- This chapter just took the story all over the place! It features some Dark!Sherlock, Kind!Mycroft, and MyJohnLock for sure. This is the chapter where Mycroft steps up whatever little plan is going on in his head. He won't tell me what it is. Little bugger. Enjoy!-
John woke sometime later, it felt like it had been only minutes but he could tell by the way Sherlock was breathing it had been at least a few hours. His body felt strange - like it was pinning him down instead of holding him. Pain rocketed through his body and he grunted unintentionally. Sherlock's hand brushed his arm and he tensed, expecting pain but not finding it. The blanket drug across his skin as Sherlock jerked awake forcing him to gasp loudly, the sensation surprisingly different though he knew logically the cloth weighed less than Sherlock's hand. His lover sat up and grabbed him, searching his eyes to ensure he was not injured too badly.
"S-Sorry," He forced out, trembling with terrible chills. A heavy blanket was wrapped around him. The tone of his voice hurt his ears and he grunted again.
"No need to be sorry my love." Sherlock whispered, cradling his face. He spoke softly, his words bringing John ease. "Your senses are expanding and your mortal body is being transformed. Today will be the most painful, the morrow will be the hardest mentally." He gently kissed John who whimpered some at the contact but refused to allow Sherlock to pull away.
"You make it better..." John whispered breathlessly. "Touching you makes it better." He kissed his lover again, panting as he did. "Why does everything feel wrong?"
"Your body is dying my love," Sherlock's voice was soft, like a whispering wind in his ear. His long fingers dragging across John's back and making him moan loudly. "It is both dying and yet being reborn. Close your eyes." John did as he asked and he moaned even louder. The sensation of touch magnified thousands of times.
"Oh. Oh Sherlock!" He whispered, clawing weakly into his lovers shoulders. "I can hear the blood in your veins... Your fingers feel amazing..."
"Hush my love, you are going too quickly. Easy." Sherlock whispered in guidance, letting his lips gently find John's anew. John kissed him hungrily, using the sensation to mask the intense pain flowing through his body. He felt alternating waves of weakness and strength as he kissed his mate, his whole being focused on the feel of their touch.
"The string is tighter, it is like fire." John whispered against his mouth.
"It is yearning for the bonding ritual," He replied, kissing him more fiercely. "It will gain the reward it seeks once my brother has finished with you and I may take you away from here."
"Take me away?"
"Only for a short time, my precious one." Sherlock assured him, combing his hand back through John's hair. He pressed his hand over John's eyes instructing him wordlessly to close them again. John moaned as fire spread through him both in pain and in lust. "We will go to France for awhile. So as not to be disturbed. We will complete our bonding and when we return we will be officially married by the Duke." He nuzzled his nose against John's neck, groaning softly at the way his smell changed.
"I am on fire." He whimpered, pressing against Sherlock's touch. "Claim me again..." He pleaded, groaning as Sherlock again ran his hand just a bit above his skin. He thrashed his head, feeling alternatively dizzy and inflamed.
"My power over you is still strong... If not stronger." He purred as John moved.
"Stronger..." He conceded, blushing. "It is as if I can read your thoughts. Touch me more, please. Before your brother comes and takes me."
"Listen to you plead. I really should not touch you now with your body aching so..." Sherlock's voice was dark, a sudden wave of possessiveness washing over him. John whimpered as a plea and Sherlock's eyes darkened more. All sorts of dark jealous and angry things were rising in his chest. John could feel them like a badly tuned radio, pulsing in his veins.
Sherlock pushed John down hard on the bed, ignoring his whimpers of pain. His mouth and teeth all over his chest and shoulders. His eyes growing darker by the moment. It hurt but John felt pleasure more strongly. His mind seemed to shiver and tremble before the pain simply began to fade. The pleasure just crowded into his mind and forced all the sensations of pain away. It forced everything away until he could think of nothing save Sherlock. Sherlock who was lost in his own primal nature from a mixture of a lack of feeding, brooding jealousy, and pure desire for the writhing man before him. He was not intentionally giving into this darker side of himself but his control over himself was faltering quickly. His aura bore down on John's fighting for submission just as he pressed touches and kisses all over John's body demanding physical submission as well. Demanding that John submit in every way to him. John whimpered and moaned, his entire body flooded with fire and desperation. His cock ached between them, still trapped for the moment in his trousers. It did not take long however for Sherlock to rip them away, leaving him utterly exposed and trembling.
