A/N: Once again, I find myself unable to sleep soundly so I must amuse myself. This fic idea has been stuck inside my head ever since I heard Guilty Pleasure by Becca. I could just picture Moriarty saying all of the lyrics. Try playing it for yourself. Johnlock is happening in this fic as well. Beginning and end of this fic are John's Pov, but the switch should be easy to spot with them in italics.
Warning: Look at my stories. See how many are rated M? A good number. All of these undoubtedly contain hot sex between two hot men. This is no exception. Expect this to be dub-con bordering on non-con, but really can you expect anything else from a Johniarty (Joriarty?) fic? My first Sherlock Mrated was a bit rusty (in my opinion, I haven't posted it yet.) so hopefully this is better. R and R. I'll shut up now and let you get to the bits you really want to see because who are we kidding? You're here for the sex. Let's run this bitch!
Let Me Be Your Guilty Pleasure
"Uncontrolled power will turn even saints into savages. And we can all be counted on to live down to our lowest impulses." - Parmen, "Plato's Stepchildren," stardate 5784.3.
Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. Somehow this was not what I had in mind...
Or maybe it was, but I never knew it. Perhaps it lied in my subconscious...in the dark places of my mind I knew nothing about; the broken soldier that Mycroft uncovered beneath my stilled hand when we first met in that damp open room, with the empty chair left cold and barren.
I still miss the war. I wonder if that makes me sick.
Then I remind myself that all addicts surely miss their addictions now and then even after recovery.
I just didn't want to recover. How could I? The rush of adrenaline, the natural high from just barely escaping death...
Nothing ever excited me more than the thrill of knowing when you were being hunted by other people...by humans just like you...
...and the danger in getting caught.
John sighed in annoyance and slight embarrassment as he found the large bruise on his jugular.
The flat was in a strange, yet comfortable, quiet considering Sherlock had yet to wake up (a rare thing in itself). John could hear his lover's shallow breaths as he walked out of the bathroom and into the sitting area.
The doctor settled comfortably into Sherlock's chair. It was a rare moment, one he wanted to cherish for as long as it lasted. The ticking of the clock, bustling of the city dulled to a light hum through the old foundation of 221b Baker Street, and no case to send them rushing about.
John chuckled quietly and fingered the ties on Sherlock's bath robe the doctor had borrowed for the time being. His consulting detective would no doubt voice his complaints as per usual once he realized the "dreadful" calm of the world, but for the moment John didn't think about it and chose to linger lazily in the softness of the room.
After a few minutes, John pushed himself to start the day. He snuck back into their shared bedroom, only barely stopping himself from taking a picture of Sherlock's face as he slept on.
John often wondered how such a hard man like Sherlock managed to become the peak of innocence once his mind was at rest. The doctor smiled and slipped back into the bed, lightly shaking his lover's shoulder before getting up.
"Sherlock, get up. We've already overslept." John hummed as he moved to the dresser to get real clothes.
There was a slight groan of displeasure before a tired baritone voice cracked the stillness of the flat, piercing blue eyes giving John a one over appreciatively. He walked up and wrapped his arms-sheet and all-around John, his lips lacing his blogger's neck with light kisses.
"I fail to see how this is problematic. Rather why don't me monopolize this obviously dull day of existence and do something far more exciting?"
"Isn't there some experiment you'd like to start? Person to deduce?" John raised an eyebrow.
"Hmm..."
Sherlock slowly slipped his hands past the lapels of the bathrobe John's robe and rubbed light circles just above the doctor's hip bones.
"I think today's experiment will deal with sound waves."
"Mmm...need me for that do you?"
"Oh of course, what would I be without my blogger?" Sherlock smirked, "Let us deduce just..."
The cold white hands slipped lower down his waistline and John shivered.
"How..."
They slipped lower still and John moaned.
"Much..."
Sherlock blew lightly, whispering into John's ear, sending shivers up his spine, "Sound..."
The hands trailed teasingly back upward, releasing John from their clutches, "...you can produce, Doctor."
Sherlock continued the kisses along John's neck with more passion involved in the process, slowly leading the doctor back towards the bed; sheet falling to the floor.
John moaned, "But we're out of milk, Sherlock..."
The smirk that Sherlock produced from his lips could have rivaled the Cheshire Cat.
