This was written, again, for my darling best friend who requested Jim from I.T. and instead got porn.
This is my first time writing anything even vaguely smutty, so I apologise in advance for how bad it actually is. Hope you enjoy it.
Sebastian woke that morning to an empty bed. That in itself wasn't all that alarming, Jim had never once kept a decent sleep schedule as long as they'd known each other. Neither did he really, such was the nature of their lives, so it wasn't something he spent a lot of time dwelling on. Jim, now he would either be up at the arsecrack of dawn- those days chances were he probably hadn't slept- or else he'd be passed out until almost midday, appropriating the entire bed, Sebastian included. On those occasions it was more hassle than it was worth for him to even try and extract himself. If anything it was a chance to just take a breath, Jim sprawled over him close and warm and solid and just fucking there. Call him a sentimental fool, and Jim often did, but he'd always enjoyed spending time together no matter what they were doing. Not to mention how adorable sleepy Jim was, snuffling into him, loose-limbed and sleep warm against his side. Not this morning though, this particular morning Jim was gone and there was music blaring through the house and basically, what the fuck?
It was a vague sense of trepidation that hung over Sebastian as he fought his way out of bed and into a pair of boxers, something that, it would turn out, was completely justified. The music itself, he found as he emerged from the sanctuary of their bedroom, was twice as loud as first he thought, and seemed to be coming from the kitchen. And what he did find once he rounded into the doorway, but Jim dancing without restraint or care, and singing along under his breath. Not his Jim of course, not 'psycho killer' Jim Moriarty, his boss. No what he found was the infamous "Jim from I.T." parading around their kitchen, acting at being the twinkiest twink to ever twink. It was a persona he knew made Sebastian uncomfortable, had too many connotations that he didn't much like to dwell on, which was almost certainly why he chose it. Evidentially he felt Sebastian had been too passive lately which was- ok so he'd been busy, yeah he'd admit it, and maybe somewhat distant. He was sorting out some in-fighting in the lower echelons before it became something that reached Jim's ears because that way danger lay. That way only led to a demonstration of power which would result in nothing but weeks spent looking for new underlings which was as dull a job as any. At least, any that weren't linked to Jim, or around him or- fuck it Jim was addicting. So yeah, he had been busy. Busy, not disinterested or whatever the fuck he thought. In any case, certainly not deserving of fucking Jim from goddamn shit sucking I.T.
See the thing about precious little Jimmy was that he was so bloody awkward, all stuttering and staring, like a kid in a sweetshop. Not even really that to be honest, he always had this real dull look about him, like he was just another, regular guy and my god if this was how Jim felt about most people then no fucking wonder he goes off looking for distractions. Nothing in his memory has ever felt as uncomfortable as seeing Jim like this, the manic gleam in his eyes dulled to normalcy, a dopey grin on his face instead of the knife-edge smile, the one that usually spelled trouble of every kind. Was this really what the world is like for him? What about all those times he'd felt the disappointment tangible in the air when he'd done something Jim didn't like? But no, he was just another of the boring people, a live-in one for his amusement, he knew without a doubt the moment Jim got bored he'd be out on his arse. He was sure of it. Mostly. Probably.
In any case, no one could compare to Jim in intellect and skill, hell what was it they said about chess? A good player plays five moves ahead, a great player plays one and it's always right? Same goes for Jim, he doesn't just think one move ahead though, that's too small scale, no it's more like he knows instinctively how the game will end, and makes sure he's the winner. He knows every move a person will make and plans ahead, he's a mathematician, a man of numbers. There is no beating Jim Moriarty. But this? This sad replica, this dull child wearing his face? That burned somewhere hot in Sebastian's gut, poked at the embers of a burning fire he'd long beaten into submission, burning hot and bright under layers of carefully cool indifference. He was better than this goddammit! He was so much better than these stupid fucking games. He knew somewhere in the rational part of his mind that this was all just a game to Jim, he knew what he was doing, new what reaction he would pull from him. That fucker had planned this, planned on the spurring in Sebastian's gut. He was just that good, fuck him.
