sherlockbbc_fic | Prompting Part XXXV

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Prompting Part XXXV

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Lestrade survives a shipwreck only to be raped by the dolphin that saved him.

Alternative:
Lestrade survives a plane crash only to be raped by the gorilla (or other large primate) that saved him.

Alternative to the Alternative:
Sir Lestrade survives a devastating battle only to be raped by the dragon that saved him.

Basically, any plot wherein Lestrade is rescued then subsequently raped by an animal or animal-like creature.

The bump of solid flesh against his legs no longer startled him. Greg clung to the splintering planks of wood, too tired to lift his chin and look down into the deep water below to search for his new-found friend.

Another bump, and rising up from beneath him, the body of the dolphin lifted Greg's legs and chest up out of the waves. More to himself than the animal, Greg smiled.

'Thanks, buddy,' he said. 'Now just get me to shore and I promise I'll start giving half my salary to that marine life charity. You know, the one that does the oil clean ups. Rescues beached whales and all that.'

The horizon stretched out on all sides. Greg let his head fall sideways onto his makeshift raft, then raised it again when water splashed in his eyes, stinging. His boat had sunk in the night, and to add insult to injury he hadn't managed to grab his clothes before they'd been washed out of reach. Now he floated in his pyjamas, as he had been for the last however many hours, saved from drowning by a lone dolphin. Someone was definitely laughing at him. Fuck it all.

The dolphin slid from under him, then reappeared, nosing at his legs with its beak, hard and strangely rubbery. Then, without warning, it grabbed the fabric of his boxers, and pulled. Greg kicked out reflexively and the dolphin disappeared back into the depths. But his boxers were slipping down his legs at the motion, and his body, stiff and aching with the cold, couldn't seem to coordinate the movements required to reach down and pull them back up.

'Fuck!' Greg said, loudly, and choked as he let go of the wood, breathing in bitter salt water and flailing around, failing to retrieve what little dignity he had left. After a moment he stopped struggling, and treading water he tried looking down instead. His boxers were gone. The grey shape of the dolphin and his two planks of wood were the only things in the water, apart from himself. Good fucking grief, he thought, when had his life become one of the more twisted sorts of Monty Python sketch?

'Fuck,' Greg said again, quieter this time, but with no loss of feeling. He grasped for his tiny raft. 'That's it, dolphin,' he said, eyes finding the sleek grey shape, for lack of anything else to do. 'That was your chance for half my salary. You'll be lucky to get a tenth now.'

The dolphin responded by swimming up under his legs again, pushing its body between them as it lifted him up. Greg let it, even though he was keenly aware of its smooth skin on his junk, and the urge to kick it away itched in the back of his head, along with the knowledge that this was very much a wild animal. What if it bit him? Jesus. It was larger than he'd always assumed dolphins would be, too – from head to tail almost twice as long as he was tall, and its round, sleek shape was hard with muscle. He'd always thought of them as being like large dogs, or something. Not that he'd ever made an effort to think about that sort of thing.

The dolphin was pressed right against him, his legs curling around its form. Greg tried to look down – was he riding it, then? Where was the fin on its back – the dorsal fin, was it? God, if he survived this, exactly no one on Earth would believe him.

Well, maybe Sherlock would. Maybe the bastard could deduce dolphin skin contact though some absurd method, the way he always did.

Something brushed against his lower back. Was it the dorsal fin? It couldn't be, right? He didn't want to take his hands away from his raft, but his gut was telling him that something was wrong. The urge to kick away from the dolphin grew, nagging.

The thing touched him again, a soft jab though the fabric of his t-shirt. What was it? There wasn't another creature around, was there?

The dolphin slid a few inches down his body, and the thing that had been poking his back became a definite presence between the cheeks of his arse. Greg choked, and twisting around he tried to bat the thing away with one hand. It was – something hard but flexible, and – connected to the dolphin? But it wasn't a fin –?

Oh, fuck. The realisation came like a wave crashing over his head, and Greg froze for a second with the absurdity of it. The dolphin was fucking rubbing off on him. He was on its belly, and its cock was out and poking his bare arse, and oh fuck.

Greg kicked, trying to wriggle off the dolphin, but it surged up beneath him, carrying them both forward in the water, and all he managed to do was let go of his raft. Out of instinct he clutched at its streamlined body, arms and legs wrapped around it, as it supported him above the waves. It stopped, and a second passed in which nothing happened. Then the cock moved, probing between his arse cheeks, stroking down until it reached his anus. Greg felt the motion, but his body was paralysed. This could not be happening. This just didn't happen, not even in the sickest of pornos.

The dolphin jerked forward, thrusting itself inches into him. Greg's yell stuck in his throat and threatened to suffocate. It hurt. God, it hurt. Had it split him right open?

He realised his arms and legs were still clinging to the dolphin's body. His raft – his broken, pathetic planks of wood – had drifted out of reach, and with what felt like the night sky's worth of emptiness beneath him, he couldn't make himself let go. Water splashed his neck. 'Please,' he found himself saying, hoarse, barely croaking out the words. 'God, fuck, please –'

The dolphin thrust forward with powerful flicks of its tail, and Greg slid back, impaling himself further inches. He grunted, the sound forced from his lungs as if it were kicked out, and closed his eyes.

They floated, neither moving. The pain trembled around his lower back and belly, reaching into his hips and down his thighs. It wove into the numbness from the cold water, until he could barely tell one from the other. The second ticked by. Waves lapped at his chest. Was that it, and it was coming inside of him, filling him up with sticky liquid, or would it start thrusting like humans did? He could feel himself stretched wide around it, and imagine the shape of it pushed into his body, moulding his insides to accommodate its bulky presence.

The dolphin slid out and away in one smooth motion, and Greg only just managed to let go of it before it pulled him under the lapping waves. The sudden loss of support meant that he got his head dunked anyway, freezing cold on his scalp, burning in his eyes and nose, as he started to paddle automatically, but ineffectively. Each kick of his thighs seared with pain.

He felt suddenly very tired. His head dipped below the water twice more as he trod water.

The dolphin emerged a couple of feet to his left, letting out a long, wet breath of air from its blowhole. Greg turned from it, paddling away, but very aware that no matter how hard he tried, he had no hope in hell of out-swimming it. He tried anyway. Fuck. Fuck. How could this even happen? And why the hell to him?

The dolphin slid underneath his chest, as smooth as a ball across as pool table. Greg shoved it away, as violently as he could with aching arms, but it only returned. Maybe he could put his thumbs in its eyes – probably wouldn’t kill it, just hurt enough to frighten it away – unless it only hurt enough for the thing to turn on him, kill and eat him ¬– did dolphins do that? He hadn’t heard of it.

He hadn’t heard of them fucking the people they save from drowning, either.

The hard, rubbery skin returned, bumping into his stomach. ‘Stop!’ Greg tried to shout, barely making his words louder than a rasping stage whisper. ‘Get off!’

It didn’t listen. Could it even hear him to begin with? Where were its ears? God, he was tired. The horizon stretched out on all sides, blank. With the support beneath him, even unwanted as it was, the thought of returning to swimming made him feel like giving up already. Greg grasped at the dolphin, arms slung over its side, chest leaning on its back. It stayed still, holding him up obediently. He let it.

Someone was laughing their fucking arse off at him. Greg put his head down on the cool, wet skin of the dolphin’s back, and closed his eyes.

OP

Thank you, anon! That was brilliant :D I love Greg's "You've got to be fucking kidding me" attitude, as well as the idea of him still having to rely on the dolphin even after the act. This was far more than I could have hoped for! <3

ayrt

I'm glad, thank you :D

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