"John, I'm going to pound you so hard into this mattress that tears will fall from your eyes and you won't be able to walk for the next three days. Milk is hardly important. Now are you going to let me or not?"
"Oh, God yes."
There was a mess of low giggles and moans as the pair tangled themselves together on the bed to make a repeat of last night's performance.
John growled once more at the infernal machine before him. Of course he still had to get the milk. The heat was dreadful, considering London tended to be on the cool side year round. It did nothing to help John's irritable temperament. Nor did it help his sore arse and his weekly row with the chip & pin machine(?).
"It's already in the bloody fucking bag area!" He shouted a bit too loudly.
A woman behind him shook her head with a pissed off glare as she dragged her daughter to another aisle. All the while the girl kept asking what 'bloody fucking' meant. John blushed in shame and let out a sigh, thoroughly prepared for his precedented defeat.
"Here, let me help you with that."
John saw a slim white hand come into his view and gently run the milk over the light, "Oh, thank you, I-"
The beep signaled the transaction as the hand slowly put it into the bagging area. The machine didn't retort.
But John didn't give a damn about the milk at this point.
"...what are you doing here?" John's eyes hardened as he stared into the mysterious eyes of James Moriarty.
The enemy, as John well put it, looked merely bemused as his eyes traveled over John's body. Making deductions. The doctor quickly turned his head to the side and put his hands behind his back before the evil bastard could get a look at them.
"Good effort, but useless. I already have everything I need to know." Jim grinned wickedly and circled John slowly.
"And what would that be?" John growled, not daring to look away from those piercing eyes for a second, but he did relax his posture. Jim's eyes roved over him once more...he suddenly looked rather dark and a strange expression entered his gaze that John didn't recognize.
"Oh Doctor... I'm surprised at you. I really am."
"At what?" John snapped.
"Well," Jim's eyes waded over him like a wave of slime, "You never seemed the type..."
"What type?"
"To bend over and beg." Jim smirked.
John flushed and was about to throw the jug at Jim and tell him just where he could shove it, when the man waiting behind them reached his breaking point.
"Get a move on would you?!"
Jim flashed a glare at the man that spelled death, but sighed and nodded before turning back to John with a maniac grin.
"Well...until next time then Johnny Boy, maybe then I'll see you begging to someone other than Sherlock Holmes."
John wondered how many prison visits Sherlock could stand if he shot Moriarty in the head right then.
The man from the checkout was dead on the morning news. Apparently there was a tragic car accident and he didn't survive the injuries for long.
John felt a slight shiver roll up his spine. Moriarty was a hunter...the very best...
This man was dead for simply interrupting him. Was John on his list as well? He'd interrupted his plans many times after all.
Times Sherlock didn't seem to be aware of...
If you were in the war as John was, you knew people well; they were like your brothers.
When John met Sherlock, he'd never been to one of the meetings of his fellow Fusiliers. He'd always turned down the invitation.
He didn't do that anymore. For one, it was a sure fire way to get Sherlock jealous. For another thing...well, the meetings weren't really meetings at all.
It was the thrill of the hunt again.
John could've nearly cried from the relief. His fellow officer Gabriel seemed to feel the same because John saw tears in his eyes.
The doctor took a deep breath and switched the safety off of his gun. The men did the same. John felt invigorated. Sebastian looked to John for approval to begin the meeting. The captain nodded.
Unanimous leader John Watson...he'd missed that.
"Alright, the target is a drug lord by the name of Lau Tashiwan. My sources tell me that he has around twenty snipers on the roof and fifty of his men are inside."
"I'm guessing armed." John stated as Sebastian pulled out a map of the building.
"Yes. But not more than usual. With the five of us, things should go smoothly."
"Right then." John stood straighter and the other men followed, "Gabriel, Moran; you're with me inside. Tyler and Sam; you take the back exit and make sure nobody escapes. These men have killed and raped nearly 30 women and 18 men. They've killed hundreds. Due to their powerful boss, the government can not intervene without irreparable backlash. They've threatened our country, our queen, and our families. It's our duty to take the boss out so the faction falls apart. Keep in contact by checking in with me or Moran every ten minutes."
He moved over to stand in front of the map, the moonlight making him appear ten years younger; more of a boy than a man. Yet his eyes spoke differently. They were ancient, hungry, and determined. John pulled up his black hood and adjusted his jacket.