"Oh hi" he greeted like they hadn't just been sharing a bed, with that dopey grin and bloody hell even his voice grated.
Sebastian, for his part, merely grunted a reply, in no mood to play games, not when he had to pull this particular alter ego out of his arse. There were two he wouldn't touch, two characters he hated to play games with and this was one of them and Jim fucking knew it, knew exactly what he was doing.
He tried to slip past him on the way to the coffee machine, but all of the sudden Jim was in his path, stopping him with "You want some breakfast? I was just making something up" ending it with an awkward chuckle as he played with his hands, a nervous tick.
Sebastian ground out a gruff "No" and attempted again to manoeuvre his way around the kitchen.
"Not even a little?" Jim pestered, holding up a plate of who-knows-what like an offering, which was just disturbing; after all, there were a multitude of reasons why Jim never cooked.
It was a more horrified than angered "No" Sebastian growled, not daring enough to even speculate what it was he had attempted to make.
"Oh, well, I'll just put it somewhere I suppose" he muttered, turning to get rid of the rancid dish. And of course, of fucking course, he'd forgotten how clumsy wrong-Jim was, as the plate clattered to the floor, spraying food and crockery everywhere. His only response was that dopey "Oh shoot sorry" as he made to pick everything up, getting himself covered in the crap in the process.
"I've got it" Sebastian grumbled, gently manoeuvring Jim out of the way, if the boss got hurt he'd be bitching about it for weeks. Even if it was his own fucking fault.
"Oh no I can-"
"I said I've got it Jim, just go change your shirt or something" it was dismissive, which was a dangerous game to play with the bossman, but quite frankly at that point he didn't give two shits.
"What- oh" He stopped his floundering, looking down at the frankly ridiculous shirt he was wearing, cut club low and tight enough to show the body he so loved to worship.
"Yeah" he stood with another awkward giggle, peeling off the t-shirt then and there and disappearing back to their bedroom, giving Sebastian the few minutes he needed to just breathe. Not to mention a glorious view as he walked, muscles shifting tantalisingly even with the slouch that pissed Sebastian off to no end.
He'd got most of the stuff cleared up by the time Jim returned, same annoying grin on his face, another t-shirt fit for little else but showing off what he has to offer. This time it was obvious it was meant for clubbing, pulling enticingly across his chest and stomach, and cutting off just before the bright neon waistband of his boxers, standing out above those ugly-ass trousers. To be honest the look he was going for was pretty damn ridiculous, stupid fucking chinos falling down, held up by the swell of his arse. Stupid fucking pert piece of shit, who the fuck needs an arse that looks that great in everything? Goddammit he was not going to fuck Jim from fucking I.T., he was not. Except that he so obviously was.
The thing about their relationship, the thing that makes it truly work, is that in its basest form it is carnal. No matter what Jim may try, what persona he decides to explore, the way they fuck is an undeniable constant. It's rough and volatile and sparks fireworks of heat off all over Sebastian's body every time. When he first came to work for Jim, when he'd hauled him out of the shithole of a life he'd been coasting through, he'd thought the man would be entirely cerebral. Yes he rather liked to get his hands dirty when he had to, but he was perfectly happy to let his lackeys do his bidding whilst he worked on his own special projects. It was a surprise then the first time he had just taken everything Sebastian had to give, devouring him whole and leaving nothing behind. Like a deal with a devil, Jim owned him body and soul, he'd known it from their first night together, hell truth be told he'd known it since his first hired kill, when he was no more than an ex-army fuck-up with a lifetime of rage to his name. It was as good as a brand, property of Jim Moriarty, touch at your own peril. And touch he did, probably the most handsy lay he'd ever had, touching, petting, clawing and cutting to his heart's content. He'd probably gotten more injuries from fucking than his entire time in Jim's employ.
