Title: A Toast to Eternity
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Note: Vampire AU.
Rating: NC-17 in later chapters.
Description:For centuries vampires and werewolves have been in war. Any sort of relationship with the enemy are strictly forbidden - but then again, Sherlock was never fond of following the rules.
Warning: Sexual scenes.
Chapter II
"To a vampire, love is a complex sentiment; very much like obsession"
The first place Sherlock checked was where the werewolf had left him the last night. He recognized the scent and the tree where he had rested on, surrounded by wolf tracks. At this spot, he bent down on one knee and touched the animal paw prints on the forest ground, lining the borders with his fingers. A small grin appeared on his face, and he got up, filled with excitement.
He followed the trail of broken branches and prints, recording of all the effort the werewolf made just to get him there safely. Sherlock couldn't help feeling anxious, to see how his saviour's true appearance, without the transformation. That ash blond fur was obviously the colour of his hair, but the eyes... The eyes were the most important part of a werewolf, and to him they were still a mystery. Would they be their original colour or or would they be golden, just like the elder werewolves?
Sherlock reached the end of the trail, just by the borders of the werewolf territory. Trespassing meant being hunt down, so he had to be careful. Obviously he wouldn't go deep, he planned to stay near the borders. If the werewolf had went through all that trouble to keep him alive, he would come to him again.
He took a step in.
John had been in war with himself for the last twenty four hours. He had saved an enemy, and for the cost of what? My life, he thought, pessimistic. He ran his hands through his hair, both arms supported on the table. He tried to come in peace with himself by thinking that it had been done with reason - the brother he lost was because the other side had lost a sister for the other's fault -. But he knew, deep down, that wasn't exactly why he had taken such actions.
At first, when he saw that vampire resting on that tree, he knew he should finish him off. That's what he wentto do in the first place, seeing his brother lying dead on the forest floor, retaliated. But what stopped him from doing so was the way the vampire reacted. The tall, pale figure at his front had closed his eyes in acceptance - he accepted that he would die at that moment -. How could John do this, now? The vampire was defenceless and had only done what had to be done. What sense was there on this war, if not a childish feud?
John sighed, wiping the sweat off his face. If his siblings knew what he had done, he would be sentenced. But he wasn't a killer, despite being assigned and done as much.
The door of the wooden house suddenly opened, a woman with curly hair and tanned skin appeared at the front, carrying a worried expression. "John. There has been a trespass," She announced.
"What?" It was the vampire he saved, he was almost certain. Why would he do this? To get my attention, obviously. "What happened to the others?" He asked, wondering why she had talked to him and not other, more important, werewolves. She just shrugged in response. "Don't worry, I'll take care of it." John dismissed his sister, signalling with his hand.
Sherlock remained by the borders, moving constantly. He was trying to be seen, to get some attention, but not too much. He wondered what Mycroft would've thought of him in this situation; then again, Mycroft was the same thing as boredom. Where was the excitement on meeting old vampires every month?
Sherlock waited for a while, getting more anxious by the passing minute. This was such a reckless move of his part, and quite stupid, truly; but he didn't give much thought on the part of his brain that screamed 'dangerous'. He needed to meet that wolf. Just one more time. He'd deal with the consequences of his actions afterwards.
He heard a howl, not far away from his current position. Sherlock would've run away, but he recognized it as the same howl from the night before. Sherlock grinned, playing nervously with his fingers.
And then there he was. The wolf with the ash-blond fur. Right in front of him, glaring – action to which Sherlock responded with a wide, receptive, grin –. The werewolf leapt beside him, growling. Sherlock was eyeing the creature in too much awe to get alarmed. The wolf growled one more time and ran off. It was obviously making its way out of the werewolf territory, Sherlock was supposed to follow him and get out of danger.
Sherlock immediately ran after it, filled with excitement. But even after they were out the territory, the hound didn't transform, to Sherlock's disappointment. It maintained its pose, eyes placed over Sherlock's in an angry way while surrounding him. Sherlock couldn't be less worried: not only was he not afraid of the creature, but he was too dazed by it to take the situation seriously.
"I want to see you." Sherlock announced, telling the werewolf his intentions, who just responded a clearly unfriendly growl. "If you don't show me your true form, I'll hunt you." The wolf's eyes glared at him, daring him on doing so.
The next growl it gave obviously meant "Stay the fuck away", but Sherlock just smiled, amused. The wolf turned and headed off.
"I warned you." Sherlock said almost to himself. He ran after it.
Sherlock hadn't felt like this in years – no, centuries –, the feeling of desire, of wanting something this bad. He didn't even remember he could actually feel like this.