"You all know the rules: No man is left behind, kill only who is necessary, and whatever you do...don't let them see your face." John said, his voice lower and his breath at an even pace.
"Yes sir."
John panted as he loomed over the corpse of the man they'd come to kill. His dead eyes stared up into John's own, and the doctor inside him felt sick to the stomach.
But there was another piece of him that felt pride for continuing to serve his country, despite all the gore and cruelty of it all.
If Sherlock knew about this part of John's life, he didn't mention it. John didn't really want him to. When he was like this, the doctor Sherlock made love to was replaced with a ruthless beast; glazed in the heat of battle.
"Captain!"
John picked up his talkie, "Report."
"Gabriel's just been shot! It's Moran! He's gone awol! I repeat, Moran has gone-"
The message cut off and John didn't need to hear the rest of it to know what was happening. The doctor quickly walked over the unconscious men on the floor and followed the sounds of gun shots.
They stopped. John didn't want to think about what that meant.
There was a creak behind him and he nearly pulled out his gun, but a familiar slim hand with a white pad of chloroform came and pressed against his nose. The struggle was immediate, and he knew he got a good punch in, but when he finally took a breath the world started fading fast.
"Hello Doctor, time for a little talk."
The last thing John saw was the gleeful face of Moriarty with a bloody Moran over his shoulder.
"Oh, I have waited for this you know."
"Waited for what?" John spat.
Moriarty leered down at John with an unsettling glint of crazed glee in his eye. As soon as the doctor struggled once more, Moran tightened his hold on John's arms. Moriarty grinned and crouched down so that they were eye level. John glared, though this only seemed to further encourage Moriarty to move closer.
"John Watson, at my mercy. Helpless. Anything could happen~."
"Whatever it is you're playing at, you can right the fuck off!" John yelled, "You killed my men!"
"No, Sebastian killed MY men." Jim grinned, "A fight to the death, proposed by me of course, on who could bring the prize home first."
"You sick bastard."
"Hey now, I'm not the only killer in this room." Moriarty slid his eyes around John's body, "I know exactly how many men you've killed doctor. In battle and off. Your team was the elite. While Sebastian here was the best sniper, you were always the best at close range. Not to say you weren't good. Oh goodness no. How could I forget my favorite little cabbie?"
"Then you know I'm serious when I say I'll kill you. Leave us alone."
"Us?" Jim raised an eyebrow.
"You're deductive reasonings are at least half as good as Sherlock's; you figure it out." John spat.
Moriarty shook his head in bemusement, "My my, you don't see it do you?"
"What?" John narrowed his eyes and struggled further to escape the tight bonds of Moran.
"It's all about you John. It's always been about you."
Moriarty roughly grabbed John's chin to force their eyes to make contact. John gulped and felt a small shiver race up his back.
"The moral compass. I knew that you'd be the perfect candidate for our little game." Moriarty grinned, "It's why I had you shot."
The silence after that statement left echoes in John's mind. He felt numb as he stared at Moriarty with no amount of shock left hidden in his gaze.
"Surprised? You really shouldn't be. I'm not the only one whose been keeping a particular interest in you. But I am the one who got to you first."
Moriarty walked carelessly around, his hands turning in circles as he spoke. Black shoes clicking against the floor.
"You...You're the reason I...?" John felt his hands twist painfully against his bindings in well kept rage.
"I saved your life. I think that deserves a bit more of a thank you." The criminal smiled eerily again and John growled lowly. The smile grew wider.
"You're enjoying this aren't you?" The doctor hissed.
"Oh Doctor...it's only just begun."
"I don't let people take my things." Moriarty's voice turned dark.
John shuddered, but didn't sweat as a blade ran lightly along his chest; cutting it through to leave red droplets in their wake. Nothing that would last, but something Sherlock would notice. He looked down at his ripped shirt and bare knees with shame.
He was caught. Helpless.
And despite nearly all of his mind saying not to be, he had become incredibly turned on.
"S-Stop." John hissed.
There. He'd said it, and meant it. He wouldn't be able to look Sherlock in the eye if he allowed this to happen. John looked to the side, his head forcefully rolled to the side to display all of his neck.
