Every Christmas they bicker about taste. To this date, none of them has conceded defeat. Not entirely, at least…
(Context: it has nothing to do with food, drinks, or sweets.)
From their first months living together, it is established that Sherlock prefers sweeter things than John. The detective’s sweet tooth is legendary, and their friends know better than to offer John sickeningly sweet candy, desserts, or God forbid sugary tea. Sherlock, however, can’t get his tea, desserts, and candy sweet enough.
“It is a wonder that your teeth are flawless, my love,” sighs John. “Your genes should be prohibited.”
“John, that’s not even a thing,” Sherlock huffs.
John just shrugs and kisses the tempting pout off Sherlock’s delectable lips.
***
(Full disclosure: the disagreement can be related to what they digest – in a way…)
Like most people they indulge in certain kinds of food and drink, related to the season, when December arrives. Particularly mulled wine.
Their first Christmas together as lovers, contained of two different kinds of mulled wine: the traditional one, and the Scandinavian counterpart, which was a tad bit sweeter, but still full of spices. It was of course Sherlock who started the experiment. John had been too blissed out and full of endorphins to object after the most mind-blowing blowjob he’d ever received.
“Your semen tastes sweeter,” Sherlock remarked and licked his lips obscenely.
“What?” John managed, still slightly dazed.
“After the sweeter mulled wine,” Sherlock explained.
***
It escalates after that, because of course it does. Say the word experiment and Sherlock is game.
So, back to the source of the argument: each December, they make indecent quantities of different mulled wines and experiment with equal amounts of fellatio.
There is the white version with cinnamon, elderflower cordial, and vanilla, which is the second best according to Sherlock.
A blood-red rosé one, consisting of grapefruit, ginger, allspice, and crème de cassis, is on the top of John’s list.
Mixing red wine with pomegranate juice, red vermouth, sweetened with honey feels quite decadent, and is equally favoured by both men.
Another variety, which might be Sherlock’s favourite, is mulled mead made from fermented honey, flavoured with cloves, ginger, and cinnamon.
They are overly enthusiastic participants, both when it comes to drinking and sucking the other man off. But still, they disagree.
“Your semen is sweeter than candy in December, John,” Sherlock drawls and swallows with deliberate satisfaction.
“That’s impossible, darling,” John protests when he’s once again able to speak. “Semen is bitter, not sweet. Granted, its taste differs from what we eat and drink, but not as considerably as you suggest.”
“I beg to differ, Doctor Watson, because you refuse to taste the evidence. You have the data, but -”
“What data and evidence? You’ve swallowed it, mister consulting detective,” interjects John.
Sherlock just harrumphs but he knows that John is right. He is quite possessive of John’s ejaculate and won’t even share with the love of his life.
Nevertheless, they continue the experiments during the season; the bickering is after all their personal love language.
Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial using the prompt FFF337 - sweeter than candy and @fluffbruary ’s December 14 : portrait | ephemera | wings the continuation of the Yatagarasu AU I am working on. This time the focus is on the ladies.
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Fandom: Yatagarasu: The Raven Does Not Choose Its Master
Characters: Hamayū, Masuho no Susuki, Karamushi, Lord Tōru
Word count: 1018 (whew!)
THE PLAN was supposed to be relatively easy, said Hamayū’s uncle. Blend in with the princesses, act like them, talk like them. Behave as natural as possible. No weirdness. No stupidity. In the end, when you earn their respect, bewitch them all. Then assassinate the crown prince. The last step: install her uncle as the prime minister, the One who would lead the 100 officials.
“As if it were easy as 1-2-3.” Hamayū thought as she and the other candidates introduced themselves in front of the reigning empress, who was hidden behind the bamboo curtain.
No one knew the difficulties Hamayū suffered after her 13th birthday. She was in hiding until Lord Tōru’s ravens found her in the Outside World. No, she was forced to come out when she discovered that her real father was still alive: her uncle’s blackmail.
