Chapter 1: Booty
Sebastian got up from his bar stool with a grunt. He really shouldn't ask this much of his body. Day after day he spent long hours at the gym, punching bags until his fingers were bruised, lifting weights until every muscle protested. He wasn't working out with a purpose; it was just that there was nothing else to do. He didn't understand how civilians did this. That dull life of getting from point A to point B without ever needing to seek cover, bearing frustrations without getting to shoot a couple of enemy soldiers to take the edge off. It was hard to believe he had ever been used to that life himself, but then again, the amount of trouble he had caused in his youth might be a sign that he never really had been.
He needed something to break this pattern of overburdening his body and then spending the night like a zombie in the local pub, drinking too much beer but not wanting to spend money on a decent meal. So when he came outside and spotted a black, shiny 1967 Chevrolet Impala, parked just a few metres away from the pub door, he didn't even need thirty seconds to decide.
Walking around the car as if to admire it from all sides, he checked how many witnesses he would have. There were only a few pedestrians along the street and none of them looked like they'd own a car like this. But even as he was sure no one was paying attention to him, he couldn't help making another circle around the vehicle. It was a beauty. Hadn't the owner noticed how it stood out from the grubby buildings along this road? What were they thinking, leaving it in a neighbourhood like this without keeping an eye on it?
Well, he'd teach them. Stealing a car like this was exactly the kind of thing that might make him feel alive again.
No one even looked twice as he drove it out of the street. Starting the motor had taken so little time that a passer-by might have thought that the driver had just been fiddling with the key for a bit before turning it. Soon he was going at twice the speed limit, and he grinned to himself. He hadn't felt this good in ages.
However, when he reached the countryside, he was reminded of how much beer he'd had. He really needed to pull over. But then again, he hadn't been acting suspicious, so no one would have reported him. And the owner might not even have noticed that their gorgeous car was missing. So he decided to humour his bladder and parked the Impala on a grass strip along the road.
As he was zipping up, he suddenly heard a thump. Frowning, he turned in the direction of the noise, but there was nothing to see. Just the back of the car. Maybe it had gotten a bit too hot, the way he had driven it, and was just cooling down rather noisily. But then there was another thump, and it didn't quite sound like cooling metal.
Stepping closer to the car, he heard it again and again. It seemed to come from the boot. Was something in there? Something alive? But who'd put a live animal in a trunk?
He shrugged and opened it. And then stood staring for a couple of seconds. There was something alive inside the boot. Something that glared up at him with furious black eyes. Well, someone, not something. A dark-haired man who looked a couple of years younger than Sebastian, though the gag made it hard to tell. His ankles and wrists were bound and he was curled up to fit in the boot.
Sebastian couldn't help it. He burst out laughing. Of all the cars he could have stolen, he'd chosen one that came with a package.
The man just lay there, glaring at him, which sent Sebastian into another bout of laughter.
"Okay," he said finally, still sniggering. "I'm going to take off your gag. And then you can tell me who tied you up like a sausage." He ripped off the tape in one quick movement.
The man, though still glaring, took a moment to compose himself. "Who the hell are you?" he asked calmly.
"Sebastian Moran," he answered, suppressing a wince at how incomplete his name sounded without the mention of his old rank. "Who're you and why are you in a car boot?"
Instead of answering, the man squirmed a little. "Are you going to get me out of here or not?"
"Depends," Sebastian said, smirking. "How comfortable are you in there?"
"Get me the hell out!" the man screamed. Then he closed his eyes, took a deep breath and added calmly: "Now!"
Sebastian chuckled. "Alright, alright. Don't get your knickers in a twist." He got his army knife out of his pocket and leaned over to cut the ropes around the man's wrists.
As soon as his hands were free, the man reached for the knife. "I can handle it from here, thank you," he snapped.
Sebastian chuckled and let him take it. "So how did you end up in there?"
"I needed a nap," he said, cutting the rope around his ankles. Then he sat up and handed the knife back to Sebastian. "I was kidnapped. What did you think?"
Sebastian rolled his eyes. "But why? Are you worth a lot of money or something?"
The man didn't answer as he rubbed his ankles to get the circulation going.
"Hey, I asked you something." Sebastian pushed his shoulder, almost making him fall out of the boot.
"Oi!" the man snapped, shooting him another of those murderous glares. "You clearly do not know who I am or you wouldn't be so eager to lay hands on me."
"Yeah, so why don't you tell me? If your name is so impressive, it's probably to your advantage to scare me off before I decide to have some fun with you."
The man raised an eyebrow, looking Sebastian up and down. He slowly got out of the trunk, staggering a little, straightened his suit carefully and looked up at him. He was almost a head shorter than Sebastian. "Jim Moriarty," he introduced himself. "You may have heard about me."