The wolf's pace got faster. Sherlock knew those woods like the back of his hand, and quickly made a turn on where the result was landing in the wolf's front, catching it by surprise. It stopped, taken aback with the vampire that appeared out of nowhere.
Sherlock took a step closer.
"Transform." He ordered, closing even more the space between them. The hound drove itself backwards, unable to move further because of a tree behind it. Seeing this, Sherlock pounded onto the werewolf, pushing him on the ground. "Transform." He ordered, one more time. The wolf, carrying an expression of discomfort, did what was ordered against its will.
Sherlock found himself on top of a naked adult male with ash-blond hair, pinned onto the ground between Sherlock's legs. Sherlock immediately used one of his hands to lock the man's wrists, trapping him properly so there was no way of escape.
He didn't find him less beautiful, on the contrary – if it was even possible –, he found the werewolf even more fascinating. His gaze was fixed on the man's features: his lightly turned up nose, his solid body, and his heavy golden eyes.
"G-Get off of me." The werewolf growled, like an order. Sherlock ignored his request, taking his head towards the man's neck, savouring it. Delicious, he thought, while placing the tip of his tongue on where he'd bite, if he were to devour a victim.
John stiffened, feeling the vampire lick his neck. He tried to free his hands from the creature's grip, but it was useless.
Sherlock now examined the werewolf's collarbone – his pulse had increased, the pounding of the vein on his neck was attractively noticeable –. He felt the man harden beneath him and a grin crossed his face, looking into the werewolf's eyes.
John blushed, eyes fixed on the vampire before looking away nervously, trying again to escape the grip. He then looked to the vampire one more time, in protest.
Sherlock looked into the golden eyes and smiled, amused, while taking his hand downwards, travelling around the man's chest. Then he landed it onto the man's well defined abs, to finally stop over his groin. John swallowed hard.
Sherlock played his fingers around it for a moment, not making any sudden movements. John let out a moan.
"S-Stop..." Sherlock ignored again his protests, beginning to stroke it gently. John groaned again.
"Are you sure you want me to stop?" Sherlock breathed in his ear, finding quite arousing pleasing the werewolf.
John swallowed hard, closing his eyes tightly and breathing heavily. He moaned something inaudible, Sherlock could feel him ceasing to resist, taking that as a 'no' and continuing his work. His hands moved upwards and downwards, at first slowly to finally get faster.
John's breathing was getting heavier, his head was fixed between Sherlock's neck and shoulder. Sherlock could feel the warmth on his cold skin, taking in the werewolf before him. The man was sweating and moaning with pleasure, and Sherlock sensed that himself was getting hard. Their breathing got in sync. John's heartbeats were loud, enough to make Sherlock hear them.
"I-I think I'm g-going to-" John arched up his neck and came in Sherlock's hand. The vampire smiled proudly while looking intently into John's eyes. He took his dripping fingers to his mouth, cleaning the mess with his tongue, gaze still fixed on the werewolf's golden eyes. He slowly let go of the man's wrists.
Sherlock removed himself from on top of the man and sat beside him, resting his back on a tree, breathing heavily. John remained on the ground a little longer before doing the same. The werewolf, though, glared at the vampire by his side.
"Don't act offended, you were the one who saved me." Sherlock announced, brushing his hair backwards with his fingers. John looked away, blushing.
"I know I did. But if I knew this was going to happen-..." John started to say.
"If you actually wanted me to stop, you could've fought back." Sherlock said immediately, fixing his eyes on the werewolf that was resting on a tree beside his. John said nothing in return, his own gaze was locked on the vampire.
"Fine." John frowned and gave up. "...You should have at least asked my name." He said in a lower tone, looking away.
"What?" Sherlock said, taken by surprise. He looked at the werewolf in disbelief. John cleared his throat, blushing.
"I'm John." He announced, looking again in the vampire's eyes. Sherlock continued to eye him, confused. His expression slowly softened.
"Hello, John." He gave a small smirk. "I'm Sherlock."
Both of them were quiet for a moment, lost in each other's gaze, analysing one another. They hear howls, and John's expression turns to worry.
"You have to leave. Now." The werewolf ordered, getting up. Sherlock imitated his movements. There were so many things to say, so many things to ask, but they didn't have the time. "Don't worry about the tracks, I'll cover them."
John proceeds to leave, transforming himself. Sherlock watched him, taking a few steps back to finally run off. He looked back, to see the werewolf one more time, and then returned to his path.
This was just the beginning of a complicated road they decided to follow.
AN: As promised, here is the second chapter! The next chapter may take a while longer to be posted, since I have college exams next month. I was actually planning on posting this tomorrow, but it's impossible. So I'm posting this today, that is also my birthday, yay!