"Who do you belong to?" Sherlock growled in his ear, roughly pulling his hair back. "WHO?" His eyes were dark and his emotion raged inside both of their chests, forcing John's mind to sputter and halt.
"You, Sherlock. To you." John groaned and gasped as Sherlock's mouth and tongue traced hard paths over his neck and shoulders. He shuddered when Sherlock nipped at the spot Mycroft had drained him, trembling as Sherlock nipped harder the second time.
"I am going to take you so hard, so utterly violently that no one else will ever satisfy you. You are mine." He growled again, this time even lower.
He found the bottles of scented oils next to the bed, knowing they were put there by Mycroft for his little games. It made his temper flare and he yanked one open slicking his fingers overzealously with oil before pushing two of them almost unceremoniously into John. John cried out first in pain and then in pure pleasure as Sherlock's magic bore down on him again. Sherlock was using his magic to restrict the pain, rather unintentionally, as he was utterly desperate to mark his mate. To reclaim him. He worked John over with his fingers, working to bring him to the edge of and then restraining his release. John completely lost in the sensations burning in his body could do nothing but moan and whimper, the pain a faint shadow in the background noise of his mind. Sherlock pressed a third slicked finger into the tight muscles, spreading John wider and wider as he worked. There was nothing for John but Sherlock, he was ensnared and even the room faded from his knowledge.
"Sherlock! PLEASE!" John shouted, utterly intoxicated by the moment. Sherlock smiled and let out a soft purr like growl as John begged. "No more torment, claim me! Please my love!" John urged, his toes curling into the mattress. "Use me as you wish." He pleaded.
"Are you mine?" He growled darkly, undoing his own trousers and his face close to John's. His eyes were dark and menacing, the whites barely visible.
"Only yours." John panted in response, trembling.
"You belong to me." His reply was utterly dark as he slammed his hard length deep into John, burying himself to the hilt hard and fast.
John arched and almost released from the sensation but Sherlock bit down on his shoulder hard. The harsh pain keeping him from tumbling over the edge. He whined and groaned but Sherlock refused to let up, instead pounding their hips together with a punishing pace. John could hardly breathe. He could see nothing but his lover, his mind completely narrowed to focus only on Sherlock. Sherlock growled deeply, the noise sending shivers of terror through John. The terror seized in his chest but he was too weak to do anything to stop Sherlock. He was completely at Sherlock's mercy and was a whimpering mess as Sherlock continued to pound away into him. Without any warning Sherlock arched up and orgasmed, sending John over edge. John's body collapsed, utterly exhausted, underneath his still bucking lover. Sherlock growled down at him, his eyes pure black, his attention drifting over the bite marks on his neck.
"I will drink you and you will drink me..." He commanded in a feral voice and John's mind went fuzzy again. Fear flooded him but Sherlock was beyond reason and ignored it.
Fear. Mycroft felt it flooding his senses. Fear he knew was not his own. John. He sat straight up in bed and threw his robe around himself. His nightclothes clinging to him as he hurried. Anthea sat up and looked at him. She looked moderately alarmed by the anger on his face, so she stood hurriedly, throwing her dressing gown around her shoulders.
"Lord Holmes?" She asked timidly.
"Send George down to the chamber. Now." He growled and he took off.
Sherlock's mouth was just over John's neck, John whimpering and writhing in pain. He couldn't move, his body wouldn't respond to him. Terror was like ice in his veins as he realized that Sherlock's mind was not his own. There was nothing he could do to stop him. Their connection was hollow and aching, the thread so tight between them if felt as if it might snap. Just as Sherlock's teeth were about to break the skin on John's neck he was seized by the throat and roughly thrown across the room into the wall. Mycroft stood between John and Sherlock heaving with anger. His aura made him seem even larger than he was and John allowed himself to completely collapse as Sherlock's control was broken free. He was safe. Beside Mycroft stood a tall, burly man who was also acting as a wall between the now sputtering Sherlock and John. Sherlock growled and moved to launch himself at Mycroft but was frozen by Mycroft's outstretched hand. Mycroft using his magic to pin Sherlock to the wall.