Jim kissed the heated skin parting beneath him. He simply shook his head knowingly and continued sucking at the red marks. John jolted and bit his lip, trying to hold back the whines and moans usually exclusive to Sherlock.
As if reading his thoughts Jim snapped his head up and grabbed John's chin. Moving on top of him so their lips were centimeters apart.
"I don't really care if you're not single John. We can use each other for a night; if only a little.
The doctor kept his lips tight before Jim smirked and gripped John's shaft tightly. The doctor gasped and the consulting criminal quickly used the opening to invade John's mouth.
The first thing John noticed about the kiss was how different it was from Sherlock's. His lover's kisses were slow, exploratory, and like lava spreading with shivers of delight throughout his body. Jim's was nearly the opposite. Especially in how the criminal's tongue dominated John's mouth and mapped every crevice with ferocity. The fire wasn't slow, rather it was ignited; like a match thrown on gasoline. John felt his eyes beginning to water with the overwhelming sense of possession and hunger being pressed down on him from those lips.
The first whimper escaped John's lips and suddenly Jim was kissing impossibly harder. The doctor cried out curses and pleas to stop through muffled breaths. It felt too good. It needed to stop. John thought his pleas were answered as Jim separated their faces. John's breath came in strangled gasps. The criminal looked pleased.
"I can see why he would want you. This face of yours...it's a perfect canvas for such hot little things John." Jim panted a little as well before standing up, lightly palming his crotch, "Sebastian. Give our doctor his medicine."
John didn't hear Jim correctly, but it became rather obvious with the sudden pain in his left arm and the sensation of liquid being injected into his blood stream. Before he could struggle the needle was already gone.
The room spun slightly, faces scrambling as hands reached for him. John shrunk back from the hands as the world turned faster than it ever had before. He could see black around the edges of his view as the hands finally got to him.
"N...No..."
"See you in a bit." Jim said, his face blurring along with John's eyes before his vision turned black and it disappeared altogether.
John woke up blearily, his head still swimming. He felt Moran's arms still tightly fastened around his own to keep him in place, but John also realized that this wasn't where he'd originally been taken.
The room was furnished expensively. The walls were an eerie pattern of blood red vines on top of black walls, the furniture was also set to match it with the solid black mirror off to the side and the red dresser to its left. John tilted his head slightly and noticed two doors. One on his left and one in front of him. It was only then that John noticed the bed beneath his bare knees and he began to struggle once more.
Moran caught him around the neck and pressed a knife to his throat, "Please stop struggling, Captain."
"Y-You are a disgrace." John breathed, his words slurred by the drugs still in his system, "A-All of you."
Sebastian was about to say something, or perhaps slit John's throat. However there was a loud snap of someones fingers and Moran got up and simply left.
As soon as he was gone, John stumbled to the edge of the bed; his legs trying to work according to his mind. He fell and knocked his head against the bed frame, "Fuck-!"
"That would be the idea, John." Jim grinned and his face came into view.
The doctor didn't waste a second before lunging at the criminal with his fists raised. He tripped again as the inhibitors did their jobs, but Jim grabbed his wrists and used them to bring him in closer. John panted heavily as he felt his heart rate slowly pick up. His eyes looked over Jim and he flushed in embarrassment. The criminal was half naked; wearing only his unzipped trousers and black pants underneath.
"No one has to know that we're here. Let me give you your guilty pleasure John." Jim murmured as he bit harshly into the doctor's shoulder, making him crumble into the criminal's grasp.
"No...D-Don't..." John choked on his breath and Jim just grinned.
"Oh but John, I'd hate to see this moment go to waste." Jim trailed his lips from the bite on his shoulder up to the doctor's ear. John stuttered as the lips let the criminal's hot tongue slip around the outer shell.
"Nmgh. P-Please..." John breathed.
"Please what?" Jim bit down on the soft flesh, "This?"
John cried out, his spine arching as he tried to push away from him. The criminal grabbed the doctor's chin again, forcing their eyes to meet. The pause as Jim went hunting in John's dilated pupils; searching for something that existed despite what the doctor's lips denied.
"You don't really want me to stop do you?" Jim stated.
John didn't reply and he didn't push away as the devilish man moved closer again. The doctor felt tears in his eyes pour over as Jim's touch became softer. John didn't want him to touch him this way. This was Sherlock's loving caress; it didn't belong here. He snapped his head away.
