WARNING: Rape/Non-Con-Dub-Con stuff in this chapter.


"Here." John held out his wrist in front of Sherlock's face. Sherlock blinked at the offered flesh for a few moments and then looked up at his prisoner.

"What is this?" Sherlock asked, raising an eyebrow. John had a stern expression fixed on his face, his shoulders back and his stance tense.

"If you're going to drink from me, I'd rather you did it now. This waiting is intolerable." John spat out angrily.

Sherlock licked his lips slowly and peered at the prominent blue vein in John's wrist. He had to admit it was tempting. "Why are you offering me this?"

"Even as well as I've been trained, I know I can't hold you off forever and I have no hope of escape after the spells your witch put on this place. It is inevitable that you will drink from me eventually and I'd rather get it over with now."

Sherlock grabbed a hold of John's wrist so quickly that John didn't even see him move. John gasped in surprise, his hardened mask cracking for a moment before he scowled at his captor. Sherlock smirked up at his hostage and then shoved his arm away.

"Do not assume that you know me because you happen to know a vampire. We are not a collective, we are not a stereotype and we do not all require hand feedings." Sherlock snarled and his prisoner backed away from him.

"I'm sorry, I merely thought –"

"- You thought wrong." Sherlock informed him. "Now I'm trying to think. Either sit down and shut up or go to your room. You're distracting me."

John stared at him incredulously for a few moments and then sat down in the red chair. He stared at his captor for a long time, wondering what kind of a vampire Sherlock Holmes was. He'd only ever heard of the vampire when Jim was complaining about him. He'd assumed his imprisonment would be excruciating and yet the vampire hardly demanded anything of him. Occasionally he'd been sent to the kitchen to make tea or fetch a packet of blood, but other than that most of his time was his own.

Sherlock Holmes was a peculiar sort of vampire and not what John had been expecting. But then Sherlock could be trying to lure him into a false sense of security so he would let his guard down. Well that certainly wasn't going to happen.

"Stop thinking so loudly." Sherlock growled from where he was sprawled out on the couch.

John stared at him in confusion for a second before shrugging his shoulders. He went to the bookcase and found a collection of Poe's works. He took it back to his chair and began to read, having nothing better to do while he remained in captivity.

XXXX

John had been at Baker Street for two weeks and Sherlock hadn't gained any knowledge at all. John was stoic, with nerves of steel, and Sherlock was getting nowhere. Any attempt to manipulate or coerce were laughed off by John; clearly Moriarty had trained him well. It was unbelievably frustrating.

Sherlock hadn't resorted to more painful means of getting what he wanted yet. If Lestrade found out what Sherlock had done, he would be quick to remove John from Sherlock's grasp and Sherlock couldn't let that happen yet. He wasn't done trying to break the hold Moriarty had on John Watson. Their bond was thick; Moriarty had made sure of that over the past fifteen years. Sherlock couldn't expect that to break after a mere two weeks.

When he wasn't trying to extract information from John, Sherlock mostly ignored him. He'd lived for centuries on his own, at least when Mycroft didn't feel the need to inflict his presence, and now having someone living with him was unsettling. He wasn't used to sharing a space with someone and the fact that John was a human wasn't helping either. The entire flat smelled like blood, permeating the air with it's tantalizing scent. Sherlock's fangs were almost permanently descended, wanting to taste.

He couldn't though. Just a drop of John's blood would be enough to make him relapse into drinking the live stuff. So Sherlock wouldn't have a single nip. It was best if he stayed as far away from John as possible until he got what he needed.

Yet the problem with a smallish flat was that two people were bound to cross paths eventually. Unless Sherlock stayed holed up in his room, he was going to run into John on occasion.

Their daily bumping into each other usually happened in the morning when the one bathroom the flat offered was in competition. Sherlock had his morning routine, which John was promptly playing merry hell with. As Sherlock reached for the doorknob of the loo, John opened it wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. Sherlock stared for a moment and it was like he could see every vein in John's body, pumping blood through his circulatory system, and it made Sherlock's teeth ache to bite anywhere.

"Sorry." John mumbled and moved out of the way. Sherlock shook himself slightly to snap out of it and went into the bathroom. He was surprised to find the air was cold. He turned and felt the tub, which was freezing. The water dripping off the showerhead was also cold. Sherlock's brow furrowed in confusion. Why was John taking cold showers?

He opened the bathroom door and stalked after John, following his scent upstairs. He threw open John's bedroom door and John turned in surprise, covering his genitals. Sherlock raced over and pinned John to the bed as John cursed and struggled against him. Sherlock held him down – John was barely a challenge to overtake – and pressed his nose against the hollow of John's throat where his scent was strong.

"That's it, isn't it?" Sherlock purred deep in his throat, rubbing his nose against John's soft skin. "I can't believe I didn't realize before."

"What are you doing?" John at last looked frightened, frozen in terror as he realized he had no escape.

Sherlock grabbed John's hands and held them tightly against John's chest so Sherlock could move lower. He slid down John's body and pressed his nose to the strongest scent of John's body, right against the thatch of dark blond pubic hair. Sherlock inhaled deeply and dragged his nose up John's rapidly hardening penis.