"If you move I will hurt you." He growled as a promise.
"Leave me to my mate." Sherlock growled darkly back. His eyes wide and black, anger apparent in every line of his body.
"I told you to feed. I commanded you to! Look what you have done!" Mycroft stepped to the side so Sherlock could see John convulsing in the bed. He was almost shouting in pain and his fingers clawed into the bed clothes.
"J-John?" Sherlock said softly, his eyes suddenly fading from black to their normal appearance. His voice trembling. John tried to respond but the effort took too much and he sank back against the pillows panting.
"George take Sherlock to the feeding area, ensure he feeds appropriately, and then return him to his chambers. He is to remain there until dark fall when he may rejoin us here." Mycroft's rage was undeniable.
"Mycroft..." Sherlock tried to plead but he saw the look that greeted him on Mycroft's face.
"You have your orders. Now go." Mycroft turned and swept over to the counter in the bed chamber. He found a bottle of blood wine and filled a glass, slipping into the bed and pulling John gently into his arms. "Here little one, drink..." He whispered in a soft voice. "Please my little one..." Sherlock watched in awe, he'd never seen Mycroft be so tender with anyone save himself as a small child. He wanted to stay, to protect John but George grabbed him by the nape of his neck and hauled him from the room. John slowly opened his eyes and looked up at Mycroft, whimpering like a child. Mycroft simply smiled and cupped his head, helping him sit up and putting the glass to his lips. "There now," He whispered as John started to sip the drink. Mycroft helped him until he'd finished the cup and his trembling had subsided a bit.
"That tastes like you." John said softly, in a small voice.
"Yes, it would." He smiled. "It is made from my blood. We save it for special needs like this. It is not time for you to have my true blood yet, not until dark falls. This however will help dull the pain and ease your way a bit." He gently caressed John's cheek as he held him close. "Are you to terribly hurt?"
"No... He did not mean..." John tried to sit up and protest but Mycroft held him firmly.
"I know." He said calmly, gently running his hands over John's arms. He could feel the moment both in John's muscles and in their growing Sire/Fledgling connection the moment he began to relax. "He has not fed save what small relief he has taken from you in many days. I instructed him to feed when you slept and he did not. He put you in danger, my little one. You could have passed into shadow." He whispered tenderly, his hand cupping John's cheek and holding his gaze. "He will return to you and I will allow him to claim you when the time is right as you forgive him and I trust your judgment. However John, my little fledgling - you must promise me one thing. If ever he hurts you, you feel afraid, or if anything happens to him come back to me. I will guard and protect you." His face was close to John's and John was surprised by the desire that rose in his chest, the desire to join their lips. He blinked very slowly before licking his lips and speaking.
"You know so little of me yet you seem to care so much. I have never seen this side of you, Lord Holmes." His voice was soft but he tried to remain firm. Mycroft was pleased by his effort and softened more, cradling him close to his own body. Trying to help subdue the shivering that possessed him now.
"I know much about you, little one. I do not believe it is a secret that you have a had a zealous suitor who has been denied your hand. I was sadly denied the pleasure of you at least a dozen times." Mycroft smirked as John blushed. "I confess that I did not know you were Solvanar. However I knew you were important to my coven. Ever since you were small my people have returned to me from nights they should have perished with a story of a kind young boy who tended to their wounds like no other ever had. Someone who was born with knowledge of healing our wounds though they were only mortal. You see, little one, our kind has very few healers. Most of those who embrace the life of the night turn their back on their fellows. They seek only a life for themselves or their mates and never for those in their coven or their family. That is what made the civil war that lead to the creation of your line so deadly. I sought to bring you to this life before Sherlock was even aware of you. I wanted to train you and perfect you so when you were ready the transition would feel natural." He sighed a bit wistfully and sat back, caressing his cheek with his hand.