So the sex was great, masterful, fantastic even. When it was with the boss. Not so much when he was playing one of his little games. No persona could ever match up to the way his fingernails would leave claw marks, vivid and deliciously tender all down his back. The way he would bite into the meat of his muscles, hard and unrelenting. He would draw blood when he wanted, his teeth stained red in laughter as he gave a hard, copper-tanged kiss. No that he didn't give as good as he got. The bossman may not like the more permanent injuries- "Stripes are for tigers, Sebastian"- but the deliciousness of a bruise blooming over pale skin was a work of art he had yet to top. Out of sight from the staff of course; Mr Moriarty was untouchable, but the canvas under those suits told a completely different story. Moriarty was undeniably touchable, so much so it was hard to keep his hands away sometimes.
And now he was standing there in that tight bloody top and it was practically see-through and it was obvious he was doing this on purpose but fuck it was working.
"Is something wrong Sebastian?" he giggled, eyes wide and innocent, an expression he'd seen so many times, something so purely Jim.
"Oh fuck you boss, fuck you" he smirked, taking great effort to keep himself where he was, leant up against the counter, gripping the sink behind him so forcefully he was surprised every second something didn't break.
"Well that was uncalled for Sebby, I thought you liked me" he smiled, shuffling over with that awful slouching gait, his face so open, so… normal. It was disgusting.
Sebastian's stellar reply was to growl like the fucking animal he was, like the tigers Jim so liked to compare him to. He kept advancing on him though, smiling his dreary little smile, like he was just a regular bloke. Like he wasn't one of the most dangerous men he knew.
"Right well, I'd better be off, work to do" he chuckled a little breathlessly, too breathily to be honest, made him seem more of a creep than he was acting.
"Don't you dare" Sebastian snarled, the force behind the words making them seem more like a command and boy was he playing fast and loose with his own life.
Jim gave another breathless chuckle, wittering "Well I've got to go in, think of the gossip I'd miss if I took the day off? There's office romance in the air, although we all know about Rick and Vera-from-bloods are having it off every Thursday" He took a step back. "Anyway, it was lovely eating with you" And there it was, that distant gleam deep in his eyes, the slightest sharp edge to his smile, so out of place on his Jim-but-not-Jim face. The boss was lurking there though, just underneath and ready to play.
With a snarl, Sebastian launched himself at this caricature of a man, grinning ever so slightly even as harsh kisses were bitten into his mouth. There would be no pleasantries in this, no sweet kisses or soft caresses or whatever the hell else people do. They will fuck, and it will be brutal and harsh and so fucking good. And maybe Jim will stop wearing this ridiculous mask and really come out to play.
"Fuck you" he growled out, biting at Jim's lip just a touch to long, hard enough to draw blood the way he liked to do to Sebastian. Kept snarling variations of the curse as he slammed them both against the counter, digging the edge into Jim's back as he bowed over him, biting harsh trails across his clavicle, so clearly displayed in the ridiculous v of his shirt. Jim's reply was a breathy moan, exaggerated of course, as he gripped the slightly overlong hair in his hands just a little too forcefully, pressing his face into the flesh he was devouring. Sebastian had been meaning to cut it for days, but now he was glad he hadn't, that delicious pull, the slight prickle of pleasure-pain, serving only to short-circuit his rational brain and get his blood flowing.
In retaliation he bit down hard on his collarbone, teeth leaving the most tantalising impressions as he grabbed fistfuls of that delicious arse and tugged, Jim willingly taking the hint and pressing into him. As if little Jimmy would have done any different. If there was one thing he'd learnt from the persona's he liked to pull over himself, it was that ones like this, boring old I.T. worker, well they looked for excitement. Chances are he was going to drag them to a club later anyway, maybe they'd screw, give a little show, maybe there would be a target there, maybe they'd fuck, their bodies made slick with the sheen of blood that wasn't always entirely theirs. Whatever way tonight would turn out, he was going to have him right then and there while he was aching for it.
Jim was as good as ever, wrapping himself around Sebastian, all limbs, like a particularly handsy octopus, thrusting wantonly and moaning like he was being paid for it. It took a great effort, therefore, to get his legs to obey him even a little so he could get them into the bedroom as fast as possible. If he was gonna take him apart, it would as least be somewhere sanitary, the added comfort merely a bonus. The last time they fucked in the kitchen it'd taken two hours to scrub the place clean enough to even think about cooking in there again, not to mention for some reason it still smelled like sex weeks later which, when he was trying to eat, just wasn't working for him. So bedroom it was.
