Stranger: What are you up to? -JM
You: BORED. -SH
Stranger: Oh? -JM
You: Want to play a game? -SH
Stranger: Why not, I am a bit busy ruining your life though. -JM
You: St. Bart's rooftop. Midnight. -SH
Stranger: Fine with me. -JM
Stranger: Jim was walking up the stairs, his legs killing him after an entire day of running. He was a little drunk, a little tired, and a lot bored.
You: Sherlock was pacing around the rooftop, stopping occasionally to kick a stray pebble.
Stranger: "Here already?" Jim asked, standing in the door way, an aloof grin on his face.
You: A smile flickered across Sherlock's face. "Wouldn't dare want to be late. Ready for our game?"
Stranger: "Yes. Oh God yes." He smiled wide, eyes huge. "Sherlock is here to give me a little game." He was laughing loudly and then settled down. "Please Sherly."
You: Sherlock's eyes drifted from Moriarty's face to his waist, then back up. His cheeks stained themselves red as Sherlock bit his lower lip.
Stranger: "Oh, that game. Dirty boy. Filthy boy!" He yelled into the air for all of London to hear. "Sex doesn't alarm you." He smiled. "Not anymore?"
You: Sherlock's face turned an even deeper red. He clasped his hands behind his back and began circling the shorter man. He stopped just behind Moriarty and breathed into his ear, "I'm ready if you are."
Stranger: "Give me a second." He hated being so short, so much weaker looking than Sherlock. He took off his suit jacket and folded it neatly. "Alright. Let's go. Are we doing it on the rooftop?" He asked, smile fading. "All the..dirty...scratches.."
You: Sherlock wrapped his finger around the shorter man's belt loop and pulled him closer. Their bodies were touching now, and Sherlock could feel Moriarty's breath down his neck. It sent chills throughout his body.
Stranger: "What are you a virgin? Oh..maybe you are.." He smirked. He started to take off the others coat, desperate to see some skin. "What do you want in this? Top or bottom?" He was quick and to the point.
You: "I'll let you feel superior for once; I'll take bottom." He leaned in and kissed Moriarty passionately. He could feel the man's tongue dart in and out of his mouth. Sherlock's hands were planted firmly around Moriarty's thin waist.
Stranger: "I'm always superior, my dear." He pushed the others face away. "Let's not make this lovey dovey. On all fours. Like the bitch you are. Pull down your pants and let me do what I do. And baby, you're going to regret texting me." He smirked.
You: Sherlock reluctantly followed his orders. He wasn't used to being pushed around. Sherlock was standing in a pair of purple boxers on the rooftop of St. Bart's in front of his only threat. Slowly, he pulled down the boxers, revealing himself to the world, and to Moriarty.
Stranger: "Nice package. Good size. How come the doctor hasn't claimed this?" He slicked his fingers up with spit and drool, finger gently prodding the hole before slowly slicking in.
You: Sherlock arched his back in pleasure. He sucked in a breath of cold air and bit his tongue. He had never wanted someone so badly before.
Stranger: "Ah come on that's only one finger." He smirked. "How about two?" He scissored the two in next to each other letting them slick back and forth stretching him.
You: This time, Sherlock's sharp inhale was audible, and he was pretty sure Moriarty could hear it. He let a soft whimper escape his lips, which he immediately regretted.
Stranger: "Aww...Sherly, Am I going too fast? Too hard? Too soft? Tell me." He twisted the fingers up and added a third one. "Just wait...Just you wait till I put something bigger in there.."
You: "More" was the only word Sherlock managed to utter. He wanted Moriarty in him more than anything right now, but the shorter man was in control of the situation, and Sherlock didn't dare want to rush the glorious moment.
Stranger: "Nope. You don't deserve that yet." He was really getting knuckle deep into the man, his eyes closing as he searched for that one special spot. He kept pushing in and out before he felt he had explored enough. Whipping out his cock, he moved in, all in one hard thrust.
You: Stars flew across Sherlock's vision and his head spun.
Your conversational partner has disconnected.