"You were the suitor my Uncle told me of." John said quietly, as he realized it was the truth. "The one who would not take no for an answer. The one who began asking when I was but eleven. He never would tell me who it was."
"No, he would not. I asked him not to." He tensed, his mouth thinning into a grimace. "You see I discovered how you felt for my brother. How he felt for you. It was then I understood that you were not to be mine no matter how much I desired it. I need your word John Hamish Watson, that if something should happen you will come back to me." He whispered, his mouth barely apart from John's. "I will not see you fall to shadow. I want you in our family and I want to see you enjoy the ages of the world at our sides. I will always protect you, I will always guard you."
"I promise, Mycroft. If for some reason something should happen to Sherlock or if he crosses any lines I shall come to you." His voice was thick as their eyes locked. John could read how Mycroft yearned for him and he wanted to unite their mouths but he hesitated.
"You are not betraying him for wanting to touch me." Mycroft said softly, smiling as John blushed. He trailed one finger over John's cheek. "He knows that fledglings often feel strongly for their sires." He pressed his mouth to John's claiming it in a tender but powerful kiss that threatened to obliterate John's mind. He moaned softly and it took a long time for him to finally pull away. "He is jealous of that bond, however he does not yet understand how powerful the connection between you two will be."
"Why did you not take me last evening?" John forced out, his shivering slowly subsiding.
"You did not want me to." Mycroft said simply, a smirk on his face. "I will never force you to do something you wish not to. Others I would, not you. Never you, my little vampire."
"I feel as if this is a dream." John said softly, pulling back but only a short bit away. "Rumors of your character, the things I have seen you say and do in court, and the feelings I see in the faces of your colleagues generally do not agree with this side of you." His tentatively reached up, his hand softly connecting with Mycroft's cheek. He smiled again.
"You are not wrong. I must be cold and calculating in court and with my coven. I must maintain the balance that is so carefully constructed like the spiders' web. However I am fond of you and as I confessed only moments ago have been for a long time. Sherlock has given you darkness and it has caused you pain, now you need tenderness to ease it. I did not consider myself capable of providing it myself which is why I left you in his care for the daylight hours, it seems I was terribly mistaken." He gently let his hand slide from cupping John's cheek to lifting his chin, pulling him slowly into another soft kiss.
He took his time, letting John ease into the moment before he pressed his tongue forward to part John's kiss bruised lips and give way to Mycroft's desire to explore him. John hummed softly as Mycroft leaned closer to him, a gentle dominance beginning to show in his movements. John could still feel the pain - unlike when Sherlock was with him, but the touches seemed to force his mind to focus on Mycroft. His mind was too overwhelmed to multitask in the moment. Mycroft seemed to understand because he shifted and followed as John lay back on the bed. He kept kissing him, their mouths working together in a slow but heated pace until John whimpered with desire. Mycroft pulled back and looked down at him, gently brushing his sandy hair from his eyes.
"Why does touch make the pain stop?" John asked quietly as he caught his breath, his eyes unbreakably locked with Mycroft's.
"It narrows your focus. Your body is overwhelmed with sensation right now much of it pain as the vampire blood converts your body into one of us. Sherlock was not wrong in wanting to love you in order to help you." He gently ran his hands over John's arms and chest, eliciting a soft sigh of pleasure from him. He closed his eyes and groaned.
"And the lust?"
"Ah," Mycroft said quietly and John slowly let his eyes open to see the slight blush on Mycroft's cheeks. "That is my fault. Since I gave you my blood while I was feeling arousal it will make you rather susceptible to what is called 'blood passion' for awhile." He cleared his throat. "It should subside by the time you and Sherlock return from your bonding in Paris."
"He tormented me, claimed me for what felt like ages, and yet I am burning again." He grabbed Mycroft's arm and pulled him down. "Touch me more, please."