Sherlock did a thorough investigation, sniffing the entire area to prove himself right. John stiffened and struggled as Sherlock moved lower, nosing against John's entrance. John's breathing was labored, coming in great heaving gasps, the noise of it whooshing past Sherlock's ears.

Sherlock grinned triumphantly against John's hip, his fangs fully descended and he knew John could feel them as they just barely grazed his skin. John inhaled sharply and squirmed in Sherlock's grasp.

"You've never been touched. It's why you smell so good. Moriarty has kept you pure this entire time. You can't even masturbate, which accounts for all the cold showers you've been taking. He's never touched you, not in fifteen years. He's fed off you, of course, it would be almost impossible not to with the way you smell. But he never touched you."

Sherlock moved back up John's body, taking John's restrained arms with him to hold them comfortably over his captive's head. "It almost begs the question why he didn't do it properly. If he wanted you to remain pure, why not just remove your testicles? Obviously he had plans to take advantage at some point."

"After I'm turned." John said defiantly, his eyes hard with resilience.

"Why hasn't he already?"

"He couldn't have a child vampire. People might talk."

"People do little else." Sherlock countered. "Jim has never been big on following societies rules so what held him back?"

"He's not looking for just a night with me." John's eyes narrowed and he tried to escape but Sherlock simply slammed his hands back into the mattress.

"You think he's in love with you."

"I know he is." John answered with conviction. Sherlock had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

"Is that why you're so loyal to a man who kidnapped a little boy? Who lured you away from a family that loved you for his own personal gain? Is that what you consider love, John Watson? Not only that but he's brainwashed you into loving him back."

"Shut up." John snarled and thrashed underneath Sherlock.

"It isn't love, it's cruelty of the acutest kind. The only way he cares about you is in correlation of how you affect him, of what you can do for him. Do you think he'd still want you if you gave into this?" Sherlock pressed his leg against John's erection and began moving. John's lip quivered as he tried to hold back any kind of moan.

"Stop, you can't!" John pleaded. "Jim will never touch me again if you do."

"Exactly." Sherlock's eyes blazed with satisfaction at being right. "And isn't that cruel?"

"I'd rather have my master's cruelty over your…indifference." John shouted and continued his futile struggle to get out of Sherlock's grasp.

"You want me to be cruel?" Sherlock roared, staring John down while he loomed over him. "Is that what you want?"

John opened his mouth to reply but before he could, Sherlock invaded it. Their lips crashed together and John made a surprised noise in the back of his throat. He turned his head and broke the kiss, panting against the pillow. Sherlock switched it so both of John's hands were held down by one large hand and used his other to guide John's face back.

Sherlock captured his lips again, gentler this time, coaxing John's mouth open with his tongue. John forgot himself for a moment and moaned, shifting his hips up to press against Sherlock's leg.

"That's it." Sherlock kissed down John's jaw and neck before circling back up to lick the shell of his ear. "Give yourself over to me."

"Why should I?" John breathed.

"Because I'm going to save you, John Watson." Sherlock promised, releasing John's hands and kissing down John's chest. He wrapped his hand around John's cock and gave him one long stroke, causing John to keen and arch up off the bed. He brought his face down and licked at the head while his hand worked the rest. The heady scent of John's musk was too much, making it impossible for Sherlock to retract his fangs.

It didn't matter, John was so unused to pleasure that he went off like a shot, his come streaking across Sherlock's tongue and face. "Oh God, Oh God." John repeated desperately, confused and ashamed after his orgasm.

"Excellent." Sherlock smiled and flipped John onto his stomach. "Now that we've gotten that out of the way, I can take my time preparing you."

"I don't understand."

"You will." Sherlock guided John by the backs of his knees, pushing them up towards his chest and spread to open him up. John was pliant, lying flat on the bed, his face turned and his arse presented up in the air. Sherlock ran his hands over the supple flesh and then squeezed, enjoying the small whimper that escaped John's lips.

Since this hadn't been premeditated, Sherlock hadn't the forethought to get any lubricant. Instead he buried his face between John's arsecheeks and licked. John jerked away in surprise but Sherlock held him in place with a hand on his thigh.

Sherlock took his time lavishing John's hole with his tongue, making sure to open him up and make it nice and slippery to ease the way. John made the most delicious noises, his fingers clutching the sheets, his face twisted with pleasure. In his position, only the tip of his cock could reach the bed so John moved his hips, dragging it against the sheets to get some release.

"Suck." Sherlock demanded and pushed two of his fingers into John mouth. John obeyed, tongue trailing over his fingers and down to the webbing between. While John's mouth was occupied with that task, Sherlock undid his trousers and pulled himself out, spitting into his other hand and coated his prick. When his fingers felt wet enough, he pulled them out and pushed them immediate into John's hole. It was already quite stretched but Sherlock made certain, pumping his fingers in and out of John.

"Hmmph, Sherlock." John groaned, burying his face in the pillow. Sherlock could feel the desperation radiating off John, probably because it matched his own.