It took far longer than it should have to get them there, what with the way he'd stop and slam Jim into the walls every few seconds, and the shuffling gait they had adopted- to stay pressed as close together as possible- a further hindrance. In the end, Sebastian grabbed two handfuls of that perfect arse and hauled him up, slender legs wrapping securely around his waist, the change in angle making it easier to thrust his aching cock against Jim in a futile attempt to get some form of relief. It was fruitless of course, if anything it just made him all the more worked up, not to mention the discomfort of dragging sensitive flesh, clothed only in the thin layer of his dampening boxers, over the rough crotch of those damned chinos. It did little, however, to stem the desire he felt to just lay Jim bare already and have his way with him.
The first thing he did when he reached the bedroom was all out drop Jim onto the bed so that it bounced with the sudden weight, snapping his head so fast it should have been uncomfortable. Instead of complaining he just smiled that drowsy smile, huge Bambi eyes staring up at him. Yeah right. Maybe if Bambi had killed his own mother, then they'd be in the same ballpark.
"You gonna be good for me Jimbo?" Sebastian purred, ditching his boxers and crawling up the bed over the writhing sprawl Jim had become. "Come on now, I know you've got a pretty little voice, you gonna sing for me little bird?"
Jim let out a long low moan in reply, scrabbling at the broad shoulders hovering around his waist, as Sebastian licked a hot, wet trail up his stomach, rough hands pushing fabric up and out of the way. His hands found traction as a warm tongue dipped briefly into his navel, drawing sharp lines across the skin, not quite so hard as to break but enough to send skitters of pain dancing through him.
Sebastian bit down hard on his lower ribs in reply, teeth digging into the hard line of bone. "Careful now, don't want to get ahead of ourselves do we?" When no reply came, he bit again, a little higher up this time. "Do we?" he growled, smiling that sharp smile at Jim's moaned out "no".
"Good boy" he praised, sliding a gun calloused hand as far up the lean, muscle-bound chest as the fabric would allow, bunched as it was almost painfully under his arms. "Now I think you're wearing far too many clothes, don't you agree?"
"Yes" he hissed, and Sebastian surged forward, pressing the lengths of their bodies together, skin against rough fabric. The bunched shirt was pulled roughly over Jim's head, but rather than discard it completely, he kept it tangled around his wrists, wrenching them up to rest above his head, the backs of his fingers just skimming the mass of pillows at the head of the bed.
"Keep them there" he murmured directly into Jim's ear, sucking briefly on the shell as he rested his weight on the makeshift restraints as if to emphasise his point.
When whimpered compliance had been wrung out of him, Sebastian moved on, slowly travelling back down, down, down. Traversing his body, intent on shedding those ugly trousers, leisurely revealing skin inch by tantalising inch. Jim was a squirming, writhing mess by that point, the fabric bunched around his wrists making him unable to touch like he wanted. Sebastian followed the cloth, trailing wet kisses down one leg as he peeled it away, throwing the trousers carelessly onto the floor behind him, sure that Jim would punish him for it later. But that would be then, and there was far too much to explore for it to bother him in the now. He licked his way back up the other leg, tongue sliding slick, hot trails over warm flesh. He stopped at the curve where thigh met hip, just shy of where Jim obviously wanted him, because of course, of fucking course he wasn't wearing any underwear. Son of a bitch had planned this, goddamned him. Not that he was complaining, oh no. If Jim wanted to play games then he'd play his fucking games, but that didn't mean he had to play fair. Instead of moving on, he sucked and licked and bit at the delicate skin, intent on leaving a darkening bruise on the soft, pale flesh. Jim was whining now, high in his throat, a sound that if he didn't know better would have sounded completely natural.