"Oh John, my little one, you do not know what you ask of me." He whispered and leaned down letting their mouths connect again. Mycroft let his hand trail over John's neck, shoulders, arms, and chest. Offering fluttering touches that caressed his skin and his aura as they went. John groaned softly, trying to push up into Mycroft's touch but Mycroft simply held him in place. He cradled John's face again, his hand on John's right cheek, slowly pulling their lips apart. "I would love nothing more than to lay claim to you, my darling. Alas I cannot. You are Sherlock's mate and without him present I will not do anything to compromise that. Sleep now, let your body rest as it changes. I will stay here and hold you. When night falls and Sherlock returns together we will show you just how incredibly special you are." John whimpered again but Mycroft kissed him several times to silence his protests. He wrapped John in the blanket carefully, situating him against his own body and caressing his back until he felt him sink into a deep sleep.
Sherlock was going insane he could feel the lust in his mates' body, he could feel the tenderness, the ache that was growing. It was maddening. He was going to storm back into the chamber, he would have John for himself - but George stopped him again. Once Sherlock fed from one of the many servants the Holmes family employed to provide safe means for the coven to feed, George led him to his room and locked him in. He raged about for a few minutes before sinking down on the bed and letting out several tears of frustration.
"Brother, do not anger yourself so. I have not violated your mate." Mycroft's voice reached him as he lay back on his bed. He felt his mind slowly becoming his own again, the blood easing the feral creature within.
"Is he injured?"
"No. He is not, thankfully. You lost control. This is the second time Sherlock. You cannot continue these dangerous experiments. You must feed as required! Sherlock, surely by now you understand he is a mender. A mender! He is a Solvanar, a mender, and he accepts you for who you are! Our kind has not had many competent healers since the war of the original covens. He is your mate! He is vitally important. Do you understand how close you came to losing him? How close we came to losing him because of you?!" Mycroft's voice was anxious and stern.
"Losing him? He..." Sherlock responded, furrowing his brow in confusion.
"He is going through the change. You masked all his pain which meant that when your spell lifted he felt all of it at once! All that horrible pain, all at once. He is sleeping now, peacefully though he wanted me to make the pain stop. He wanted the tenderness you should have given him. However I respect you brother and I will not take your claim."
"Though you tried! I know about those requests Mycroft. I saw the memories of them in his blood. They were you were they not?" Sherlock's voice was a low growl, he was tense laying in his bed. He drummed his fingers angrily against the table beside his bed, his attention focused and narrow. He slowly stopped and pulled his hands together holding them below his chin as he focused.
"They were, however you also will notice that once I became aware of your connection I did not press the issue further. I respect the bond the two of you have, Sherlock. I know what it must mean to see that bond fulfilled. However I will promise you this right now, brother, if you do not cherish him I will." Mycroft growled as he finished the words, tightening his arms around John protectively. John mumbled softly, so Mycroft pressed a gentle kiss to his head and caressed his arms to reassure him.
"I will cherish him, if you allow me to." It was a childish reply but Sherlock was angry and sulking.
"Tonight we shall take him together. Rest now, when we drain him I want to see him pinned between our bodies. He will claim you and I shall take him."
"Claim... Me?" Mycroft smirked at the glimmer of fear in his brother's tone.
"Yes, you are his mate. Thus he should have an equal claim of you as you do of him, brother. So tonight we will show him what it is like to be loved by the Holmes brothers. It is only fitting that I should get to claim him at least once. You know he will be bound to me. Not as strongly as he is to you, however still bound to me. You should also know that I will always protect him and should anything happen to you I will keep him safe until you are able to protect him again. I will not let harm come to him."
"I suppose I owe you a thank you then."
"I suppose you do. Rest now."
Mycroft woke John a few hours later and gave him another glass of the blood wine, several deep kisses, and comforting touches until he slipped back to sleep against him. He pressed gentle kisses over John's face, eyes, cheeks, and neck until he felt him slip back into that deep, dreamless sleep. He then stood and moved to the desk in the room. He began writing, formulating his strategies for John's training once he returned from his trip with Sherlock. It would be difficult for them to stage his absence without letting Moriarty and Sebastian Moran's coven know that he was gone, but it was important to do so. Sherlock was still young, wild, and untamed. He needed this bond finalized before they could move further - otherwise things would simply fall apart. He worked for an hour or so and then slipped back into bed beside John, pulling him close and dosing off until night fell.