"I'll take that as a yes." Jim returned his hand to John's face and dragged his fingers across the stubble there, leaving red marks in their wake. John shuddered.
"You don't have to say it." Jim grinned and pushed John into the bed harshly.
John felt his cock stiffen impossibly further and he tried to shift to release any of the pressure. Jim stalked towards him with coal black eyes and John shook his head.
"N-No...no..." He breathed as he made move to crawl backwards.
Jim pounced. Pressing down his own prick against John's. Their moans were unified as Jim slowly began to thrust against him.
John grabbed the sheets beside his head, mouth open hotly and hair undone. His toes curled with each movement; as if Jim were sending bolts of pleasure throughout his body. He felt the heat in his core start to coil and unwittingly started to thrust back.
"No! N-gh. No!" It became his mantra as Jim increased their thrusts against eachother.
"Fuck, I need to see you cum." Jim pulled John back up so their bare chests were touching.
John's hands immediately went to Jim's shoulders and started clawing as the pressure within him threatened to explode. Jim panted heavily and he clawed at the doctor's back; making John's spine arch.
"Cum for me John." Jim growled as he bit just below John's ear and twisted his hardened nipples on the chest in front of him.
John's breath hitched And thrusted back even more harshly. It seemed to last forever, but in truth it had to have been only a moment. The pleasure became too much.
"N-No! No! N-gah! A-ah! AH!"
John gave a loud cry as he climaxed between them. His hair thrown back in a state of perfect debauchery and his eyes glittering black and blown wide. Jim gave another growl before climaxing as well.
"Mine."
Neither was sure who initiated the last kiss, but both would agree that would remain a secret as well.
Jim had his brief lover knocked out once more as he went to drop him off at 221b. As he stepped from the car with John in his grasp, there was a hardening of his heart as his jealous eyes moved up to the window where Sherlock looked passively back at him. The detective disappeared for a few moments before opening to door for Jim.
"I'm not even sure what to say to you right now Moriarty, outside of perhaps threatening to send Mycroft after you."
"You wouldn't." Jim stated blankly.
Sherlock held his arms out, "True. If I find anything worth killing over...I'll hunt you myself."
Jim gave the sleeping doctor over to Sherlock and watched with jealousy as John curled comfortably against the detective's form; as if he belonged there.
Jim ran a hand along John's sleeping face and became filled with satisfaction as the face turned towards him instead. Sherlock stiffened and grabbed Jim's wrist.
They both looked up from the action and Jim grinned, "I see it now Sherlock, and I've seen it far before you did. But mark my words Sherlock, when you finally hurt him, it won't be his sister that he runs to."
"The chances of that happening soon are rather low, and by that point we'll be able to get through it." Sherlock bristled.
"No...not yet. But I'm plenty patient, and I can play a great game."
"John isn't a game."
"Perhaps not, but he is the prize." Jim smirked and walked closer so John was sandwiched between them and the rivals' faces were inches apart.
"You can't give him the love he wants." Sherlock spat.
"Same could be said for you, however I CAN give him what he needs."
"You don't know his needs."
"I know more about him than you will ever have the pleasure of learning Sherlock." Jim grinned and turned around towards the car, "But I will tell you this: The doctor loves you."
Sherlock held John tighter, "And your point?"
Jim opened the car door, "The doctor may love you, but the soldier needs me."
With that final statement, the unlicensed car drove away into the night; Sherlock pausing for a moment before carrying his lover inside to wash him up.
Whatever Sherlock may have seen as he washed John, and whatever tears may have been shed. They were forgotten as the genius locked them away to be assessed at a better time.
"John."
I cried as Sherlock began to press his lips on every wound Jim had given me. He rarely said anything besides light reassurances.
"It's okay John." He murmured and gently brushed my face, "It's all fine."
I shivered and clung to him, praying that what he said was true.
Because even though I loved Sherlock to death, deep down inside I could feel a monster waiting; having tasted enough to invoke a dark hunger.
I could feel it yearning for the pleasure that its new master gave, and with every touch Sherlock pressed into my skin, the monster ebbed away.
However it still yearned, and it could wait, until the next day the soldier within me comes out in search of my guilty pleasure.
A/N: Yup! That's it! R&R if you liked it. If you didn't, tell me that too!