He didn't take pity on him for a while, working at the ever darkening bruise, gradually introducing more and more pressure from his teeth, creating what he considered a masterpiece. Eventually he had mercy and moved his mouth over to where it was most wanted. Didn't stop him teasing though, the threat of teeth hovering just on the edge as he took him into his mouth, one large, rough hand pressing onto his stomach, the other on his inner thigh as he worked him over. If he was honest with himself- and if he wasn't Jim would be- he wasn't the biggest fan of sucking dick, they tasted pretty shit all things considered, but Jim enjoyed it so it was something he had to get used to. On the plus side it was a great way of pulling noises from him, even when he wasn't playing, even when he was completely Moriarty, he could still wring out all sorts of involuntary whines and moans that played like a symphony to his ears. Not that Jim couldn't do the same to him, he sucked dick like a champ and seemed to like it too, but then he's never been much of a point of reference in a study of normalcy.
Jim was beginning to tremble almost violently under his ministrations, overtly vocal in his pleasure. A high pitched whine at a scrape of teeth here, a long moan when he hollowed his cheeks and just sucked there. His favourite had to be the whimper when he worked at the head, grazing teeth and nipping at the delicate skin, scraping a nail across the sensitive patch between balls and arse as he pinched the soft hood between his teeth. After a time he pulled off with a wet pop, grinning up at Jim who was watching him with eyes as wide as saucers, pleasure, pain and the tiniest hint of trepidation playing openly on his face. After all, it was always dangerous to let a wild animal loose right where you're vulnerable.
"What do you want Jim?" his voice was deeper, made that much more gravelly from swallowing down cock.
"Please Sebby, please please please" he whimpered, the very caricature of a lust-blown bottom.
"Tell me what you want me to do. Come on little bird I want you to sing for me, I know you can do it, all those pretty noises you made" he grinned, one hand still teasing him, sliding to play with his balls.
"Oh please, fuck me Sebby, fuck me please" he cried, writhing in the sheets like he was being paid for the show, scrabbling at the lube he had unearthed somehow from the tangle of bedclothes.
"Alright then, turn" he ground out, pushing himself up from the sprawl of his thighs.
"But I want to see you, please, please let me see you"
"Turn" he barked, punctuating it with a sharp slap to that soft pale thigh.
Jim whimpered, struggling to get his limbs working enough to comply. Sebastian helped somewhat, rolling him over and pulling him up onto his knees with two hands gripping purposefully tight on his hips.
The cry Jim gave when he first pushed towards that little pucker, licking a wet trail over the trembling muscle, just this side of too light, as his hands grabbed fistfuls of flesh, pulling apart the cheeks enough to get his tongue right where he wanted it. It had taken him a while to even think about rimming, the idea of eating someone's arse doing even less for him than blowjobs. Not that he had much choice with Jim, it had been a steep learning curve the first time he'd sat on his face and just expected him to know what to do and get on with it. He liked to think he'd become somewhat of a pro since then, alternating tonguing him until he screamed and biting deep into the meat of his arse as he worked a finger in alongside his tongue, adding a slap here and there just to hear the satisfying sound it made as his hand collided with that soft swell.
When Jim threw the lube at his head, he knew it was time to move on, albeit somewhat reluctantly, working two fingers in, then three, twisting them just so to make Jim scream so very loudly.
"That's it, sing for me" he grunted, pumping his fingers again and again, fascinated with the twitch his cock gave each time he drove them in.
"Sebby" Jim whined, high-pitched and long, drawing it out into another scream as Sebastian began scissoring the fingers deep in his arse.
"What is it? What do you want me to do?"
"Fuck me" he groaned, his sounds hitching up in volume as he withdrew his fingers completely, replacing them instead with the head of his cock.
"I plan to" he grinned, driving in with a single sharp thrust. Usually he would pause as soon as he bottomed out to let Jim adjust to the sudden intrusion, big hands he may have, but he'd said once before that little had prepared him for being speared on that cock. At times like those it wasn't until he began fussing, grinding back on him and growling that he would begin to move. Not this time though. This time he just kept driving, ramming into him over and over again, rough and brutal.
It wouldn't take too long for either of them, poised on the edge from the, if he was being honest, fucking spectacular foreplay. He was determined to have Jim finish first though, driving into him over and over again, sharp, deep thrusts that had him howling and clawing at the sheets. The carnality never ceased to amaze him, here he was rutting into him, pounding him like there was no tomorrow and he just took it all. Every last inch.