"John?" Sherlock's voice was soft, he knelt beside the bed and gently, almost timidly reached out to touch his lover's cheek.
"There you are." John smiled warmly as he slowly pulled himself from his sleepy state. Mycroft gently released his arm from around John's waist.
"I am so very sorry." Sherlock whispered, looking down. John's hand found his cheek.
"It was not your intention, I understand. You have to feed more often." John said it as forcefully as he could, groaning as a wave of pain washed through him.
"I will, I promise." Sherlock smiled but his anxiety still rolled through both of their chests. John nodded understanding the feeling they were sharing and slowly sat up.
"You two look beautiful cuddled together, I am surprised by the sight." Sherlock whispered and smiled as John blushed.
"I do not feel worthy of all these attentions." John confessed.
"Oh but you are." Mycroft purred and kissed over the back of his neck. John groaned, falling back against Mycroft's chest.
"You are worth more than you know, my beloved." Sherlock smiled and he climbed into the bed with them, pressing passionate kisses to his lovers mouth. Kisses that pleaded for forgiveness even as they inspired lust.
"Oh..." John whimpered, weakly clawing into both of them. "Oh God..."
"Hush, my little one." Mycroft purred in his ear, leaning back to remove his shirt. "We have all night and you must give your blood to us again."
"Oh take it..." John whispered as Sherlock nipped his ear and neck.
"Do not be so hasty." Sherlock teased, slipping out of his dressing robe - which was all he was wearing.
"I can feel your need, the need in both of you." John whimpered, his eyes closed. Mycroft shifted out of his sleeping clothes and his under things so the three of them were naked in the bed together. John perfectly between them.
Sherlock pressed his body to John's front, their half hard erections contacting and making both of them moan loudly. Mycroft pressed against John from behind, moaning loudly as John instantly tilted his head to the side with a soft whimpering moan. Mycroft pressed his lips to John's neck, lathing attention over it as Sherlock again claimed his mouth. Both of them kissing him with slow burning heat. It did not take long before John was a mess of whimpers and moans, his hips bucking slightly into Sherlock's. Sherlock automatically responded, the two of them setting a hesitant and distracted rhythm as they tried to keep their mouths joined. Mycroft groaned and forced them to stop.
"John," He purred in his ear. "I want to take you. I want to take you while you take Sherlock. May I have your permission?" He caressed John's sides, waiting tensely for the answer. John's gaze flicked up to Sherlock's and silently he nodded his acceptance. John flushed.
"Oh God yes..." He whispered, clawing into Sherlock's legs.
"Sherlock lay down." Mycroft commanded. He picked up the oil and pressing himself back behind John, positioned him over his lover. "Here, prepare him." Mycroft purred in his ear, slicking oil over his fingers before guiding John's hand down and removing his own. John gasped and almost lost his focus when Mycroft's slick finger pressed against him. Sherlock whimpered as John groaned, their lust passing easily between them via their bond. John understood, Mycroft was going to show him how to properly do this. He took a shaking breath and gently pushed a finger against the tight, quivering ring of muscle that Sherlock seemed keen to hide.
"Come on my love, let me touch you." John purred, leaning down to kiss Sherlock as he finally pressed in. The two of them moaned loudly, the feeling growing and shifting between them until John was bucking back against Mycroft's hand and Sherlock was whimpering.
"More!" Sherlock demanded, arching his back off the bed.
"He is ready for more." Mycroft's voice rumbled against John's throat as John leaned up into his touch. Mycroft pressed another slick finger inside of John who shouted and mirrored every movement he made on Sherlock. "Oh you are such a perfect little caretaker." He purred the praises in his ear. John turned so he could kiss Mycroft hard, Sherlock groaning as he watched them. Seeing his lover under his brother's control was far more thrilling than it ought to be. John moved his fingers, bucking his hips without thinking. Sherlock whimpered.