“Come, my niece, this is your last chance.” He seemed to be saying when she kneeled in front of him. He didn’t have any wife nor children, but he needed someone like Hamayū, who he adopted as a chick after her parents were accused of killing the crown prince’s mother. Then later her mother was beheaded and her father imprisoned. There were rumours that Lord Tōru’s lack of interest to get married was borne out of frustration with his own family. Though one could see that the empress doted on him, the youngest sibling. Some said their relationship was too close for comfort.
“Indecent” was how her personal attendant Karamushi would describe it.
Others claimed that his persuasion lay somewhere else. Young noblemen were seen coming and going to his chamber.
Still she didn’t care. It didn’t change the fact that he wanted power and he subjected Hamayū as his pawn.
She stopped thinking of her devious uncle. All she could do was to move forward now and do whatever it took for her to get away from it all.
Stealing glances at the other princesses, she knew that it was not good manners to inspect the other candidates’ faces but she couldn’t help it.
A petite red-haired beauty caught her eye.
The First Princess of the Western Family, Masuho no Susuki.
Her countenance was akin to a portrait of human women painted in oil that she saw in the Outside World. Expressionless despite their beauty dressed in foreign clothes, who lived a long time ago. Museums, the humans called these places where they kept these frames, which they referred to as a work of art. She didn’t find its equivalent in Yamauchi. It was rare to see a painting here. They had artisans, true, but their works on paper were colourless. Hamayū’s roommate in a dormitory where she used to live in the Outside World brought her to these places when she thought she was a naïve country lass who had not set foot in the city.
Perhaps it was intuition that made Lady Masuho to turn her head, sensing a pair of eyes watching her.
“May I help you, Lady Hamayū? Have you anything to say to me?”
It was not aggressive, but it certainly was not friendly. The way her voice sounded was devoid of emotion.
Is she that cold?
“I am just admiring the view.”
“I beg your pardon?” The Princess of the West’s sparkling eyes turned wide open. The white around the iris was so visible shocking Hamayū with delight. She winked at her to diffuse the tension. Usually girls in the Outside World found it charming, a way to break the ice, to gauge if they were interested or not.
“I wonder if we can be friends.” Hamayū admired the luscious red hair enveloping the lady’s heart-shaped face. A pity that she wore a thick makeup.
“Time will tell if we will. But as princesses of our respective houses vying for Wakamiya’s love, we must show our effort to be respectful to one another.”
Bravo!
It wasn’t as if Hamayū forgot her good breeding but she spent years in the mountains and then in the Outside World where customs and etiquette at the Court was simply a thing of the past.
But it didn’t deter her for disliking Lady Masuho, who didn’t go away from her.
“Have you spoken to the other ladies? I heard that your travel was delayed for a day.”
“I haven’t. I am grateful for the empress for postponing the introduction today.” Lord Tōru detained Hamayū after he discovered that she found the way to talk to her father and he reprimanded her niece because of it.
“Have you any thoughts of the others?” Hamayū asked the Lady Masuho.
“They are all young Yatagarasu women who aspire to become Wakamiya’s consort.”
Hamayū covered her mouth to stifle her laughter. If Lady Masuho had noticed it she chose to ignore it instead.
It was time to plan their moves. A headache began to settle in.
“If you’d excuse me, Lady Masuho,” Hamayū bent her head.
Masuho’s disappointment was registered on her face prompting the princess of the South to backtrack a little bit.
“I am glad that you like my company. Maybe we can talk again later. I am quite exhausted from the journey. I don’t feel quite well.” Hamayū touched her head to emphasise it.
“Absolutely. I am going to hold an afternoon tea. If you’d be so inclined. A formal invitation will be sent to your mansion later.”
“I am waiting for it.”
\\
Inside Hamayū’s chamber moments after the introduction in the morning.
“How is the Western Princess?” Karamushi asked.
“She’s holding back, maintaining this distant facade. That I can tell. But speaking with her, just to be near her, is sweeter than candy.”
Karamushi scoffed at her childish remarks. She wanted to say more when a lady in waiting from the Western Family handed them a message.
The invitation, hah!
“Come, Karamushi! We have to get ready. But for now let me prepare for Lady Masuho’s afternoon tea.”
Hamayū stood up, went to his wardrobe and selected the kimono she wanted to wear.
~tbc~
