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Fic Rec: C. sapiens
Oct. 13th, 2014 10:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
verdant_fireTitle: C. sapiens
Author: patternofdefiance
Pairing: John/Sherlock
Length: 8813
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: none
Verse: BBC
Author's summary: “A few weeks ago I would have thought you were impossible,” Sherlock begins, walking into the kitchen in his blue robe, and John – not quite catching on – wants to scoff and argue, No, actually, you are impossible, but then Sherlock continues: “But now I’d say you are improbable.”
John thinks this might be flattering, if he could wrap his head around it, but he can’t – Sherlock is standing near, steaming his sun-baked-clean-sand smell, like the beach after rain, an alive smell, an other smell. It’s intoxicating, and John has been studiously avoiding it, but he can’t shift away now it’s so near. Now Sherlock’s so near.
And then Sherlock ruins the probable-loveliness of his words and the definite-beauty of his presence by saying: “And by ‘improbable’ I mean ‘not yet scientifically acknowledged.’”
Reccer's comments: I didn't think I liked so-called tentacle porn until I read this fic. 'Porn' is kind of a misnomer here; while there is (very hot and very consensual) explicit sex, the love and affection between Sherlock and John are palpable, and the worldbuilding for where John (and his tentacles) came from and how his people differ from humans is top-notch. Basically, this is a sweet quirky delight of a fic about finding your home in another person.
Author: patternofdefiance
Pairing: John/Sherlock
Length: 8813
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: none
Verse: BBC
Author's summary: “A few weeks ago I would have thought you were impossible,” Sherlock begins, walking into the kitchen in his blue robe, and John – not quite catching on – wants to scoff and argue, No, actually, you are impossible, but then Sherlock continues: “But now I’d say you are improbable.”
John thinks this might be flattering, if he could wrap his head around it, but he can’t – Sherlock is standing near, steaming his sun-baked-clean-sand smell, like the beach after rain, an alive smell, an other smell. It’s intoxicating, and John has been studiously avoiding it, but he can’t shift away now it’s so near. Now Sherlock’s so near.
And then Sherlock ruins the probable-loveliness of his words and the definite-beauty of his presence by saying: “And by ‘improbable’ I mean ‘not yet scientifically acknowledged.’”
Reccer's comments: I didn't think I liked so-called tentacle porn until I read this fic. 'Porn' is kind of a misnomer here; while there is (very hot and very consensual) explicit sex, the love and affection between Sherlock and John are palpable, and the worldbuilding for where John (and his tentacles) came from and how his people differ from humans is top-notch. Basically, this is a sweet quirky delight of a fic about finding your home in another person.