"God this is torment!" He shouted.
"And yet you scolded your lover for being hasty. Calm yourself, brother - you must be properly prepared for someone as large as your mate." John shouted as Mycroft pushed a third finger into him and it took him a minute to recover enough to reciprocate on Sherlock.
"Oh! I feel like I am going to explode." John grunted, shaking from head to toe. His mouth fell to Sherlock's again as he leaned over him, grinding back onto Mycroft's fingers and pushing his deeper into Sherlock.
"Are you ready John?" Mycroft asked quietly and John simply shook his head. "Answer me." He growled, digging his nails into John's ass. John shouted and moaned.
"Yes, please take me. Please!"
"John!" Sherlock groaned. Mycroft smiled wider and positioned himself behind John guiding him into Sherlock. "Oh! It is so much!" His head fell back against the pillow as John sank into him fully. John groaned and whimpered before shouting as Mycroft pressed into him. Mycroft held him firm so he could focus on his cock buried in Sherlock and Mycroft's in him. His head went foggy and he moaned again as Sherlock shifted up slightly. There was nothing else in the world but the overwhelming sensation of being pinned between the brothers.
"Move." Mycroft commanded pulling back and then pushing forward so he drove John back into Sherlock. Both of them shouting in pleasure. John followed him eagerly, almost as if on command and gave Mycroft control of the situation.
Mycroft set the pace, a soft but determined speed that drove both of the lovers insane. Slowly he built John up and then stopped, forcing him to stop as well, before beginning again. Then just as he felt John's body begin to tighten he sank his teeth into John's exposed neck. John and Sherlock shouted as they tumbled over the edge together and within a few moments Mycroft followed behind, his mouth still latched onto John's neck. Sherlock sat up, gently letting John fall out of him before taking a spot on his chest to bite down and help Mycroft drink him. John sagged against them, his eyes again half closed and Sherlock carefully shifted him down onto the bed. Mycroft sliced his wrist open and pressed it to John's mouth groaning loudly as John eagerly began to drink. He let John drink for longer than the night before and slowly pulled away. Admiring him for a moment before leaning down to kiss his bloodstained lips. Sherlock tensed but allowed the kiss, knowing that jealousy of John's bond with Mycroft would become poison to their own bond. John clung to Sherlock's shoulder as he buried his face against his chest, panting for breath and struggling to remain awake.
"Sleep now little one," Mycroft whispered, caressing down John's back with his soft fluttering touches. "Sherlock will guard you now and I will return shortly. We will keep you safe."
"Do not stray far," John pleaded as he sank to sleep, Sherlock's arm tightly around him.
"Oh he is such a precious soul, brother." Mycroft's voice was a whisper. "I shall return in only a few moments. I must go feed."
"I drank quite a bit, thanks to the order you gave George. I am safe now. Go and return quickly for as much as I don't like it he seems fond of you." Sherlock sighed and ran his fingers through John's hair, smiling at the soft murmurs that came from his lovers lips.
"I told you, I shall guard him if you cannot. I will treasure him for all the ages of the world. You do not understand the value of him, not the way I do. One wrong move from you and I shall not hesitate to take him. I will return." Mycroft swept out of the room with the aid of George.
Sherlock whispered soft comforting words to John as he stroked his hair, two fingers gently tracing their way over his cheek. The smile on his face was one of pure adoration, one he reserved only for the most important of things. When Mycroft returned several minutes later he found Sherlock asleep, John against him, and that smile still on his brother's face. It pleased him to see such a smile on his brother's face but he noted the pain that crossed John's brow. John was awake, his eyes open and terrified. Mycroft sat down and John retreated to his arms, curling up like a kitten in his lap. Sherlock however did not wake.
"You are in pain." Mycroft said quietly and John shook his head slightly.
"It is too noisy." He replied hoarsely.
"Oh, my little one..." Mycroft said in a breathless voice. "The change moves quickly through you. Your body has changed and now your mind must catch up." He whispered the words, noting that Sherlock shifted but remained asleep. "Come, let us clean you up." He motioned to George who stepped into a large bathing room. It contained a large Roman style bath.