Sebastian frowned, thinking. The name did vaguely ring a bell. Those guys in the pub last week, who'd been whispering so suspiciously that Sebastian found himself trying to listen in. They had been talking about a job and a couple of times mentioned a name that sounded like it, and the fear in their voices had been obvious. So he might have some connections in the criminal world, yeah... But come on. This little guy wasn't something to be afraid of.
He shrugged. "You some kind of celebrity?"
Moriarty snorted. "You don't work for anybody, do you? You're just a common little thief. You didn't even know whose car you were stealing, did you?"
Sebastian huffed. "Why would that matter to me?"
"Because it was the last stupid decision of your life," Moriarty said, reaching into his pocket. "But never mind. You are not important." He brought out a gun and calmly checked if it was loaded. "Would you mind getting into the trunk?" He looked at him expectantly.
"Right," Sebastian snorted. "Very funny."
He was about to say more, but a sound behind him caught his attention. He hadn't quite identified it when he shouted: "Get down!" and pushed Moriarty over onto the grass, landing on top of him. A bullet just missed them.
"Get in the car!" he ordered the smaller man, wriggling off him to give him the space.
Not needing to be told twice, Moriarty kept down as he ran to the door and threw himself into the passenger seat.
A couple more shots sounded, but Sebastian had already squirmed his way under the car and then, in one movement, opened the door and hurled himself into the driver's seat.
He cursed as they shot off onto the road.
"Impressive," Moriarty said, studying him intently. "You're not a nobody. You've had military training."
"Yeah," Sebastian said distractedly, glancing in his rear mirror. "Good thing about them shooting from a place where we couldn't see them: they have to drive all the way round. So we'll be long gone. They really should have had a second car waiting around here." He was mainly talking to himself, but could still feel Moriarty's eyes on him. He looked back at him. "What? Is there grass on my face or something?"
"I want to buy you a drink," Moriarty said, looking out the window.
"What?" Sebastian asked, staring at him for a second before looking ahead again and smirking. "A moment ago you were waving a gun at me..."
"Yes. So you should welcome the change." Moriarty chuckled.
"Well, it's not like you were really going to do it," Sebastian pointed out. "In that suit and with those nails... You're not a man who gets blood on his own hands."
"Only because I usually have someone to do the bloody work for me." It was Moriarty's turn to smirk. "But since I just woke up in the back of this piece of shite, I suspect I may be short a henchman or two. Or will be in the foreseeable future."
Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "You're offering me a drink and a job?"
"You're quick," Moriarty said. "In more ways than one. I could use that. And you've certainly got the look for it."
"And now you're flirting with me?" Sebastian said. "If you go on like that I'll have to believe you are going to kill me."
"You have a very high opinion of yourself." Moriarty's smile vanished. "I am hiring you, not hitting on you."
Sebastian chuckled. "Sure? If a big, strong man in your life is just what you needed..."
"Do you want to die?" Moriarty snapped. "Or are you too chicken to take the job?"
"No need to snarl," Sebastian said, grinning. "I guess we better skip a couple of villages, but then we can have that drink. We'll see what happens from there."
Moriarty huffed but nodded. Then he got out his phone and began typing.
Sebastian didn't think much of his texting, but once he had parked the car near a pub Moriarty didn't disapprove of, he found himself checking the area. It was quite possible that the man had called in people to kill Sebastian, now he knew that he might be dangerous himself and knew Moriarty's identity. It would explain how picky he had been in choosing a place. Yet they made it to the bar without incident.
Sebastian ordered an expensive whiskey, then gave Moriarty an expectant look.
Moriarty let the bartender know he'd have the same and led Sebastian to a small table at the back.
"So," he said as they sat down. "You are actually capable of shutting up. That is good. I don't mind conversing with my employees, but there are limits."
"Well, I'm not your employee just yet," Sebastian said. "What do you have to offer me?"
"Money enough to be comfortable," he said, leaning forward a little. "Your own rooms at my house. And plenty of work. Some security, some intimidation. And the occasional hit. If you're up for that."
Sebastian nodded slowly. It sounded like everything he needed. Especially the hits. "Yeah," he said. "I guess we can work something out."
"Good. When can you start?" Moriarty finished his drink in one go.
Sebastian shrugged. "I've had a few pints, so I may not be at my best for a hit right now. So... Tomorrow morning?"
"Not a hit, you dolt. Moving in," Moriarty said, giggling. "And not to worry. I can drive. I suppose you need to pick up some stuff?"
"Oh. Yeah. Yeah, we can do that tonight." Sebastian wondered what would be expected of him in the house, living with his boss, but he figured he'd find out soon enough. "But... Those people who were shooting at us. They've got enough time to spot the car here, so they'll be following us..."
"They've been taken care of," Moriarty said, checking his phone. "For now, anyway." He stood up. "Let's get going then."
Sebastian groaned, wistfully looking at his whiskey tumbler. "Okay, I have one condition," he said.
Moriarty almost gaped at him. "Condition?" he asked icily.
"Yes." Sebastian grinned at the reaction. Clearly Moriarty wasn't used to people going against him. "That when I've got a drink as good as this one," he said, "you don't rush me." He took a sip and savoured the taste.
