.

"Fuck, Sherlock. I need more," John gasped, shoving his hips back into each movement, trying to force an orgasm he knew he couldn't achieve with just prostate stimulation.

"One day I want you to come from just my cock," Sherlock confessed against John's ear, his fingers dragging John's wrists to above his head where he could hold them with one hand. "But we'll work you up to it."

"Generous," John laughed. The sound was promptly bit off when Sherlock wrapped his fingers around John's cock and began to stroke: up every time he pulled out and down every time he pushed in. "Oh shit, that's good. C'mon, fuck me like you mean it," he goaded.

"Now who's bossy?" Sherlock huffed, even as he did what was demanded of him.

"Still you- fuck," he choked out when the hand around his cock twisted around the head of his cock, a thumb pressing at his slit, rubbing in the precome gathered there.

Sherlock's throaty laugh was a low vibration across his back and neck that only helped to trigger his orgasm, and Sherlock's laugh became a groan as John came, clenching tightly around Sherlock. Points of white-hot heat gathered in his cock and at the base of his spine and the top of his head, slowly spreading outwards to meet one another, covering the inside of his skin in flame.

When it all receded and he was blinking white spots from his eyes, the room around him sounded a little different, a little muter. He tried to shift his tail, but there was no response from the limb. His ears and tail were gone.

The body laid across his back shifted and groaned.

"Inconvenient," Sherlock sniffed against his ear.

"Hm?" John hummed back.

"Auditory input reduced by fifty percent, balance reduced by twenty. Inconvenient," the genius replied, tone one of vague disappointment. "I'll need to compile a list of experiments to conduct to test my newly reduced senses."

Suddenly, Sherlock rolled off of him and John grunted at the loss of body heat and weight as his boyfriend fell to his side. John crossed his arms under his head and turned to look at him.

"You look weird without your ears," he said.

Sherlock reached a hand out and ran it through John's short hair, right over where his ears used to be, and then down his spine to where his tail used to be, fingers trailing between his cheeks and pressing into where he was wet with Sherlock's come. John bit his lip and rocked his hips back into the motion.

"So do you," Sherlock replied, lips quirking in a smile, fingers still inside John, just sitting there.

They settled into silence for long minutes, John unable to keep his eyes from the curls on top of Sherlock's head, devoid of the ears that had once sat there.

"People will talk on Monday, when we go back to class and neither of us have our ears," he said offhandedly.

John and Sherlock weren't ashamed of their relationship, but they were private with their affections, and they'd never confirmed or denied any of the suspicions regarding their relationship. It was almost a source of amusement for them, or at the very least, John.

Sherlock's smile deepened. "They do little else."

FIN

I think that's the first time I've used that line. Sorry again for the wait. Reblog the thing (themadkatter13fanfiction tumblr, post/130318445873). Tschuß. :3