"Sebby" he panted harshly, "Sebby Sebby Sebby I want, Sebby please" he was babbling now, writhing and rocking back, if he was anyone else this would be him losing it.
"You're gonna have to be clearer with me" he teased, two could play along at his little games.
"I want to ride you, please, please let me ride you"
"Fuck" he gritted out, pulling out and flipping them over. Fuck pounding into him, he'd have plenty of time to do that later, it was seldom Jim took the time to do all the work.
And work he did, sinking onto him and riding his cock with the kind of wild abandon he could only expect from one of his personas. He couldn't keep his hands still though, running them down his flank, through the sweat gathering on his chest, gripping his arse. In the end he settled on keeping one hand gripped onto his thigh, using it as leverage to push up into him at each counterthrust, and using the other to pump his swollen cock. It didn't take much longer until Jim was tipping over the edge, stilling briefly, his head thrown back in ecstasy, raking fingernails down Sebastian's chest as he coated him with his release, and fuck knows when he got himself free from his improvised shackles. Not that he was complaining. He flipped them once again, settling Jim, pliant and sleepy, on his back, slapping at his legs to get him to wrap them around his neck as he pushed in once again, chasing his own release. Jim squirmed uncomfortably, he didn't like being fucked when he was still sensitive from orgasm but fuck, what was one more indiscretion in the wake of all the liberties he'd taken, and besides, he'd all but neglected himself in Jim, he deserved this. It didn't take long, a few more rough thrusts, all the while teetering on the edge. He surged forward for one more biting kiss, Jim regaining his cognisance, and damn didn't it feel good that he'd shut that magnificent brain down for just a little while. His retaliation was to bite harshly, drawing blood until his teeth were stained pink and Sebastian was coming hard, orgasm ripping through him at last. He had the presence of mind to collapse next to Jim, not on him, but that was just about all the higher thought his brain could reach at that point. He was well and truly fucked out, but damn it was worth it.
When he finally came back to himself again it was to Jim hovering over him, the manic glint back in his eyes thank fuck, but coupled with something far more nefarious. With no warning, a sharp slap cracked across Sebastian's cheek, whipping his head to the side as his ears rang a little.
"If you ever pull a trick like that again I will gut you" he cheerfully informed, sitting his full weight on his chest, still fully, gloriously naked. Sebastian was having a hard time pulling his gaze away from the dick sitting limp against the thigh baring the dark bruise his ministrations had pulled forth. "Eyes are up here, Tiger" he giggled, twice patting the same cheek he had so brutally attacked.
"Sorry boss" he muttered, ever contrite, dragging his eyes up towards that face, now restored to its full murderous potential.
"That's more like it pet" he praised, drawing a hand slowly down his chest, petting him almost. "I could reward you, you have earned something for your hard work, but I rather think you don't deserve it. What do you think pet? Would you like me to suck your dick? Or would you like to suck mine? You are getting so good at it after all, I rather think you're learning to enjoy it hmm?"
He must had made some sort of face, as the next thing he knew Jim was biting hard onto his ear, hard enough to draw blood as he hissed "You should learn to be thankful for your rewards" his voice fire and blood and pain. It was the best sound he'd heard all day. He could feel the sting as Jim ran his tongue just a little too heavily over the shallow cut he'd made, sucking once, hard, before he surged away, dismounting Sebastian and heading for the bathroom in one swift movement.
Sebastian lay back against the pillows with a low huff, still a little boneless from the orgasm. Living with Jim was like dancing on the edge of a volcano, but fuck was he glad he was back to his old tricks. He heard the shower kick on as he settled into the rumpled sheets, content to wait out Jim and his little mind games, he'd get his comeuppance soon, but for now it was easier to just play along and enjoy the ride while it lasted. That was until Jim stuck his head into the room, calling "Coming Tiger?" with a lascivious grin that had Sebastian out of bed and prowling towards him in seconds. Punishment, in whatever form it took, would come later. In that precise moment it was time for round two.