"Oh..." Moriarty hesitated, then sat down again. "I... I suppose that's reasonable. Is that your only condition?"
"The only one I can think of right now, yeah," Sebastian said, amused. He took another sip.
"Good." Moriarty leaned back and drummed his fingers impatiently on the table.
"No rushing implies not doing that," Sebastian said, giving him a look.
Moriarty's eyes turned dark and for a second Sebastian wondered if he had gone too far, but he stopped the drumming, clenching his hand into a fist.
Sebastian looked away, smiling to himself, and finally finished his drink.
"Can we go now?" Moriarty asked, obviously making an effort not to sound too annoyed.
"Sure," Sebastian said, getting up. Somehow it was immensely satisfying to piss off the short man.
Moriarty walked ahead of him to the car, getting behind the wheel and starting it easily with the wires Sebastian had pulled loose.
"And you accuse me of being a simple thief," Sebastian said, chuckling. "Looks like you've done your bit of car stealing too."
"I make it my business to know how to do things," Moriarty said, curtly. "A lot of things." But as the car pulled away from the curb he couldn't help grinning smugly.
"So what else can you do?" Sebastian asked.
"That's a difficult question to answer," Moriarty said, his grin widening. "I've yet to encounter something I couldn't do."
"Interesting," Sebastian commented. "Very skilled at them, too, are you?"
"I'm better at some things than other," Moriarty admitted. "I can cook but I'm not excellent at it." He glanced over at Sebastian. "How about you?"
"Oh, I also have many talents," Sebastian said. "But you must have spotted that right away, since you're so eager to take me home."
"You're useful," Moriarty said, glancing at him again. "But I do hope you have more talents than nicking cars and dodging bullets."
"Thought you did." Sebastian grinned. It seemed his evening was turning more interesting yet. "I guess you'll want a... demonstration?"
"That depends on the talent," Moriarty said, smiling. "If you happen to be very skilled at tap dancing, I don't really need to see it."
Sebastian snorted. "Can't say I've ever tried that. So no, that wasn't what I was thinking of."
"What then?" Moriarty spared him another quick glance before turning onto a busier street.
"Not one for subtlety, huh? I'll really need to show you then." Sebastian smirked.
"Fine. If you feel you must," Moriarty said, speeding up a little, weaving in and out of traffic.
Sebastian shrugged. He might as well do it now. He was not usually a selfless man, but giving Moriarty this might be beneficial to him in the long run. So he took off his seatbelt, shifted in his chair and reached over to open the zip of his new boss's trousers.
"What the hell?" Moriarty gasped. The Impala swerved and several of the surrounding cars honked at them. Moriarty bit his lip and tightened his grip on the wheel, getting the car back under control.
Sebastian chuckled. "Oh, come on. Don't tell me you can't multitask." He reached into Moriarty's pants.
"A little warning would have been nice," Moriarty said, his voice sounding rather strained. "Or asking permission..."
"What?" Sebastian looked back up at him. "I thought it was clear enough what I meant... And it feels like you aren't too opposed."
Moriarty groaned. "We're going to have to work on communication," he huffed, then added: "Get on with it."
Sebastian grinned. "Needy," he commented, before finally freeing Moriarty's cock and leaning in to take it in his mouth.
Moriarty had been about to say something, but it turned into a long muffled moan instead.
Sebastian started bobbing his head. The boss had told him to get on with it, so no need to be slow. And he found he wanted him to keep making those noises.
"Fuck..." Moriarty hissed, then moaned again.
When he felt Moriarty was getting close, Sebastian pulled back and looked up at him. "Don't make us crash," he warned, before diving in again, giving him a hard suck and then taking him deeper yet.
Moriarty's angry retort was drowned in a loud deep groan as he came, bucking in his seat.
Sebastian swallowed, popped off and chuckled. "Convinced of my talents?"
"You really do have a death wish?" Moriarty asked, his tone rather flat, his expression blank.
Feeling smug, Sebastian sat up straight and clicked his seatbelt fast. "Nah, not really. I think my life may improve quite a lot after today."
Moriarty did not answer as he slowed down the car and pulled up to the curb in front of Sebastian's building.
Sebastian looked out the window and then back at his boss, confused. "I didn't tell you where I live."
"Do you really think I need to be told?" Moriarty asked smugly.
"But how can you know?" Sebastian asked. "Without having spied on me?"
"You told me your name," he said with a shrug. "Now are you gonna go get your stuff or have you changed your mind?"
"Just... everything?" Sebastian asked. "Or can we come back later for the... big stuff?"
"Depends on what you mean by big stuff," Moriarty said. "I don't want any of your furniture at my place. Take the things you need. The things you'll miss."
"Fine. You coming with me to help me carry stuff?" Sebastian asked, his hand already on the door handle.
"Seriously?" Moriarty snorted. Then he got out his phone and began texting again.
