Warnings: Gratuitous smut, Johnlock smut, and tentaclelock. Do not read if any one of these makes you feel icky.
Day #25: Favorite Monster Boy
Fan The Flame
(Rated M)
When John Watson first decided to attend Uni, he was positive that he would be able to keep his tentacles a secret. Of course, from the second his new roommate stepped into their room, his secret went right out the window. Sherlock Holmes took one look at him, rolled his eyes, and informed John that he didn't care that John had tentacles, and to please never try to keep anything a secret ever again because really, he was quite terrible at it.
They became fast friends, much to the surprise of John. Not that he ever thought he wouldn't want to be friends with Sherlock. No, he was brilliant and enigmatic, but John was surprised by Sherlock's desire of companionship. He figured that, besides the tentacles, he was dull and that the brunet would tire of him quickly. But it seemed that Sherlock was as fond of John as John was of him.
Well, perhaps not as fond, John mused sleepily, waking slowly as the sunlight trickled dimly through the window curtains. In the three years that they had been roommates, John had developed an impossible to ignore attraction that Sherlock just didn't return. Not that Sherlock knew how John felt, of course. No, that would ruin everything. It was best to keep Sherlock in the dark about his feelings. John yawned, moaning slightly as he stretched out his sleeping limbs, his tentacles warm and thick, wrapped around something solid…
Upon further reflection, John realised that that wasn't him moaning.
His eyes opened, quickly taking in the room he shared with Sherlock, the dim morning sun offering enough light so he could peer around the room, noting the very absent bed of his roommate. It didn't take long for John to spot Sherlock, the naked form of his friend covered in John's tentacles at the end of his bed, the writhing appendages wrapped around his legs, arms, cock and even on buried deep inside of him.
"Oh my god!" John cried, sitting up and tugging at the tentacle wriggling inside of Sherlock. Instead of complying, however, it merely moved faster, causing Sherlock's back to arch as he gasped in pleasure. "Sherlock, I'm so sorry. Oh my god. I'm trying to make them stop!"
Sherlock responded in a glare, though the unveiled lust took any heat from his eyes. "Don't you-ah!-dare. It's been ten minutes-oh god-of this. You need to let me come."
"Let you…" John asked before noticing the location of his smallest tentacle, wrapped firmly around the base of Sherlock's cock. "Are you sure, Sherlock? I mean-"
"Yes, oh god, yes!" Sherlock cried, both in response to John's question and to the delicious way the thick tentacle brushed against his prostate. "John, I need you. Please let me come. Ah!"
John nodded quickly, pushing aside any worry about what would happen after this, turning his attention to the tentacle wrapped firmly around Sherlock, preventing him from coming. He gave the appendage a small tug, jumping when it tightened in response, Sherlock letting out a small groan of frustration.
"Please, John. Oh god, please!" Sherlock whined, the tentacles restraining his arms and legs making it impossible to even shift.
"I'm trying." John said, giving another tug. But the tentacle didn't want to obey John. He let out a small noise, rubbing the base of his tentacle in thought. To his surprise, it loosened slightly.
"John!" Sherlock moaned. John looked up, expecting to see a debauched, but fully alert Sherlock demanding him to continue his ministrations. Instead he discovered that it was merely an exclamation of pleasure.
"Sherlock." John breathe in response, stroking along the length of his smallest tentacle, shuddering under the surprising pleasure. His tentacles had never been an erogenous zone before, but the simplest touch made him now want to keen.
"Oh god, John!" Sherlock gasped, trying to thrust back onto John's penetrating tentacle. "Please!"
John chuckled softly, rubbing the length of the constricting tentacle, watching it loosen gradually. Sherlock was a babbling mass of lust, and when the tentacle finally fell away, he came with a hoarse cry, come splattering both his and John's chests.
John's tentacle slowly slipped out of Sherlock as he recovered, gently removing the still stroking appendages. As he was removing the last one, a medium sized one wrapped around Sherlock's arm, he let out a small sigh that turned into a startled yelp as it was grasped. He watched as Sherlock brought the tentacle to his lips, pressing a flurry of kisses to it, eyes still closed in bliss.
"Sherlock." John whispered, a shiver running up his spine as those glasz eyes opened to meet his. "I'm…so sorry. I normally have full control of them. My tentacles, I mean, and I never would have-"
He broke off as Sherlock held up a hand, pressing one more kiss to the tentacle before setting it down. "Don't apologise, John. What you did was….marvellous."
"Marvellous?" John choked slightly. "I grabbed you in my sleep and I-"
"Did exactly what I wanted," Sherlock interrupted, his voice still breathy. "I came over to check on you, you were having a nightmare. One of your tentacles was out, and so I started to stroke it…"
"That's no excuse." John squeaked, his face flushing red. "I attacked you!"
"No, you gave me what I've always desired." Lust filled Sherlock's eyes once more, and John felt very much like a teenager with his first crush and not a twenty one year old.
"What you've always desired?" John repeated, his brow furrowing slightly. "And that was….to be fucked on my tentacles?"
"Don't be ridiculous, John." Sherlock said, reaching up to fist a hand in John's sweat soaked sleep shirt. "That's not what I've always desired."
"What is it, then?" John asked with a small huff. The brunet smirked up at him in response.
"You."
And with the strength that John wasn't entirely sure he had, Sherlock tugged John down, pulling him into a passionate kiss.
A/N: This was written partially because I love octojohn, but also because of recent events in the fandom. If you tell me not to write smutty stuff, then I will automatically write the smuttiest stuff I can. It's part of my charm (that people in real life know absolutely nothing about thank you very much.) I hope you enjoyed, because I rather liked writing this.