Hello! So this is my first ever piece of writing published to this website after years of lurking... I just don't think that there's enough Moriarty/Sherlock stuff around, so I thought I'd write my own piece! Sorry if it's a little OOC, I just can't resist a bit of fluff. It's probably awful, but please let me know what you think without killing me! :)
It had never been perfect or ideal. Of course it hadn't. A high-functioning sociopath and a psychopath weren't exactly the world's faultless role model when it comes to relationships. But that's exactly what Sherlock was fond of about the whole situation. Something different, something new... that's what he craved – and Jim was exactly that.
The 'relationship' that had formed between them had started after they had almost all been blown up by the side of the pool. John had immediately ran off to find Sarah, muttering something about his near death experience being a wake-up call as to how much he loved her... how delightfully dull. Unlike what Sherlock had then later discovered in the middle of his bed in 221b Baker Street...
"Hello darling," Moriarty purred, cross-legged in the centre of Sherlock's neatly made-up bed, "you didn't really think I'd just leave you hanging, did you?" Sherlock remained silent, eyes flicking between Jim and the door. "Oh, you can leave now and even call the ol' Rozzers if you want," Jim said casually, "but I doubt you will... see, yo– "
"What do you want?" Sherlock interrupted bluntly.
"I think we both know what I want," Jim said playfully. Sherlock rolled his eyes at the constant riddling, "I. Want. You."
Of course this was a fact, a fact that Sherlock was fully aware of and a fact he was expecting to hear, but to actually hear the words fall from Jim's perfectly puckered mouth was something else entirely. Even though Sherlock had only really known Jim for about 5 minutes, the thought of his hands and the power that lay behind them as well as the things that he had done – it was enough to make Sherlock weak at the knees.
So, needless to say, as soon as the sentence had left Jim's mouth, Sherlock tackled him on the bed as their lips started a long, enduring battle for dominance – neither of them really winning as the need for oxygen beat them both. Jim flashed Sherlock one of the darkest grins he had ever seen before making a meal out of the latter's neck – figuratively.
"You... you're mine," Jim breathed between bites and sucks, eliciting the most beautiful, guttural moans from his arch-enemy.
"Yes... now get on with it," Sherlock gasped out suddenly.
"Patience is a virtue..." Jim hummed lightly, but he marked Sherlock's argument. There would be plenty of time later to tease and prolong the experience, but for now, this frustration felt by the two bodies in the room was too much to handle. Thus, Jim made quick work of Sherlock's shirt and belt buckle and, within a minute, was rolling on a condom onto Sherlock's cock after giving it a few generous strokes and pushing Sherlock lightly, making him lie on his back.
Slowly, Jim lowered himself onto Sherlock, eyes squeezed tightly shut as he tried to push the painfulness of the sensation far out of his head. Once fully sheathed, Sherlock half sat up, supporting himself on his elbows.
"Jim?" he asked tentatively, not expecting this sudden conveyance of pain on the other man's face. Suddenly, Jim's dark eyes opened and that shadowy grin was again plastered on his face – the only warning Sherlock got before Jim set off at a ruthless pace, making Sherlock see stars.
Once he had regained some control, Sherlock noticed that the sight of Jim wantonly bouncing up and down on himself was truly one to behold. Nonetheless, he wanted some say in the matter so, in one swift manoeuvre, Sherlock managed to flip Jim onto his back, throwing both of the Irish man's legs over his shoulders and burying himself deep into his lover. That's when he found that little bundle of nerves known as a prostate.
"There," Jim said breathlessly when Sherlock first hit it. Now that he knew what he was looking for, the detective thrust, being quite animalistic, making sure to hit Jim's prostate every time. Sure enough, within a few more thrusts and a few jerks of his own cock, Jim was coming undone underneath Sherlock and it was all over far too soon.
Though Sherlock may seem too cold and clinical to appreciate beauty, this was one of those rare times that he truly appreciated it. The blissful look on Jim's face was only to be viewed for a matter of seconds though, for after a couple more thrusts, Sherlock closed his eyes as he reached climax, chanting Jim's name as he did so.
6 months later and Sherlock was thrilled by their relationship... not that he'd admit it to Moriarty. The unpredictable nature of it and the constant hiding from John alongside the fact that Sherlock was attending far too many rendezvous with a criminal mastermind to be healthy was something to be relished – something that just never lost its freshness or appeal.
Only, Jim wanted to mark their 'anniversary'. It was funny, Sherlock thought, how even though their relationship was one that could ruin both of them as well as dragging down the name of Scotland Yard with them, Moriarty still felt the need to celebrate what were such trivial landmarks of their relationship... it couldn't really even be called a relationship...
The plan was to go out to one of Jim's exclusive clubs (it's funny how limited London becomes for a notorious criminal) and then return to 221b for some 'fabulous fornication' as Jim so disgustingly liked to put it. One of his less hilarious jokes. Of course, it sounded dull, but after the 6 months Sherlock had spent with Jim, dull seemed almost abnormal, so he was willing to try.
However, a last minute 'dispute' had led Jim to arrive at 221b 2 hours early.
"Jim? What are you doing here? Come in," Sherlock said quickly, totally aware of what had happened due to his deductive powers, but wanting to give Jim the opportunity to talk all the same. Jim almost violently stormed into the flat, slamming the door behind him (one thing Sherlock appreciated about John was his ability to be absent at times such as these...).
"You know bloody well what happened," Jim spat angrily, pacing the room. He didn't mean to take his anger out on Sherlock. Well, not really... Sherlock just nodded, still standing by the door. Suddenly, he decided to try something. In two long strides, Sherlock found himself standing face to face with Jim. A bit like poking a sleeping dragon in the eye, but Sherlock went with it. Jim just scowled until two long arms enveloped him into Sherlock's warm chest and – oh. Oh. Jim had never been a hugger, but this was... this was nice. It was nice for Sherlock too, seeing Jim instantly relax into such a simple act.
After certain... activities, Sherlock found himself on the sofa with Jim neatly tucked under his armpit dozing peacefully, having watched Love Actually together. A highly illogical film, Sherlock thought, but the fact that Martin Freeman looked a tiny bit like John did keep him amused throughout.
It had never been perfect or ideal. Of course it hadn't. But this? This was still something to treasure for both of them.
Aaaaaah ~ it's so bad! Review it anyway...