He pulled his fingers out, kneeling between John's parted legs and grabbed the base of his cock. Guiding it in, he had forgotten the tightness of a virgin. John's body clamped down on just the head that had breached and it was too much. Sherlock retracted and tried again. This time John's body let him in more willingly and Sherlock glided in without issue.

"Fuck." John moaned, his breathing ragged. "It's like I'm being split in two."

"Relax and enjoy it." Sherlock ordered and then began to move, thrusting his hips slowly. He started mouthing at John's back, carefully avoiding his teeth piercing John's skin. It was a dangerous game he was playing with John's body. One false move and Sherlock wouldn't be able to stop himself drinking John dry.

John's scent had already lessened from his orgasm. However it still smelled delicious, causing Sherlock to worry that perhaps his plan wouldn't work after all. If Moriarty only wanted John for his pure blood, then it was logical to assume that he wouldn't if John's blood was tainted. Yet if John tasted as good as he smelled, it would hardly be a hindrance. Sherlock would just have to dirty John's blood with sex until it became undesirable.

It had been a long time since Sherlock had engaged in such a carnal activity. After living for over a thousand years, sex had become somewhat boring and repetitive. Penetration, thrust, ejaculate, repeat. It was rather tedious after having done it for so long. But somehow, buried deep inside John, listening to his prisoner curse up a storm, Sherlock was decidedly not bored.

John began bringing his hips back to meet Sherlock's, their bodies colliding with a loud slap of skin on skin. Sherlock gripped John's arse and spread his cheeks even further, sinking even lower inside his captive. "Oh fuck." Sherlock moaned aloud for the first time since they'd started. He'd been biting into his lip to keep from letting John know just how much he was enjoying himself. This wasn't supposed to be about him, he was freeing John from Moriarty's clutches. It had to be done, a necessary evil.

But John felt amazing, his skin soft and his inside tight and warm. The need to bite him was extraordinary; just sink his teeth into the nape of John's neck. It would make everything perfect and Jim would never be able to touch John again. Sherlock wouldn't let him anywhere near John ever again. Just one bite and John would be his forever.

Sherlock was about to bite down when John came for a second time, his hole fluttering around Sherlock's cock. The sensation sent Sherlock over the edge and he cried out as he came. He collapsed on top of his hostage and stayed inside him, not wanting to let go just yet. The urge to bite John was still there but it had lessened into a dull ache in his teeth.

That had been too close. If John had come a few seconds later, Sherlock would have already drank from him. Sherlock pulled out and ran down to the kitchen, ripping a packet of blood open with his teeth and chugging it, hoping it might slake his lust for John's blood.

When he had downed the entire packet, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and went back to the bedroom. He stood in the doorway and stared at John, who was lying on his back now looking thoroughly shagged. Sherlock grinned, feeling rather smug about it.

"I feel weird now." John confessed, looking up at the ceiling.

"That's normal after your first time."

"Why did you do that?" John finally looked at Sherlock but it was only to stare at him accusingly.

"To save you. As you said yourself, Moriarty won't touch you now."

"Why do you care? The only reason I'm here is so you can get information out of me." John sat up and crossed his arms over his chest. "Why are you interested in helping me?"

"It'll annoy Jim." Sherlock answered glibly. "Besides, helping you means I get sex, so I'm really helping myself."

"There's more to this than you're letting on. At the end there, it felt like we were close to something but we never quite got there."

"I think you're imagining things." Sherlock scoffed and turned to go back downstairs. He wasn't overtly surprised when he heard John's footsteps following him. Sherlock ignored him and flopped onto the couch, pulling a blanket over himself. He chewed his bottom lip, needing to think. If John had felt that too, the pull that had been guiding Sherlock to bite him, then what did it mean? Just who was this John Watson and why had Moriarty taken him all those years ago? Jim could have stolen any child off of any playground, hell it would be easier to steal one from an orphanage where no one would care if they went missing. Why had he chosen John? All the hassle and effort that had gone into finding him must have been annoying for Jim. So why had he done it? What significance did John have?

"You're lying to me." John said the moment he stepped into the sitting room. "If all you wanted was sex from me, you would have forced yourself on me the first night I was here. You're a vampire, you could get someone to be your live in fucktoy and food if you wanted. You've shown no interest in me or anyone else, or at least not until you realized just exactly what I was to Jim. You didn't even want me and yet you still had sex with me."

"Are you saying what just happened was a kindness on my part?" Sherlock chuckled at him. "Are you really that naïve?"

"You didn't want me." John shook his head.

Sherlock frowned. "I've warned you before about making assumptions."

"You haven't fed off me and we both know you could have."

"Don't try to figure out my motives, you'll give yourself a headache."

John sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, the very spot Sherlock had been so close to biting. It gave Sherlock's hunger a second wave. He had to get away from John fast. "I don't know what to make of you, Mr. Holmes."

"You probably never will." Sherlock scowled at him before crossing the room and escaping into his bedroom, slamming the door shut and locking it.