Mycroft had engineered it so that the cooking fire used to make food for the mortal servants and to heat the house ran underneath of it, making the tub maintain a warm temperature during the evenings. He gently cradled John in his arms as George returned with an elegant sleeping robe and draped it over a chair in the bath room. Mycroft nodded and George returned to Sherlock to guard him as he slept. Mycroft slowly set John in the tub before following him in, holding him close without doing anything else for the moment.
"Oh, it is warm." John said stupidly and Mycroft ran his fingers through his hair.
"This will be a tiring day for you, my little love." He whispered, slowly running water over his body. "Your mind must navigate how to adjust to your new senses and abilities. You may have nightmares, but Sherlock and I will keep you safe." He found one of his favorite soaps and took his time to lather John up, washing him gently as he did.
"Everything is bright and loud, except for you." John whispered, his hand gently coming to rest on Mycroft's cheek, his actions somewhat child like.
"What am I?" He asked his tone clearly amused and interested.
"Soft and beautiful." John blushed but kept their eyes locked. Mycroft couldn't resist and he leaned forward and kissed John passionately. John groaning as his back met the edge of the tub.
Mycroft set the soap down, his hands finding their way into John's hair and wrapping him in a strong embrace. He kept their mouths moving together, a sort of frenzied passion building between them as their bodies absorbed the warmth of the water and flushed with their efforts. Mycroft tugged on his hair, exposing his neck which he covered with kisses. A low feral sort of growl rumbled from John's throat as he first struggled and then consented to Mycroft's work. He groaned as his little fledgling gave him dominance and continued to kiss all over his neck, chest, and jaw before finding his lips and claiming them anew. He felt John's erection hardening between them and brushing against his own reawakened cock. It did not take long before the two of them were bucking against each other, their mouths moving furiously as they did.
"Mycroft..." John blushed and whimpered, causing him to stop.
"Yes my little mender?"
"Will you take me again?" He flushed red and Mycroft smiled. He pulled him up out of the tub and lay him on a rug on the floor, he retreated to the bedroom finding the oil and ensuring Sherlock was not laying there brooding. Sufficiently pleased his brother was still asleep, he returned to his groaning fledgling and coated his fingers and his cock with oil.
"Are you sure you want this, my little one?" Mycroft asked softly, leaning down to kiss him with a bruising force.
"Yes, please." He whimpered in reply, kissing him fervently. Mycroft pushed into him slowly, waiting until John whimpered to begin moving.
The sensation was overwhelming, John was so different than any other lover Mycroft had taken. So desperate for their mutual pleasure, so sensitive to touch... John keened and whimpered as he wrapped around Mycroft, letting him guide the pace. Mycroft went slowly, using every movement to seal inside John's mind and body the fact that no matter what he had a home in Mycroft's heart. He leaned down and pressed their mouths together again, keeping the contact until both of them began to shout. He slowed to a steady, feverish pace and worked in his little lover for what felt like an age. The moment stretched out and it was a long time before they both collided in a fierce kiss and rode the peak of their orgasm into a flushed silence. Mycroft slowly pulled out of John, panting a bit as he looked down into the eyes of his mender. John felt a soft moan rise in his chest at the look on Mycroft's face, it was so full of adoration - so pure it made him want to melt. It was startlingly different from how Sherlock looked at him and he found that love bubbled up in his chest for his Sire. He watched as Mycroft smiled, realizing that John finally accepted that no matter what Mycroft would always care for him. Mycroft slowly pulled him back in the tub, cleaning them both up before drying him off. He wrapped him gently in the elegant robe and carried him back to the bed where he placed him snuggly against Sherlock. John reached for him and Mycroft simply smiled, blowing out the candle beside the bed before slipping in the beside him. Sherlock's arm instantly moved to wrap around John which Mycroft mirrored thus securing John between his two lovers. John's last thought before he sank into a deep sleep was how beautiful it was having the love of not one but both the Holmes men and how eternity would not be long enough to treasure it.